Those thoughts turned him on.
He wedged his thigh between her legs and pressed her roughly to the wall. Her mouth molded to his, and her mouth was a marvel. She nipped at his lips, breathing sultry streams of air into him.
Her hands found their way underneath his coat, and tugged at his shirt. Finding bare skin, her fingers splayed, hot as pokers, and sent streaks of pleasure soaring through him.
Who needed control when faced with this?
What man wouldn’t consider giving up a future for a night like this one?
Liking how light she felt in his arms, he lifted her up. Her legs encircled his thighs. The spot he achingly wanted to reach settled over his erection as he held her close, though there were still too many clothes in the way.
Backing up a step made things worse. Part of him wanted to hold her like this forever, culmination be damned. But he was also aware of how close they had come to losing the chance of working anything out after this ferocious sexual escapade.
His mind’s chatter stopped abruptly when her mouth separated from his and moved to his ear. Her lips flitted over his lobe teasingly before she came back for more, her mouth hungrier this time, their kiss resembling the furor of anger in its intensity.
She was giving in, meeting him halfway as an aggressor. He had never desired anything so badly as to be inside her. Surely there was a place to finish this—a sofa or a rug?
He caressed her, devoured her, his elation escalating. Her fingers dipped under his waistband, searching, scorching, ensuring his hardness, driving him mad. The only sound in the room was the rasp of their breathing. The only sensation left to him was Kim McKinley in his arms.
And then the air shook with the shrill sound of a phone ringing. The sound echoed loudly throughout the room.
Chaz’s heart missed a beat. His lips stalled. It was Kim’s phone, and a bad omen, he just knew.
The click of an answering machine turning on followed the second ring.
“Kim?” a voice said, loud enough for Brenda Chang to have been in the room with them.
“Kim, are you there? Pick up the damn phone! Listen. Monroe isn’t who we think he is. He isn’t the VP. He’s the new owner of the agency, and is occupying that office in order to spy on the masses. He owns the agency and us, lock, stock and barrel. Kim, please pick up! Monroe might be on his way over there. I wanted to catch you before he arrives and pass on that news. Kim? Oh, hell. Tell Sam. Don’t answer the door. Where are you? Call me back.”
By the time the machine turned off, Kim’s tight hold on him had gone slack. She stiffened so fast, her actions didn’t register until her legs loosened, and he had to press her against the wall to support her.
Some of her glorious heat slipped from his grasp. Her eyes were averted, her lids lowered. Once she had regained her feet, she got her hands up between them.
She couldn’t seem to catch a breath. Her chest still strained against his. When she finally looked up, her big eyes met his as if searching for something. Her pallor brought a whole new meaning to the word pale, despite the splashes of pink in her cheeks.
“Kim,” he said, addressing her accusatory gaze. “It’s okay. I knew Brenda was going to tell you. My role at the agency is supposed to be a secret for now. I wanted to get to know the workings of the place and play catch up.”
“You own the agency?” The words tumbled out between harsh breaths.
“Yes.”
“You’re not the vice president?”
“No.”
Her eyes projected an expression of betrayal. She blinked slowly. When she spoke, her voice shook. “Get out. I think you’d better get out right now.”
“Kim—”
“You can see the door. Use it,” she directed. “Please.”
He held up both hands in a placating gesture, and tried to find the right words to ease the tension. No words came. Kim didn’t look angry about this, she looked ill.
“Now,” she repeated.
He had to explain, had to make her see. “I bought the company to make it better, more successful. The position you want is still on the table. I’ll make a decision once I get a grip on the rest of the agency’s personnel needs and can move things forward. We already have a truce, you and I, so we’re in the clear about the situation. Nothing has changed.”
“Oh, we’re far from clear about anything,” she countered. “And everything has changed.”
“That doesn’t have to be the case.”
“Doesn’t it? You were going to sleep with me, withholding a secret like that. You let me think you took my job, and you were willing to let me hang myself and my profession by directing me toward a bed.”
“A date with a bed has nothing to do with work or the issues there,” he protested.
She sucked in a big breath of air and lowered her voice. “What was this all about then, for you? A test of my character? You wanted to see if I’d actually sleep my way up the ladder? Maybe you wondered if I’d done it before, and that’s why I had been promised your office?”
Chaz stared at her, sensing she wasn’t finished.
“Are you so naïve that you’d actually believe I could remain at the agency after sleeping with you? That being here with you, like this, wouldn’t affect my reputation, or reach the ears of the other employees, and eventually my clients? Or that it would all go away if you were to promote me now?”
“Kim, listen—”
She shook her head. “Tell me this, Monroe—is there actually a holiday party to cater?”
“There could be,” he said, hating the way that sounded.
She turned her face. “Please leave.”
