Show and Tell

by Jasmine Haynes

  “I want to see if your advice is the same as my advice.” She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear.

  “Why don’t you tell me the story?” His heartbeat pulsing in his ears, he added a chaser of wine to his bite of moussaka.

  “Well, it’s complicated, but her brother did something wrong that reflected badly on her father.” She shot another gaze through her lashes. “Professionally speaking, that is.”

  “Was it something illegal?”

  Her sudden nervousness came out in the way she toyed with her food instead of attacking it with her former gusto. “It was more unethical than illegal.”

  “I’m assuming her father found out and . . .” He raised an eyebrow in query.

  “Well.” She paused, then rushed on as if afraid he wouldn’t understand. “She loves them both and hates seeing them at odds, but her father was so disappointed he won’t talk to his son now.” Cutting a bit of lamb, she chewed longer than necessary.

  “Let me guess the next item on the agenda. The son wants his sister to intercede with their father.”

  She looked straight at him and gaped slightly. “How’d you know?”

  “I figure out the mystery before the end of the movie.”

  She laughed. “And annoyingly, you reveal it, just so everyone knows you’re right.”

  He liked the smile back on her face, but a slight ache beat against his heart. He hadn’t watched a movie since Lexa and Brooke were home for Christmas. On his own, he didn’t bother, working instead. “My girls hate that.” He quirked his mouth in a half smile. “But I’m always right.”

  “Remind me never to watch a movie with you.”

  He imagined how good it would feel to have her folded in his arms watching movies on his rarely used big-screen TV. The simple things were as hot as sex. “How about a sexy thriller?”

  She eyed him.

  “So, your friend’s brother,” he said to clear away the strange urge, “what did you tell her?”

  “I haven’t told her anything yet.” Instead of playing with her meal, she set her fork down and her hands disappeared beneath the table. “What would you suggest if you were her friend?”

  “He did something unethical, if not illegal, and somehow compromised her dad’s position.” His elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers. “He’s obviously made a big mistake, and if he’s asking his sister to talk to his father, then I’d say he hasn’t learned his lesson yet.”

  “You don’t think so? What if he wrote to their father, who tore the letter up without reading it?”

  “Then I’d have to ask if her father told her that or her brother did. Because whatever he says is suspect.”

  She gazed over his shoulder, studying either the painting of an old Greek sailor or something deep inside her mind. “You’re right,” she whispered. “You have to learn your own lessons, and you’ll make lots of mistakes along the way, but you’ll come out better in the end.” She tipped her head. “Won’t you?”

  He wondered what mistakes she’d made. Her marriage? He sure as hell knew about making that mistake. Had he learned his lesson out of the dissolution of his own marriage? He was still a workaholic. Sure, right now his little Jezebel came first, but if he actually had a relationship, would it go the way of his marriage? Late nights, broken dates, business before pleasure. He recalled a time or two he’d shortchanged the girls, chosen a business need over a school play or a soccer game.

  Yet the girls were still the most important thing in the world. “Yeah. You learn from your mistakes if you recognize they were your mistakes and fix them yourself.” He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Which is a damn sight harder than asking your sister to do it for you.”

  She blinked, gazing at him with troubled blue eyes, and he couldn’t tell a thing about what she saw.

  Until her mouth curved in the slightest of smiles. “I think I should tell my friend to let her brother handle it himself.”

  “I think you should, too.”

  “Thanks.” Then she graced him with a high-wattage smile, and his heart turned over in his chest.

  “Problem solved,” she whispered.

  He had a feeling he was stepping into a whole new problem. In addition to lusting after her, he now admired her family loyalty and caring nature. What the hell was his next emotion about her going to be? And how much would it cost him?

  SCOTT was a like a Xanax fix. Not that she’d taken Xanax, but she imagined the semi-euphoric rush in her blood was exactly how Xanax would feel.

  His hand clasped around hers as he walked her back to her car was big, solid, protective. He held onto her despite the fact that the street was empty, or maybe because of it. They were much more alone than earlier, at the mercy of a mugger, but San Jose’s financial district was clean, well lit, and she’d seen a couple of cop cars cruising. She’d buttoned her sweater against the chilly night, but she could have stayed warm all the way through with the touch of Scott’s hand.

  It was his advice that gave her the Xanax fix, though. She’d used the “friend” excuse so it wouldn’t seem like she was getting too personal, and granted, Scott hadn’t solved her problems, but it felt good to talk about it. She’d been on edge all day, wondering what to do about Lance, how to approach Daddy, not to mention that horrible lunch with the girls. Except for Christina, they’d chattered amongst themselves as if she weren’t there. When she’d tried to engage them, they’d ignored her or talked over her. There were two camps on the AP/AR battlefield, and they’d clearly chosen Inga’s.

