After Hours

by Jodi Lynn Copeland

  “So what is it you wanted to discuss?” he asked.

  She glanced around the room at the various painting and art mock-ups that lined the soft-beige walls. “You have good taste. Better than what I’d have guessed.”

  Brendan tried to hold back his smirk at the surprise in her tone. The way he’d found Jilly standing outside his office, muttering to herself about getting it over with, he knew one wrong move or word on his part and she’d be hightailing it out the door—after she reopened it.

  He wondered why she’d closed the door. Had even ventured a guess as to what she thought a closed door might indicate, but then quickly passed it off. She’d been nothing but coolly polite to him this week. To think she’d come here now, ready to take him up on his offer of sex, was implausible. Even if she had, it was too late.

  He’d told himself he had to find the reason why she stayed in his mind when all those before her had come and gone in days, if not a single night. He’d believed the best way to obtain those answers was to get closer yet, until he was skin deep. That had been on Monday. He’d gotten to know her this week—not personally, but her office demeanor. This company was Jilly’s life. While he had no intention of lying down and letting her have the senior ad exec position, he also wouldn’t jeopardize her chances any more than her professionalism by making further advances. He would keep his distance, just the way she wanted.

  But if that’s what she wanted, why had she closed the door?

  The question niggled at Brendan. He stood and crossed to her. She drew more rigid with each of his steps. Her breathing quickened. Nervous. Interesting. He stopped a few feet away and smiled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I get the impression that isn’t what’s on your mind. Whatever it is, spit it out. We both know you’re not one to lack for words.”

  She glanced at the door as if she might leave. She surprised him by looking back at him and stepping forward. She set her chin, and that sudden proud gesture had him stifling a laugh. Maybe that she was an enigma was really all there was to his attraction. The women in his past had all been fairly similar, easy to figure out, easy to guess their next move. With Jilly he had no idea what was coming next.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  Like that, for example. That, he’d sure as hell never seen coming. He gave his head a shake, certain he’d heard her wrong. She couldn’t be here asking for sex. Could she?

  “You don’t want to go after Donaldson’s position?” Brendan asked. “Too bad. I was looking forward to the competition.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  Pink sparked in her cheeks. She made an arcing gesture with her arm. “I meant the other thing.”

  He mimicked her move. “The other thing?”

  She frowned, the color in her cheeks darkening. “You know. The other thing.”

  Un-fucking-believable. She really had come to him for sex. He would have believed that of the Jilly he’d met at the wedding reception. With Jillian the Professional, mistress of the butt-ugly hairdo and breezy attitude, not in a million years. He also had no intention of giving in just yet. “I’m afraid I don’t know. Can you possibly spell it out for me?”

  Jilly’s eyes went wide and she let out an exasperated breath. “Oh, for the love of God, the other thing. S-E-X!”

  Brendan chuckled heartily while the pink spread into her ears and fanned down her neck. “You know, ugly-ass hair knot aside, you’re really stunning when you’re embarrassed. I’ve never been particularly turned on by women who blush, but I find you’re an exception to that rule.”

  Her mouth went slack, gaping far enough for him to see the small, pink tip of her tongue. He could easily imagine that little slip of heaven moving against his own, over his naked flesh, sliding along the throbbing length of his erection. His cock stirred to life with the appeal of that last thought. Seeing no need to delay this thing between them a moment longer, he reached for her.

  His hands barely touched her sides, when she attempted to pull away. An inferno of accusation shot from her narrowed eyes. “You bastard, you knew what I wanted when I came in here, didn’t you?”

  Not even close, but since she thought so highly of his ability to read her, why ruin the impression? Using his hold on her sides, Brendan tugged her toward him until she bumped up against his thighs. She made an irritated sound and he laughed again. “You’re entirely too much fun to taunt, sweetheart.”

  “Then I suggest you enjoy it while it lasts,” she said, teeth gritted. “If you accept my proposal, it’s on the grounds that I’m in control, that you do what I ask and only what I ask.”

  Jilly pushed at his chest, attempting to get away but only managing to rub her pelvis against him. His dick hardened further, twitching against her belly. Gasping, she stilled her thrashing and looked up into his eyes.

  Good, she was right where she belonged—accepting that he wasn’t a man who sat back and took orders. If she wanted to make him her lover for a week or two and then toss him aside, that was fine—it worked beautifully with his plans to figure out her appeal and subsequently dislodge her from his mind—but it happened on his terms.

  Brendan slipped his hands around her back and pulled her more firmly against him, grinding his shaft against her stomach, giving her the chance to change her mind. “Do I strike you as the type of man who lets his women order him around? I don’t think so, Jilly. And I think you like that about me. I think that’s why you’re here right now.”

  Her mouth opened again, likely to voice denial. Before she could do so, he bent his head and slanted his lips against hers. He’d kept Monday morning’s kiss gentle, showing her she had nothing to fear. This time he held nothing back, pushing past her lips, licking over her teeth, suckling at her tongue with demanding strokes, making it clear what she was up against.

