Fair Game (24 page)

What he wouldn’t give to have her here, watch her make a feast of his dick.

“It needs to be Friday,” she said, her voice slow, lazy, satiated after the orgasm she wouldn’t admit to.

“You already told me that.” Clean now, he padded to the closet. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Are they giving you a going-away party?”

Grabbing his robe off a hook, he chuckled. “I do believe it’s a lunch. Kisa asked me where I wanted to go.” He said the girl’s name with a purse to his lips, knowing it would set Josie off.

It did, right on cue. “Oh, Little Miss Snowflake is giving you your own little party. How sweet.”

“I thought so.” In the dark, he allowed himself a feral grin.

“What about after work? Drinks with the group?”

“Not if you and I have a date.” Opening the sliding glass door, he stepped out onto his deck. The night sky was filled with twinkling stars.

“I’ve decided that your Friday
date
is going to be with Little Miss Snowflake.”

Sitting, he slouched, laying his head back on the chair to stare at the sky. This was a new game he hadn’t figured out yet. “So you want me to tease her into thinking I’ve got the hots for her?”

“Since you won’t be working there after Friday, now you can do her.”

He took in a deep breath through his mouth and shot it out his nostrils. “There’s one small problem with that.”

“What?”

He believed he knew what Josie wanted. A declaration. “I don’t want to do her.”

“Liar. You loved her hot thigh-high boots.”

“Just because she looked hot in them doesn’t mean I want to do her.”

His denial didn’t seem to be working with Josie. Obviously she wanted something else from him. “Why don’t you want to try?” she asked. “Because she’s a lot younger than you, and you think you can’t get her to put out?”

“I could get her to put out.” He was stepping right into her net, but he wanted to be absolutely sure what the trap was. Why the fuck did she want him to do Kisa?

“I think you’re afraid you can’t. I think you’re worried Little Miss Snowflake is all talk and no action where you’re concerned. She’s just a tease.”

He didn’t think the girl was a tease at all. She’d asked him out for an after-work drink more than once. He’d refused. She was too young, too needy, and assuredly looking for a lot more than casual sex. All that was in addition to the fact that he preferred understated women.

“All right”—he shrugged—“have it your way. She’s a tease.” He paused to give a piercing stare, as if she could see him. “What exactly is your challenge?”

“Ask her for a drink.” Josie chuckled like a woman with a very naughty secret. “Then take her out to your car, and get her to blow you.”

“You’re crazy.” She pissed him off. Badly. Why the hell did she want to fob him off on another woman? To prove he couldn’t get it up for anyone else but her, that she had him pussy-whipped? “Fine. You want me to get her to blow me, I will. But lady, you’re going to pay for this one.”

She’d never know whether he did or not. He’d simply go home and call her after an appropriate amount of time.

“And I want to be at the bar to watch you work your magic.”

Damn her. “Are you going to follow me out to the car, too?”

She huffed a breath. “No, she might notice that. I wouldn’t want to screw this up for you.”

“What makes you think she won’t recognize you in the bar?”

“I only met her once, and she was too busy bantering with you to actually notice me. To be sure, though, pick a place that’s dark. I’ll get there first and sit way in the back.”

Sonuvabitch. She’d really been working this one out.

Why the fuck was he going to play this particular game with her? He should tell her to get lost, call the whole thing off, this bizarre relationship that wasn’t a relationship at all.

Jesus. That’s exactly what she wanted. He’d gone from being her client to her boss, and she was trying to get
him
to end it. He wasn’t letting her walk away. He’d gotten her to invite him to her home, then fucked the hell out of her until she’d agreed to keep on seeing him outside of work. He’d make her stick to that.

She’d issued a challenge, and he wasn’t about to be the first to back down. She’d asked for a show, and she would get a goddamn good one.

“You’re on.”

 

 

 

GOOD God. He’d said yes to her challenge.

It wasn’t until the moment he’d agreed that Josie realized she was hoping he’d tell her to forget it. That he didn’t want Little Miss Fucking Snowflake, he only wanted Josie. Sure he’d
said
it, but he’d given in way too easily. It was debilitating to know she wasn’t above craving a little ego boost.

