Asking for Andre (5 page)

“What the hell just happened?” Andre raked his hands through his hair. Up until a few minutes ago, she’d been right there with him. He could still taste her and the sounds of her quiet cries were still ringing in his ears, torturing him. But considering that he’d just mauled her in a semipublic place where any of her coworkers could have walked by, he was lucky she hadn’t slapped him. He deserved it.

Though his father had been dead for over a decade, he found himself wondering whether Nicolas Lavin would be proud of him now. This was definitely not how he and his brother Philippe had been taught to treat women. The older man had been true to his mother until his death despite her barely concealed contempt for him. He looked up at the star-filled sky and let out a long, slow breath. He’d pushed Casey too hard and scared her off. He’d be lucky if she’d even talk to him now.

The door opened again and he turned, hoping she had come back. Milo Hamilton stood there smirking.

He glanced down at Andre’s obviously aroused state. “Things not going so well?”

Andre cursed and turned away. “Apparently not.” He heard the other man’s knowing laugh before the door slammed shut leaving him alone in the dark.

Alone with a massive load of guilt and a raging erection.

* * * * *

Casey struggled up the steps to her apartment building, her heels getting caught in the grooves of the concrete staircase. After her mad dash from the balcony she’d run directly into Anya, who’d taken one look at Casey’s wild eyes, tousled hair and swollen lips and offered to drive her home. Anya had been tactful enough not to ask her what she’d been doing. She could only hope no one else had noticed her hasty departure.

Or seen her getting up close and
very
personal with a client on the balcony.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. We’re still on for our shopping trip, right?” At Casey’s nod, Anya put her sporty little car in reverse and rocketed back out of the parking space.

Casey unlocked the door and tossed her keys on the entry table where they landed with a clatter next to her mail. Her shoes were next and then at last, her bra.

Now that feels better.

She walked back to her room and carefully slid out of her dress. It was nice to feel like a princess for a little while but being a diva was hard work. It was so much easier to just curl up in her favorite pajamas and read a good book.

The magazine she’d taken home from Mirage’s employee break room the previous day sat on her nightstand. She felt a little guilty about swiping it, especially since it was a relatively new issue. It was still shiny and uncreased, nothing marring the handsome face staring back at her from the cover.

Andre.

Waves of desire rushed through her as she remembered what he’d looked like on the balcony, his thick hair in disarray, the look of intensity in his eyes when she’d come, moaning in his arms. He’d done things to her she’d only dreamed of and she’d rewarded him by freaking out and running off. There was no telling what he thought of her now.

He thinks you’re a tease.

Casey winced and punched her pillow until there was a deep groove mashed in the center. She’d made mistakes in the past, sure, but she wasn’t the type of person who had sex indiscriminately. Her behavior on the balcony tonight was… Well, she didn’t know what that was. Alcohol mixed with the overwhelming hotness of the agency’s biggest client.

Crap.

She stroked a finger over the image of his face and smiled when she thought back to the first time she’d bought a magazine with his face on the cover. She’d fallen asleep on the couch and had the most erotic dream of her life. She’d awakened with the echoes of an orgasm running through her veins and completely disappointed to find she’d dreamed the entire thing. Ever since that day, she’d collected tons of magazines and newspapers with his picture in them.

She’d die if anyone at work found out about it but at least she wasn’t drooling after him when he came in to the agency. She didn’t need to stare at him. She already had every curve and angle of his face memorized.

Casey held the magazine up, her eyes soaking up every detail. The exquisite fit of his clothes, the penetrating ice-gray gaze and the thick curls she now knew felt as soft as they looked. She flipped through the pages until she found the feature article. The picture on the inside of the magazine was no less jarring, especially since it was a close-up shot.

The Italian Playboy is Back!

She rolled her eyes at the headline and skimmed the story. The reporter covered the usual information from his childhood as the first son of a distinguished Italian family to the sudden success of his small clothing line two years ago. Of course, the reporter also covered his string of girlfriends, each Hollywood starlet or runway model more beautiful than the last.

Between her online classes and working full-time at the agency, dreaming about a handsome man was as close to the fairytale as she had time for. But all the daydreaming in the world didn’t satisfy the ache that resided deep inside, that cried out for the hard press of a heavy male on top of her. Especially now that she knew how much better the real thing was.

Her boyfriends in college had never made her feel that way. Her only serious boyfriend, Sean, had made her feel pretty and sophisticated but not desperate for his touch. He’d cooked for her, brought her bottles of wine and always had a line to explain why she couldn’t see him every weekend. Convincing her to let him move in with her had probably been child’s play for him. She’d ignored the tight feeling in her gut when he’d canceled plans, had turned a blind eye to all the signs he was a liar.

It wasn’t until she’d gotten the call from his wife that she’d seen the truth. She hung her head remembering how hurt, how
humiliated
she’d been.

Her grades suffered so badly she lost her scholarship. The look on her mother’s face had seared through her. Her mom had dropped out of college when she got pregnant and suffered the shame of being a single mother in a small town because she’d believed it would be better for Casey. Her mother’s disappointment had hurt worse than anything but it had forced Casey to make an important decision.

The fiasco with Sean had only happened because she’d wanted to believe in the fairytale more than she’d believed in herself. She’d vowed to never again let a man make her lose her focus. It would only take two more years for her to finish her finance degree online. It was a chance to finally close the chapter on that part of her life and start something better. Her education was more important than the fleeting passion she could get from a relationship.

