DrillingDownDeep (9 page)

“Gentlemen.” Miss Prentiss emerged from wherever she had
entered with a passel of Japanese men in business suits. She said something to
them in what Vanny thought was that language, but couldn’t be sure, and they
bowed and left.

“Right this way, Miss Donald.”

Vanny’s chin went up as the other woman led her into another
office, even bigger than the adjoining one, with floor-to-ceiling windows on
two walls. A corner office, as they said.

Michael Reynolds wasn’t in it though.

She looked at Miss Prentiss in confusion.

“Mr. Reynolds is waiting for you in there.” She indicated
yet another door.

“Okay.”

And then, surprising her, Miss Prentiss left, closing the
office door behind her.

Feeling ridiculous, Vanny opened the door she’d indicated
and found not another office but a—

Oh. That figured.

“You’ve got a bedroom attached to your office?” She closed
the door behind her. “I guess that’s what they call a perk.”

Michael Reynolds was standing at the one large window in
this room, his back to her, his jacket off and a drink in his hand. He finished
the drink and turned around.

God. Why did he have to be so fucking sexy?

“Miss Donald. How nice.”

They stared at each other and then he helped himself to
another drink from a bottle of whiskey by the enormous bed. “This room wasn’t
my idea. My predecessor was a real lech apparently.”

“What a refreshing change you’ll be.”

His face darkened. He downed the whiskey and then poured
another. “So. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know but apparently I was expected. Do you have a
list at the reception desk of all the names and photos of the women with
pending
job
offers?”

“No, only the top candidate.”

“You reopened the investigation into my father’s accident.”
She didn’t know why she blurted it out like that. He didn’t seem surprised by
her choice of initial conversation though.

He shrugged. “I reread the reports on the incident
concerning your dad. I don’t believe he was responsible for the tampering with
the valves.”

“Why not?”

“The medical report—the one they didn’t show you, I might
add—indicated that he had been unconscious for at least ten minutes and maybe
as much as a half hour when the pipes fell on his legs. But on the other hand,
the report also indicated that the pipes could have only been on his legs for
mere seconds. Otherwise the damage would have been far worse. You got to him
just in time, having heard the pipes fall just as you claimed.”

He sipped his drink. “So how does a man who’s unconscious
start a fire and mess with valves that could have only
just
been
shattered or else the whole rig would’ve blown? How does he inadvertently bring
down those pipes on himself? He was already out when all that happened. That’s
what had been bothering me about the reports on the accident. I was so busy
trying to digest all the terminology and show myself how smart I was that I
missed what was right in front of me. The timing didn’t make sense.”

“I could have helped him,” she pointed out, though God knew
why.

“And left your own father, who you adore by all accounts,
unconscious for several minutes while you followed through with your evil plan
of sabotage? I doubt it.”

She took a deep breath. It felt so good to have somebody
finally believe them, not just Mick and the others through blind loyalty
whether they really did or not, but somebody objective. And, she realized,
fair.

He went on. “Plus, since those pipes fell on his legs while
he was on the job, if the final investigation bears out he wasn’t responsible,
he deserves workers’ compensation.”

It seemed kind of inadequate to say, but she did anyway.
“Thanks.”

“It had nothing to do with you.”

“Does the outcome of the final investigation have anything
to do with me?”

“As in?”

“As in, depend on anything
else
I do?”

“No. It’s a formality. Legal crap, you know. The pension
committee has to approve the reinstatement. Why?”

She didn’t answer, but a corner of his mouth curved up at
her suspicion. “I don’t run quite the evil empire you seem to think I do.”

All in all, this conversation was going much better than she
had hoped. Maybe they could chalk everything up to a misunderstanding after
all. “So does that mean I can have my job back?”

“Your job on the rig?”

She nodded.

“No. I’m not as convinced by
your
innocence with the
bomb as I was by your father’s. I was there, remember? So I’d rather not take a
chance with you on one of our rigs.”

She clamped down on her temper.

“The other position I offered you is still open though.”

Part of her had convinced herself that he threw that out on
the rig in anger and wasn’t serious, that he wasn’t really that much of an
asshole.

The other half was hoping he was.

And there was still that little matter of a hefty bank
deposit.

She probably should have taken a clue as to his sincerity
from the special service at the reception desk and all. And the wicked grin he
was giving her now. He seemed more like the man she had picked up in the bar
than he did the man on the rig, when he’d vacillated between stern bossman and,
as she’d said to him at one point, human.

Now he just seemed as if he wanted to get laid.

Unfortunately, looking at him, being in the same room with
him, a bedroom no less, so did she. So what the hell did that make her?

No different than any of his other mistresses, she assured
herself, who probably had a hell of a lot better backgrounds than she did.

“Do you always pay in advance?”

“If it’s something I want, I’m willing to.”

“I didn’t accept your offer.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Maybe I’m here to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“Considerably less fun than what I had in mind.”

She pointed out the obvious. “I could keep the money and
there’s nothing you could do about it.”

“That was a chance I was willing to take.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t like getting something for nothing.”

“That’s very convenient because I don’t like giving
something for nothing.”

They stared at each other.

“I could return the money.”

“It’s not about the money, Vanny.”

“It is to me.”

“Is it?”

“I’m surprised by your approach is all. Big payment to lure
me, being decent with my dad, the red-carpet reception when I come here. I
figured you more for the foreclosing-on-my-house and canceling-my-credit-card
type. You know, kicking me out to the curb so I’d come and grovel.”

“Why? Do you like to grovel?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’d rather die. Which is exactly why I took the
approach I did.”

She took a deep breath, not exactly sure what would come
out. What did was, “Okay. I’ll give the mistress thing a try. Whatever. It’s
not like it’d be that much of a hardship to fuck you. I’ve already done it
anyway.”

