Electric! (2 page)

In fact, she reasoned that a smart woman would do something
to discourage all the playful banter.

Guess you’re not as bright as you’d hoped to be.

Seriously, how much more of this could she endure before she
really did beg him? What sort of sadist was she for not putting a halt to this
flirtation? Her protests were so lame and half-assed, he just kept at it.

Yes, his interest in her secretly thrilled her. But giving
in would only lead to disaster, so she stood her ground.

His head dipped again. “Unless you like it hard and fast,
that is. I’d be happy to indulge whatever wicked, kinky fetishes you might
have.”

“Wicked? Kinky? Fetishes?” She blanched. “Jesus, Chase.
Forget who you’re talking to here?”

“Nope. You’ve got
do me up right
written all over you
tonight.”

She forced her jaw not to drop. Tried to keep her composure,
though excitement jolted her. “Where the hell is the VP of HR when you need
her?”

Ignoring her admonishment, Chase said, “I like this red
dress you’re wearing. All that satiny material skimming over those plump
breasts and shapely hips and long legs…” He reached around her and snagged a
carrot from her plate. He crunched loudly as she tried to inhale.
No go.

She did manage to ask, “What’s gotten into you? You don’t
subscribe to political correctness as a rule, but don’t you think you’re going
a bit overboard tonight?” He was more assertive than usual. Not by much, but
he’d never blatantly mentioned sex before.

“I don’t know,” he said with nonchalance in his voice. “We’re
out of the office. Two hours away from Scottsdale. It’s snowing mid-spring. And
again…you are spectacular in that gown.”

He let out a sexy groan that made her thighs go up in
flames.

Then he added, “I gave Meg a few minutes to size me up—for
you—before I came over.”

“What makes you think we were talking about you?” And how
miraculous that her voice was so damn steady!

“She kept stealing glances my way and reporting back to you.
Very first boy-girl-dance-like. Cute. Impossible to ignore. I’m flattered.”

“Some ego you’ve got there, Chase. You’re deluding yourself.
We were discussing the appetizers.”

“Ah, come on. Admit it.
I’m
man enough to say it’s
damn difficult to stay away from you. I’m feeling like a magnet to steel
tonight.”

“Go degauss yourself.”

He chuckled. A sound that reverberated deep within her,
making her insides thrum. “I love when you get all technical on me. Even shop talk
turns me on when it comes from you.”

“I can’t begin to imagine why.”

Before he could answer, someone called his name, beckoning
him to the bar. Chase stepped away from her but said, “I’ll bring you some
champagne.” He wandered toward the crowd, leaving her reeling.

He was too much. Way, way too much.

Breathe, Cassidy. Just breathe.

She’d not regained a steady intake of air or gotten the
thundering of her heart and the throbbing deep in her pussy under control when
another male voice asked, “Enjoying the party, Miss Reynolds?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. For the love of God, she’d
all but forgotten she was at a party with her colleagues. And superiors.

Turning to greet the big cheese himself, she said, “It’s
lovely, Mr. McClellan.”

He was the only one aside from her who preferred formality.
The third-generation CEO of MII was pushing seventy and wore three-piece suits
with power ties. Except when the occasion warranted a tux, as was the case this
evening.

He said, “I know it was a bit of a drive up to the mountains
from Scottsdale, but it seemed like a festive place to celebrate our first
quarter of the new year.”

“Sure beats wrapping twinkle lights around a cactus.” Her
gaze swept through the gorgeous dining room. A large four-sided, glass-enclosed
fireplace with roaring flames served as the centerpiece. Amber and sienna
ribbon draped the mantel, and oversized pinecones and tall pillar candles added
to the warm decorations. One could forget the weather edged triple digits in
the valley when immersed in the brisk climate at this higher altitude.

A glossy black grand piano sat off to the side, a
tuxedo-clad pianist tickling the ivories with upbeat, classical music.

“The view is perfect for the evening too,” she said. “I
wasn’t expecting an extended winter.”