Chaz’s stomach tightened with pangs of regret over the way he had approached this, understanding how it must look to Kim. In his defense, he’d been smitten, for lack of a better word to describe the immediacy of his attraction to her. Had certain parts of his anatomy made him come here, under the premise of testing her work ethic? Could he have slipped that far?
She had told him to get out. What other option did he have after a command like that, except to do as she asked? His explanation hadn’t swayed her. She was angry. Her eyes blazed. Kim was hurt, half-naked and feeling the need to protect herself from further harm...and he’d been less than stellar in his approach to this whole situation.
It was obvious she took into consideration things he hadn’t thought over before showing up here and placing his hands on her. Also clear now, after what she’d said, was the idea that she might have opened herself to him because she truly hadn’t planned on returning to her job. In that case, a liaison to explore the sparks between them would have been okay for her.
That had been ruined by one simple withheld truth.
Damn it.
“I’m attracted to you.” Chaz retreated a step. “I’ll confess that here and mean it. I wanted to get to know you, and still do. But what you’re thinking wasn’t what brought me here. I wasn’t going to use you for some sordid purpose.”
Her eyes met his. “Here’s the thing, Monroe. Some women probably do sleep their way to the top, and I’m telling you now that I’m not one of them. In fact, it looks as though I’ve just kissed my way to the bottom.”
His hands remained suspended in the air. Chaz had prided himself on being decent at handling people, yet had botched the hell out of this situation. He supposed that’s what came of mixing lust with work.
He had known better and ignored the signs, but he wasn’t an idiot or completely ruled by what was in his pants. He did comprehend her take on this predicament, and it was a damn shame, because in her mind the damage had been done, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to beg her to change her mind.
A man could only go so far.
“Okay,” he conceded, reaching for the doorknob. “Though y
ou might not believe this, I am sorry the news has upset you. My purpose was never to hurt or demean you. And from everything I’ve heard about your job performance, you’ve proven your talent and superior work ethic to justify being in line for the promotion.”
He really did not want to leave, especially like this. He gave her one last lingering look before opening the door, hoping she might soften. “No one needs to know about this. I’m not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy, and you can trust me on that. I’ve apologized. I’ve confessed to liking you. I guess what you do with that is up to you.”
With a frown of disappointment etched on his brow, Chaz closed the door on what might have turned out to be the hottest night in history.
In the hallway, he slapped the wall and uttered a choice four-letter oath. This night had not gone well. In fact, it couldn’t have been worse.
McKinley wanted him. Of that there was no doubt. She had been willing to take him in and take him on. Perhaps, now that she knew the score, she would come around. They could pretend this never happened and start over.
Or maybe not.
Seeing her at work might bring on his feelings of lust for her all over again. He wouldn’t be able to touch her, talk to her privately or smell her rich fragrance up close, if she returned to the job.
Things were truly messed up, yet he couldn’t go back and demand to be let back in. It was too late for that.
Sighing in frustration, he walked to the waiting elevator and stepped inside. Kim didn’t open her door and call after him this time. It was like a slap in the face—the second in two hours. He didn’t have to take that lying down. He shouldn’t have to. He would move on and forget her.
Staring blankly at her door, Chaz rolled his shoulders. Something was definitely wrong with him. Despite arguments to the contrary, he’d already started imagining a strategy for getting Kim back, if not at the office, where she ultimately belonged, then into that baggy T-shirt he’d envisioned—and the naughty red shoes.
At the very least, he had to know what this was about, what her dislike of the holiday work meant. Research would be the key to unlocking Kim McKinley’s secrets, and he had plenty of know-how at his fingertips.
“Nobody hates Christmas,” he muttered as the elevator descended. “Not even you, Kim. I’ll just have to prove that to you.”
* * *
Kim slid down the wall, staring at the door the devil had just used to make his exit. Chaz Monroe was a monster, and she had been foolish to believe anything else.
He had almost succeeded in making her forget the hovering darkness of the season, and about men being liars when given the chance. She had been willing to share tonight with him under the waving flag of truce and the lure of the laws of man-woman attraction. And look where that had landed her.
Monroe had spoiled things, in essence tromping over her mother’s grave in motorcycle boots and kicking up clods of freshly turned earth. She could hear her mother shouting I told you so.
Head in her hands, knees drawn to her chest, Kim sat without moving for a long time before finding the strength to get up. She had wanted so badly to believe that her mother didn’t have to be right.
She walked to the kitchen and removed aluminum foil from the top of a pan on the counter. Turning slowly, she hit a lever with her bare foot and dumped the entire batch of frosted Christmas cookies into the trash.
“Lesson learned the hard way,” she said, slipping out of the red dress and leaving the puddle of silk discarded on the hardwood floor.
Seven
She was supposed to be on vacation starting at noon the next day, and debated whether to show up at the office at all. After spending a sleepless night thinking about it, she had decided to go in.
If she was lucky, she’d beat Monroe to the office and be able to pick up a few things. She also needed to put the finishing touch on a project before heading out to take the vacation time due to her. At least she’d get something in terms of a paycheck before finding out if she’d have to terminate her employment.