The worst part was, she hadn’t realized until now just how mediocre her relationship with Sean had been. He hadn’t stroked her, kissed her or touched her like Andre had. They’d only done it in straight missionary position, hard and fast until he’d gotten what he needed.

Half the time she hadn’t been into it until it was all over.

Andre on the other hand was a master. He’d played her body like an instrument and her strings were still vibrating, her body humming with the aftershocks of her orgasms.

After turning out all the lights, Casey carried the magazine back to her bedroom and tossed it on the bed. She stripped out of her clothes, not even bothering to put them in the hamper, before she climbed into bed. The tips of her breasts were still sensitive from Andre’s mouth and just remembering his soft tugs on her nipples made her belly clench. She closed her eyes, imagining his face as he’d licked and sucked her breasts.

That cannot happen again.

Sean had been a distraction but Andre was a full-scale disruption. A quick fling was probably no big deal to someone rich and famous like him but it would be devastating to her plans. Once she got her degree, she’d be able to help her mom out financially some. Her mom could stop worrying so much and finally have some fun of her own. It was the least she could do after all her mother had given up to raise her. Her degree had to come before anything else, if for no other reason than to prove to herself that she could make it on her own.

She rolled to her side and exhaled. Her exhaustion was like a wet blanket, dragging her eyelids down, making her limbs heavy. With a weary hand, she reached out and propped the magazine on the pillow next to her. Andre’s face filled her vision almost as if he was in bed with her.

This is as close to your dream man as you can afford to be.

Chapter Three

Casey stared at herself in the mirror and tried to find words. All she could come up with was “Wow.”

She stood in the middle of a dressing room at Neiman Marcus on Sunday afternoon, clothes strewn around the large space helter-skelter as if they’d been caught in a hurricane. She supposed in a way they had.

Hurricane Anya.

The woman was easily a category five when it came to her powers of persuasion.

“You are gorgeous.” Anya clapped her hands and started taking bows. She blew imaginary kisses to herself in the full-length mirror. “Yes, I know I’m brilliant. She’s my greatest creation.”

“I can’t believe that’s
me
.” Casey wore a fitted pencil skirt with a silky collared blouse. It clung in all the right places, giving her a sexy look that was still completely professional. Her shoes looked like plain pumps from the back but the open-toed design had a decidedly sexual crisscross pattern. She looked like the other women in D.C. who strutted with the kind of confidence she could only wish for. She looked strong and successful. All the things she’d always hoped to be.

Casey blinked rapidly against a sudden rush of grateful tears.

“I don’t seem so pale anymore.” The deep amethyst color of the blouse made her skin glow like alabaster. She pivoted to see how the skirt cupped her ass. This was an outfit for someone bold, someone daring. She’d never worn anything like it before.

“Damn, you look fierce.” Anya moved around her, her eyes taking everything in. “But you’re still missing something. I’m not sure what.”

Casey bit her lip and glanced at her reflection again. Who was she trying to fool? She wasn’t good at being the center of attention. And there was no doubt in her mind that even
she
could command attention in a getup like this.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not sure I have the guts to wear something this tight.”

“Sure you do. Wear it tomorrow and we’ll do happy hour after work. Maybe you’ll meet someone handsome and mysterious. Hell, maybe I’ll meet someone handsome and mysterious, too.”

“Oh come on. You’ll get back together with Law. You always do.” Casey frowned when Anya turned away and hurriedly began hanging up clothes.

“Not this time. It’s over. We’re done. Not that it matters to me anyway. Men are easy enough to find.” When Anya turned around her eyes were hard.

Despite her bravado, it was obvious the other woman was hurting. Casey’d always assumed Anya was just playing around. Apparently her friend had much deeper feelings for their boss.

“I didn’t realize…” Casey trailed off uncertainly.

“What? You didn’t realize I cared?” Anya chuckled. “It’s okay. I know what people think about me. I’m the gold digger who only dates older men.”

Casey winced. “I don’t believe that.”

She had a knack for saying the wrong thing and her foot-in-mouth disease had alienated more than one friend over the years. She’d only known the other woman a few months, hardly long enough to question her life choices. She hadn’t exactly been making great choices herself lately.

Anya smiled softly. “You believe the best about everyone. But in this case you’re right. I’m definitely
not
a gold digger.”

“So why do you do it then? It seems risky, dating your boss.” Casey bit her lip. She couldn’t help her curiosity. It was such a curious matchup, the outgoing, vivacious Anya with their enigmatic and slightly mysterious, older boss.

“It’s hard to explain. There’s just something about Law.” Anya’s voice softened. She swiped at her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m crying over this. It’s not like I haven’t gotten dumped before.”

“He dumped you? I find that hard to believe. I only wish a man would look at me like that. As if he would do anything to protect me, anything to make me happy.”

Anya chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, anything except what I need him to do. He just wants more than I can give right now.” She shook her hair back and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth as if to say something else but apparently thought better of it. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Casey knew what it felt like to be uncomfortable sharing feelings. Sometimes no amount of talking could fix a problem. “Maybe we should skip happy hour tomorrow. We don’t have to go out. We could just watch something on TV and relax.”

Anya shook her head in mock dismay. “You’re way too young to be so boring. I’m going to corrupt you at least a little if it’s the last thing I do.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Casey muttered. She shrugged out of the blouse and skirt and hung them back up next to the three other outfits she’d already tried on. She didn’t shop much but Anya claimed this store had the best clearance rack around. As she slipped out of the shoes, she turned one over and saw the price.