As he came back into the living room, she set her cell phone on the end table. “Looks like we’re snowed in for the day,” she said. “There’s a no-travel advisory in effect, so I’m betting the firm is closed.”
He had no problem with that, if it meant being snowed in with Joey. Although he would’ve liked to have spent the day in the office. There were associates he had yet to meet with, more new cases to assign—which the receptionist had delivered to him before he’d left for the day—and plenty of open case files in the late discovery stages he wanted to review. He had brought a few files home with him, but he’d have preferred to work at the office, only because he had yet to set up his home office. As it was, his laptop was sitting on the dining room table and he had no Internet connection, which meant he wouldn’t be able to do any research of the West Law database from home.
He dropped down on the opposite end of the sofa from Joey and kicked his feet up on the cushion next to her. She took one end of the throw she’d bundled herself in and covered his feet.
“There,” she said, and gave his feet a gentle little pat.
When he gave her a questioning look, she shrugged. “I’m cold,” she said before taking a drink from her own mug.
He glanced at the fire blazing in the hearth then back at Joey. “So that means I’m cold, too?”
She cradled her mug in her hands and nodded. “It’s a rule.”
He smiled. “A girl rule.”
One of her eyebrows winged upward. “You got a problem with girl rules, Stanhope?”
He rested his arm on the back cushion. “Only in that you never know if you’re breaking one until it’s too late. A guy can get into a whole lot of trouble that way.”
Her expression was lofty and clearly indicated she was a pure, blue-blooded Bostonian through and through. He suspected it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume she’d learned it from the cradle, her being a Winfield and all.
“If your kind would get with the program,” she said, her tone starchy yet teasing, “then it wouldn’t be a problem, now would it?”
“You should publish a volume of these rules. Annual updates would be helpful, too. Like Massachusetts Rules of Civil Procedure or the Federal Reporter. Less confusing for us mere mortals that way.”
She made a sound of mock disgust. “That would never work. How would we keep you off balance?”
“Now that’s the beauty of it,” he reasoned. “We’d be on the same page.”
She slipped a hank of honey-blond hair behind her ear. “Where’s the fun in that?” she teased, then flipped the channel to the Today Show.
He settled back and drank his coffee with the realization that he adored this side of Joey. Sweet and teasing, sassy and sexy as hell, wearing…he peered closer…one of his old T-shirts. And only his T-shirt, he mused, since a pair of black lace panties were currently drying on the towel rack in his bathroom.
His body stirred, making the jeans he’d slipped into feel a little too confining. He shifted his position on the sofa slightly. Once the commercial break came, he asked, “So, what are we supposed to do with ourselves all day?”
She let out a sigh and turned to face him. “Gee, I have no idea.” Her tone remained light and carefree, although her expression said she had plenty of ideas on exactly how they could pass the time. “Maybe go build a snowman?”
He had a few ideas of his own and it didn’t include snowmen. In fact, he wouldn’t mind suggesting a few to her, as well. “Whatever we decide on,” he said, “we have one small problem.”
“Shortage of condoms?”
He chuckled. “No. Food.”
“Yes, I noticed. Old Mother Hubbard would feel right at home.” She turned her attention back to the television set.
He nudged her thigh with his toe. “I’m hungry,” he complained.
She ignored him in favor of Matt Lauer.
He nudged her again. “I’m serious.”
She swatted at his foot. “You’re on your own, pal,” she said with little sympathy. “I already had myself a feast this morning. Chocolate-raspberry creamer and strawberry Pop-Tarts. Yum.”
“There’s a market on the corner, but who knows if they’ll be open.”
“I realize you’ve been gone a while, but need I remind you, this is Boston. It takes more than a few gazillion feet of snow to keep us down for long. Besides, I know for a fact there’s a bagel place open. When I talked to Brooke, David had gone out for bagels.”
“Is that your sister’s husband?”
“No. Well, not yet anyway, but it is serious,” she said before taking another sip of coffee. “Katie, Lindsay and I have a pool going, though, on how much longer it’ll be before Brooke ends up married to Boston’s most notorious bad boy. If they elope before the season starts, I win.”
Confused, he frowned. “You lost me.” Unless she was referring to the social season, then he really could care less. But there’d been a time when he had cared, and had even resented that he’d been excluded from his rightful place in Boston society.
She let out a sigh. “David Carerra is my sister’s boyfriend.”
“Carerra? The baseball player?”
“That would be him.”
“I’d heard he was invited to spring training camp.”
“Thank heavens,” she said. “We sure as hell don’t need another season like the last one.”
Ah, so she was a sports fan. He liked that. Not that he was a fanatic, or anything, but that meant she wouldn’t get herself into a snit if he wanted to watch the occasional game.
“What about your other sisters?” he asked. Not that he was really all that interested, but he was curious about her and liked learning more about her.
