In the Boss' Bed

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Marcy huffed a bit, not completely sure she understood what was going on. “You want me to be a substitute for your stripper friend?”

  Zeke couldn’t stop the chuckle this time. “You put me into this position.” Several times, actually, he thought, thinking about how his body was aching, hard and ready for her. He glanced up. The thought occurred to him that he could back out of this now. He’d gone alone to these events many times in the past. There was no need for him to find a date for the night. But instead of telling her she didn’t have to go, he looked at his watch pointedly. “You have only a couple of hours.”

  Marcy’s hands fell to her sides and that adorable, oh-so-tempting mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious!”

  A man walked in behind her. “Zeke is always serious. One of his faults,” Luke announced.

  Marcy spun around, staring open mouthed first at Luke, then at Zeke, who only raised an eyebrow at her before he once again glanced at his watch.

  She huffed a bit, but then turned and walked out of the office, mumbling something about dictators and innocent assumptions.

  Luke watched her leave, an amused expression on his handsome features. “What was that about?” he asked, tossing a marketing report onto his brother’s desk.

  “None of your business,” Zeke said, picking up the file and sitting back in his chair. He glanced at his watch again, irritated that he wouldn’t see Marcy for another four hours.

  Everything seemed…boring now. Too quiet. The woman practically fizzled with energy when she was here.

  Luke eyed his brother carefully for a moment before he put it together. With a whistle, he shook his head. “I never thought to witness the Great Zeke fall, but my eyes have seen the proof.”

  Zeke glared across his desk at his brother, not sure what he was talking about. “Luke, stick to business, okay?”

  His brother smirked. “And leave the lovely Marcy to your tender mercies?”

  “Exactly,” he muttered, then looked down at the report and forced his mind to work, to focus.

  A few hours later, he was walking out of the office, ignoring his brothers when they called or texted him. His mind was completely focused on images of Marcy in a dress that covered her from her neck right down to her pretty ankles. She would choose something demure, he just knew it. But her choices hadn’t stopped his imagination from flying towards her naked state so far, and whatever dress she covered up in tonight, still wouldn’t stop his mind.

  He was going to be able to touch her, he realized and his body hardened even as he stepped out of the shower and dressed for the evening, his mind trying to anticipate what she might have chosen. She’d be by his side, he would be allowed to unobtrusively smell her as he talked with acquaintances, and he could pull her into his arms to dance.

  Yep. He was going to hell. But tonight, he’d be in heaven.

  Marcy paced in front of the door to her apartment, back and forth, wringing her hands as she considered her choice of dresses. This was ridiculous! She should have gone for the severe black crepe! But no! Barb the Demon hadn’t allowed that! “No way,” the woman had gushed. “Glam it up!” the woman had said.

  Which was why she was standing here, blue silk curving around her body, cinching in her waist, and making her breasts look positively huge. They were big enough! She didn’t need a dress to emphasize her bosom!

  Looking down, she felt obscene! This was crazy! She was going out to a business event! She should never have chosen this dress.

  And it was way too short! The dress was not a good choice for this type of event or her figure. Her hips were too round, her legs too short, and she hated working out, so her thighs were…well, it was best to go with honesty. She was pudgy. Which was why she’d been trying to lose weight all week.

  Not that she’d succeeded. Not even an ounce!

  Zeke kept buying her sandwiches! Every day at lunchtime, she faithfully pulled out her yogurt and lonely piece of fruit. And every day, ten minutes after she’d sat down with her healthy diet food, some decadent, delicious, and evil sandwich arrived. The first day, when two had been delivered to her desk, she’d brought both of them into his office. When he’d told her that one was for her, she just about stopped speaking to him. How could he do this to her? Didn’t he see that she couldn’t handle the calories? Couldn’t he understand that her hips were too big, too round and that…everything on her was too big and soft and squishy?!