  Bringing his hands around her waist and upward, he pushed past her bulky black jacket. Through the thin silk of her shirt, he filled his palms with her breasts. The erect points of her nipples pressed against his fingers and his balls tightened with the reality of how long he’d been waiting to get his hands on her. He ached to shove everything off the desk and take her right there in his office, not caring who heard their mutual cries of pleasure. Instead he released his hold on her breasts, on her mouth, and let her go.

  Jilly staggered, then righted herself, looking at him through eyes dark with passion. The same eyes that had beckoned to him that night in his hotel suite. The eyes that, even closed, had called to him across the crowded reception hall and made him move onto the dance floor.

  Brendan had known there was something different about her that night. He knew now it was partly her contrast from the women he’d been with in the past—her many layers and the fact that she’d wanted him even without knowing who he was. But it was also more. That distinctive something he saw in her was the same thing he saw every damned time he looked in the mirror.

  Hunger. Drive. The thrill of success. And, beyond that, the need to be free.

  For him that need was derived from expectation. Because of who he was, he was expected to follow a certain pattern, to fall into line right alongside his highly successful father, as well as to bounce from the bed of one beauty to the next. Only, he was tired of falling into line, which was why he’d taken a break from his family’s financial company and put his skills to use in advertising. As far as the bouncing beauties went, they fell into his Mission of Operation: Freedom nicely, even if their reasons for wanting him had long run thin.

  His reasons for feeling and acting the way he did were clear. Jilly’s weren’t.

  What possible reason could she have for playing the part of the sex kitten one instant and the shrewd businesswoman the next? What possible thing could she be seeking freedom from?

  Brendan couldn’t answer the questions any more than he could explain the sudden anxiety that tightened his gut. That feeling told him the best thing to do would be to tell her no. To turn her d
own and walk away without so much as another kiss. But no matter what his gut told him, he’d tasted just enough to whet his appetite and leave him longing for more. He couldn’t walk away. However, he could buy some time.

  “If we do this, Jilly,” he said, moving back to his desk, “we do it my way. I know you value your hard-core office identity, so this stays out of the office from here on out. If that becomes a problem one or both of us can’t handle, we forget about it completely. As far as control, everything we do will be by my command, or at the very least both of ours. I don’t take orders and I’m not into submission.

  “Can you live with that, Jilly, or do you plan to run home to Ginger with your tail between your legs?”

  Passion still suffused her face, but determination was also alive in her eyes. She nodded. “I can live with it.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then I’ll see you Monday night at your place.”

  Brendan saw the questions come into her eyes, the frustration over the length of time until Monday night. He wasn’t about to explain his reasons for wanting time away from her before they took this thing to the next level. He wasn’t even sure he understood them himself, so he grabbed his laptop bag and walked out the door before she could say another word.

  3

  T hree days had never felt so long.

  Jillian sank back against her couch pillows and sighed. Ginger, her cocker spaniel, glanced up from the other end of the couch and gave her an understanding look.

  Poor Ginger. The dog could read her thoughts so well, she ought to be human. She knew when Jillian was in a bad mood—or an impatient one, as she was now.

  Jillian had spent the weekend thinking of all the good reasons she should march into the office on Monday morning and tell Brendan she’d changed her mind about sleeping with him. She’d thought of several, including the big one—that maybe he hadn’t been sincere about keeping things outside the office and still planned to use their intimacy against her somehow. She’d even worked up the courage to go to his office and break the news. Only, he hadn’t been there.

  Larry confirmed his absence. Brendan was still moving his effects to Atlanta from Chicago and he’d taken a long weekend to finish the tedious task. Larry had also let on how he planned to determine the best person to fill Donaldson’s position. Neilson had been pushing their services to the Wild Side, a big-time costume-design firm responsible for outfitting the casts of kids’ movies and various children’s events for years. The time to move full-speed ahead and bring the firm onto their client list was now, and Larry planned to reward the person who devised the best ad presentation with the coveted promotion.

  As much as Jillian loathed the idea of letting her softer side show—the way getting to know the faces behind the kid-targeted company would necessitate—the childishness of the firm’s services gave her hope. If there was one place a manly man like Brendan would feel out of his league, it was with a firm like this one.

  Brendan, whom she’d never had a chance to tell she’d changed her mind about sleeping with…. As she sat in her dimmed living room watching Peter Pan for the express purpose of research (or so she’d tell anyone who caught her in the act), she couldn’t be more appreciative for her inability to do so.

  It was almost ten and Jillian’s body practically hummed with the anticipation of his arrival. She’d expected him sooner, had stressed over what to wear for this momentous occasion hours ago. He’d tried to taunt her into agreeing he would hold all the control. She had agreed somewhat, but not expressly, and she had no such plan to let him do the controlling. She would be the one with the power, and that meant dressing the part.

  She’d dug to the back of her closet for the white lacy teddy Tawny had given her the Christmas before and, after removing the tags, had put it on. Her reflection had stunned her. The scraps of lace and mesh that made up the risqué outfit barely covered her slit, and what material there was on her breasts showed the dusky hue of her areolae as clearly as if she wore nothing at all. Thigh-high stockings and three-inch-heel pumps completed the ensemble. She looked bold, daring, like the brazen woman Brendan had first believed her to be. Like the one she once was.