“Katie’s newly engaged to Liam James. Poor thing spent the day with our grandmother yesterday going over preliminary plans for an engagement party. I’ll bet my secret chocolate stash has been emptied.”
“You live at home?”
She shook her head. “Heavens, no.” She offered up a shudder of mock revulsion. “My place is on my grandparents’ property, though. Katie stayed there last night since she was caught in Brookline by the storm, hence the suspected raid of my emergency chocolate supply.”
“If you have your own residence, it can’t be all that bad.”
“It’s not really. Brooke is the one that has it rough. She lives in the house we grew up in, which is right next door to my great aunt.”
“And what about your other sister?”
“Lindsay?” At his nod, she said, “She’s married to Chassy.”
“Let me guess. A football player.”
She laughed. “No. Chassy is the bar she owns.”
He remembered, now that she’d mentioned it. Somewhere over in South Boston, he thought.
“What about you?” he asked, foregoing subtlety for hard-core information. “Ever been married?”
“Nope. Close once, though.”
“How close?”
“Day-before-the-wedding close.”
That didn’t sound good. “What happened?”
“My fiancé had a major character flaw, so I called off the wedding.”
“Let me guess. He didn’t like cats.”
“Almost as bad,” she said with a slight edge to her voice. “He hadn’t stopped dating.”
He knew the type. Emerson Stanhope had been a cheating bastard. “I’m sorry. That had to be rough.”
She shrugged, but he could tell from the flash of irritation in her eyes that her pride still felt the sting of betrayal. “It was at the time…when I caught him in bed with two of my bridesmaids.” She manufactured a saccharine-sweet smile. “You?”
“Nope,” he said with a shake of his head. “No bridesmaids.”
She gave him a frown and nudged him with her foot.
“No,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve never been married.”
“Engaged?”
“Never.”
“Close?”
�
�Not really.”
“Well, if you’re gay, then you’ve sure managed to fool me.”
He chuckled. “I’ve been told I work too hard.” And that had been one of the nicer things his last girlfriend had said about his workaholic tendencies.
“Need a life, do you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
She leaned forward and set her empty mug on the coffee table. “Are you really starving?”
“I’m withering away here. Can’t you tell?”
She swept him over with her gaze. His body instantly responded to her slow, steady perusal. “You look fine to me,” she said. “I think I’m hungry after all.”
“Un-huh, lady,” he said jokingly. “No nookie until you feed me. I need sustenance and you ate already.”
She shrugged off the throw and stood. “A non-toasted breakfast pastry does not constitute a meal. What do you say we go find us an open greasy spoon in the neighborhood, then come back here and figure out an interesting way to pass the time?”
He stood as well. “I brought work home with me. I should at least make an attempt to get through some of it today.”
“Gee, me, too,” she said, then flashed him a high-wattage smile full of sass. “I’d hate to have my new boss thinking I’m off screwing around all day.”
He grabbed hold of her hand and gave a gentle tug, pulling her to him. Her arms went around his waist and she lifted her lips to his for a quick, hard kiss.
“That, my dear,” he said, “depends on who you’re screwing around with. And since it is your boss, I’d say you don’t have too much to worry about.”
* * *
“We should talk,” Joey blurted.
Sebastian looked up from one of the files he’d been working on for the better part of the past two hours. A legal pad, filled with notes and instructions, was positioned precariously on his lap. He’d suggested they could work in the dining room, but she liked being by the fire.
Warmth filled his brown eyes when he looked at her. “It’s a known fact that conversations that begin with ‘we should talk’ are guaranteed to cause indigestion.”
“Seeing as we ate over three hours ago, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” They had found a diner open two blocks over, as well as the corner market Sebastian had mentioned, where they’d stocked up on enough food supplies to last the entire winter. She might be madly in love with her little red roadster, but having a boyfriend with a big SUV came with a few perks.
She closed the file in her lap and set it on the sofa cushion beside her. She’d been working on a status letter to the insurance adjuster in charge of the case, but her concentration kept slipping. “I’m serious, Sebastian.”
He picked up the remote control for the stereo set to a Top 40 station, and turned down the volume. “What’s on your mind?” he asked as he leaned back against the cushions.
She pulled in a quick breath. “I like spending time with you.”
“But…?”
“But it’s a problem.”
“Because…?”
“Because of our professional relationship,” she said, wondering why he was pretending to be so dense. “If word gets out, we might not lose our jobs, but it wouldn’t look good. You’re a partner. I’m an associate. Hello?”
He let out a sigh. “I know.”
She drew in another deep breath. She’d never been accused of being shy, and she didn’t think now was a good time to start. “If we’re going to continue spending time together, then we should probably set a few ground rules.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Such as?” he asked with a note of caution in his voice.
“All extracurricular activity takes place off campus.”
The grin that slowly spread across his face was nothing short of wicked. The man was impossible.