  But that was another matter. For now, she felt satisfied with letting Lance take care of his own issues. She’d advise him on how to make things better, but doing it was up to him.

  Steering her to the elevators, Scott punched the button. They’d parked in the underground garage beneath his office building. When the doors closed, he drew in her, sliding an arm across her back. “Come home with me.”

  Her heart pitter-pattered. “No.”

  His mouth quirked in his familiar devilish smile. “Yes.”

  “No means no.”

  Tightening his arm, he rubbed his erection against her. “I promise not to do anything you don’t want me to.”

  She wanted him to do a lot. She imagined she wouldn’t even want to get out of bed until morning. Scott was a dangerous man. She could start wanting more. She could start feeling the need to don her Trinity debutante mask, acting the perfect little lover so he wouldn’t run away.

  When he tried to hold her in the elevator, she dragged him out into the car park. “I am not going to your house.” It was too . . . intimate. She would see how he lived. She would know more about him. She’d want to know more about him.

  “You’re a hard woman.”

  She couldn’t resist running her hand across the front of his slacks. “You’re a hard man.”

  He groaned. “Tease.” He stopped her as they approached his car. “Come home and watch a movie.”

  “Hah.” She clucked her tongue at him. “You’ll probably put on something X-rated and get all randy.”

  “I don’t have any X-rated movies.” He crossed his heart. It was endearing. “Wouldn’t want my daughters to accidentally come across them and think their dad’s a perv.”

  She giggled. “Their dad is a perv.”

  Leaning back against the rear hatch of his car, he reeled her in until she was once again plastered to his body. “Only with you,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair.

  Despite her heels, she still felt small in his arms. God, she adored his height. He was so, so dangerous to her equilibrium.

  “Come home.” His voice seduced her, his body melted her.

  She wanted to do exactly as he asked. “Why don’t you show me your office instead?” That was relatively safe.

  “Done,” he said, pinning her close for a long second.

  His office had possibilities. She could kiss him, maybe do a few naughty things, but they couldn’t go too far because, after
all, it was his office. It was only eight. Why, the place might not even be empty, all his little accountant worker bees buzzing about. Or the cleaning people could be making their rounds.

  Both hands on her arms, he set her away from him, beeped his remote, opened the back door, retrieved something, then slammed and locked the car again. Gathering her hand in his, he set a pace so fast she almost had to skip to keep up.

  Once in the elevator, he swiped his card key access and entered the fifteenth floor before the car would move. Then it shot them sky-high. On his floor, he led her out into a short but well-lit hallway. “We have two more floors,” he said. “Reception is on the fourteenth along with Marketing. Plus there’s our manufacturing facility down in Morgan Hill.” Pride radiated through his voice. He loved his job and the company. Flipping a thumb, he indicated a set of double doors beyond the bank of elevators. “On that side of the hall are the executive offices”—he tipped his head to the other door—“and my bailiwick, Accounting, is behind door number two.”

  He swiped his key once again outside the unmarked entrance. It was dark inside after the bright light of the hallway, and the alarm beeped as they stepped over the threshold, its green readout flashing. Hitting a few numbers on a keypad, he shut it off.

  “With all the proprietary information, we’ve got separate alarms for each section,” he explained. “Which is handy because we know we’re alone.” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Every-one’s gone.” His teeth flashed white with a sexy smile.

  Uh-oh. Maybe she’d miscalculated on how safe from temptation she was up here.

  The emergency sign overhead provided the only light. Then he flipped a switch and a single row of fluorescents flickered on, highlighting the center bullpen of cubicles. Offices ringed the perimeter, fashioned with movable walls for easy rearranging.

  Scott led her to the corner office and unlocked it.

  “Ooh, you’re Mister Big,” she said, glancing around.

  His window overlooked other high-rise buildings and bits of the San Jose skyline. He hit the lights, and the sky disappeared in the reflection. The large office was appointed well with solid wood furniture, a small oak conference table, and comfy chairs. His notebook computer sat on the desk with wireless keyboard and mouse. A white board hung on one wall kitty-corner to an elegant painting of a Japanese woman in a stunning kimono.

  Feeling him close behind her, she ran a finger along the edge of his desk. “You’re very neat.”

  He liked colored pens and lots of Post-it notes in varying sizes. Piles of folders and papers loaded down several stackable wire in-boxes. She needed something like it to separate the papers she hadn’t looked at from the ones she’d gone through and the stuff she had no clue what to do with.

