A Win-Win Proposition (8 page)

“Missy—”

She cut him off. “Don't you dare.” Something about the way he said her name spurred her to action. The urge to hit him came out of nowhere. Her fist connected with his chest.

“What the hell was that for?” His eyes flared to life, but he looked more surprised than angry.

“I don't know.”

She'd sensed whatever he'd been about to say would persuade her to get naked. That couldn't happen. One night with him was about fulfilling dozens upon dozens of erotic fantasies. A week would mean she'd fallen prey to the same unrealistic pipe dream that had gotten her heart broken in high school.

She didn't fit into Sebastian's world any more than she'd fit into Chip's. Repeating the pattern would be idiotic. She liked to think she'd gotten wiser since age sixteen. This morning with Sebastian, she'd discovered how close she'd come to making the same mistake all over again.

He fingered the spot where she'd struck him. “I was going to compliment you on how well the cocktail party went. I couldn't have pulled this week off without you.”

Confusion reigned. Is that really what he'd intended to say? If so, she'd just made a fool of herself again. If not…

No. She couldn't think about the alternative. Sebastian had made his need for her clear. She was his assistant. That's the only role he wanted her to play.

“Thank you.”

“What will it take for you to stay on? More money? A company car? An extra week of vacation? I'll give you anything you want.”

She wanted him to make her feel like a desirable woman, not a valuable commodity because she was organized and detail oriented.

“Anything?” It intrigued her to see the uncompromising Sebastian offer her a blank check.

“Anything.” His low voice slid over her skin like warm silk. She recalled its effect on her the night before. He'd coaxed her to do things that even now roused goose bumps.

She kept her tone level so he wouldn't see how he disturbed her. “Good thing Nathan's in charge of acquisitions because you suck at negotiating.”

“Not usually, but something about you brings out the worst in me.”

“I never used to,” she complained softly.

“You also never used to come to work dressed like you were tonight, either.” Hard as iron, his eyes held hers. “What is it going to take to keep you on as my assistant?”

She pondered the long hours at her desk and the price she'd paid in her personal life. She'd made the decision to quit before she'd slept with Sebastian. Nothing had changed. In fact, moving on was more essential than ever.

“It's no use. You might promise me the same thing won't happen again, but I know it will. You just can't help yourself.”

His eyebrows arched. “You think I can't keep my hands off you?”

At his misunderstanding, her body flushed asphalt-in-August hot. “I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about your promise not to bother me evenings and weekends. You'd start regressing. I want to work for someone who understands that an employee's off-hours are sacred.” She tossed her head. “In fact, someone already made me an offer. Someone who knows the value of a personal life.”

“Who?”

“Nothing's finalized yet. But when it is, you'll be the first to know.”

 

Donning a plum-colored dress, Missy slipped out of her hotel room at six-thirty to make sure she missed Sebastian. After yesterday, she needed a cup or two of coffee before she faced him.

Missy reached the ballroom where most of the summit meetings would take place. After checking on the food arrangements and making sure all the audiovisual equipment was working, she assured herself that Sebastian's opening speech awaited him at the podium. Everything had to be perfect.

“I see my son has you burning the candle at both ends.” Brandon stood at the back of the room, dressed for a round of golf rather than a business meeting. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion that you take over for Dean as director of communications? Max liked the idea and wants to discuss it with you after the summit.”

“I'm not sure I have the experience required,” Missy hedged, wondering if she should even be discussing a job change without talking to Sebastian first. The opportunity tempted her, but she'd be happier about it if the idea had come from Sebastian.

Working for a family business, regardless of size, offered challenges. As Sebastian's executive assistant, Missy had often found herself trapped in the middle of a power play between her boss and the head of the company. Since Brandon had stepped down as CEO, her job had grown less complicated politically, but he still owned a large share of the company and of late had begun to insinuate himself back into the business with frequent visits to the office and happily offered opinions.

He'd escalated his interference by taking Lucas Smythe
golfing yesterday. Not that Missy believed he'd come right out and tell Smythe not to sell his company to Case Consolidated Holdings. But involving himself by talking with Max about the communications director position was a pretty overt act. Was Sebastian right? Did his father want to be in charge once more?

Brandon dismissed her concerns with a wave. “Don't sell yourself short. I've watched you these past four years. Your talents are wasted on my son.”

“I'm not sure Sebastian would agree.” But the truth was she had no idea if her boss appreciated her or just took her for granted.