“Meaning I can’t pull you into an empty conference room and have my way with you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Something like that.”
“Damn. I was planning on trying that one out tomorrow. Before lunch.”
Her shoulders drooped. “Would you be serious? Please?” How did they expect to carry on an office romance on the sly if he wasn’t willing to look at the situation with at least a modicum of sincerity? With his cavalier attitude, they’d be busted by the end of the week.
The wickedness of his grin intensified. “I’m perfectly serious.”
She gave him a level stare. “Sebastian.”
“All right,” he said, sobering. “I get it, Joey.”
“That’s another thing. You can’t keep calling me Joey at the office. You should see the odd looks I get whenever you do.”
“You’re not a Josephine. Not to me.”
She wasn’t to her, either, but that was another neurosis best saved for another discussion. “Jo, then.”
He shook his head. “Not even close.”
“Then call me Winfield,” she said a little too snappishly. “Anything but Joey.”
“Why? It’s your name.”
“Because when you call me Joey, it leaves an impression of familiarity that isn’t appropriate in the office. People will talk. Before long, they’re going to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Being deliberately obtuse.”
He let out a sigh and reached for her hand. With a light tug, he hauled her into his lap. The file she’d been working on slid to the floor.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Who knows what goes on inside that man-brain of yours.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “I think you’re making too much out of nothing. No one cares what I call you. And no one is going to find out we’re having an affair.”
Affair? That was what they were having, weren’t they? Sometime between last night and this afternoon, they’d gone from a sort of booty-call relationship right into an affair. Although they barely knew each other, they were involved. She had to face that fact at least.
Was what they were sharing deeper than mere physical attraction? She’d hazard a guess and say, more than likely. But did she want it to be more? No matter how long she mulled it over, the answers just weren’t all that easy for her.
“Unless we start going at it like rabbits on a desk, that is,” he added.
She frowned. “But…”
His hands traveled down her spine to settle on her bottom. “Relax, Joey.”
She blew out a stream of breath, then looped her arms around his neck. “Okay,” she said and attempted to relax her shoulders. “I’ll try.”
“That’s a good girl.”
She chose to ignore the mild hint of condescension in his tone. Because if he really knew the real Joey, he’d probably be horrified. Growing up, Katie might have been the one to get into more trouble, but that was only because Katie hadn’t learned how not to get caught.
Besides, would a good girl really be having a hot and heavy affair with her boss, of all people? She didn’t think so. But that was her, all right. Joey Winfield, bad to the bone, all wrapped up in a pedigree dating back to the Mayflower.
“I think I could use some help in that department,” she said and wiggled her bottom against him. She felt the hard ridge of his erection through his jeans and smiled. “I am feeling a little tense at the moment.”
“We can’t have that.” His hand slipped behind her head and he guided her to him to nibble on her neck. “How’s this?” he asked, the sound a sexy rumble against her sensitive skin.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “A nice start.”
He used his other hand to sneak beneath the hem of her blouse. His fingers teased her nipples through the lace of her bra, the sensation sending sparks of delight skittering through her limbs. Need tugged at her, and she had every intention of answering the call.
“And this?” he whispered against her skin.
“I have
an even better idea,” she said, then took his hand and guided his fingers beneath her skirt to where her panties were already damp with need.
“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “So hot.”
She closed her eyes and arched against his questing fingers, encouraging him to stroke her deeply. Before long, his expert touch had her writhing against his hand as she drew closer to that blissful moment when her world tilted and she came. She cried out, caught by surprise by the unexpected power of her orgasm.
Relaxed didn’t begin to explain how she felt. More like boneless. But he didn’t give her a chance to recover. He eased her off him and had her on her knees on the sofa, her skirt pushed up around her waist. After quickly dispensing with her panties and freeing himself from his jeans, he entered her from behind in one swift stroke. She felt all of him moving inside her and moaned at the exquisite sensations shooting through her like a series of flashing bolts of lightning on a summer night.
He leaned over her. With one arm banded around her waist, he continued to thrust into her, each stroke of his body more powerful than the last until they eventually collapsed, sated, atop the sofa in a tangle of limbs and disheveled clothing.
She didn’t know how long it took for her world to be righted again. Probably when she couldn’t breathe because Sebastian was crushing her. “Air,” she said, her voice strained. “I need air.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, then sat up and pulled her with him.
She tugged her skirt over her hips and frowned at the wetness between her legs that wasn’t completely her own. Turning to Sebastian, she gave him a harsh glare. “Well, that was stupid,” she said, unable to believe what they’d just done.
When he didn’t look as if he was anywhere close to catching on, she said, “Unless I’m mistaken, and believe me, a girl knows the difference, we did that without protection.”
The color instantly drained from his face. “Ah, shit. Joey. I’m sorry.”
She stood and scooped up her panties. “We very well could be,” she muttered.
My Guilty Pleasure Page 9