Chrissie cackles so hard she spews wine all over herself, and we both start giggling again.
“I see where you’re coming from. You work together?”
“For the moment. He’s a client. Jordan’s handling the campaign for his cruise line.”
“Hhhmmm. Okay, so he’s definitely into you. You’re into him, and you have to work together for the foreseeable future. Yeah. That sounds complicated. What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know.”
And it’s true. I know now that keeping Gregory at arm’s length is not going to be as easy as I’d led myself to believe, and as I’ve said, there’s no way I can ever have enough control of the situation to be completely comfortable with what’s happening.
But, and this is a big one, I know we’re going to sleep together. It’s as inevitable as the sunrise. I just need to decide when I’ll let that happen and how I’ll respond when it’s over.
Gregory Lucas is not a man to build dreams around, and I know it, I just have to convince the old fashioned idiot in my head that sex for the sake of sex is not wrong and that I don’t want anything more than that.
Chapter Seven
I’ve set up the boardroom, arranged lunch and drinks, and practically done Jordan’s entire presentation and practiced it with him by the time twelve o’clock rolls around.
I am starving and crabby from my restless night, and my idiot boss is still having a conniption about God alone knows what. Some days I wish I could kick his bratty ass to the moon.
“Where the hell is that file!”
I sigh and drop my purse back to my desk and walk into his office with as much calm as I am able to present. It’s like being a nanny. I just have to remember that slapping him or giving him a time out isn’t possible.
I just have to breathe through it and help him through the stress. His big Lucas presentation is in ten minutes, and he’s having a meltdown.
“I put it in your briefcase. Here,” I say through clenched teeth, pulling the file out.
“What about the slides?”
“In the boardroom, along with the individual copies.”
“Lunch?”
“Everything is there. I’ve arranged for fresh coffee to be brought in, and Taz is taking notes for Mr Yates, so I have that covered on our end too.”
He nods distractedly and runs a hand through his floppy brown hair.
“Here. Just take a deep breath and remember that we’ve considered everything. There’s no way they won’t be impressed.”
“Really? Because I had a meeting with Yates at the golf course, and I’m a little unsure of my position if this presentation doesn’t go well. I need this account.”
Well, you should have considered that before you went back to the golf course and left me to do your job, I say silently.
“It’s going to be fine. Now go in there and wow those people.”
“Come with me,” he pleads, and I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Mr Yates only wants the bigwigs and Taz in there. I can’t sit in without permission. Anyway, its lunchtime, and I still have to go pick up your wife’s dress from the cleaners,” I remind him.
One day, I will not be a glorified goffer.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
“Yeah, okay,” he sighs, grabbing his stuff and walking to the door. “Thanks, Han, I appreciate all your hard work.”
When he’s gone I look out the window, just to be sure the sky is still blue and that a huge alien spacecraft isn’t hovering over New York. Jordan saying thank you? Weirdest day ever.
I meet Lucy in the elevator, and we ride down together, deciding to grab lunch at the deli on the corner. They make a great chicken salad, and the cleaners are just down the street.
“Know what I don’t understand?” she asks as we pay for the food and grab a table at the window.
“What?”
Yummy, the chicken’s a little crispy today, just the way I like it.
“The Lucas account was with The Bowen Agency. I mean, they’re like the Ali’s and Tyson’s of advertising. Why move your business to another agency, especially such a small one like ours, if you’ve got the crème da la crème in your pocket?”
That’s a great question, but one I am not equipped to answer. What do I know about what makes Gregory tick? The man is a mystery, kind of like water on Mars. You want to think you know what’s going on, but deep down you know the water could just be weird colored rocks or something.
He’s like that, the proverbial maybe, and I’m about as capable of guessing his intentions as I am of convincing my boss that golf is not a sport.
“Maybe he didn’t like them. Who knows? The important thing is that we do have the account, and it could mean bigger and better for the agency. Now eat your lunch, I still have to go get her highness’s dress down the street.”
“God, I am so glad I got Owens. Have I said that before?”
“Only like a million times,” I snort. “Stop crowing about it and get a move on. I’m dying to know about the presentation. I hope Jordan doesn’t balls it up.”
I shouldn’t take it too personally. Jordan’s arrogant and an ass sometimes, and he definitely does not have the finest presentation skills. I know this, so getting huffy because he’s likely to bomb the presentation I put together isn’t smart.
But it’ll piss me off if my hard work isn’t lauded.
“You remember what happened with the Rowland thing? I swear to God the entire floor had bets going. I won fifty bucks and Owens had to buy me lunch for a week.”
Yeah, I remember that too, and it still makes my blood boil. That presentation had been perfect for the kings of peanut butter. Too bad they’d hated Jordan so much they’d pulled the plug and gone elsewhere.
“You are like the best PA in the company. Even Taz doesn’t run her ship as ruthlessly as you do. I can’t believe you got stuck with Mr Golf.” She sighs.
Me neither.
“It’s fine, he’s not that bad,” I say, rising to throw my plate and cup in the bin. “You coming with or going straight back?”
