A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2)

by Fionn Jameson

  “Have you ever regarded her as such?”

  His brow went up. “Miss Hasegawa, can I ask you something?”

  “Yes?” I replied cautiously.

  “What do you think is going on between myself and Miss Jimenez?”

  A lump got stuck in my throat as I remembered how Heather had looked at me when she stopped me from leaving the table the day before. “She adores you, Mr. Miyano.”

  Then again, who didn’t?

  Even I did, although I tried my best not to think too much about it because it was just too embarrassing to admit.

  He tapped his well-shaped, clean-shaven chin. “She adores my looks. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to encourage her affections. Although, if I had known you would suffer the blowback, I would have disobeyed the order.”

  I blinked. “Order? What order?”

  He glanced at my neck. The scarf looked ridiculous with the dress, so I had to do the best I could with concealer and foundation. While I thought I did a pretty good job, by the way Nobuki was looking at me I thought he could pick out every bruise on my skin.

  He swirled the wine in his glass, looking at the rich, dark depths with such intensity it made my thighs clench together and rub to soothe my heated core.

  What would it feel like to have him look at me like that?

  Would I ever find out?

  “Heather Jimenez’s books are very popular in Japan,” he said.

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “Sometimes her books get released at the same time in the States as well as Japan, but most times we have to wait a few months for her book to get an official translation. Of course, there are always people who get their hands on the English version and translate it into Japanese and put it up on their blog. Do you know how many people read the fan translations?”

  I felt my cheeks color. “I, um, I’m one of them.”

  I saw a hint of his white teeth as a corner of his lips twisted up. “My point exactly. If we could somehow manage to get a Japan-first release, I don’t even know how many print runs we’d have to do.”

  “Okay, so…” I hesitated. “So…”

  He sipped his wine and looked at me over the rim, the glass dangling from his long, elegant fingers. “One of my main purposes for coming here was to secure the rights for Heather Jimenez’s future works to be published concurrently, or even sooner than the American release.”

  I shook my head, having a hard time processing his words. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite—”

  He let out a little scornful snort, which was very like him. “I mean, it was my purpose to do whatever was necessary to get those rights. To get Heather to publish with us directly, rather than going through some intermediary that would have just stalled the entire process.”

  “You’ve succeeded on that front,” I said. I almost didn’t sound bitter. Yay, me. “She all but warned me away from you yesterday.”

  His eyes narrowed. Goosebumps popped up on my bare arms. “She did what?”

  Crap. “Um.”

  “What did she do yesterday?”

  I sighed and stared down at my hands clenched in my lap. “She came to my room yesterday.”

  “And how did she know where your room was?” The frost in his voice made the skin on my arms pebble.

  “It’s not hard to figure it out. Groups usually get rooms next to each other, don’t they? But that’s not the point. We met in the lounge and she said you were hers, and I needed to stay away from you.”

  “Ah.” His finger traced along the rim of his wineglass.

  I couldn’t look away from the strangely erotic gesture. “Look, whatever you have going on with Miss Jimenez is none of my business.”

  He made a small sound of impatience. “Miss Hasegawa, have you been listening to me at all? I’ve just told you the reason I allowed Heather Jimenez to drag me all over the damn place.”

  “Oh,” I said, nonplussed. “The rights. You were using her for the rights.”

  “Using her seems a little overboard as I’m sure she was using me just as much,” he said dryly. “But yes. What I have done is for the company. Therefore, you may come to the conclusion there is nothing untoward going on between me and Miss Jimenez, so if you didn’t spread rumors of the sort when we go back to the office I would greatly appreciate it.”

  I stiffened, fingernails digging into my hands. “I am hardly the sort to spread rumors, Mr. Miyano. Furthermore, your so-called ‘charge’ tried to kill me and threatened me yesterday, so maybe you should be the one deciding if there’s nothing going on between the pair of you. Because Heather sure as hell doesn’t feel the same way.”

  Our food came and even though it was delicious, I picked at it, indignation making it hard to enjoy the excellent steak and wine.

  Damn it.

  What a jerk.

  While he ate, I told myself that all I needed was one good fuck. One good fuck, then I could get him out of my system and get on with the rest of my life.

  Just one good fuck.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked as he was nearly done with his steak and I had reached the halfway point with my picking.

  I took a quick swig of wine, trying to come up with some kind of plan that would help the night not turn into a potential embarrassing disaster. “I guess I’m not that hungry.”

  He looked at my plate, his brow furrowing. “What a waste.”

  I remembered our first dinner together, about how he had grown up poor and made sure to eat everything on his plate.

  Damn it.

  If I was planning to seduce him, getting on his good side was a must, so with a deep breath and trying to summon up an appetite that just didn’t materialize, fork and knife in each hand, I dug into the piece of meat that, admittedly, melted like butter in my mouth.

  I realized that if I had to force food into my mouth, then this plate of expensive, delicious food was the best possible thing to choke down.

  But nerves made it difficult to swallow, so with a liberal amount of wine, I managed to finish my plate.

  Meanwhile, Nobuki had finished his a while ago and was watching me with a contemplative tilt to his dark, slashing brows.

