Sinfully Sexy (9 page)
Authors: Linda Francis Lee
Tags: #Romance, #Sex in the workplace, #Fiction
*Â
*Â *
The men drove up Mesa Street from downtown in Ben's black Range Rover.*Â *
"I take it you've got it bad," Ben said, breaking into the tense
silence.
"What are you talking about?"
"You, for Chloe."
"There is nothing going on between me and Chloe Sinclair, and I
certainly don't have anything badâunless it's a bad case of irritation
over a woman who isn't doing her job."
"Ah, so that's why you're hunting her down after hours for some
meeting?"
"We have a show to produce," Sterling bit out tightly.
"And I guess I'm supposed to be impressed by your dedication to the
job. Workaholic, no life outside
the office. The sort of life you want me to lead?"
"I guess that puts me between a rock and a hard place for an answer."
Ben grinned. "You bet, big brother."
They raced up Mesa Street. No matter how many times Sterling drove
through town, the geography surprised him. Even though it was October,
the trees were still green. The massive mountain range, with its
dangerous cliffs and rocky ledges rising up from a city that was
nestled at its base, looked red in the setting sun. The mountains
flowed down into the Rio Grande river basin, then rose up again on the
other side in what he had learned was Mexico. But today, none of that
made a bit of difference in his mood.
By the time the two men pulled up to the building on Mesa Street,
Sterling was jaw-ticking mad.
Out of habit, Sterling took his briefcase with him as he strode into
the gym. Ben followed and made
some sort of an explanation when Sterling didn't stop at the front
desk, a perky receptionist calling out
for him to sign in.
Ben shook his head and wondered what the hell was going on with his
brother. Ben knew without having to be told that Sterling had come to
El Paso to force him to return to the family. And for the first time
since Ben had left St. Louis, he wondered if returning wasn't what he
needed to do.
That was the only reason he could come up with for having said he would
return to St. Louis if Sterling saved the station. At the time, saving
the station in a month hardly seemed possible. But he had forgotten
Sterling's driveâa drive that was exhibited now as he hunted down
someone who had stood him up for
a meeting.
But would that get the job done?
And if Sterling did succeed, could Ben really give up life in law
enforcement?
He didn't know the answers. In his second week on leave from the force,
he still couldn't think about, much less talk about, his partner being
killed in an undercover drug deal gone wrong.
A commotion to his left cut into his thoughts. Thankfully. Though not
so thankfully he realized that
Julia Boudreaux was at the center of the tumult.
Why wasn't he surprised?
Hell, the woman was a piece of work. Her long, black-lacquer hair was
pulled back, her violet eyes flashing. She said what she felt, when she
felt like it. He had enough strong women in his family. He wanted a
woman who knew how to be soft, sweet, and kind. A woman who knew how to
fill his mind and his body with the sort of heady desire that tasted
like bourbon warmed between two hands.
Leaning back against the wall, he watched her work the crowd, all men,
all circling around her, trying to get a morsel of her interest. She
doled out and withheld attention in a way that he couldn't believe drew
any man. She flirted, she toyed, she even waggled her finger at one
massively muscled man like he was nothing more than a naughty little
boy when he tried to steal a kiss.
Ben thought about exiting the building. He would have turned away and
left Sterling to his own devices, but then one of the slew of Julia's
admirers wouldn't leave her alone. The muscle-bound bodybuilder grabbed
her close. Julia's face went very still, and Ben saw panic flare in her
deep twilight eyes.
With a curse, Ben strode across the distance in a few determined
strides. Blood pounded through him, driving him forwardâthough it was
something more than habit that pushed him on. Something he couldn't
name.
One minute he was detached and calm, the next he tore the muscleman
away from Julia and pinned
him against a bulletin board loaded with announcements. Roommates
wanted. Maid services. Diet supplements. Thumbtacks popping from the
cork, flyers fluttering to the floor.
"Hey, man, what the fuck are you doing?" the man stammered, puffing up.
But he was no match for Ben's strength and skill in subduing others.
"Keep your hands off the lady."
Muscleman started to protest, but Ben banged him against the corkboard
once again.
"You're fucking crazy, man."
"Maybe," Ben conceded, blood ticking through him like fire. "Do you
want to find out how crazy?"
Ben loosened his grip, and the minute he did, the man hurried away.
It took a second for the insane feeling to pass. Finally he turned to
face Julia, uncomfortable with the realization that this possibly could
change things between them. He had seen before how women grew attached
to the men they thought had saved them.
Julia looked him up and down like a feline on the prowl, her gaze like
fingernails raking down his torso during hot sex.