Dammit, despite his denials, she’d
known
he had a thing for Little Miss Fucking Snowflake.

It didn’t matter. The episode would put the relationship in perspective for both of them. This was just sex. Pretty soon they’d get tired of the game and mutually decide to move on. Her career would be back on track without any emotional entanglements.

Truthfully, it didn’t bother her one teeny-tiny bit—as Trinity would say—if he decided to move on with Little Miss Fucking Snowflake.

Hah. She could even call herself Cupid.

 

 

ON Friday, Josie counted the hours, the minutes, even the seconds. She hadn’t talked to Kyle since Monday night. Tuesday she’d sent him an e-mail instructing him to e-mail her with the time and place of his rendezvous. She hadn’t heard from him on that, either.

He was going to back out. She knew it. Heh. She’d win. The next challenge would be hers all over again, and this time . . . well, she wouldn’t pick something involving another woman.

She celebrated her soon-to-be victory by inviting Lydia to lunch. Okay, it wasn’t a celebration. She’d put off talking to Lydia all week. What would Ernie have done, if Lydia had told him at all? Should she tell HR? What if something happened to Lydia, and Josie hadn’t told anyone? What if she told, and Lydia had a nervous breakdown because everyone suddenly knew her secret? Being a boss was a bit like being a priest. You didn’t tell unless your employee said you could. God. Too many decisions.

For a brief moment that morning, she considered asking Kyle.

Their games aside, she admired him and respected his opinion. But jeez, she couldn’t tell him
that
. Especially not after she’d told him he had to get Little Miss Snowflake to blow him.

Instead, she decided on steak at the Outback. Lydia ordered a salad and barely touched it. Josie didn’t mention Lydia’s problem at all until they were walking back to the car. She’d found a shady tree to park beneath and stopped by the hatchback without hitting the automatic lock remote.

“You okay, Lydia?”

The girl hadn’t been late a single day since she’d burst into tears in Josie’s office. “I’m fine.”

“Did you talk to someone? If you didn’t, I can give you the number for Employee Assistance.” She’d at least uncovered the name of the company-sponsored program and gotten the phone number. “Or you could call Planned Parenthood. They have counselors for this sort of thing.” Unplanned parenthood. She had looked the website up on the Net and browsed a bit. They could give Lydia advice about her options.

“Do you think I should have an abortion?”

The blood drained right out of Josie’s head. She felt dizzy and close to passing out. “I can’t advise you, Lydia. I’m your boss.”

There would be legal ramifications. Besides, she wasn’t qualified.

“What would you do?”

Jesus. She could not have Lydia and her baby on her conscience. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do, Lydia. I would never want to have to make that choice.”

Lydia pursed her lips, to keep them from trembling, Josie was sure. She stared at the concrete. “I know you wouldn’t want to. I don’t want to.” Then she raised her dark brown, puppy-dog-sad eyes. “But I’d really like to know what you’d do.”

“Why me, Lydia? You must have friends you can ask.”

“Because I’ve always admired you.”

Jeez. There wasn’t so much to admire. Josie struggled for everything she’d gained. All her life she’d worked harder, faster, to be better, so that she’d stand out and be noticed. Connor was the first one to really give her a chance. Everyone else thought she had everything handed to her because she was Dora and Preston Tybrook’s daughter.

She’d believed Lydia thought the same. Yet Lydia turned everything around on her. Josie stepped close, dropped her voice. “I think that I would have the abortion.” She felt the oddest tingle in her eyes, as if she might actually cry. “But I don’t think I would live with it well.” She put her hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “I don’t think you would live with it well, either.” What she didn’t say was that even knowing that, she still would have the abortion.

God, that said something terrible about her as a person. All her childhood fears of not being good enough or lovable or special suddenly rose up inside her.

Lydia swallowed. Her eyes shimmered, but not a single teardrop fell. “Thanks.”

Josie wasn’t sure what she’d done. For a moment she was terrified of the consequences of those few words, like the ripple effect, where they spread out and suddenly the whole world was changed. And not for the better.