  I put my fork and knife on the empty plate and pressed a hand to my mouth as I suppressed a burp.

  “Thank you.” My belly was uncomfortably full, head swimming from the strong, potent wine. “That was delicous”

  “Are you ready to go back home?”

  I thought about that. “Yes. I think so. I miss the food. The food here is so rich.”

  He grimaced. “It does stick to your ribs, doesn’t it?”

  “If it sticks any more, you’ll have to roll me on the plane,” I muttered and, thankfully, the waiter came by to collect our plates. Unfortunately, he also replenished my empty glass of wine.

  “Do you like the wine, Miss Hasegawa?” His eyes glowed in the candlelight. “I picked it for you.”

  “Oh,” I said faintly. “Um. Thank you. It is very good.”

  Much to my dismay and horror, the waiter came by again, leaving a plate with a rectangular piece of chocolate cake. It was dusted with powdered sugar and had squiggles of red syrup and dollops of whipped cream along the edge of the white and gold plate.

  “Oh no,” I moaned. “Not more food.”

  I felt another burp come up my esophagus and managed to swallow it back down.

  “I’m told their sachertorte is the best around,” he said. “I was of the impression that you were a fan of sweet things.”

  “What?” I asked, surprised. “Really?”

  “Remember the first day we met? I was trying to find the keys to the cabinet in my new office and had to go through your desk. I didn’t find the keys, but I did find a great deal of sweets in your desk drawer.”

  My stomach knotted at the knowing glint in his dark eyes. “I can explain.”

  Actually, I’d never met a cake I didn’t like, but I wasn’t sure I could take another bite, not with the butterfli
es fluttering in the pit of my stomach.

  He grabbed a small spoon and scooped up a dollop of whipped cream. “Their desserts are the best. Their patissier was trained in France.”

  I watched the spoon disappear between his dark claret lips and my gut started doing somersaults.

  This was nuts. What the hell was I doing?

  He drew the spoon out, but there was the faintest dab of whipped cream at the corner of his lips.

  “So?” he asked as he put the spoon down, his eyes on me. “Do you or don’t you like sweet things, Miss Hasegawa?”

  Suddenly, a vivid image of Nobuki with smudges of whipped cream all over that sun-kissed skin flashed through my mind and I chugged the rest of my wine to cover my confusion.

  He watched me with not a little amount of amusement, as though he knew the effect he had on me. “Was that a yes?”

  My hands twisted into knots in my lap as I fought the urge to swipe the cream off his lip, to slip my finger into my mouth and savor that sweetness.

  “Um.” My gaze going everywhere but on him. “Yes. Of course. I mean, what woman doesn’t like sweet things?”

  He sighed as he reached for the spoon again.

  “I have to admit, I have a weakness for sweets as well,” he said in a distressing tone, as though it bothered him. “I’ve tried to deny myself the pleasure, but quite frankly, when it’s in front of me, there’s not a whole lot I can do but partake.”

  I stared at him, mouth dry even though I had just thrown half a glass of wine down my throat.

  Was he flirting with me?

  Was he talking about the cake or me?

  I licked my lips.

  His eyes followed the movement.

  Dear God.

  At a loss, I found myself tapping the corner of my mouth. “You have something here.”

  He sighed and wiped at it with a napkin. “Damn, this is why sweet things are so annoying. They just get everywhere. Embarrassing.”

  No.

  What was embarrassing was the fact that I couldn’t even look the object of my most fervent lust in the face, even though we had done just about everything sex-related under the sun.

  Sure, it was only in my dreams, but that should’ve let me at least look him in the eyes.

  The waiter came by and refilled my glass, which I promptly threw down my throat again.

  Nobuki looked at me, a spoonful of dark chocolate cake halfway to his open mouth. “You know, most people would savor that. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a bottle of antifreeze?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, making sure to slur my words a bit. From my experience, a tipsy woman can get away with a lot, but if I overdid it, it was sure to turn him off. Tipsy women were sexy; drunk women were…not.

  Luckily, my heated face could be misconstrued as the alcohol affecting me and I smiled at him, batting my heavy eyelashes at him.

  He chewed that spoonful of sachertorte. “Is everything quite all right, Miss Hasegawa? You look flushed.”

  I tried to laugh in a beguiling manner, but it might’ve come off as strident. That was okay. Strident was a sign of being a little too heavy in one’s cups, right?

  “I’m totally fine, Mister Miyano.” Heart fluttering in my chest, I pasted a stupid, silly smile on my face and put my hand on his wrist.

  He paused in the middle of chewing and looked down at my hand.

  For a second, I froze, positive he was going to shake it off.

  Instead, he put his spoon down, his eyes narrowed. “May I ask what you’re doing, Miss Hasegawa?”

  I leaned in my seat, letting him see practically all the way down to my belly button. Thank God for lacy push-up bras. “Oh, there’s no need to stand on principle, right? I mean, tomorrow we’re going back to our boring, normal lives, but for now, we’re here…and wouldn’t it be nice to take advantage of the situation?”

  His hand twitched under mine and then he pulled it away.

  My stomach quivered.

  Damn. He was going to turn me down.