Out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and patio doors was a
clear shot down the long, wide event lawn, lined with tall, fluffy pines
glistening with a light coat of fresh snow. The majestic San Francisco Peaks
sat at the end of the event lawn—farther into Flagstaff, of course, but
appearing as though they truly were situated close enough to be a part of the
estate landscape.

A near-full moon hung over the shoulder of the white-capped
mountain range and the large orb glowed vibrantly. Fat flakes fell from the
sky, glittering in the moonlight and enhancing the ambience.

McClellan asked, “Are you staying at Little America, or the
Radisson?”

“Neither, actually. I rented a vacation home here in Forest
Highlands that looks like a small ski lodge. Thought I’d spend the weekend
curled on the sofa in front of a toasty fire.”

“Reading a book, I hope.” He gave her a pointed look.

She smiled. “No, I have files to review this weekend.”

Nothing new there. As a Director of Accounts, as Chase was
as well, Cassidy had a plentiful and diverse portfolio of industrial risk
clients to manage. She had her hands full keeping everyone happy.

“Well, at least enjoy the evening. And try to get some fresh
mountain air.” He smiled at her.

“I will. And thank you for your generosity. The party and
the quarterly bonus.”

“You deserve them. We’ve already had phenomenal profit gains
this year. With your zero-percent client turnover and Mr. Logan’s accounts
acquisitions, I consider both of you significant contributing factors to our
positive bottom line.”

“I appreciate hearing that.”

“Tonight is meant to show my gratitude, and the Board of
Directors’, for everyone’s hard work and dedication.”

McClellan was not one to spare any expense. The lavish party
was the epitome of the word excessive—what with the fancy decorations, free-flowing
champagne and booze, and the gourmet appetizers. They hadn’t even gotten to the
formal sit-down dinner portion of the evening and the guests were already in
awe.

In addition, she’d heard the CEO had hired Escalades to
drive the partygoers staying in town to and from the country club so they could
imbibe without having to get behind a wheel. Of course, that was likely a
business decision. The man was in insurance, after all.

“Again, have a nice time,” he said to Cassidy before he
joined a large group farther into the dining room.

Chase extracted himself from his conglomeration—big man on
campus that he was—and came back over, carrying two champagne glasses.

“You realize you strut?” she asked.

He grinned, flashing his pearly whites. His eyes glowed
under the soft lighting. “I consider it more of a casual saunter.”

“Naturally. And you know you’re
all that
, don’t you?”
she said in an amused tone.

He chuckled. “I just like the way you look at me when I head
straight toward you. Like your breath catches or something.” He handed over the
glass, then took her in from hair to shoes in one slow visual assessment that
left him shaking his head and letting out a low hiss of breath. “Damn, Cass.
You really are stunning.”

“No need to flatter me. I’m not having sex with you tonight.”

One sandy brow lifted. “
Tonight?
Hmm, that leaves the
door
wide
open.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “You just don’t give up.” His
heated gaze made her glance away. She knew better than to encourage him. Worse…
“Now we have an audience. And people headed for the food.” She gave him a
polite smile, leaving flirty Cassidy behind and returning to her professional
self. “Thanks for the bubbly.”

She walked past him and joined Meg at a round table for
eight, done up with a floor-length white tablecloth and a shorter sparkling
golden overlay, shimmering votives and a tall, bushy-topped floral arrangement that
personified pomp and circumstance.

She greeted her dinner companions, who then stood and made
their way to the hors d’oeuvres station once the server had delivered their
champagne.

Meg appeared to be chomping at the bit and jumped right in,
with a coy look on her pretty face, a glint of excitement in her pale-green
eyes and a hint of suggestion in her sultry tone. “What was that all about with
Chase? Spill!”

Cassidy spread the terrine on a piece of baguette and ate it.
She let out a low moan. “Oh Jesus. That’s good.” The foie gras made her toes
curl. Add that to myriad sensations running rampant through her body—thanks to
Chase—and it was a wonder she didn’t orgasm right then and there. No begging
necessary.

“Please tell me the two of you plan to hook up this evening.”

Cassidy swallowed. “What is wrong with you people?” Her eyes
bulged. “I can’t sleep with someone I work with.”