They were silent on the way back to work. In her office, she checked her e-mail. There was one from Kyle. He was taking Little Miss Snowflake to a dark bar in one of the hotels by the San Francisco airport. They’d be there at six.

Good God. She’d forgotten she’d have to get all the way up the Peninsula on a Friday evening during commute traffic. Idiot.

She could say she’d changed her mind. Or she could tell him about Lydia, how the lunch experience had soured her. She certainly would not mention that she didn’t feel like watching Little Miss Fucking Snowflake suck up, so to speak.

She started typing a reply. “Something’s come up at work, can’t make it.”

He’d ask what. Or he’d suggest he go it alone with the woman.

She deleted the line and started over. “I’m sick. We’ll have to postpone.” Then she’d postpone forever. Woman’s prerogative to choose a new challenge.

God, she wished she’d never issued the damn challenge in the first place, but if she backed off, he came out on top. Numero uno. He’d win. He’d probably even think it was because she didn’t want to see him flirting with the Snowflake. She didn’t care at all, of course, it was just this whole Lydia thing getting her down. But she’d never get him to believe that now.

She deleted the line again. Dammit. She had no choice. She’d started it, she had to follow it through.

She typed. “Make it six thirty.” And hit send.

That was that. She’d keep it in mind for the next time: don’t start something you might decide later you don’t want.

At five, she made a quick repair to her makeup. Casual Friday meant jeans and a T-shirt. She wished she’d worn something sexier. Such as what, she had no idea. Why hadn’t she planned better this morning when she left the house? Fine. Whatever. She was imagining Little Miss Fucking Snowflake in sexy thigh-high leather boots and low-cut spandex top, and
that
made her feel . . . less.

On the road by ten after five, the traffic was at least cooperating. With it being the last week before Labor Day, lots of people were on kiddy vacation before school started again. She made it to Millbrae and the airport hotel ten minutes early.

He’d chosen a luxury hotel amidst an array of motels convenient to the airport. There were no shady nooks to park in, and it wouldn’t be dark for another two hours. If Kyle took the Snowflake back to his car, they’d be getting nasty while it was still light. Would they have driven separately? Or maybe he planned on getting a hotel room for the dirty deed.

Josie’s breath hitched in her chest. She hadn’t contemplated that possibility.

“What do you care?” she whispered harshly to herself, then yanked on the door handle and climbed out of the car.

The faux marble lobby was awash in people, suitcases, luggage carts, and bellhops. There was some sort of convention, with a
lot
of women dressed in varying amounts of pink, from full pink suits, to pink blouses, to just pink shoes. The mélange of perfume gave her a headache. She followed the sign to the bar. Just as she’d instructed, it was intimate and dark, with candles flickering on the tables. A fair number of businesspeople were seated at them, and again, a lot of pink ladies. She found a lone table in the back corner, ordered a German beer, and sat back to wait.

Kyle arrived. Alone. Josie’s heart kicked up. His gaze roamed the room, passed over her as if she didn’t exist, and landed on a table being vacated by two businessmen. He wore a dark suit himself, white shirt, red-and-black tie. God, he was lip smacking. So, too, thought the pink ladies as they gawked.

He gave his order to the waitress. She was quick to bring the drinks. Two of them. A cocktail tumbler with amber liquid for him, and a glass of blush wine.

Josie’s heart beat in her ears. Maybe he was waiting for her to vacate her table and join him, blowing the challenge out of the water. She waited, her breath fast. He twisted his glass on the table. One minute, two. Josie started to rise.

Little Miss Fucking Snowflake sashayed through the door. Her black leather skirt barely covered her crotch. Josie was sure her butt cheeks would be clearly visible from the rear, just as the tight, stretchy sweater top barely contained her nipples, and gee, she was either cold or totally happy to see Kyle. Dammit.

Josie sank into her chair and picked up her beer glass. She almost slugged down the remainder, managing only at the last second to daintily sip. She didn’t want Kyle to know . . . what? That the Snowflake bothered her? Ridiculous. She couldn’t care less. For God’s sake, she’d arranged the whole thing, so of course she didn’t give a rat’s ass.