  Butterflies of anxiety had flitted to life in her stomach and she’d known she couldn’t open the door to him wearing the outfit. Refusing to cave to her unforeseen fears completely, she’d pulled on jeans and a T-shirt over the teddy and stockings. He would see what she wore beneath her casual clothing eventually—just not the instant he arrived.

  Jillian’s belly tensed with nerves. She reached for the glass of white wine on the end table, determined to lower her inhibitions and get back to the impulsive woman she’d been last Saturday. She shouldn’t be nervous any longer, considering the number of times in the last three hours she’d envisioned Brendan stripping away her clothes to find what lay beneath, but she was—nervous and excited by the thought of him looking upon her with raw appetite blazing in his eyes, his strong and oh-so-capable hands petting her stimulated body, his fingers thrusting deep into her sex.

  Wetness pooled in her pussy and moistened the crotch of the teddy. She took a long sip of wine and blocked out the warming sensations rolling through her, refusing to get herself worked up again. Considering how late it was, Brendan probably wouldn’t even show. He might not even be back in town yet. Or maybe he was and he’d changed his mind about wanting her. He’d told her not once but twice how much he loved a challenge, and she’d allowed him to win this one when she agreed to have sex. Obviously, he was no longer interested.

  “Evening, Cinderella. Is your evil stepsister home?”

  Jillian had been in the midst of swallowing wine when Brendan’s deep voice reverberated from somewhere too nearby. She let out a squeak that had the wine going down her throat the wrong way. She slapped a hand to her thudding heart and choked. When she could breathe normally again, she turned to find him standing at the end of the couch, petting Ginger. Ginger, the traitor, looked up at him with loving eyes and shook her hind leg like she’d just found her new best friend.

  Jillian shot to her feet, glaring first at the cocker spaniel, then the man. For a moment she was uncertain which of the two were more infuriating. Then the man smiled that too damned confident and sexy smile and she remembered. “Why, you no good bastard, you broke into my house.”

  “I believe I have my answer, Ginger, love. The evil stepsister looks to be home indeed.” Brendan straightened and Ginger let out a whine of displeasure that he’d stopped petting her.

  Jillian glanced back at the dog and groaned. It was no wonder the man was so confident with himself where females were concerned. Even her dog looked ready to roll over and beg for his attention. “Did you ever hear of knocking?”

  “I did. You were obviously too engrossed in the movie to hear.” He glanced at the television. “Interesting choice, Peter Pan. A personal favorite.”

  Yeah, right, she’d bet it was his favorite. “This is the PG version,” she said dryly. “You know, the one without the S after Peter?”

  He chuckled. “You have so little faith in me, Jilly.”

  She curbed the lust that unfurled with his rich laughter. Now that he was here, standing feet away, looking like he might pull her into his arms and devour her, her second thoughts swiftly returned.

  What if all this backfired? What if he’d only agreed to keep things out of the office as a way to garner blackmail against her? Larry relied on her to be cool and collected. If Brendan let on she was anything but, it could ruin everything.

  As much as she knew that, she couldn’t get the words out or the energy up to make him leave. Instead she crossed her arms and set her chin, taking on the icy veneer she’d perfected. “Obviously I had enough faith to invite you here.”

  Brendan’s grin faded. “That’s something I’ve been wondering over all weekend. Why did you? What made you change your mind?”

  The fear of exploding. The need to scratch an i
tch she could no longer disregard. The attraction that sizzled between them even when they were ignoring one another. She wasn’t about to reveal any of that, just as she wouldn’t tell him that in some ways she’d learned to trust him. Namely because those ways were still very uncertain. “You know why.”

  “I’m not sure I do. Not really.”

  “Because I want to…sleep together.”

  Humor glinted in his eyes. “You watched me this past week and decided I kept my distance enough that I’d suffice as your personal teddy bear?”

  Jillian bit back the laughter that bubbled up in her throat. Brendan was not teddy-bear material. Not to say it wouldn’t feel good to spoon against his naked body—she had a feeling it would feel damned good—but cuddling was not on her list of things to do with him. Whether he’d been sincere about keeping this out of the office or not, she had. Out of the office and out of her head. A hello-and-goodbye fling.

  “Not that kind of sleep. You know what kind.”

  His grin returning full throttle, he closed the distance between them. The dark stubble that lined his jaw gave his face a dangerous appeal in the dimmed lighting, one that made her fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch. She fisted her hands and ordered them to remain at her sides until she was 100 percent certain she wanted to proceed with this. He had no such reservations. Uncurling her fingers, he took hold of her hands and pulled her tightly against him so that she could feel the hard bulge of his cock against her belly.

  She dragged in a breath and struggled to gain freedom. He could not have control! He couldn’t even touch her until she said it was okay for him to do so.

  She opened her mouth to yell at him. He spoke before she could, his words peppered with a husk that slipped into her mind and sent her senses reeling. “Maybe I do know what you mean, Jilly. To be sure we’re on the same wave length, do you mean the kind of sleep where we don’t sleep at all? Where I pull you into my arms and slowly remove your clothes?”