“It’s not as though you work
for
each other. You’re
equals. You have the same boss, same position, same title, same office
configuration with the same amount of windows. The same damn view. You probably
even make the same salary.”

Her stomach twisted with dismay. “Not a chance in hell. I have
a vagina, remember?”

“That’s true.” Meg had no choice but to concede the point.
She also dealt with the gender discrimination and the sometimes caveman
behavior from the male executives. Especially with her being so pretty and
perky.

But despite the women not making as much as the men in the
business, they were all paid extremely well. One of the fringe benefits. ’Course,
the exclusive parties, the bonuses and the stellar health and dental plans
helped as well. Not to mention all the other reimbursement programs and
surprise tickets to sports games, movie premieres and cultural events
frequently bestowed upon them.

Cassidy had never felt underappreciated at MII. The problem
was, a glass ceiling still existed for female executives, of which there were
pathetically few. The old boys’ network still thrived in this particular
industry.

She’d even heard the bigwigs in Legal handed their overcoats
and umbrellas to their young, attractive assistants, who hung them up and then
brought in coffee and the morning paper. In this day and age. And an occasional
“accidental” brush of a hand against an ass cheek, or the sweep of an elbow
along the outer swell of a breast—for a job well done as much as for discreetly
copping a feel—was rumored to be part and parcel where some were concerned.

Cassidy shook her head. As she glanced around the dining
room and observed the men flirting with their assistants, and the ladies
batting their eyes in return, she said, “We’re a company-party episode of
Mad
Men
.”

No wonder the show didn’t offend her when she caught up on
the series via Netflix. This was practically her life.

“With one major difference,” Meg said. “The lead character
isn’t a manwhore.”

“You don’t think Chase is Don Draper material? Seriously?
Because, let’s face facts, he’s gorgeous. Disarming. Aggressive.”

“With
you
, he’s aggressive. And
you
love it.”

She couldn’t lie to herself on that one. As she’d considered
earlier, she found his outrageous behavior titillating. Exhilarating, even. In
addition, Cassidy was not easily offended by such overt flirtations, hence the
reason she didn’t catalog anything Chase said as harassment. Well, that and the
fact that in order for it to be true harassment, it had to be unwanted or
hostile attention. It wasn’t. And Cassidy was no hypocrite.

Moreover, she’d been around this business a long time and
didn’t think twice about the locker-room talk—came with the male-dominated
territory.

Meg broke into her thoughts. “According to Grace”—who was Chase’s
assistant—“his social calendar is mostly nights out with the dudes. He never
asks her to order flowers or make romantic dinner reservations or get tickets
to the opera. From what she has to say, it sounds as though he doesn’t date at
all.”

Cassidy scoffed. “I find that extremely hard to believe.”
Her gaze landed on Chase, yucking it up with a group of Pacific and Southwest
regional adjusters.

“Why?” Meg asked in a suddenly serious tone. “He doesn’t
look at other women in the office the way he does you. He doesn’t hang around their
desks. In fact, he typically sends Grace to deliver or retrieve field, engineer
and loss reports. But he always makes it a point to bring them to you himself.
He bypasses me completely. And… I don’t know.”

Meg smiled, almost enviously. Making Cassidy cringe. She
understood that any single, red-blooded woman would enjoy being pursued by such
a sexy, successful man. And in a lot of respects, Cassidy did consider herself
lucky that she’d caught Chase’s eye. But she wasn’t his type—she just couldn’t
fathom why he continually hit on her.

Perhaps because she perpetuated the flirtation rather than
shutting him down completely? Or was he just bound and determined to crack the
nut, so he’d get a few slaps on the back and high-fives at the office from his
crew?

She frowned. He didn’t seem like the sort who’d brag about
scoring with her. And Meg was right. Cassidy never saw him flirt with any other
women at MII. But…why her?

Once again, Meg interrupted Cassidy’s wayward thoughts,
saying, “There’s something fascinating about the way he watches you. Like he’s
got one eye on you even though he’s engaged in conversation or work. It’s kind
of territorial—which is damn sexy. And sort of protective—which is downright
heart melting.”