“Coming of course. I need to see what all your hard work is paying for. Anyway, if it’s half as great as the last dress, I’m thinking we should keep it and tell Jordan the cleaners couldn’t get the stain out.”
I know she’s teasing, that is Lucy for ya, but as she says it I realize I have another date tonight. And nothing to wear.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a really cute dress I could borrow?” I ask as we walk out of the cleaners with a dress that probably costs enough to feed a small village.
“You think anything I own would fit you?” she snorts, looking down at her slightly chubby middle. “Ah, no. So what do you need a dress for?”
I groan and manage to hold her off till we reach our building and squeeze into the elevator.
“So? Hot date?” she asks in a loud whisper.
I pretend not to notice when a few titters echo around us, and throw her a fulminating look. But she is not to be deterred, so instead of letting her bug me to death I hiss a yes at her and glare at our curious audience.
“Is he hot? What’s his name? Please don’t tell me you finally said yes to Brett in accounting. He still lives with his mom.”
No. I would never say yes to him, and not because he lives with his mom but because he’s sweet and nice and I’d feel terrible having to let him down if he goes for more than what I’m willing to offer.
“Sssht!”
The elevator arrives at her floor, and I breathe out a sigh as she exits, blowing a kiss over her shoulder. By the time we reach the seventh floor the elevator is clear but for me and—
“So, did you go out with Brett in accounting?”
My body reacts predictably to the sound of that slow Southern drawl, and I turn to look at the man who haunted my dreams last night.
“No. He’s too sweet.”
He smiles as he leans over and hits the break button, his chest
making contact with my back and leaving a trail of heat.
“Too sweet for you, darlin’? I doubt that,” he drawls, pushing me into the side wall to lean over me, his hands bracketing my head. “You dream about us last night, Hannah Newman? Did the passion I gave you keep you hot and aching for me?”
Yes, yes it had. I’d tossed and turned all night thinking about the feel and taste of his mouth, wondered if he’ll be that sweet when we go to bed together or if he’ll be a wild, uncontrollable wave of pounding lust. I’d replayed every moment of our time spent in the car, and it had gotten so bad I’d finally rolled out of bed at four and cleaned the apartment just to have something to do.
“No,” I lie, meeting his eyes challengingly.
He smiles and leans in till his lips are a hair’s breadth away.
“Liar. You did think of me. You wondered what would have happened if you’d given in and invited me upstairs to your apartment. You imagined my hands and lips all over your body. Did you wonder what I’d do first if I got you naked, Hannah?”
I lick my lips, groaning when my tongue ghosts over the pillow softness of his bottom lip, and close my eyes.
“I need to get back to work,” I breathe, feeling out of my depth and precariously close to crawling him like a vine and kissing him until our lungs are starved for air.
A soft kiss whispers over my lips, and I close my eyes on a moan. He could demand so much more right now, and I’d give it to him, I am so enthralled.
“Remember what I told you,” he says, pulling away to hit the button.
When we reach my floor I walk out on shaky legs and turn back.
“What?”
“No panties,” he mouths, and winks as the door closes, leaving me to stumble back to my desk and the work I know I won’t concentrate on now.
I am engrossed in work an hour later, thanks to my strict sense of control, when Jordan stomps in, a scowl plastered all over his face. Uh-oh, looks like Lucy’s predictions have come true. Lucy had called me a few minutes earlier, laughing about the presentation he’d given, a presentation that is not mine but the bikini babe version he’d put together himself. I’d warned him not to go that route, but…
“Get me some goddamned coffee and get your ass in here with your notepad.”
By the time I walk into his office and set the coffee down in front of him I’m madder than a bobcat.
“They didn’t go for it.”
Well, of course not. They’re trying to promote environmentally friendly cruise liners, not a bachelor’s dream vacation.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Jordan. Did you pitch the presentation like we practised?” I ask, watching his face redden.
No, of course you didn’t, because you didn’t do the presentation we discussed, you did your usual ‘hot babes sell’ shtick.
“I’ve gotta leave early today, we’re driving out to Margery’s parents’ place for the weekend, so I’ll need to cancel for tonight’s party as well. And don’t forget to call Gillespie’s office and schedule something for Monday morning.”
I take it all down and go back to my desk, relieved when a few minutes later Jordan breezes out of the office, leaving me alone for the rest of the day.
The dress stares mockingly at me from the sofa, where I’ve laid it out, and I smile for the first time all day.
Looks like I’m getting something out of today after all.
Chapter Eight
Gregory picks me up at seven sharp, his eyes taking in the red, scoop necked cocktail dress with pleasure. I’d vacillated for a good twenty minutes about wearing the thing and taken it off and put it back on at least three times before finally just swallowing and accepting that I have stolen Margery Farns’ dress and am indeed going on a date in the thing.
They’ll never find out, right?
As we get into the car, this time a chauffeured black town car, he breaks the silence and leans back to peruse me slowly.
“Did you do what I told you to do, Hannah?”
The question is a soft caress against my heated skin, and I swallow back a shiver of longing. And trepidation. Of course I hadn’t listened. I’m wearing another woman’s dress; no way am I going to go commando in the thing. Talk about adding insult to injury.