“Please, don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm.”

“Don’t you get enough enthusiasm from your other bimbos? I
kind of get the idea my allure is less what I look like or my sparkling
personality than it is the fact I—”

He sipped his glass of whiskey. “What? What were you going
to say?”

She stayed silent.

“That you’re not falling all over me? That you’re playing
hard to get? It’s not exactly a unique strategy. I’ve come across it once or
twice.”

“Not playing,” she said before she could stop herself.

“As long as your pussy’s wet, I couldn’t care less. And rest
assured, it certainly isn’t your sparkling personality that made me offer the
deal. Your looks are quite nice though. I like that fresh-scrubbed country-girl
glow.”

“Don’t overwhelm me with
your
enthusiasm,” she
muttered.

“So if it was somebody else—my father, for instance—you’d
still take the position?”

“Sure,” she lied readily. She actually would draw the line
at sleeping with an eighty-year-old, not that her pickiness made her any less
of a whore. God knew what Michael Reynolds would make her do.

“Okay. I’ll give him a call.” Then he laughed. “You should
see your face! I should do it. That’d serve you right. And he does like them
young. Not
quite
this young anymore.” He finished the rest of his drink
and slammed down the glass. “But actually, you were a good fuck. I want you for
myself. And it’s not as if I can’t afford it. I’ve never had to pay for it
though.”

She didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I’m sure you’ve probably paid for it one way or another your whole life,” she
muttered.

“Ouch.”

He came up behind her and circled her waist, nuzzling her
neck. He slipped the white shirt off her shoulders and flung it to the floor.

“Now?”

“No time like the present. And, as you said, I paid in
advance.”

She couldn’t argue with that. His nearness unnerved her for
some reason even though they’d been a hell of a lot closer. His hands grazed
the zipper of her jeans and then the snap, but he didn’t unfasten them.
Instead, he surprised her by dipping them inside her pants. She sucked in a
breath as his fingers lightly massaged her lower abdomen, then insinuated
themselves under the elastic band at the top of her underwear to sift through
the curls at the top of her crotch.

He pulled his hands out. “Your jeans are too loose.”

“They’re hip-huggers. They’re supposed to slip down below
your waist. Anyway, I like them that way.”

“I don’t. I’ll buy you some jeans that fit you like jeans
should fit a woman.”

“Tight?” she said resentfully.

“Tight enough to show the curve of what I know is a very
lovely bottom. I can’t wait to get it in my hands as I fuck you again.” He
caressed her ass as he said it. Outside the jeans, but she still shivered.

He smoothed away the curls at her nape, still behind her,
and pressed his lips to her neck, kissing lightly along the curve down to where
her tank top started. His hands went to the neckline. The rip startled her and
she jumped, looking down in dismay. He’d ripped the top off her, as quickly and
as easily as if it were tissue paper.

“A simple ‘take it off’ would have worked too.”

He came around the front of her to look at her half-naked
body.

Well, not really half naked. Her utilitarian bra covered
more than most swim suits. No black lace for her today. But he stared down at
her as if he could see right through the thick white cotton. Glancing at his
trousers, she saw that he was hardening. He started to unbutton his shirt.

“You don’t see me ripping yours off, do you?”

“I’d like to rip that ugly bra off too, but it looks like
it’s made of sterner stuff than a city guy like me can tackle.” He slid his
shirt off and she took in his bare chest.

Suddenly he leaned in to kiss her and she barely noticed the
quick workings of his fingers behind her until she felt her bra open. He slid
the straps down her shoulders and pulled the bra off before she could stop him.

Not that she would have stopped him. As far as the count
went, she hadn’t
ever
stopped him in fact. Looked like she was going to
make it three for three.

“Next time you can strip for me, nice and slow.”

She glanced at him quickly to see if he was hinting at
anything other than that he evidently liked that. But his dark-blue eyes were fastened
on her naked breasts. “Right now I’m going to cut right to the chase and fuck
you quickly.”

“No need to give me a blow-by-blow report.”

“Shut up,” he said and then he was kissing her, his hands
going greedily to her breasts, cupping them, massaging them, pulling on the
nipples with sharp, pleasurable tugs.

He broke the kiss and, ignoring the bed, led her to the
polished oak desk in one corner of the room, flipping her around so she faced
away from him. With one hand, he pushed her shoulders down until she was
leaning on her forearms on the desk and with the other he swiftly undid the
snap on her jeans and unzipped them. Just when she expected him to yank them
down along with her underwear, he stepped away.

She glanced back.

“Stay right there.”

He was unzipping his own pants, letting his throbbing cock
out and then reaching into his back pocket before pulling them part way down.
And all the time his eyes were on her ass stuck slightly out, his for the
taking.

She turned her head back to face forward and heard him rip
open the condom.

“Now pull your pants down.” His voice was low, controlled,
but so obviously turned-on, she shivered. That made two of them.

Her hands went to her jeans, tugging on them, thinking he
would want her naked.

“Stop.”

She did, though her pants were pulled down no lower than
just enough to give him access.

She braced herself against the desk with her palms and
jutted her ass out farther, feeling deliciously exposed. Let him look.

He moved closer, his legs nudging hers, and then his fingers
were between her legs roughly, gauging. “Good,” he muttered.

No kidding.

“You’re wet. So easy to arouse. I like that in a woman.”

She felt his hard cock nudging one cheek of her bare ass, so
hot she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a burn. Then he slipped his fingers in
and out of her wetness a few times, causing her to involuntarily squeeze her
inner muscles with the pleasure of his assured movement. This was one man who
knew what he was doing in the bedroom, whether it was attached to an office or
not. She bit her lip as his thumb flicked casually against her clit and she
tried not to come, just yet anyway. No need for him to get more self-satisfied
than he already was.