“You let Max and me worry about Sebastian.” Brandon held the door so she could exit the ballroom. “You'd make an outstanding director of communications.”

Missy was flattered that someone had recognized her skills. She'd graduated two years ago with a degree in business and a minor in journalism. Her background made the position a dream job.

Too bad Sebastian liked her right where she was.

“I appreciate your faith in me,” she said as they strolled down the hallway that led to the hotel's atrium and casino.

“You should have been promoted years ago. I know you'll do a great job.”

And she would. Much better than the guy who'd held the position for the past three years. But staying at Case Consolidated Holdings meant seeing Sebastian all the time. How was she supposed to get over her feelings for him and move on in her personal life with daily reminders of how amazing they'd been together?

Missy lifted her hand to hide a yawn. Sleep had eluded her for a long time last night. Sebastian's visit had left her keyed up and wide awake. Damn the man for being so aggravating and attractive. Her seesawing emotions were a source of utter frustration.

“Are you playing golf again this morning?”

“No. I thought I'd stick around and listen to Sebastian give the opening speech.”

Wincing in sympathy for her boss, Missy forced a bright smile. “It's a good one. You'll be impressed.”

“I'm sure it's wonderful. Did you help him write it?”

“I offered a couple suggestions.” In fact, she'd created the first draft and Sebastian had revised it to suit his style.

“I'm sure you did.” Brandon put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Have fun with the ladies today.”

In addition to making sure the conference arrangements were hitch-free, she had the job of playing social director for the executives' wives. Today's schedule called for a sightseeing trip to the Hoover Dam. Then lunch followed by the Haunted Vegas tour.

Brandon winked. “Don't let them get you into too much trouble.”

With that cryptic remark ringing in her ears, Missy watched Sebastian's father head toward the casino. She had almost an hour before she was to meet the wives for breakfast. Yesterday she'd won another two thousand dollars. The windfall was burning a hole in her purse. A little gambling would go a long way toward distracting her from what had just happened with Sebastian.

Lucky at cards, unlucky at love.

Missy had become a walking, talking example of that idiom. Fetching a twenty from her wallet, she cruised the slot machines, looking for a likely candidate. The first machine swallowed her money like a party girl guzzling imported champagne. Thirty minutes later, she was down five hundred. Sighing over her change of luck, Missy checked her watch. She had fifteen minutes before she was supposed to meet the wives. Time enough to feed one last crisp twenty into a slot machine.

At the center of the casino, a couple dozen machines
surrounded a bright-blue, convertible Ford Mustang. Picking one at random, Missy fed in her twenty. Four spins later, she had resigned herself to walking away when five gold coins lined up in a row and her machine began whooping like a pack of crazed football fans with their team poised to score the game-winning touchdown.

“You won a car.” Gloria Smythe stood next to her, wearing a big smile.

Missy had met her last night at the cocktail party and liked her immediately. The vivacious blonde was twenty years younger than her imposing husband and smiled as much as he frowned.

“I did?”

“Sure looks that way to me.”

And the way the bells were sounding and the lights pulsed with frantic enthusiasm, Missy was starting to agree. She'd just won a car. Why wasn't she jumping up and down in delirious excitement?

Because nothing compared to the thrill she'd felt in Sebastian's arms.

Missy shook herself out of her mooning. Pining over a man she couldn't have was idiotic. “What do I do now?”

“I think that nice young man coming this way will have you fill out some paperwork.”

“I don't have time.” Missy spotted a skinny guy with a shaved head in his twenties heading her way. “I'm supposed to meet everyone in ten minutes.”

“Don't worry about that.” Gloria smiled.

“But the tour is scheduled to leave no later than nine, and I'm supposed to be on the bus to make sure all of you have a great time.”

“Don't you worry about that. Fill out the paperwork and come find us in the restaurant over there. We're sitting on the patio.”

Missy stared at Gloria's back as she sauntered away. That wasn't where they were supposed to meet. What was going on?

Thirty minutes later, with her paperwork done, Missy wound between the tables of the most expensive of the three restaurants open for breakfast. Bordered on two sides by French doors that offered access to the outside dining, the rattan furnishings, potted palms and soothing green and white color scheme gave the space a comfortable, relaxed feel.

Missy spotted two tables of women on the patio just as Gloria had said. The day promised to be in the upper seventies, but at eight in the morning, the cooler temperature required sweaters and light jackets. Missy shivered in her sleeveless dress.