  And yet, every day, she’d brought the sandwich back to her desk. She’d set the thing on the corner, vowing that she wouldn’t eat it but unable to simply throw it away. And every day, the enticement was too much for her. She’d eaten the sandwiches, closing her eyes at how amazing they all tasted. Goodness, she loved them! Every day was a new delight. Not for her hips! But her taste buds definitely appreciated the variety.

  Unfortunately, now she was paying the price. She smoothed her hands down over her bottom, worried that the dress was too tight, that it would reveal all of her trouble spots. Okay, so her entire body was a trouble spot! She was too round, too overweight, and her boobs were way too big!

  When the doorbell rang, she almost tripped on her heels as she walked over to it. Now or never, woman! Just open the door! Let the man in. He’ll take one look at the dress and he’ll make some excuse as to why they shouldn’t go to this silly shindig tonight. She could then strip out of the dress, grab her fluffy, pink robe and her pint of chocolate cherry ice cream, and snuggle down under the covers. No gala, no gorgeous man to make her crazy and no obscene dress.

  Her fingers barely held onto the handle of her door when she pulled it open. She was so nervous that…

  His eyes moved from her hair, which she’d worn down tonight, to her eyes and then lower. When his eyes stopped on the cleavage showing over the cut of the dress, she wanted desperately to lift her hands and cover the creamy tops. But then his eyes moved lower, all the way down to her toes, which were peeking out of strappy sandals that were already making her feet ache.

  When his eyes lifted to hers, she almost melted into a puddle of wanton desire because the heat in those green eyes set her body on fire!

  “You look nice,” he said, his hands in the pockets of his immaculate tuxedo slacks.

  Marcy knew he was lying, of course. But she couldn’t stop the warmth from his compliment. “Thank you. And you look…”

  She looked at him, her eyes widening. She’d thought he looked nice in a suit. But that was nothing compared to what he looked like in a tuxedo. Wow! She tried hard to breathe but the words weren’t coming. The air was stuck.

  “Very handsome,” she finally choked out.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked, his voice gruff and she flinched.

  Marcy wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong now but she sighed. “I just need my purse,” she told him.

  Zeke watched with gritted teeth as she walked away, his eyes unable to pull away from her round bottom. The blue satin only made her derriere even more perfect and enticing.

  It was going to be a painful evening, he predicted.

  When she turned around, he had to remind himself of all of his mother’s admonitions about being a gentleman. But it took a monumental effort to pull his eyes away from the soft, bountiful swells of Marcy’s breasts that were revealed by the cut of the dress’ neckline.

  She was magnificent.

  “I’m ready,” Marcy announced, trying to hide her trembling from the extremely large, crazy handsome Zeke, who was still stiffly standing in her open doorway. He hadn’t moved an inch since she’d opened the door and Marcy had no idea what he might be thinking.

  She shouldn’t ask, Marcy told herself. She should just…did she have something else to wear in her closet? Something less revealing? “Is the dress bad?” she asked nervously, sliding her hands down the sides of her hips. “Is it wrong for the evening?”

  Zeke realized that she thought he didn’t like the dress, that she’d messed up in some way. “You look lovely,” he t
old her gruffly. “Not only is the dress perfect for the evening, you look beautiful in it.”

  She sighed with relief, but he wasn’t sure that she believed him. Extending his arm, he waited for her to place her elegant, white fingers on the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket. He could take it, he thought. He wouldn’t even feel her fingers since there were several layers of fabric separating her touch from his skin.

  But the moment her fingers moved and touched his sleeve, he felt two things; satisfaction and lust. Those two emotions shouldn’t be combined, but both were there, intense and powerful.

  “Thank you,” she whispered and he looked down at the top of her head, wondering why she was….Oh hell! Marcy was trembling! She was nervous!

  He needed to figure out how to put her at ease.

  “So, you’re going to law school?” he prompted as she locked her door and they started walking out of the building.

  Marcy nodded, relieved for a safe subject on which they could converse. He asked her questions and she answered them as they drove to the hotel where the gala was being held.

