Homewrecker Incorporated (6 page)

"Good to know."

I glanced at the door, wondering if the coast was clear. Of course the goal was for me to meet him, and his initial reaction to me was far better than I could have hoped for. The problem was
my
initial reaction to him. I needed to be in control. It had to be on my terms. After all, he was just another job. He was just another job. It didn't hurt to remind myself a second time.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around." Stacy headed for the door.

I held my breath, waiting for a glimpse into the lobby from my safe vantage point.

With no sign of Mr. Michaels, I moved closer to the exit to get a better look before the door closed. He was gone as far as I could tell. I only had a few minutes before my meeting with Janet, so it was now or never. Inhaling deeply, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood tall.

I strode over to the security desk, using every ounce of the acting skills I possessed to maintain a facade of self-assurance.

"Hi." I smiled at the Mack truck of a security guard. "I'm Claudia Winston here to see Mrs. Janet Peterson."

He flashed a cocky grin, reminding me of Mr. Fantastic from Florida.

"Go on through, um,
Ms.
Winston," he said, taking an obvious peek at my left hand.

Stepping through the gate, I consciously told my feet to take each step toward the elevator. How the hell was I supposed to sit through an interview, knowing a man who'd evoked such a tempest of emotion in me was somewhere close by? I whispered prayers as I walked, unsure if they were to keep him away or bring him to me.

When the elevator doors parted, it seemed they must have been the latter.

"Going up?" Mr. Michaels said, a half smile smug on his face as he leaned against the wall. His head tilted forward and his warm honey-colored eyes glinted through long lashes.

Fuck. Me.

❖

Fuck. Me. It bore repeating.

After a brief moment of stunned gawking, I managed a smile and tore my gaze from those sexy, full lips. I didn't know how I forced my legs to move me onto that elevator. Once I was on, I turned my back in an attempt to guard myself from him.

"What floor?" His tone sounded amused, although the alluring timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

The one we were standing on would have sufficed for what I had in mine.

"Um, seven," I replied over my shoulder. My voice caught slightly in my throat.

God, he smelled divine, like leather and fresh spring rain. He reached forward around me. I could feel his eyes on me while he pressed the button to take us up. It was hard to breathe so near him, as if all the oxygen burned away by the sizzling attraction between us. I'd known he was gorgeous before, I'd met plenty of attractive men in my life, but this was different. I tried again to remind myself he was just another job. I couldn't afford to lose control.

Still, standing so close to him, I realized what I'd seen of him before was like gazing at a distant star. You recognized its light, its beauty, but it wasn't until you were sucked into its orbit you could fully appreciate its power. That's how I felt being alone in his presence. As if some invisible yet undeniable force was drawing me in. Gravity.

"This must be my lucky day." I chanced a glance over my shoulder as he resumed his relaxed position against the wall, seemingly unaffected.

My stomach tightened and I pulled the portfolio closer to my chest. I was certain he could hear my heart pounding in the relative silence.

No, fuck that. I had to get it together. It was just a simple case of instant chemistry, and he was just another man--a job, nothing more, nothing less. Sure, I'd never felt anything like it before, but that didn't matter. So what if he'd caught me off guard, and I'd wanted to fuck him the instant I laid eyes on him. It might not have been exactly what I'd planned for, but this was an opportunity, not only to get the job done, but also to have one hell of a good time doing it. I could roll with it.

"It just might be," I said, my tone bordering on sultry as I turned slightly toward him.

Jesus, those eyes. Flecks of gold around his irises danced in the light, his amusement apparent. My confidence waned.

"Claudia Winston." I offered my hand. "I'm here interviewing to be your new assistant, Mr. Michaels."

"Then it's definitely my lucky day, Ms. Winston. It's a pleasure to meet you." He gripped my hand with both of his. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

The word
pleasure
coming out of those full, pouty lips made me think of just that. I saw visions of him kissing paths across my naked body and fought the urge to moan. He raised my hand toward his face. God help me, those lips. He paused, looking at me with a ridiculously sexy smirk before pressing his lips to my skin. My breath hitched and I found myself wishing I'd brought a change of panties. I couldn't believe how brazen he was. I expected more of a challenge, considering the image Gregory Michaels portrayed to the public, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He held my fingers, staring into my eyes for far longer than I should have been comfortable with. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop touching me. My mouth parted as my mind raced for some of the witty flirtatious banter that always poured from my mouth so easily in the past.

The chime of elevator's arrival on the executive floor broke the sexually charged silence. He stood up straight, reluctantly releasing my hand.

"Oh, Gregory! I didn't expect you back for another thirty minutes or so," an attractive woman who looked to be in her late fifties said when the doors parted. "You must be Ms. Winston. Bruce called up to let me know you were on your way up, so I thought I'd come greet you. I'm Janet Peterson."

"It's nice to meet you." I stepped out the elevator.

"Well, Gregory, do you need anything before I get started with Ms. Winston? You have a call with Maxwell United in forty-five minutes. I already printed the reports Joshua prepared and put them in the folder on your desk."

"No, Janet, thanks," he said, the back of his fist over his mouth as though he was stifling a laugh.

"All right, then. This way Ms. Winston." Janet walked past the receptionist desk.

I glanced over at the brunette sitting behind it who was staring past me with the look of a starstruck teenager at some boy band concert. When her gaze shifted to me, those doe eyes turned to daggers. Stacy from accounting wasn't lying. Getting the job was going to make me some enemies.

