Sweet Backlash (2 page)

The number of cubicles and staring
eyes astounded him. This firm was the fifth largest in the state,
but he hadn't expected so much staff out in the open. Between legal
assistants on telephones and paralegals discussing points of
litigation, his ears rang. The noise would take getting used
to.

He ducked into his office and shut the
door. The quiet was a relief, and he let out the breath he didn't
realize he'd been holding.

His office, though pristine, depressed
him. Stark, with tan carpet, tan wallpaper on two walls, and plain
furniture, the space left a lot to desire. On one side, windows
overlooked Main Street and the federal court building across the
way. On the other, two floor-to-ceiling glass plates formed a wall
between his office and the staff pool. He couldn't deal with the
stress of so many people watching his every move, so he kept his
back turned.

He plopped his briefcase on the
desktop and sat in the surprisingly comfortable leather chair. He
checked every drawer and compartment of his wide desk and tall,
matching credenza. With his favorite pen and a notepad he kept in
his briefcase, he prepared a list of supplies he would
require.

With that done, he took a moment to
stare out the window. A new city, a new job, and he needed to find
a new apartment. The hotel would do for about a week, but after
that, it would feel seedy. He needed his own place. He sighed. It
was a new start.

He glanced at his watch then hit the
phone button labeled
Secretary
. With only two hours left in
the workday, he needed to get busy. He hoped she could stay
late.

Beep-beep. "Yes, sir?"

She sounded young. Not the
grandmotherly type he had in Boston. "Please come see
me."

The door opened and he swiveled the
chair. Before he could speak, however, his throat closed and his
crotch tightened. Shit! Danger just walked in.

She had pale blond hair swept up in
some fancy knot, held in place with what looked like chopsticks. It
appeared too easy to quickly let down. Chocolate brown eyes
caressed his face, or did he imagine it? God, did his pants bulge?
He crossed a leg over his knee as a precaution.

Her skin was amazing. Flawless.
Alabaster tinged in the right places with a hint of pink. Had to be
make-up. Especially on her mouth. Geez, he couldn't help picturing
those plump, glistening lips wrapping around the tip of his dick.
He started to throb, and swallowed. Hard.

He wanted to look away, but couldn't
take his eyes from her. Her long, ballerina neck arched for his
kiss.
Stop it!
Firm, high, not-too-large breasts filled out
her translucent blouse. Underneath, a lace camisole stretched,
hinting at a shadow of pretty cleavage. Were her tits getting
bigger by the second? Damn it, he was staring.

Dropping his gaze lower, he admired
the form-fitting, cream-colored pencil skirt that hugged her tiny
waist and emphasized the gentle flare of her hips. Young, but not
too young. Definitely a woman. Damn, she was sweet.

Long runner's legs tapered to shapely
ankles. Highlighted by cream colored, strappy high-heeled shoes,
her narrow feet ended with French manicured toes he wanted more
than anything to suck.

She cleared her throat, and he gave a
guilty start. "Yes," he said and mentally slapped himself when his
voice cracked. "I have a list of supplies. Can you see to it or is
there someone else I should talk to?"

Her dark gaze raked him and he froze,
terrified she would see his tenting trousers. Then he realized the
edge of his desk blocked her view.

She held out a hand. "I'll take care
of it for you."

Her voice sounded different in person.
Less childlike. More husky, sexy. It swirled around him, and he
leaned forward slightly. His eyes found her outstretched hand, his
mind sending it straight to his dick. He stared, picturing the
slender fingers taking hold of his hard length. His mouth went dry.
Get control, man!

"The list?" she reminded

"Yes, of course. The list." He sounded
like an idiot. He ripped the page off the pad and handed it to her.
She turned and headed for the door, her hips swaying seductively
and her shoes making a sexy, slappy rhythm with her
walk.

"Excuse me." He hadn't even asked her
name. He was such a jerk. "What should I call you?"

"How about
Hey you
," she
suggested with a straight face.

It took him a moment to realize she
joked. Maybe he hadn't made a complete ass of himself. He
chuckled.

"Call me Melony."

"Thank you, Melony." He tried to relax
but she had him in tangles. "I'm Chip Albemarle. Could you get me a
copy of Monday's hearing schedule, and the corresponding trial prep
summary? I'd like to go over it this weekend."

"Yes, sir."

"Chip," he called as she closed the
door.

That glass wall was going to cause him
no end of problems with her sitting on the other side.

* * * *

Who did he think he was? Melony sent
her fingers over the keyboard to place his supply order. Coming in
here early, unannounced, and looking at her like that. Typical man.
What a pig.

She sent a second e-mail, asking Bob's
secretary for the trial prep material. Her fingers trembled when
she lifted them from the keys. Damn her for letting him get to her.
She went online and checked the court docket for Judge Edmonds to
see what time and to which courtroom he and Bob needed to report
Monday morning. He would probably do it himself, but she preferred
to have the information handy if he asked.

Then again, for a lawyer, he seemed
kind of stupid. She knew attorneys who lacked common sense, and
some who had no tact, but none who seemed stupid. The way he had
talked, and kept losing his train of thought… Maybe he suffered
first-day-on-the-job jitters. Wait a minute. Why did she give him
the benefit of the doubt? After the way he had treated her? If his
eyes had the power of his hands, she'd be naked right
now.

And what kind of name was Chip,
anyway? It didn't seem like a real name, more a nickname, really.
Chip. She refused to call him that.

She had to calm down before she worked
into a rage. She couldn't afford to do something she'd regret.
Kathy's recommendation she use a trip to the bathroom suddenly
seemed appealing. It would release the tension, if nothing else.
Chip talked on the phone, gesturing at the glass wall. Everyone
else appeared engrossed in work. Sighing, she slipped away from her
desk.