All conversation ceased as a couple of the women spotted her. Heads turned in her direction.

“We heard you won a car!” Susan Case said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Are you ready to go on the Hoover Dam tour?” Missy gazed at each of the women. A few wouldn't meet her eyes. Most grinned at her. Three frowned.

“We've decided to pass,” said a woman with teased black hair and enormous sunglasses.

“In fact, we're not going to do any of the tours,” Alicia Darby added. “But don't let us stop you from going.”

Missy shook her head. “I don't understand. A lot of planning went into your itinerary.”

“And we appreciate it,” Gloria said. “But for most of us, our lives are busy and hectic.”

Alicia nodded. “The last thing we want to do is go on vacation and have to do a bunch of sightseeing.”

Missy imagined Sebastian's annoyance with this turn of events. He'd given her the task of making sure the wives were happy. “What do you want to do instead?”

“Go shopping.”

“Spend a day at the spa.”

“Lie around the pool.”

“Drink.”

“Gamble.”

The answers came at her like bullets from a machine gun.

Missy didn't blame the women for wanting to relax and have fun. Isn't that what she'd ditched work to do yesterday? “Can I make arrangements for spa treatments or arrange transportation for shopping?”

Susan shook her head. “We're all set. Why don't you join us?”

The offer tempted her, but this morning she'd reminded herself that she wasn't on vacation. She really needed to stop acting like it. “I'm supposed to be working.”

“You're supposed to be in charge of keeping us entertained,” Gloria countered. “No reason you can't have a little fun at the same time.”

True. Sebastian was already going to be unhappy when he found out they'd skipped the tours. So what did Missy have to lose?

She grinned. “Sure. That sounds like a lot of fun. But are you up for a little adventure?”

Several of the wives eyed her with interest.

Sebastian's mother, apparent spokeswoman for the group, spoke up. “We might be. What'd you have in mind?”

W
hen Sebastian returned to the suite at the end of that day's leadership summit, he poured himself a large scotch and stood at the window staring out at the Las Vegas strip. At five in the afternoon, the view lacked glitter.

His opening speech had gone well, despite the distraction of his father texting in the front row through the entire thing. But by the time Sebastian had finished speaking, he'd felt exactly like someone who'd barely snatched three hours of sleep two nights in a row.

During lunch he'd made the rounds and caught up to the executives he'd missed at the cocktail party the night before. Everyone commented on how well the summit was organized. Setting the schedule had been Missy's doing. Had he given her the credit she deserved?

Or had he simply taken for granted her superior organizational skills, her ability to anticipate his needs, her non-stop encouragement? She managed his calendar, kept track of mundane details and acted as his first line of defense so he could focus on the big picture. He'd given her access to every aspect of the business and control over some major aspects
of his private life, like the decisions on the home he'd built. In doing so, he'd demonstrated his faith in her. But he wasn't sure he'd ever voiced his appreciation.

No wonder she'd quit.

“Sebastian?”

Missy's soft voice crossed twenty feet of hotel suite and tugged him back to the present. He glanced in her direction.

She'd poked her head through a narrow opening in the door that connected their rooms. A white towel was wrapped turban-like around her head. Did that mean she was fresh from a shower and that on the other side of the door she wore little more than a towel? Last time she'd appeared dressed like that, his lust for her had been fully sated. After thirty-six hours of celibacy, he wasn't convinced she'd be safe from him this time.

Grim and not the least amused by how fast his body tightened in reaction to his speculation, he swallowed the last of the scotch. It seared a path down his throat and straight into his belly.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

Her eyes widened. “I was hoping for nice-twin Sebastian instead of evil-twin Sebastian. Give me a ring when he shows up, won't you?”

To his surprise and amusement, she shut the door and he heard the decisive click of the lock as it engaged. “Damn her,” he muttered, unable to fight a grin. In a matter of seconds she'd transformed his dark mood into something so much better. How did she do that with such minute effort?

He rapped on the closed door. As he waited for her to answer, he considered whether he would kiss her first or rip the towel from her body and then kiss her.

“Who is it?” she called.

“The big bad wolf,” he called back.

“The three little pigs aren't in at the moment. Can I take a message?”

“Tell them I'm going to huff and puff and blow their house down unless you open this door.”

“No can do. I'm afraid you'll eat me up.”