“No.”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I see the displeasure he tries to hide. It brings a smile to my lips, knowing that in this one thing at least I have control.
It’s not much, but it’s enough to put me back on a more solid footing.
“You should know I hate being disobeyed,” he says darkly.
“It’s okay, you’re just not used to it. You’ll get over it,” I assure him in a steady voice that belies the butterflies fluttering around in my belly.
I see his lips twitch at my confidence, and then he’s holding his hand out, waiting.
“Give them to me.”
My breath stalls, and I glance nervously at the driver, relieved when he doesn’t turn or even bat an eye. Of course he wouldn’t, he doesn’t know that Gregory is demanding the removal of my panties.
“No.”
“Yes,” he hisses, and I notice the way his nostrils flare and the thin slash of his lips. “Now, Hannah.”
I can’t tell you what makes me do it. Maybe I want to. Maybe it’s the total command in his voice. Maybe I’m just an idiot who’s spinning out of control. I don’t know, but I reach down and discreetly push a hand beneath my dress, hooking my panties to pull them off.
When I reach for my purse, intending to stash my panties so that I can put them back on in the bathroom at some point, he stills my hand and plucks them from me, shoving them into his inner jacket pocket.
“That’s better. So tell me, did you like Jordan’s presentation? I assume you know what he came to the table with.”
This pisses me off a little, because it suggests I am so brainless that I either don’t know what a moron Jordan is or I don’t do my job properly.
“I didn’t like it, no. I preferred the one I put together, but he obviously didn’t agree.”
This surprises him, and I watch his eyes narrow as he considers my crisp words.
“What did you put together that he didn’t present?”
It’s asked softly, but I can see I’ve piqued his interest, so I throw caution to the wind and tell him, going into as much detail as I can before the car stops and I am following him into Starlight.
It amuses me that I am eating at a place with a waiting list so long I hadn’t been able to get Jordan a reservation earlier than two months.
We’re seated in a booth near the back, and I scoot to the opposite side, not trusting him and my pantie-less ass right beside him.
“I want to see it,” he says suddenly, and it takes me a beat to realize he’s speaking about the presentation and not—
Get a freaking grip, girl.
“But…he’ll know I told you about it if you say anything. I don’t want to lose my job, Gregory.”
Jordan will fire me so fast for undermining him my head will spin.
“Don’t worry about it, Hannah, I can guarantee your boss won’t fire you because Jordan throws a tantrum.”
“How? How can you promise that? You’re not my boss. Mr Yates is a decent guy, but I’m just a PA, and if they find out I’m dating a client, a big client, and discussing business with you, I can guarantee you, I’ll be beating the pavement.”
The waiter arrives with our drinks, a white wine this time, and we order before he answers me.
“Yates has been looking for a reason to get rid of Jordan,” he admits. “That man plays golf three times a week and uses company funds to finance his pursuits. That would be fine if he’d actually had a good pitch, in the last year but he hasn’t. He’s lazy and incompetent, and Yates isn’t blind to the fact that you’ve been carrying him for months.”
I’m shocked and appalled at my lack of guilt over this. Sure, Jordan isn’t my idea of a dream boss, but he’s…I’ve got nothing to defend
his lack of effort in the last months, but I don’t exactly relish the thought of him losing his job.
“You’re soft-hearted,” he says with a smile. “I can see you don’t like the thought of him getting fired, but you need to understand, it would have happened eventually. The agency is going to be restructured, and anybody who can’t or won’t do their job won’t have one for long.”
I think about what he’s saying and consider the odds of me keeping my job once Jordan gets the boot. It’s not as if I can be PA to an empty office.
When our food arrives I have to force myself to let it all go and just enjoy the feast. I’ll probably never get into Starlight again, so I might as well make the most of it.
“I didn’t meant to upset you, Hannah,” he says after a while.
“You didn’t,” I say, sighing around a mouthful of meltingly tender duck. “I just don’t want to get fired is all.”
“You won’t. Get that presentation to Yates’ office first thing tomorrow, and it will be fine.”
“But Jordan isn’t in tomorrow. He left for a long weekend in the Hamptons.”
He smiles, and I get a sense of what he would be like in the boardroom. Ruthless. Relentless.
“All the better. Now eat up, darlin’, and stop worrying about your job. I can damn guarantee you’ll still have it come Monday morning.”
I obey and savor the meal, allowing myself a slice of chocolate cake when the dessert cart rolls around.
At this point gaining an extra pound or two is the least of my worries. How the heck am I going to look Jordan in the eye knowing full well he’s about to get the axe?
Chapter Nine
Surprisingly, Gregory had dropped me at my apartment without once making a move for more. Maybe he’d seen that I was in no mood for hanky panky by the time dinner was done.
Now, as I make my way up to Yates’ office on wobbly legs, I feel this morning’s coffee make a swirling re-appearance in my stomach. This is so wrong, going behind Jordan’s back, but as Gregory said last night, Jordan has gotten himself here under his own steam.
I’m just following orders, trying to keep my job.
Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1) Page 36