Suddenly Beautiful (Entangled Covet) (6 page)

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Authors: Boone Brux

Tags: #contemporary romance, #Romance, #romance series, #Boone Brux, #Suddenly Beautiful

BOOK: Suddenly Beautiful (Entangled Covet)
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She gave a quick shake of her head and went into her bedroom, leaving her damp hair to dry on its own. The choice of outfits was few, as evidenced by the mountain of dirty clothes. There were three options total and only one fell into the daring department. Immediately she discarded the camo capris. Not professional enough. She stared at the black pantsuit she’d bought specifically for her grandmother’s funeral last year. Just looking at it made her skin itch.

Her hand caressed the form-fitting jade-green dress she’d purchased on impulse last Valentine’s Day, thanks to Stacey’s goading. It had looked so good in the store, but she’d never had enough nerve to wear it. She bent and picked up the matching pair of ankle-wrap heels. Why not? Shouldn’t the personal assistant to the CEO of a cosmetics company be chic and a little trendy? Besides, last night had given her just the boost of sexy she needed.

Twenty minutes later she stood in front of her full-length mirror, admiring herself. She’d opted to keep her hair down, hoping it made her look like she wasn’t
trying
to be sexy. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing Tor again this morning. Would they exchange secret glances or share naughty innuendos when they were in meetings? Would he trap her in the copy room? No, scratch that. She didn’t do copies, but maybe closed-door meetings would become more frequent. With a deep breath, she pivoted and headed to work.

Once again everything seemed to be working in her favor. The subway was crowded but a good-looking businessman offered her his seat. Never in her years of riding had that happened. The flow of the morning sidewalk traffic deposited her at Kythera Cosmetics in record time. She’d even received a few whistles of appreciation. Maybe she should start paying more attention to what she wore to work if this was the response she received. No wonder Demetria was constantly throwing her junk out there. This response might prove addictive.

Of course, the only person she really wanted to please was just a few floors away. Her stomach twisted with nerves at what his reaction would be to seeing her again in the cold light of day.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped into a nearly empty car. Only an older gentleman in a crisp navy suit occupied the elevator. His gaze traveled over her with obvious approval.

Memories from the night before circled through her head, making her smile and bite her lip in an effort not to sigh. Stepping back, she leaned her butt against the silver railing.

The beat of her heart quickened the higher the elevator climbed. What would it be like when she and Tor first saw each other? Would he openly acknowledge their relationship, or be discreet and professional?

The bell dinged and the doors slid open, revealing Demetria standing at Nikki’s desk. Her bliss bubble burst. “Damn, and I was having such a good day.”

Demetria looked up and scowled. “What are you wearing?”

“They’re called clothes.” Nikki strode to her desk, keeping her gaze steady and confident. The woman had the honed skill of making her feel inadequate, but no more. Nikki dug in her purse for her keys and then dropped the bag into the bottom drawer. “Did you need something?”

“Where did you go last night? I went to the bathroom, and when I came back you and Tor were gone.”

Several different replies surged forward. Instead of sitting like she normally would do, Nikki remained standing. The heels she wore gave her a good two inches on Demetria and she refused to sit so the woman could speak down to her. She schooled her expression. The
in your face
dance would have to wait until after she saw Tor. Even though they’d had unbridled circus sex last night, in the office she needed to remain professional—at least until he said otherwise.

“Tor wasn’t feeling good, so I helped him upstairs.” She hit the power button on her computer. “We had a few things to go over before today.”

Like each other’s bodies.

“How did he act?” Demi’s stare was even more intense than usual. “Did he…” She seemed to fumble for the words. “Try anything?”

The need to shout, “Try anything? Did everything!” was only slightly tempered by the coincidental fact that Demetria had come to the right conclusion. Never in the short time of working at Kythera Cosmetics had the woman indicated that she found Nikki a threat where Tor was concerned.

Nikki scrunched up her face in an exaggerated look of confusion and shook her head. “What do you mean?”

For the first time ever, Demetria Mirrors looked unsure. “I mean…” She glanced around and then back at Nikki. Through gritted teeth she said, “Did he make a pass at you?”

Nikki propped one fist on her hip and the other on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. “Now, why in heaven’s name would you ask that?”