But she was angry enough at the moment to keep the job and drive Monroe crazy, just to spite him.
Entering the building quickly, Kim hustled into the first open elevator. She got off on her floor and sighed with relief to find the hallway empty that led to the little cubicle that had been her home away from home for the last few years.
Monroe had said the next step was hers, so she’d ignore him and get on with things more or less as usual, for as long as she could. Time away would be necessary, and would allow her to set up a barrier between herself and the agency’s new owner until they both cooled off. If more bad news was to come her way, it would have to find her someplace else.
In order to get unemployment money, she needed to be fired.
At the entrance to her cubicle, she stopped short. Brenda sat in her chair with her arms and legs crossed.
“You did not, in fact, call me back,” Brenda said. “I worried all night.”
Kim leaned a hip against what couldn’t really be called a doorjamb. It seemed there was no escaping some of what she’d hoped to avoid.
“Did you get my message?” Brenda asked.
“I got it.”
“Did he show up?”
Kim nodded.
“Did you let him in?”
Kim nodded.
“Is that why you don’t look so good?” Brenda asked frankly.
“Trust me, I feel even worse.”
“So, you aren’t going to speak to me ever again?”
The question got Kim’s attention. So did the tone. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“No. Well, maybe. But he swore all he wanted to do was keep you here, like I do, so I was with him on that one.”
Brenda had done something bad and felt regretful—and that was the reason for her early arrival—though Brenda wouldn’t have done anything to hurt her on purpose.
Kim’s thoughts returned to the dress, the shoes...and then to the tape recorder Monroe had in his possession last night and her idea that he might have bugged her office in order to have captured conversations on tape.
“He got the tape from you, Bren,” she said.
“Oh, crap.” Brenda covered her face with her hands. “Yes, he did.”
“Because?”
“I believed him. He seemed sincere when he said he wants to keep you here. I know he likes you. The way he looked at you in the bar was...”
“Inappropriate?”
“No. I don’t think so,” Brenda said. “Not exactly. More like he was awed.”
Kim’s heart shuddered with the memory of how blindsided by Monroe’s sexual magnetism she had been as she stood against that wall in her apartment with Monroe’s hands and mouth all over her. After anger, embarrassment sat high on her list of emotions to avoid at night when attempting to count sheep.
She nailed Brenda with her gaze. “Cough it up, Bren. What else don’t I know?”
“In his email yesterday he asked if I’d attend the meeting in the bar, then let you two work things out if the meeting went well. That’s why I left. Well, that and I was trying to avoid watching you two going for the other person’s jugular. Honestly, though, I wasn’t sure you noticed I had gone.”
“Moot point. It didn’t work out, anyway,” Kim said. “Monroe’s a barbarian when it comes to negotiation.”
And also a sexual barbarian, Kim inwardly added. The moniker probably fit, due to all those Celtic genes behind a name like Monroe that conjured images of men with blue faces. Marauding Vikings. People with wooden clubs.
Brenda looked up. “You’re not going to do that party?”
“There was no party, Bren. I think that was a sham to see if I’d bend over backward.”
Brenda’s eyes went wide with surprise. She
echoed Kim’s word for Monroe. “Barbarian!”
“I suppose you didn’t know for sure if there actually was a spur-of-the-moment holiday project?” Kim pressed.
Brenda crossed her heart with her index finger. “I most certainly don’t know anything about that. I’m so sorry for having anything to do with last night. Really sorry.”
Kim sighed. “It’s okay. I almost fell for his line, too.”
That was the hard part, the unacceptable part of this mess. She had sort of fallen for Monroe, despite his antics. She liked the angles of his handsome, slightly rugged face, and the shaggy hair surrounding it that often fell across his forehead. She liked the way his wide shoulders stretched his shirt, and the warmth of his hands on the exposed skin of her lower back.
She liked his voice and the easy way it affected her.
Heck, she might have fallen far enough to have assumed she’d be working on a project dealing with the North Pole today. If Brenda hadn’t left that warning message in time, she might have ended up naked on the floor next to the new owner of this place, with nothing to show for it but a bruised backside.
The thought of that...
“What happened after you let him in?” Brenda’s voice seemed distant, drowned out by the sound of Kim’s heartbeat, which suddenly seemed uncharacteristically loud. It had been a mistake to think about Monroe.
“I got your message, Bren,” she said, “and he left.”
Brenda looked relieved. “You’re still here, then? You didn’t quit?”
“Not for the next several days. I’m going to take my vacation.”
“This would be the first time you did.”
“It’s time.”
Her heartbeat refused to settle down. Why?
She inhaled a breath of—not Christmas In A Can, but something else. A masculine scent. One she recognized.
Oh.
She saw her fear confirmed in the look on Brenda’s face.
The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers Page 9