Mr. Michaels didn't pass us to go into his office. I could feel his presence behind me, watching me.

"Ms. Winston, can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?" Janet asked when we arrived at her office that was located just outside of Mr. Michaels'.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"All right, then. Have a seat and we can get started."

"Actually, Janet, since I have some time, I'll interview Ms. Winston." Mr. Michaels placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward his office door.

My body hummed with excitement, and I tried not to let it show in my expression. Janet's mouth hung open. I gave her an apologetic smile; it was the only thing I could come up with.

"But, Gregory, we discussed--"

The frosted glass of his office door closed on her words.

❖

I stood silent while he looked around the room for a moment and held my breath in anticipation as I willed him to turn around and grab me. Of course, that wouldn't be beneficial to my case. Since I was supposed to be meeting with Janet only, we hadn't bothered with any surveillance equipment. For a moment, I didn't care. I wanted him with every cell in my body, but I couldn't give in to that desire so easily. 

I'd had good chemistry with marks before, but what was going on between Mr. Michaels and me was like the discovery of the atom bomb.

He strode over to a cabinet by the desk and flipped over two glasses.

"Would you like a drink, Ms. Winston?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'll have one if you are," I replied, my tone as seductive as his.

He'd caught me off guard in the elevator, had me playing defense. It was time to go on the offensive. I pulled my gaze from the rather enticing view of his broad back draped in a bespoke suit and laid my résumé on his desk while he poured. He turned to me with the two drinks in hand, holding one out to me. I looked up into his golden hazel eyes with a sly smile, letting my fingers drift softly over his as I took it. No wedding ring, I noted. So far, he wasn't anything like I expected. The job was definitely going to be easier than I'd anticipated.

Taking a sip of an excellent scotch, I held his gaze as I eased down into the chair behind me. I crossed my legs, letting my beige pump dangle off my foot as I licked the drink off my lips. He sucked in a breath.

I placed the glass on the desk and turned the chair toward it.

"So, are you ready to begin?" I looked up at him over my shoulder; my words open to interpretation.

"I'd rather go over plans for you to have dinner with me tonight," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were married, Mr. Michaels?" I ran my tongue over my teeth.

"That didn't seem to matter a moment ago, or did I imagine you were flirting with me?" He smirked.

I turned back to him, feigning offense.

"Maybe I'm just friendly," I replied with a mischievous grin.

"Maybe I was talking about a business dinner," he retorted before taking a sip of his drink.

I laughed. He was definitely charming.

"So just a business dinner, then? To discuss my potential as your assistant?" I uncrossed my legs suggestively, giving him a glimpse of the tops of my lacy pantyhose and garter. He cringed almost, but not quite imperceptibly at the action. My confidence surged.

"It can be whatever you want." He stepped forward to set his glass next to mine. The fabric of his pants brushed my leg. I was tempted to spread my legs further and pull him to me right there. Shit, I needed to rein it until I had my surveillance equipment ready to capture the action.

"Don't you even want to take a look at my résumé before you invest any more time on me?" I pointed to the paper on his desk.

"I don't need to see it to know it would take a lifetime to fully absorb all of your talents, Ms. Winston," he responded, his eyes darkened.

Holy fuck. I crossed my legs again to relieve a tiny bit of the tension building between them as my panties dampened further. Who was I kidding? They were completely soaked at that point.

"Such flattery, Mr. Michaels." I shifted in the chair. I took a big gulp of whiskey. "Okay, dinner, then. What time?"

"How about I pick you up at your place at eight?"

"How about I meet you at Remy's Steakhouse at eight?" I countered. "I love a good piece of beef." It was a cheesy line, but based on the look he gave me, it served its intended purpose.

"It's a date."

"No, it's a business meeting." I smirked before tossing back the last of my drink.

We continued flirting as he halfheartedly perused several lines of my manufactured résumé. He made a good effort, but it wasn't long before he was pouring us another drink.

"How is it a woman like you isn't married?" he asked suddenly.

"What makes you think I'm not?"

"No wedding ring." He nodded toward my hand on the fresh glass of whiskey.

"You're not wearing yours," I shot back.

"Are you married?" The flirtatious smile he'd maintained for most of our encounter disappeared.

I looked at him, trying to decide if it would be better for him to think I was married. We'd used that strategy before. Some men felt safer having an affair with someone who had something to lose as well. I suddenly felt a little sick to my stomach. That was all I would ever be to him or anyone--an affair. Although I had no idea why I cared. I never had before.

"No, I'm not married," I responded honestly.

He looked relieved and opened his mouth to say something but stopped at hearing a male voice just outside the door. A woman, presumably Janet, laughed rather loudly. The man followed suit.

"I think our time is almost up," I said.

"I believe you're right," he replied, giving me a strange look.

He stood quickly as the door swung open, and his mouth broke into a devastating smile. He practically ran around the desk and to the door, grabbing the other man in a tight embrace. Confusion, surprise, shock, those words don't really touch the feeling I had when they finally separated.

"What the hell, Grey, you trying to steal my job? Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" the other man said, finally looking at me. "Ms. Winston, I presume? I see you've met my jokester of a little brother."

"Calm down, you're three minutes older," the man, who I'd been shamelessly flirting with for the past thirty minutes, responded.

He looked at me, flashing that gorgeous smile, and shrugged.

Fuck me. Again.

Chapter 4