"Mmm," she cooed, "you big strong man. Did that make you feel manly? Do
you like banging people around?"
Clearly she wasn't on the verge of throwing herself in his arms and
thanking him. It pissed him off that
he cared.
Raking his hair back with his hand, he said, "I was just trying to
help."
She stepped closer, every trace of panic gone so completely that he
wondered if he had imagined it.
"I don't need your help, Mr. Boy Scout. I've been fending off men since
you were a kid trying to play doctor with the silly girl next door."
He studied her closely, not sure what he felt. But finally he felt a
knowing smile pull at his lips. "I didn't have to try hard. I was
pretty good at playing doctor. Do you want to relive a little bit of
childhood and play now?" He planted his hand on the wall above her
head. "Since you're so strong and anything but helpless, I'll even let
you give the exam."
The deep violet of her eyes darkened and she bit her white teeth into
her lower lip. Heat flared, and Ben felt a fiery need to pull her
close. Press her body to his. Leaving him ill-prepared when she smiled
wickedly and said, "Really, I get to be the doctor?" Then she reached
down and grabbed him by the
balls.
His thoughts cemented.
Her gaze was hot, sultry, and amused. "Cough, big boy."
He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have choked instead as she
laughed, the sound rising up into
the exposed metal rafters.
The minute she let go, she purred, "I'll send you the bill in the
mail." Then with a flip of her hair, she turned on her heel and walked
away.
*Â
*Â *
Sterling saw Chloe almost immediately on the opposite side of the gym.*Â *
As predicted, she was in a glass-walled workout room filled with rows
of mainly women following the lead of a single man on a small platform
in front.
His jaw ticked with impatience.
Chloe stood out from the line of other kickboxers. That dark hair was
pulled up in a short ponytail that bounced with every kick and punch.
She wore warm-up pants, even though every other female in the room had
on tights that made them look naked. But it was Chloe who made his
pulse beat faster.
Irritation and frustration combined with physical need, only serving to
make the flame of his anger burn brighter. Damn her sexy hide.
He had understood when he took her into the hotel bathroom and pulled
up her skirt that her body was meant for sin, all sleek skin and curves
that she now kept hidden underneath demure clothes and warm-up pants.
But he hadn't seen her body that night. He had felt her, catching
fleeting glimpses of skin and curves in the hazy mirrors. Images,
memories, that haunted his dreams. Now, watching her through the glass
like she was a china doll in a curio cabinet, he felt an unwelcome
hardness between his thighs at the sight of her. He wanted to touch her
again, brush his hands along her body. And he would. He would complete
this damn show. Fulfill the bargain that he had made with Ben. Then he
would make love to Chloe and finish what they had started days ago in a
hotel bathroom. And he wouldn't feel an ounce of regret.
But that would happen later. Not now.
A woman in little more than a tank top and thong bumped into him and
smiled suggestively as she continued on toward a line of weight
machines. Looking around, he could hardly believe that he was standing
in a gym as the kickboxing class came to an end. He told himself to
find Ben and get the hell
out of there. He would deal with Chloe later. And he would have, but
when Chloe walked up to the instructor with a shy smile, he forgot
about leaving.
His eyes narrowed, irritation kicking up again like his new best friend
when the instructor tucked a
strand of hair behind her ear. Sterling's mouth pressed into a hard
line when she blushed. Chloe Sinclair, Miss Hot and Heavy in the
bathroom, pink with innocence now.
Then she saw him. At first she looked surprised. Next he expected her
to look guilty because she had missed their meeting. But Chloe never
did what he expected. Her mouth fell open in exasperation.
Even though Sterling couldn't hear a word they said, he could tell
through the glass that the instructor asked, "Who's that?"
She crossed her arms on her chest, and Sterling could read her lips.
"Don't worry. He's nobody." She turned away.
Him, Sterling Hayden Prescott, a nobody.
When Chloe glanced back at him, probably hoping he had disappeared, he
crooked his finger at her. She rolled her eyes in response, then said
good-bye to the instructor. Picking up her gym bag, she headed out of
the workout room. Sterling waited for her to come over to him. Several
sharp things he planned to say to her rushed through his head. But the
minute she walked through the door, she turned left and headed for the
stationary bikes.
It was ridiculous, this anger or whatever it was he felt. But anger was
something he could deal with.
So be it.
He strode over to the bike where she now pedaled furiously, leaning low
over the handlebars.
"We had a meeting scheduled," he stated without preamble, setting his
briefcase down.
"I told you I was busy."