  When he pulled up outside, there were photographers waiting. It wasn’t a huge throng like one saw for the movie star red carpets, but still, Marcy had no idea how to handle this.

  Instinctively, he knew that her anxiety level had just sky rocketed. Placing a hand on hers, he tried to reassure her. “Just don’t look at them. Keep your eyes on the doorway or me, and they’ll lose interest. Don’t answer their questions,” he advised. A moment later, he handed the keys to the valet and came around to her side of the vehicle, extending his hand to help her out of the car. He loved the way those long fingers curled around his hand, trusting him and relying on him to get her through this gauntlet.

  A part of him wondered what it would be like if Marcy really were his woman. He walked into the building, acting like that truly was the case, as if Marcy would be spending the rest of the night in his arms, in his bed.

  Yeah, he liked that idea. A lot.

  Walking through the throng of reporters, Zeke couldn’t be more proud of her. She held her head up high, eliminating any emotions from her beautiful features. Even better, she pressed her side against his, allowing him to protect her as they made their way through the front doors that were being held open by uniformed doormen. The flashes of camera lights were a bit more intense than usual, but Zeke suspected that was only because Marcy looked so amazingly beautiful in the blue dress. No other woman could even remotely compare to her sensuality as she walked carefully along the sidewalk.

  Inside, the bright lights sparkled overhead and he immediately grabbed two flutes of champagne, handing one to Marcy and sipping the other himself.

  “There’s Teague and the twins,” Marcy commented, relieved to have a safe person to talk to.

  Unfortunately, several other couples intercepted Zeke. So instead of reaching her friend, she was stuck with Zeke. Every time he touched her shoulder or her arm, she felt like she wanted to melt into the carpeting. Or turn to her extremely tall tormentor and beg him to take her back to her apartment and show her what he could do without an audience.

  Of course, Marcy did neither of those things. She stood beside him, the champagne warming in her hands because she was so nervous, she’d wrapped her hands around the glass as if a genie might pop out and give her some guidance on how to deal with this situation.

  No genie appeared. No guidance was forthcoming.

  Stupid genies! Never around when one needed one!

  Marcy accidentally sighed and Zeke’s eyes immediately moved to her features, those green eyes seeming to notice everything. And still no genie!

  Oh, what she would do to have a friend here with her, someone who could say, “Move to the right and he’ll…”

  Good grief, even her imagination was stumped. If she moved to the right, what would happen? Nothing, she thought. She’d move to the right, closer to Zeke, and he would move in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t….

  Zeke moved closer to her, his arm coming to rest at the small of her back and…he didn’t understand that the silk of her dress was very thin! His hand was burning a hole in her dress! Oh no! She would now be walking around with a handprint seared on her back. She was going to look ridiculous.

  Such was the life of a silly woman, she told herself.

  Looking up at him, she saw the heat in those green eyes and, suddenly, the rest of the world just faded away. The strangers who wanted to talk to Zeke were gone, the rest of the scary people in the ballroom simply disappeared from her mind. It was just herself and Zeke, his warm hand against her back, sliding higher and she held her breath, wanting that hand to touch her bare skin.

  He didn’t.

  Marcy sighed and turned her head away, trying to regain her balance. She wasn’t here to flirt with him, she reminded herself. She was here to help him as his assistant. Tonight would be exactly like any other business meeting that happened in a conference room or perhaps like when she escorted his clients into his office.

  She kept repeating that to herself as she walked beside him throughout the night. It would be a whole lot easier, she thought, if he would stop touching her.

  But then again, the thought of him not touching her was…horrible!

  So for the rest of the evening, she stood by his side, trying to hide her reactions to his slightest touch. Thankfully, he didn’t pull her out onto the dance floor. She looked over at the other couples dancing, the women with their men’s arms around them, and she had to fight the jealousy that surged through her.

  Dancing with Zeke would be bad. She reminded herself of that fact every time she looked over at the dance floor, then turned her head away, to focus on the conversation.