  I had overdone the whole drunk routine.

  “Are you drunk, Miss Hasegawa?”

  “Don’t be so upright,” I tittered and tapped his hand with a neatly trimmed fingernail. “So what if I’ve had a few drinks? Can’t we indulge in our fantasies for one night? What’s the harm, Mr. Miyano?”

  His brows furrowed and he leaned back in his seat, his gaze piercing through me. “I’m not sure if I understand what’s going on. Would you care to enlighten me?”

  I licked my lips and saw to my relief that he couldn’t look away.

  Well, that was good.

  “Oh, come on, do I have to spell it out, Mr. Miyano?” I asked in a cloying voice. “It’s our last night here. You’re an incredibly attractive man. I think Heather’s attraction to you should speak for itself. I have to admit, I’m kind of curious.”

  “You’re curious?” he mused, looking down at my hand next to his. “Are you proposing what I think you’re proposing?”

  I leaned an elbow on the table and gave him my best sloppy smile. “I want just one night with you, Mr. Miyano. Just a one-night affair.”

  Chapter 17

  There.

  I said it.

  Now to let the chips fall where they may.

  He smiled.

  God, he was so damn beautiful in the candlelight, that devil-may-care tilt to his lips, a lock of dark hair falling over one eye.

  “Miss Hasegawa.” He laughed. “Maybe I should call you Rika.”

  I loved the way he said it, like he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue, running it along his mouth like he could extract every bit of flavor from those two syllables.

  “Let’s discuss a few things.” he asked.

  I nodded, trying to remember how tipsy women nodded. “What are they?”

  “First, drop the drunk act,” he said.

  I blinked. Shit. How did he know? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Didn’t you just see me chug that wine? Why wouldn’t I be drunk?”

  He snorted under his breath. “Do you take me for an idiot? I know when a woman is drunk and you’re not even tipsy. Not to mention, your dear friend Julian was so kind as to tell me about those times you drank shochu with your father.”

  I winced at his care in uttering the word “friend”. Did he know?

  Still, he had caught me out.

  I could either lie or own up to it.

  Which would land me in his bed for the night?

  When in doubt, tell the truth, right?

  I sighed and shrugged. “Okay. You caught me.”

  “There’s no way someone who can drink a bottle of shochu with her father could possibly get even the slightest bit tipsy on a few glasses of fairly weak wine,” he said in a vaguely disappointed voice. “Really, Miss Hasegawa. What do you take me for?”

  Were we back to last names again? “Did I fool you even just a little bit?”

  He raised a brow at my question. “What do you think?”

  My shoulders slumped as shame started to come over me again. “I thought…I thought if you refused me and I pretended to be drunk…maybe I could just laugh it off. You could chalk my proposal up to the wine and we could both act like this never happened.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “I’m not sure where you got the impression I was even the slightest bit attracted to drunk women.”

  I eyed him, unsure of my footing in the situation. “Aren’t a lot of men?”

  “I am not a lot of men,” he said dryly.

  What an understatement.

  “Okay.” I felt more like a fool as the seconds ticked by. “So we settled the fact that I’m not drunk. What else did you want to discuss?”

  “You want to have sex,” he said baldly, and I flushed all over again.

  Jesus. Did he have to say it like that?

  “I guess so?” I said hesitantly.

  He gave me a withering look. “Do you or don’t you?”

>   I licked my lips. “Yes.”

  He nodded once. “Good. I like assertive women.”

  Ack. Well, that was a bunch of marks against me because I couldn’t think of a way I could’ve been any less assertive about the entire situation.

  “I’m not against the idea,” he said, and I gaped.

  He pulled out a ballpoint pen from his breast pocket and scrawled something on one of the linen napkins.

  He pushed it across the table at me, the pen rolling just behind it.

  I stared at the words, blinking several times because I couldn’t believe what I was reading.

  Then I looked at him, cold, implacable. “This is a contract.”

  “It is.”

  “You want me to sign a contract.”

  “Yes.”

  As far as contracts went, it was pretty straightforward.

  We wouldn’t talk about this to anyone, or the relationship was terminated.

  We would engage in casual sex and that was all it was going to end up.

  We were not in any kind of relationship.

  The second either of us experienced any kind of emotional pull, the relationship was terminated.

  “So.” The pen trembled in my hand. “This wouldn’t be the only time.”

  “It could be, if you wanted.”

  “But you could have your pick of any woman,” I said, confused about the terms of the contract. “This sounds like you can have free use of my body whenever you want, but couldn’t you get that with any woman?”

  He sighed. “Most women out there want something. All you want is my body. I’m sure you harbor no such illusions about our relationship. It’s just about sex with you, isn’t it?”

  I nodded so much I thought my head was going to fall off. “Actually, I was thinking about just one night.”

  His eyes grew hooded. “I have needs. I find it inconvenient to wine and dine a woman and then lie to her just to fuck her. But you know what I want and I know what you want. It’s ideal, don’t you think?”

  It was everything I could have wanted and more.

  To do all the things to Nobuki’s body that I had ever dreamed of.

  But…

  “No one would know about this,” I said firmly.

  He nodded. “No one would know.”