“If you had any idea how true that was, you'd stay locked in there forever,” he muttered, resting his forehead on the wood panel separating them.

The long silence that followed left Sebastian wondering if she'd heard him. Heart thumping, he waited, his muscles bunched in anticipation. When he heard the lock turn, he pushed back and waited for her to open the door.

To his intense disappointment, she wore a sophisticated cocktail dress of dark gold that bared her arms, showcased her tiny waist, and emphasized the flare of her hips. The color enticed gold highlights from the cinnamon locks tossed about her creamy shoulders.

“You look beautiful.”

“I'm having a hard time reading you,” she said. “One second you're my grumpy boss with high moral fiber, the next you're flirting with me. What's going on?”

He tugged her through the doorway and backed her up against the wall.

“You're driving me crazy, that's what.”

“I'm driving you crazy?” She gazed up at him, eyes widened by his forceful handling. “How exactly?”

Gentling his touch, he coasted his palm up the generous slope of her hip to the valley of her waist, his caress aided by the silky material she wore. For all its sensual decadence, it couldn't compare to the hot, luxurious texture of her skin.

“You've changed since arriving in Las Vegas, both in looks and attitude,” he said.

“And that's a bad thing?”

“It is when you wager five thousand dollars and a night with me on the turn of a roulette wheel.”

“You could have said no.”

“I'm not the sort who backs down from a challenge.” He
grazed her collarbone with his fingers. “But you know that, don't you? In fact, you'd probably counted on it.”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

He followed her neckline to the start of her cleavage. There, he picked up the gold locket he'd seen her wear many times. The piece of jewelry had never fascinated him when it had rested against fabric. Against her skin…that was another thing entirely.

“You played me.”

“Hardly.”

“You knew the instant I walked into the bar that I wanted you and you took advantage.”

“Wait. Are you trying to tell me that I took advantage of you?” Her husky laugh made him mad with wanting. “Is that even possible?”

“It's possible.”

Comprehension dawned in her eyes. “You want me.”

He reached between them and cupped her breast, kneading the round contours. “I think we've established that.” He eased his hips forward, letting her feel how much.

Her lashes fluttered and her breath hitched. He knew what would happen if he kissed her. They'd never make it to dinner, and he had two-dozen people converging on the restaurant at that very moment. This was his leadership summit. He was supposed to be playing host.

“And in your mind that's bad because what keeps your world all nice and tidy is me, working as your assistant.” Her voice gained strength as she ferreted out all his secrets. “But you think I'm sexy.”

“Missy.”

She ignored his warning growl. “And you want to make love to me again.”

“We have dinner reservations.”

“The fact that you won't let yourself must be what's driving you crazy.” She fanned her hands across his abdomen, nails
digging into his muscles. “I'm not driving you crazy. You're driving yourself crazy.” Raising on tiptoe, she breathed in his ear. “Let yourself go, Sebastian.”

Yesterday at the pool she'd made it clear she wanted him. He sure as hell wanted her. Telling himself he was keeping his distance to restore their relationship to a professional level had kept him from acting on his desire for her. But she'd hinted last night that she was close to accepting a job offer.

Once she was gone out of his life, how long before he would no longer be tortured by the longing to skim her curves and spend hours drifting kisses over her skin?

“I can't.” He pulled her hands away and pinned them to the wall. “People are waiting for us.”

“Typical.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always do the right thing. The thing everyone expects.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“It gets old pretty quick. I offered you a free pass for one night of uninhibited sex—sex without expectations of anything more—and it's as if the whole thing made your world a bad place to be. You need to loosen up and learn to have fun or you're going to miss out on all the wonderful things life has to offer.” She drew a deep breath and kept going. “Everybody at Case Consolidated Holdings lives in terror of not being completely perfect. Have you ever wondered why we've had so much staff turnover in the last year? It's because working for you makes people crack up.”

Had she just called him a tyrant? “You've survived for four years. It can't be that bad.”

“Survived?” She stared down her nose at him, a monumental feat, considering he towered over her by at least eight inches. “Do you think surviving a job is something I should be grateful for?”

Perhaps not. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Well, for starters, you could lighten up. Have some fun. Stop trying to manage every single thing around you.”

“I don't manage
everything.
”

“You've scheduled the summit down to the minute.”

“We have a lot to get through.”

“Not at night, you don't.”

“Part of what makes this summit work is that all the executives spend time together.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Right, but they're together all day.”