The attorney’s gaze narrowed and traveled down Nikki’s body, as if contemplating the realistic possibility of the boss bedding his assistant.
Could he have taken this bitch to bed instead of me?

“Excuse me?” Nikki hadn’t seen Demetria’s lips move, but she heard the words clearly. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

The lawyer’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed once before saying, “How did you…” She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze narrowing. “Are you sure nothing happened between you and Tor last night?”

“Have you taken your meds this morning?” Nikki fell back on an insult, not wanting to give the lawyer the tiniest opening to suspect what had transpired last night. “Because you’re acting a little crazy.”

Demetria stared and slowly tapped her foot as if contemplating whether Nikki lied. Finally she straightened and smirked. “You’re right. It was a ridiculous notion.”

Damn, she’d walked right into that insult. “If you say so.”

“Now that I really think about it, the idea is completely ludicrous.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Tor would never be that desperate, no matter how much am—alcohol he had to drink.”

The hag was seriously killing her sex buzz. “Are we done here?”

“Absolutely.” Demetria smirked. “And you might want to do something with your hair. It looks like you just rolled out of the gutter.”

Nikki glanced across the office to the mirror, shock rippling through her. Her normally straight hair, which resisted every attempt at keeping a curl, had frizzed into what looked like an extreme case of bedhead. “What the hell?”

“Let me know when you want my hairdresser’s number.” The attorney swiveled on her orange stilettos, caught her reflection in the mirror, and gave her copper curls a little shake. “And after you get that rat’s nest under control, be sure to reschedule my meeting with Tor—ASAP.”

She ran a manicured fingernail along the edge of her lipstick, puckered mouth and strolled toward the elevator.

Intense irritation flared inside Nikki.
Enough was enough.
Her glower zeroed in on the four-inch spikes clipping across the carpet and like a hundred times before, she willed the heels to snap. Unlike a hundred times before—the left one did.

The whole thing happened so fast. One second Demetria was upright and the next second she was face down on the office floor, shrieking in pain. Her tight skirt was wrapped around her thighs, trapping her like an orange linen burrito.

Several seconds passed before Nikki realized what had happened. Shocked laughter bubbled up, and she barely bit it back before it erupted from her. Demetria’s squawk pushed Nikki into action.

“Oh my God, are you all right?” She scurried across the room and knelt, still amazed by the snapping heel. Had she just used her Jedi powers to inflict bodily harm? That would be totally awesome given who received the harm. She tried to wrestle some semblance of concern into her voice. “Where does it hurt?”

“No, I’m not all right, you moron.” Nikki heaved Demetria to her back and helped her sit upright. “I think I broke my ankle.”

Moron? Another flare of anger coursed through Nikki. With great effort she tempered her retort. Perhaps excruciating pain was making Demetria more of a bitch than usual. “Can you stand?”

The attorney shifted and cried out. “No.” She glared at Nikki. “Do something.”

Nikki rose and hustled to the desk. After dialing 911 and giving the dispatcher all the pertinent information, she rejoined her on the floor. Whether this was an actual emergency she didn’t know, but the guilt of possibly being the cause, no matter how crazy that thought was, rallied Nikki’s Florence Nightingale tendencies.

The paramedics arrived in record time with a gurney and complicated gel-cooled air brace. While the medical team examined Demetria’s quickly swelling ankle, Nikki stood next to the stretcher, toying with the black Velcro on the brace.

She slipped her hand inside the makeshift support. Its coolness enveloped her forearm. “This could hold a bottle of wine.”

“Yeah, and the wrist braces work great for cans of beer,” said one of the paramedics. He smiled up at her, revealing an adorable dimple and dreamy blue eyes.

A flush crept up her cheeks when she realized she’d said the comment out loud. “That’s very clever.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect in case you fall after drinking too much,” he said, giving her a quick wink.

Butterflies toppled inside her stomach. The man was seriously gorgeous. She leaned against the gurney, attempting an inconspicuous bit of sexy.
No harm with a little flirting.
Then she caught her reflection in the mirror. If possible her mass of tangles had grown, morphing into the before picture of a conditioner ad. She sidled to her desk and snatched up a hair elastic. With great effort she wrangled her hair into a vague semblance of her usual bun. It wasn’t perfect, but at least she didn’t look like a giant dandelion puff anymore.