"And I told you that we had to meet."
She glanced over at him, her eyes bright, her cheeks red with exertion.
"Do people always jump through hoops to accommodate your every whim?"
"Of course."
"Of course!" she scoffed, put her head down, and pumped at the bike so
hard he expected the two-wheeler to take off.
"Let me amend that," he stated. "Everyone accommodates me with the
exception of you. You never do anything I say."
She actually preened like he had given her an award. "Mindless
submission is overrated," she said with
a smirk.
"I think you're being stubborn simply for the sake of being stubborn."
"I am not," she blurted, her chin thrust out stubbornly.
"Then why didn't you wait for me?"
"Because I always go to Tuesday Kick."
"To see the instructor?"
Her feet actually came off the pedals in her surprise. After a second,
she said, "No, not solely to see the instructor." She waggled her
brows. "Not that he isn't reason enough to come to Tuesday Kick."
He swore.
"I'm here to exercise. It keeps me sane and helps me work better.
Surely you do more than work. Don't you have a personal life?"
Personal life?
Sterling's world revolved around the job. The hunt. Closing the deal.
He couldn't remember ever thinking in terms of a life beyond work. He
dated. He attended the social functions that he had to as both the
family representative and as the chairman and CEO of Prescott Media.
But standing around making
small talk, in his opinion, was an utter waste of time.
Mostly he worked. And he enjoyed it.
At least he had until this tiny woman said two fateful words. "
Kiss me.
"
"My personal life isn't the issue," he stated, his jaw ticking. "We
have to finalize the locations for where the Roses and the Catch will
stay if we are going to have the paperwork completed in time for
taping. Moreover, I have better things to do with my time than follow
you around in order to get something so important done. I don't
appreciate your unprofessional irresponsibility when it comes to making
this
show a success."
Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Her feet came off the
pedals for good this time, and he swore she would have launched herself
at him if he hadn't reached out and lifted her off the bike. She
still hadn't found her voice by the time he plunked her down on a
small, narrow, black, padded workout bench. When he straddled the
opposite end, he had to catch her hands when she tried to push him off.
"Enough," he bit out. "We have a job to do, and it's next to impossible
to carry on a conversation with you huffing and puffing on a bike that
is going nowhere. Which means there's no time for playing around or
moon-eyeing a kick-boxing instructor when you should be doing
everything in your power to save KTEX TV."
Her open mouth snapped shut until her lips pursed hard. "You
self-righteous, know-it-all bastâ" She
cut herself off, then leaned over, yanked up her gym bag, and pulled
out a manila folder. "Here."
His thoughts hardened. "What is that?"
"Look inside," she shot back.
He did. "Houses?"
"Yes." She drew the word out with impatience of her own. "I used a
Polaroid camera and took the
photos this morning."
"This morning?"
"Around five or so, when I was being
unprofessionally
irresponsible
."
He didn't feel a moment of remorse. He was impressed. And he told her
so.
That took the words right out of her mouth. He could tell she tried not
to care. With jerky movements, she started pulling out photos from the
file he held.
"I spoke to a real estate agent," she explained, "who sent over a
description of possible properties, but several that sounded
interesting didn't have photos, or if they did, they were too small to
make out."
"So you drove around and took pictures at five in the morning."
"Yeah, well..." Her tone was belligerent.
"Let's see what you have."
As he leafed through the photographs, she spoke. "I gave some thought
to doing the whole thing in a hotel. But there isn't enough room for
all the equipment we're going to need. So I ruled that out and
stuck with single-family dwellings."
He held up a pair of photographs. She said, "Those are two homes in an
area called Mission Hills.
There's a little map attached to the back of each photo that shows
where the house is in relation to KTEX."
"They're nice, and they're close to the station, but there's nothing
that says fantasy about them."
Chloe nodded. "You're right. The hardest part is finding two properties
that are close to each other
so that we can use one crew and not have to hire another."
He studied the second set. "Too small."
Then another. "Too sterile."
By the time he got to the bottom, there wasn't a single pair of houses
they could use. But he wasn't surprised. He'd done some work on the
housing situation himself and had seen what they were up
against.
"I'm meeting with the Realtor again after I work out," she said,
impressing him even more. "But at this point I'm stumped, given our
price range."
He reached over and retrieved his briefcase. "I found something."
"You did?" She didn't sound in the least put out that he might have
succeeded when she had not. She sounded excited.
He pulled out his own set of photos and held them up without any
description.
She sat up straight on the bench. "Wow! They're great. I recognize that
one. It's in the Coronado
Country Club, isn't it?"