She found the ladies' room blessedly
empty. She relaxed and took a deep, cleansing breath. After
securing the large, handicapped stall at the far end, she draped a
hand towel over the toilet seat and hiked her skirt. Her fingers
trembled now for a different reason. Lowering her panties to her
ankles, she settled on the towel and closed her eyes.

She sent her tongue across her lips,
again and again, the taste buds grazing her sensitive lips and
making them tingle. Mmm, nice. She unfastened the first three
buttons at the top of her blouse and slid a hand under her camisole
and inside her bra. She captured the already budding nipple between
her thumb and forefinger and gently rolled it back and forth.
Instant pleasure shot from her breast, straight through her abdomen
into her womb.

Warm wetness washed the walls of her
passage. She raised her knees to hook the heels of her shoes on the
edge of the toilet rim. Letting her knees fall wide, the folds of
her slit peeled apart and began to swell. She loved the sensation
of prickly excitement as blood filled those tissues, making them
beg for her touch. Moisture wept, and she dipped her finger into
the juices. Spreading them up and down in a rhythm along her aching
slit, she bit her lip to keep from groaning.

Her clit screamed for attention, and
she took it between the knuckles of two slick fingers. Massaging
the bundle of nerves, she tensed as ecstasy began to build. She
matched the pace of both hands, stroking her clit and her nipple in
ever-increasing jerks which took her higher and higher. It felt so
good. So good. Yes. Oh, God. A little further.
Yes-yes-yes!

She rested her head against the wall
and surrendered to release. Ahh. She didn't move, enjoying the
afterglow and catching her breath.

Why had it felt so much better than
all the other times? So satisfying. Almost fulfilling. Her eyes
flew open. Shit! She had pictured
him.
She was losing her
mind.

She unhooked her heels and stomped her
feet on the floor. She stood, yanking her underwear up. Damn him,
damn him, damn him! She had expected a fifty-something man with a
wife of thirty years and grandkids on the way. Instead, she got
thirty-something athletic type with no fucking wedding ring. Boyish
good looks on a muscular man. She had tried not to notice. He
looked like he ought to play professional baseball, not sit behind
a desk all day and spout legal jargon.

She worked her skirt over her thighs
and buttoned her top. She grabbed the towel off the seat, she wiped
off what remained of her juices from her fingers and headed to the
sink. Debra could have warned her. The personnel manager hadn't
even told her his name. To be fair, Melony hadn't reminded Debra,
either. She hadn't thought it would be an issue. She never found
attorneys attractive. Even the young, good-looking ones.

Making her way to her desk, she
regretted her trip to the bathroom. She thought it would lessen her
tension, but instead, it added to it. Now she had to avoid looking
his way. Checking her e-mails, she printed the supply order
confirmation and thanked Bob's secretary for dropping the schedule
and summary in the inner office mail. She needed something to get
her away from her desk before she turned and shot daggers at him
through the glass partition and raised questions she had no
intention of answering.

* * * *

Chip managed a gracious smile. "Well,
thanks for taking the time to come by. You've really made me feel
welcome. And I apologize again for the unexpected early start.
Let's blame that on Bob, shall we?"

The personnel manager laughed, a fake
party laugh that made him want to slap her. What was her name? He
couldn't ask now. She'd just told him five minutes ago when she
barged into his office. He walked her to the doorway and
practically shoved her out.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed
Melony had returned to her desk. Where the hell had she been for so
long? He closed his door, he went to his desk, and pretended to
look through papers in his briefcase. He studied her from the
corner of his eye. She appeared ruffled. Mussed. Not the
put-together, in control young woman who completely undid him. Her
skirt had wrinkles he suspected might never come out. The buttons
on her blouse skewed a bit, like she had hastily tucked in the top.
Hairs had come loose from her coiffure to lie along her temple and
cheek.

He stared outright. Her lips were
puffy and red. She'd been kissed. Hell, she'd been fucked! She had
the telltale signs of a closet rendezvous if he'd ever seen
them.

He scanned the office, looking for a
man with the same signs. He only saw women. A sea of them. Turning
to the window overlooking the street, he realized his hands had
fisted. He shoved them in his pants pockets and took a deep breath.
Why did he let this get to him? He just met her. For all he knew,
she could be screwing every guy in the place. What did he
care?

He cared. He wanted her screwing him.
Only him. This was ridiculous.
He'd
known her an hour. It
was just lust. It would pass.

Still, he walked to the door, not
quite sure why. Pulling it open, he stuck his head out. "Can you
work late this evening, Melony?"

"No, sir." She didn't spare him a
glance as she pulled pages from her desktop printer.

Gee, not even a hesitation. "Chip," he
corrected. "I really need you to stay."

"I have an appointment." She kept her
back turned.

Did she feel guilty for her little
afternoon escapade? Why should she? He didn't know her. He wanted
her in the worst way, but he didn't know her. "Are you available
afterward? I think I might really need you to help me get ready for
Monday."

"Sorry. Busy."

Give me an inch, would ya?
"How
about Saturday?" Her hair seemed ready to collapse, and his hand
itched to snatch out those sticks so it could fall over her
shoulders.

"Not available."

He wished she would at least look at
him. Then again, he didn't. He might have another embarrassing
reaction. "I'll buy you lunch. Saturday. One o'clock. What do you
say?"

"No."

Couldn't get any blunter than that.
"Okay. I'll figure out something."

She gave a one-shoulder shrug and
three-hole punched the papers. He turned on his heel, returned to
his office, and slammed the door.

"The nerve of that guy." Kathy wildly waved a
hand in irritation, nearly knocking a man upside the head across
the Tran bus's aisle. He flashed a scowl, but she ignored it.
"First he comes in without telling anyone. Then he expects you to
work overtime?"