  “Where’s Marcy?” Teague asked as he, Logan, and Luke came up to stand in a semi-circle with Zeke, viewing the crowd of beautifully dressed people milling about.

  “She went to the restroom,” Zeke explained, his eyes boring holes into the wall where the bathroom was located.

  Teague, Logan, and Luke looked at their oldest brother, then at each other. They all understood and nodded slightly.

  “She thinks I’m gay,” Zeke announced with a slight smirk to his hard mouth.

  The three men beside him choked on their drinks with laughter. He almost laughed himself, thinking of the lust he’d been battling all evening. All week!

  “You’re not gay,” Logan chuckled.

  “I know that,” he replied, still staring at the place where Marcy had disappeared. “Why do you pay her so much?” he asked Teague.

  “Are you kidding me?” Teague replied back, an astonished look on his handsome features. “Hasn’t she already proven her worth in your office?”

  Zeke had to acknowledge that Marcy really was a miracle worker. So yeah, she deserved the high pay.

  Teague turned to fully face his older brother. “Zeke, if you do anything to scare Marcy away, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  Zeke didn’t even look at his brother. Still staring. “I won’t lose her,” he announced.

  Teague saw the look in his older brother’s eyes and his shoulders relaxed. “Good.”

  “What’s with law school?” Zeke asked.

  Teague shook his head. “Don’t worry about law school. Marcy has some silly notion in her head about fulfilling her mom’s dreams for her. But she’s smart enough to figure things out. She hates law school. She’ll eventually stop.”

  Zeke had gotten the same impression about Marcy’s feelings towards her law degree efforts, but he was relieved that his impression was confirmed.

  Hours later, Marcy lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling as the light danced across the white surface. Zeke had walked her to her apartment doorway tonight after driving her home but…if she weren’t a sensible woman, she would have sworn that he’d wanted to kiss her goodnight.

  But that was nuts, she told herself as she rolled over, ignoring the dancing lights and trying to relax her brain enough to fall asleep.
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  It was no use! Her body was too hyped up on Zeke’s touch, on trying to figure out what that look in his eyes had meant. She wanted him. No doubt about it.

  Around dawn, she finally fell asleep, but only to dream about Zeke making love to her. It was one of the most erotic dreams she’d ever endured and, by the time she woke up, she felt like she was going to climb the walls with her frustration.

  So she cleaned. She scrubbed every inch of her apartment. She reorganized her pantry by color, then by the afternoon, she decided that color organized soup cans was silly so she reordered everything so that it was set up in alphabetical order. And after eating an enormous bowl of pasta, she decided that her cans should be ordered by height. So the measuring tape came out and she was frustrated that so many of the cans were the exact same height.

  When night eased into her world once more, exhaustion allowed her to release her pantry’s disorder and, thankfully, fall into a deep sleep.

  Unfortunately, when she woke up on Monday morning, Marcy suspected that her dreams had been filled with more erotic thoughts of Zeke. As she dressed for work that morning, she chose the silk blouse that buttoned all the way up to her neck. It was as if she were trying to hide her intense reaction to her boss.

  It wasn’t working.

  Chapter 4

  Why was she doing this again?

  Another Friday night, another social event at Zeke’s side.

  And five days of pure torture! The week had gone by so fast, but every moment of every day, she’d been fully aware of Zeke. Nothing different about that, she thought with increasing anxiety. She’d been completely, painfully aware of Zeke from the moment he’d stepped into his office that first day. But now…good grief, now she knew what it was like to be touched by the man. She loved his hands on her body and that sounded so completely wrong! She shouldn’t want that. He was her boss!

  But when he’d asked her yesterday if she had plans for the weekend, she’d been so frazzled by his close proximity, as well as those incredible green eyes, that she’d told him she didn’t have plans, other than studying. He’d asked if she could attend another function. She’d allowed her mouth to fall open like a stupid fish. And he’d taken that for agreement.