  “I’m a lot of things.” He slid his arms around her waist, fingers gliding up to undo the buttons of her sweater. “And right now, hard is one of them.” He punctuated his declaration with a roll of his hips.

  She pushed back. “You left your office door open.” The slight fear of being caught delighted her.

  “I did. That way I can hear if the outer door opens. Wouldn’t want the janitors surprising us if they unlocked my office door.” Cupping both breasts, he pinched her nipples.

  She sucked in a breath and bit down on her lip. So good. A tad painful, but that enhanced the pleasure.

  Along her spine, his cock grew. With her hands over his, she guided him down to her abdomen. “Bad boy,” she whispered.

  He kept on going, down to her hips, her thighs, her pussy. “Very bad,” he breathed against her ear. “I want you now.”

  He inched her dress over her hips. She fought it back down. “There are lights on in that building. We’ll be seen.”

  With one hand, he trapped hers against her tummy, and tugged up her dress. “Yeah, we might be seen.” Nuzzling aside her hair, he murmured, “It’ll be fucking hot.” Then he slid past the elastic of her thong, delving into her pussy. “Feel how wet you are. The idea turns you on as much as it does me.”

  She tried to wriggle away. “Of course it doesn’t.” Oh God, it did. He caressed her lightly along her center. She wanted more. His hand. His mouth. His cock.

  “A woman executive maybe. Wearing a thong like yours. She’d have to touch herself.”

  His words seduced her. She’d never been like this with anyone, willing to do naughty things that turned her inside out.

  Pushing her forward until her hands rested on his desk, he continued the erotic play, teasing fingers, sensual words.

  “Hmm, maybe a CEO.” Leaning over her, he brushed her hair with his chin as he nodded. “Over there, top window. He shuts off the lights so he can see us better, then sits in his big chair, takes his cock out, and jerks off while I fuck you.”

  She shivered, and her breath seemed trapped in her throat. “You’re very crude.” It was the crassness of his words that got to her. She wanted it.

  Reaching between them, the back of his hand stroked her bared butt as he undid his belt. His zipper rasped, and she closed her eyes, a low moan rising in her throat.

  “You want to make us both come, don’t you? Me inside you, him watching. You have us in the palm of your hand right now, willing to do anything.” Bending his knees, he rubbed the head of his cock along the crease of her butt.

  She’d never had a man without foreplay. Even with foreplay, sex had never been anything like it was with Scott. His voice was foreplay. Her heart beat loudly, her breath came fast, and between her legs she was wet and ready.

  Leaning over her, he nipped the back of her neck like a tomcat sensing her heat. “Tell me what you want.”

  She gasped. “I want you.”

  “How do you want me?”

  “Inside me.” She pushed back, straining against him.

  “Say it. Say what you want me to do.”

  Tears of need gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Fuck me, please fuck me.” It wasn’t her word, yet that’s exactly how she wanted it, right this minute. Hard, dirty, raw.

  He shifted, rustled, noises, the sounds titillating her senses. She closed her eyes, and he rubbed her with the condom. Lightly kicking her legs apart with his foot, he held her hips as he tugged aside her thong. The threads popped, the sounds of tearing material so elemental, her knees would have buckled if he wasn’t pinning her to the desk.

  Hunkered over her, he breathed her in. “God, you smell good.”

  Then Scott coated himself in her moisture, groaned, and plunged deep. She went rigid beneath him, her fingers outstretched, then slowly she clenched her fists.

  “Tell me how good it is.” He needed to know. Wrapped in her heat, he felt close to implosion.

  She sucked in a breath, moaned on the exhale, and murmured, “Move. I want to feel you.”

  He twisted her hair around his hand, pulled her head back, then grabbed her hip and seated himself deeper.

  “Oh my God,” she whimpered. “It’s never felt like that.”

  He retreated almost to the tip, then slid inside her, slowly, every inch of her warmth pulling him in. She jammed her hands down on the desktop and pushed back. Sliding an arm under her, he hitched her closer, riding her more deeply.

  “You make me crazy.” He didn’t know if she could hear, but her breathy moans, the quaking of her body, and her tight fit around his cock drove him higher than he’d ever been. He took her until she cried his name, then it wasn’t even words, just a long, panting wail that cut some deep-seated need loose inside him, pounding harder, faster, deeper. No woman had screamed like that for him. The build in his balls was so intense it hurt, and as her body convulsed around him, he lost his mind, emptying himself inside her.