Hers for the Evening (18 page)

Devon Parker sucked cock like a goddess. The guy had jerked and groaned for one hell of a long time, telling her how hot her mouth was, how well she sucked. Playing the scene out behind closed lids in the shower, he imagined her lips on his dick, her hand massaging his balls, squeezing, caressing. The hot, sexy little sounds she made were for him.

He damn well better not shut her office door when he went in there or he’d have her flat on her desk with her legs spread. She had him that worked up.

“Go on in.” Robert pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said, passing the man’s desk. In days of old (last week), he’d simply have knocked on her door and walked in without preamble. Robert would have stopped him if it was something he shouldn’t interrupt. The worst thing was, he’d manufactured an excuse to see her. It slid idiotically off his tongue as he stepped into her domain. “Can I show you something on the screen?” He pointed to her computer on the credenza behind her.

She gasped, her breasts rising, and he suddenly realized she had two more buttons undone than in the meeting.

“What do you want to show me?” There was a slight catch to her voice.

“It’s nothing disturbing,” he said, because her eyes indeed widened as if he’d 120

The Stand-In

disturbed her.

“No, sorry.” She shook herself, held up a hand. “It reminded me of something else.”

He rounded her desk, stood behind her as she hit the screen saver. Her scent played havoc, subtly sweet and laced with . . . the musk of arousal? What the hell had she been doing in here with the door closed? Staring at the couch, remembering, and getting hot all over again?

Oh yeah, he’d gone fucking nuts.

“Pull up the cash forecast,” he instructed. The file was in a shared folder accessible by password only to him, Devon, his general accounting manager, and her subordinate who prepared the spreadsheet. When the file came up, he pointed to a number, then took the cursor from Devon’s hand and highlighted the accompanying comment. “We’re going to have to deal with this.” A sizable past due receivable, he’d already made the appropriate calls. Normally, he’d let his accounts receivable clerk handle it, but the amount was so large, he’d gotten involved. He didn’t need Devon in on it. He’d needed an excuse to get close.

“Do you want me to give Bowman a call?” she asked.

“Let’s wait and see if we need to escalate.” They wouldn’t have to. “I wanted to make you aware of it.”

She glanced up at him. “I saw it this morning, but I figured you’d handle it with your usual style.” She smiled. It wasn’t the cat-that-ate-the-cream smile, but it got him going anyway. “Thanks for making sure, though.” She turned once again and shut down the file. From his angle above her, he could see straight down her blouse to her cleavage. His heart trip-hammered. She had full, milkwhite breasts. A hint of nipple showed above the lace of her bra. He wanted to touch.

Holy hell, he’d lost his mind. She’d never studied him the way she’d done today. She’d never unbuttoned her blouse that far. Did she know he’d been watching Saturday night? Had she planned it? Was this some look-but-don’ttouch game she was playing?

“Anything else, Hunter?” She swiveled in her chair, her knee brushing his leg. He forced himself to back up. Saturday night had changed something fundamental. She was as sexual and hedonistic as anyone else. She probably always had been, but now he knew it.

121

The Stand-In

Despite himself, Hunter smiled. “Nothing right now,” he said. She was playing a game, and he was dying to play it with her. She had her rules, he didn’t care. That’s why it was going to be so fucking fantastic, because he had no idea what the game was or how to play out the hand.

“I’ll see you later.” He headed for the door, turning at the last moment to catch that sexy, tantalizing smile again.

Oh yeah, things were different. She was different. He wanted her lips around his cock in the worst—or best—way possible.

When he reached his office, he pulled out his cell phone, punched in a number, and a woman answered. He was going to set about adding his own rules to the game right now.

MID-NOVEMBER ARRIVED, AND ROBERT HAD BOOKED DEVON A SUITE at the resort where the investors’ conference was being held. Basically the conference was a schmoozefest of people who had money and people who wanted money. You talked about how great your company was, what a sound investment you would be, and convinced the shakers and movers to open their wallets. She often entertained in the room after the day’s activities were over, which was why she needed a suite rather than a single room. You didn’t invite people into your bedroom, and you never invited one person to your suite alone, of course, especially a man. That was asking for trouble. The suite was, however, hers after all the schmoozing was said and done. Devon intended to use it to its full extent after Friday, the last day of the conference, after the last dinner and the last cocktail. She’d arranged for an extra night she would pay for herself. Devon was a stickler. No one could accuse her of charging anything personal on the company expense account. It would have been so much easier if Hunter hadn’t decided to take another day, too. “You don’t have to stay Saturday because I am,” she told him. “I’ll hire a car to take me to the airport on Sunday morning.” She planned to return with the courtesan since she was paying for his rental car.

“I’ve a mind to do a few rounds of golf.”

“It’ll be too cold for golf.” The daytime temperatures for November in Sedona were mid-fifties to low sixties.

“I’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t snow.”

“Men,” she said softly. She was hoping for snow flurries to get rid of him. If 122

The Stand-In

he saw the courtesan . . . she didn’t want to imagine what he’d assume.

“Women,” Hunter said with a chuckle. “Relax and enjoy.” He was behind the wheel of the rental car, having chosen the scenic route from Flagstaff rather than the highway. Though a much shorter distance, it took longer but Hunter claimed the vistas through Oak Creek Canyon and Slide Rock State Park were worth it.

“Oh my God,” she breathed as he came out of a turn to a magnificent view of a red rock butte jutting into the sky.

“Was I right?”

“God, yes.” She wasn’t a nature girl, but one couldn’t help but be in awe of the majesty.

He pulled down his shades and glanced at her.

“What?”

Pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he set his attention to the road as it meandered into another turn. “I like the way you say, ‘God, yes.’ ”

Over the last couple of weeks, he’d tossed out several strange comments. They almost sounded like double entendres. Devon was afraid she’d been revealing too much with her body language, her attire, her glances. Was he starting to suspect she had a thing for him? Good Lord, that wasn’t why he was staying over, was it, hoping to get lucky with her? No, no, and hell no, the man was off limits. She had her substitute, and he would have to do.

“You want to go hiking while we’re here?”

She looked at him, tried to see inside his mind. “High heels are not appropriate footwear for hiking.” Though she did have her workout tennies. She couldn’t allow herself to spend that much time with Hunter. Alone time. Off-work time. It was bad enough sitting next to him on the plane, his body heat practically jumping across the armrest. She did not travel business class on such a short flight and sandwiched next to him on the plane . . . Lord, sandwich, she was making up her own double entendres. After the flight, the car was only marginally better. With bucket seats, at least she wasn’t touching him, but his scent still tantalized her. For some reason—lust and obsession—her gaze kept falling to his trousers, wondering. She crossed her legs trying to tamp down the burgeoning sensations between her legs.

“You need to let go, Devon. There is life beyond work.”

She snorted. “You sound like my ex-husband.”

123

The Stand-In

“I am not anything like your ex.” A touch of growl laced his voice. She cleared her head with a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m edgy. Too much sitting still.” She’d never quibbled like that with Hunter. Her obsession was getting to her. She needed another night with her stand-in. She needed to stop wondering how big Hunter was, what his taste would be, how his skin would feel, if his chest would be smooth or dusted with soft hair, whether his nipples were sensitive, if he’d like them pinched . . . How he compared.

“Apology accepted,” he said.

She wanted to crawl over the hand brake between them and discover the answers to all the questions running around in her mind.

“This is silly,” she muttered aloud.

“Arguing?”

She searched for something other than the truth. “No, attending the conference together. One of us could have handled everything. Two is a waste of company money. Besides, you should be at the office to oversee the audit.” She could hear the desperation leaking into her voice. The last two weeks she’d been telling herself she was fine, her obsession had dropped back down to mild attraction, yet here it was flaring out of control again. Maybe she’d have Isabel send the courtesan tonight. Which made him sound like a wrapped package that could be shoved in the cargo hold. Hunter didn’t fight her by saying it was a two-person job or that he had a capable staff handling every aspect of the audit and he was only a phone call away. “You would have missed the beauty of Sedona.”

As he spoke, the towering red rocks fell away and the view expanded to the Sedona valley rimmed by distant buttes. The resort they were headed to was at the southern end. Somehow the sight worked magic on her. Or perhaps it was Hunter’s calm voice and laid-back attitude.

She was here. She enjoyed his company. At the end of the three-day conference, she was going to screw the heck out of her stand-in and pretend he was Hunter. It was a win-win. Unless she got all edgy and ruined it. 124

The Stand-In

7

THE WOMAN COULD WORK A ROOM LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS. There were workshops on economics, investment strategies, mergers, due diligence, acquisitions, market instability, et cetera, but the real business was networking. Devon was a master. She had the men eating out of her hand after the Wednesday evening cocktail reception, and the female attendees were equally impressed. She walked the walk, talked the talk. He wanted her straight up against the elevator wall. Or on his room’s balcony, with the amazing view of Bell Rock and Court-house Butte in the background. He’d sat out there despite the chill of approaching dusk, a glass of wine in his hand as the sun set, painting the red rocks with spectacular hues. He wished Devon would let down her guard enough to watch it with him. Thursday, he wanted to jump across the dinner table when he perceived she was too friendly with a money man from Minneapolis. Friday, his jaw ached from all the teeth clenching he’d done. He wanted an hour alone with her, just one. She’d managed to avoid any one-on-one time, even for a second.

Saturday, he saw her through the workout room window. In a zebra leotard and black leggings, she revealed every curve. He was ready to cut out on his golf date, but she’d asked to borrow the rental car for some Sedona shopping. He’d invited her to dinner that night. She said she wanted a long soak and a good book.

With a couple of phone calls, he’d learned all about her weekend plans and what she was preparing for. Him. Only not him. It was the other one, the twin. Maybe he needed to take the direct approach and ask her to have an affair with him. He would even take plain old fucking, he was that enthralled. At eight-twenty Saturday night, he knocked on her suite. Holy hell. She opened the door wearing the sexiest little black dress. Short and velvety soft, it flirted with her thighs. He’d never seen the top half of her knees. The bodice plunged, the material draping her breasts in artful folds. The long sleeves ended in points below her wrists. Her stockings were fishnet, the heels of her shoes fuck-me high. Her blonde hair caressed her shoulders and bare nape. He’d never seen her hair down.

125

The Stand-In

She’d done this for the other one. His eyeballs suddenly ached with jealousy. He barely knew where to find his voice. “I thought I’d fill you in on how the golf game went with Metro.” He hadn’t been wasting time to gain the extra day with her.

She glanced at her watch, then once over her shoulder.

“You have a date, I’ll be quick.” Oh no, he wouldn’t. He intended to be here when her date arrived. He’d bulldoze his way inside if he had to.

“All right, a quickie.” She blushed as if she suddenly heard the dual meaning of the word, then opened the door wide to let him in. The large sitting room opened onto a balcony with a fantastic view of the red rock bluffs. At least it would be in daylight. A long sofa and armchair grouping took up one corner opposite the flat-panel TV. The computer workstation was tucked away by the bedroom door. A bottle of wine chilled on the dining table. Two glasses. Beside them lay an attractive plate of specialty cheeses, crackers, and fruit.

He eyed them, eyed her. She didn’t offer an explanation for why she’d claimed a desire for tub time in order to get out of dinner with him. Her nose tipped in the air.