“Hello. Would you two mind exploring your love connection later?” Demetria said through gritted teeth. “And refocus on me—the injured party.”

Mr. Dimples produced a pair of scissors. “Miss, your ankle is too swollen. We’re going to have to cut your shoe off.”

“Like hell you are!” She jabbed a finger at her shoe. “Those are one-of-a-kind stilettos. They cost more than you make in a month.”

“Sorry.” Not waiting for her consent, the medic slipped the tip of the scissors under the delicate orange strap and cut. “Might I suggest something in a comfortable loafer next time?”

Demetria gasped and fumbled for the shoe, cradling it like a dead child. “My poor shoe.”

The EMT joined Nikki at the gurney. From the look on his face, he was enjoying the attorney’s surly remarks. He retrieved the brace and crouched again, slowly sliding the apparatus onto her sausage-like ankle. “I’ll try to be as gentle as possible.”

“Ouch!” Demetria glared at him. “Where’d you get your training, Paramedics-R-Us?”

Though he didn’t reply, Nikki noticed that he gave an extra yank on the brace to tighten it, eliciting another gasp from Demetria.

“I’m sure it’s just the pain causing her to be a complete hag,” Nikki said.

The second medic, a good-looking Hispanic man with skin like mocha and eyes the color of steel, snorted. “We get that a lot.”

He gave her a pearly smile that made her wish she needed a little medical attention—nothing too much, maybe just a splinter removed. She returned his grin. The morning wasn’t turning out to be so bad. Who didn’t like their coffee with a dash of EMT hotness?

Among Demetria’s constant stream of orders and complaints, the medics maneuvered her onto the gurney and strapped her down. Nikki waited at the elevator, holding the door while they loaded the gurney into the car. Demetria Mirrors was too stubborn to be down long, and she’d return way sooner than was needed.

Quiet descended in the office once the paramedics were gone, and Nikki returned to her desk and sat down, checking her phone. Only eight o’clock. Now that’s what she called starting her day with a bang.

Tor’s office door was locked, which meant he hadn’t arrived yet. Poor thing was probably sleeping off their night of passion. She shuffled some papers, read e-mails, and tried to stay busy.

Just before nine, Tor strolled in, looking fabulously delicious.

“Sleep in?” She stood, attempting a pose that looked natural but still gave him the full effect of her dress.

He stopped and stared, his eyes tracking down her body. If it hadn’t been for his furrowed brow, she would have been pleased by his reaction. “What are you wearing?”

His comment was like a pie in the face, and suddenly she felt ridiculous for wearing the outfit. “A dress.”

“I’ve never seen it before.” His tone sounded suspicious and slightly accusatory.

She reined in her growing irritation and fumbled for an excuse, though she didn’t know why she needed one. She looked great. “It’s laundry day. I didn’t have anything else.”

He continued to frown as he unlocked his office door. This was not
at all
how she’d imagined their first encounter would unfold after last night. “Is everything okay?”

He spoke over his shoulder but didn’t look directly at her. “Yes, it’s just…” He paused.

She moved around the desk but stopped about three feet from him. Intimacy was not the vibe she was getting from him. “Just what?”

He turned the key and pushed the door open. “Nothing, everything is fine.”

He stepped inside, leaving her staring at an empty spot. Her worst nightmare had come true. Obviously he regretted their encounter. Anger surged through her, taking Nikki by surprise. Usually she was more passive aggressive, doing things like not returning phone calls or sticking in ear buds when she wanted to ignore the chatty person that insisted on sitting next to her on the subway. But this morning she felt anything but passive.

Well, screw him, she wouldn’t let him see how much it hurt. Scrambling to appear unaffected, she fell back on routine and scooped up her phone, the pile of files, and followed him into his office.

“What do we have today?” He plopped into his desk chair and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Creed, right?”

“Um, yes,” She swallowed the diatribe threatening to erupt. She’d always dealt with situations rationally. Now should be no exception. There was probably a perfectly logical excuse for being a complete jackass. “Nine o’clock.”

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