Sebastian had worked with Missy long enough to know when she had a point to make. “What do you have in mind?”

“Cancel the group dinners and let everyone go their own way.”

“It's too late for tonight's dinner.”

“True.” She nodded, her eyes shining. “But it would be a simple thing to cancel the rest of them. I know you'd make the wives very happy if you gave them more time alone with their husbands. With the amount of traveling you have got everyone doing, your executives don't get to see much of their wives or their families.” Her gaze lifted no higher than his chin. “And about the tours…”

Raw impatience burned in his gut. “What about the tours?”

“No one wanted to go to the Hoover Dam.”

“You didn't go?” Sebastian couldn't believe what he was hearing. This summit was coming apart. Not one thing had gone according to plan since he and Missy had stepped off the plane. “Dare I ask what you did instead?”

“We hit a couple casinos then I suggested they might like to try skydiving.”

“Skydiving?”

“Oh, don't worry. It was indoor skydiving,” she said in a breezy tone. “I wasn't out to get anyone killed. They found it fun rather than terrifying.”

“Fun,” Sebastian muttered. “Your idea?”

She looked surprised that he'd even asked. “Of course.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don't know. Did you rearrange tomorrow's summit schedule without telling me?”

“Now that you mention it—” She broke off when he growled. Her laughter filled the suite and took the sting out of everything he'd just heard. “I'm kidding. I wouldn't dream of messing with your precious summit.”

“Because, I'm assuming, you've already promised my agreement on the change of plans,” he said. “Fine, I'll go along with it.”

“That was too easy.” For the first time she sounded concerned. “What did I miss?”

“The fact that from now until the end of the summit, you have seen to it that my nights are free.”

“And?”

“So are yours.”

 

“She almost started to cry today while we were shopping.” Alicia Darby's voice lifted over the laughter bouncing off the glass walls separating their private dining room from the rest of the Eiffel Tower Restaurant.

“How can you call what you do shopping?” Missy protested.

“So, we found a nice quiet bar.” Susan's eyes were dancing with mirth.

“We're calling her the one-drink wonder,” Alicia said. “She's a lightweight.”

Maggie Hambly jumped in. “No stamina.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to keep these ladies happy,” Missy protested, fluttering her hand in the direction of the wives.

“Oh, we know.” Owen Darby looked to the other husbands. They were all nodding.

Missy sat back with a defeated sigh as the waiter cleared
her plate. Dinner had been a boisterous affair, driven by the wives' enthusiasm over the day's activities. She'd joined in when prompted, but for the most part she'd eaten in silence, her nerves on high alert.

Driven by a compulsion too strong to resist, her gaze sped down the table toward her boss. The sparks in his eyes reminded her of muzzle fire. He'd watched her all night, his intense scrutiny disturbing her equilibrium as effectively as if his hands were gliding along her skin.

Missy dropped her gaze to the elegant dessert the waiter placed before her. The dish was beautiful, but her stomach could no more handle the rich chocolate soufflé than the delicious sea bass in champagne brown butter broth she'd ordered.

Had he meant what she hoped when he'd pointed out that she'd freed up his nights and hers also? He'd gone all mysterious when she'd asked him to explain. She wasn't sure where they stood anymore.

Did he mean to spend the nights with her? In what capacity? As boss and employee? As lovers?

Anticipation shivered through her.

For two days she'd been longing to be in his arms again. Teasing Sebastian had been like playing with fire, but she wasn't worried about getting burned. Her boss had made it clear that while he might find her attractive, he intended to keep their relationship professional. Had that changed?

She had no idea how long she'd been lost in thought when the couples around her began to get up from the table. A warm hand grazed her shoulder. From the way her nerve endings perked up, she knew Sebastian stood behind her.

The room was clearing fast. Everyone was excited about the Cirque du Soleil show they were attending. Before she knew it, only she, Sebastian and his parents remained.

“Dad, you and Mom use our tickets for the show tonight.”

Our
tickets? Missy tipped her head back and stared at him in confusion. What did he mean?

“Are you sure?” his mother asked, her gaze bouncing from Sebastian to Missy.

“Absolutely.” Sebastian slid his thumb along her nape. “I have some unfinished business I need to attend to.”

Missy's stomach dipped and rolled at the subtext beneath his statement. Did his unfinished business involve her?

“Come, Missy. Let's get back to that matter we were discussing earlier.”