"It is. Apparently the owner has been trying to get it used in a movie.
He'll settle for TV. I've gotten the price down."
"You're a genius!" she said excitedly, or even graciously, he conceded,
after how he had treated her. "How much?" she asked.
"A thousand per weekâ"
"What?!"
"âon the big house. Seven-fifty per week for the smaller bachelor
house."
She shook her head in disbelief. "It doesn't matter how good a price
they are, we can't afford them."
Sterling glanced at the photos. He knew she was right, had been
debating that fact since the second he knew he was close to pushing the
owner just as far as he was going to be pushed. Every man had his
limit. Sterling was a master at knowing just when he was about to hit
it. The man who owned the set
of properties in the country club area had gotten there.
The setting for
The Catch and His
Dozen Texas Roses
would be like a characterâa minor character,
but a character nonetheless. For his plan to succeed, ratings for the
show had to be through the roof.
For that to happen, viewers needed to love the bachelor, and either
love or hate
the Roses
. But
on top
of that they needed to love the houses, to dream of living there
themselves.
Which meant Sterling had a decision to make.
"What if I got.. . Prescott Media to pay?" he suggested carefully.
Chloe thrust out her chin. "Why would that ratty old Prescott pay for
the houses?" Whatever ease had surfaced in her disappeared. "Are you
sure that you and that Prescott aren't trying to pull something here?"
Sterling leaned forward. "You've got it wrong about my intentions . . .
and about Prescott."
She was close enough to kiss. He could see how her pulse flared, not in
passion this time, but in a sort
of warrior's determination that he recognized. He realized with a start
of surprise that he couldn't underestimate her, that she would fight
harder than he had imagined she would. He wondered what it would feel
like if she ever fought for him.
Which was ridiculous.
"That remains to be seen about you and your intentions," she stated.
"As to Prescott," she added,
"I don't believe for a second that he has any redeeming qualities. I've
heard too many stories about
what he has done to other stations."
"You know the problem with you, Chloe Sinclair?"
"I don't have a problem."
"I beg to differ."
"Beg all you like."
He smiled. "I don't beg."
"That's right, men like you and Prescott
take
. Pillage, conquer."
"I think you're obsessed with Prescott."
"I am not!"
"Aren't you? You talk about him every chance you get."
"I'm not interested in talking about Sterling Prescott. And you
shouldn't be either. Though I'll give
you points for being loyal."
Sterling felt a twist of frustration, and not a little outrage that she
could talk so dismissively of ... well, Sterling Prescott. Part of him
relished the thought of that moment when she finally found out who he
was. He imagined she would squirm and dangle with contrition.
Though part of him thought that she just might make him squirm and
dangle in contrition.
He mentally cursed. He had never squirmed in his life.
"You're too thin-skinned," he said. "That's your problem. Life isn't
for the meek. Life is about finding what you want and taking it.
Otherwise you'll never achieve anything, and you'll get walked all
over."
"Is that what you tell yourself to justify working for a corporate
raider?"
"Am I raiding anything now? Is he? Is anyone trying to steal anything
from you? Or am I trying to save your station?"
She looked at him forever. "I wish I knew. I wish I could figure out
why you're here, and what it is
about you that makes me think you aren't telling me everything."
Even though she had been off of the bike for several minutes, when the
electronic timer beeped, her
body visibly heaved a sigh of relief, and she stood.
"Let me think about the house issue," she said, wiping her face and
neck with a white terry cloth towel.
"I have an idea that I want to mull over."
"What kind of an idea?"
"Mull first, discuss later."
The fact was, he didn't have much choice. He hadn't found anything
viable, and the challenge was to succeed without his name or his money.
He couldn't, in good faith, pay for the damn houses himself.
Ben stood off to the side, that amused grin spread on his face. "Hey,
Chloe." He focused on his brother, his smile broadening. "Hey Trey,
I'll wait for you out at the truck."
Chloe looked from Ben, as he left the building, to Sterling. "It's
amazing the resemblance."
"I've heard people say that, but I don't see it," Sterling said.
"Yeah, you probably won't. Despite the fact that both of you look like
Mr. Danger"âshe laughed and rolled her eyesâ"Ben actually looks
friendly every once in a while, unlike you."
He shot her a scowl. "I'm friendly."
"Sure you are," she scoffed. "But that's okay. I can tell you care for
Ben, and I'll give you points for
that, too."
"Of course I care for him. We're family."
"Family."
The word seemed to surprise her and a change came over her.
"You never did tell me anything about yours," he said. "You like to
play your hand close to your chest."
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