Sweet Surrendering (10 page)

My confidence in my ability to be professional lasted as long as it took for me to walk to his desk and tell him that he could take his break.

The second I met those eyes and saw that mouth forming words, I was lost again.

“You okay?” He caught on, of course.

“Yeah, I just had a mimosa and I think it went to my head.”
Wow, brilliant save there Rory.

“Or maybe you’re just going to swoon in my presence. Would you like me to catch you and then fetch the smelling salts?” And just like that, I was wondering how I ever found him attractive.

“You get a half hour. No more. Be back here at one-thirty or you’re fired.” I stomped back to my office and shut the door. Seconds later, I heard his footsteps walking toward the elevator. I turned on my computer and threw myself back into work. Ah, work. My sanctuary.

I went back to working on the presentation, but checked the clock every few seconds. At one-thirty on the dot, there was a knock at my door. Damn.

“I’m back, Miss Clarke,” he said, actually coming into the office this time and closing the door behind him. The place felt like it grew increasingly smaller until it was barely a closet.

“Thank you for your punctuality, Mr. Blaine.” I straightened some papers on my desk, trying to breathe normally.

“You are most welcome, Miss Clarke,” he said, sauntering toward the desk and resting his hands on it and leaning forward. “And please, if there’s
anything
I can do for you,
anything
, all you have to do is ask.” His voice dipped into a lower register that made my insides do funny backflips and cartwheels as his face came within a foot of mine.

“Anything,” he breathed.

I found myself involuntarily leaning forward and our lips were a whisper away . . .

And there was a knock at the door and we broke apart like teenagers getting busted under the bleachers. I banged my knee on the desk and he nearly crashed into the credenza near the door trying to put space between us.

“Come in,” I said, rubbing my knee and trying not to wince too much as Lucas (Mr. Blaine) straightened his tie.

“Sorry to bother you, dear, but I just had a call for you and I didn’t see Mr. Blaine at his desk, but clearly he is here. Would you like me to transfer it?” Mrs. Andrews, bless her heart, seemed totally oblivious that she’d walked into a wall of sexual tension. Still, it’s a little strange that she walked all the way down here to tell me about a call when she could have just called my extension and the put the call through. Huh.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Fintan Herald.” Fabulous.

“Sure, you can transfer him, Mrs. Andrews.” I gave her a smile and she nodded, her hand still on the doorknob.

“Of course, dear.”

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Andrews,” Mr. Blaine said to her.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Mr. Blaine. I hear we have high expectations for you.” Obviously, she’d talked to Dad about him. I would have been surprised if they hadn’t talked about him.

“I will do my best to live up to those expectations and exceed them.”

“You’d better,” Mrs. Andrews said with a mock straight face. Yup, she was part of his fan club. She gave me a smile before leaving. A few seconds later my phone rang with the transferred call from Fin.

“I need to take this,” I said, as Lucas (JE-SUS CHRIST, MR. BLAINE!) started to back out of the office and got back to his desk.

“Of course, of course.” He seemed a little stunned, and I wasn’t sure if it was to do with nearly running into the credenza, or if it was something else. Ten seconds ago, he was ready to leap over the desk and molest me.

Something I’d learned when I was very young still rang true.

Boys are weird.

I shook my head as my phone rang and I picked up Fin’s call.

The second call with Fin was shorter than the first; he seemed busy so we decided to meet up on Friday afternoon instead because he couldn’t do Wednesday. He let me pick the place, which was considerate.

I hung up and realized I wasn’t actually dreading our little coffee date. I was also dying to know what he looked like now, but I wasn’t going to creep on the internet and spoil it.

A sharp rap sounded at my door.

“Yes?”

It was Mr. Blaine and he was looking distinctly grumpy. His forehead was all furrowed, which, actually, was kind of . . .

“Your mail is here, Miss Clarke,” he said, holding up a few of interoffice envelopes that probably needed my signature. It was nothing that required him to knock on my door. I would have gotten them later.

“Thanks, Mr. Blaine, you can put them right there,” I said, indicating the basket on the edge of my desk for those very things. It was even marked MAIL.

He dropped them in the basket and his grumpy face didn’t change. I wanted to jokingly ask him what he’d got his panties in a twist about, but I was determined to make this a professional relationship from now on, at least on my side.

“Would you, um, mind bringing me some coffee, Mr. Blaine?” If anything, the grumpy look deepened. I didn’t ask for a kidney.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” He turned on his heel and walked out. I shook my head and started sorting through the mail.

He came back a few minutes later and slammed the coffee down on my desk, so much so that it sloshed out of the cup. That was it. I waved good-bye to any semblance of being professional.

“What is your problem?” I said, jumping up and grabbing some tissues from the top desk drawer to blot the coffee puddle that was racing toward some very important papers.

“Shit, shit, stop!” I said, blotting the coffee and trying to talk it out of ruining everything. A hand reached out and shoved the papers to the side as I mopped up the rest of the coffee, which was pretty damn hot, by the way.

I dropped the soggy tissues in the trash and pulled out a cleaning wipe from the container that I also kept in my desk.

“I’m so sorry,” he said when I finally looked up and saw him trying to fix the mess that had been made of my desk.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said, even though I was kind of pissed. “Is there something wrong?” I tossed the wipe and took the papers from him. He didn’t know my arranging system yet.

“No, nothing. I’m so sorry.” He moved around the other side of the desk, as if he was leaving.

“It’s okay, Lucas. Mr. Blaine. Are you sure you’re okay?” He stopped and gave me a tight smile that didn’t reach those gorgeous eyes.

“It’s nothing, I promise. I’ll get over it.”

“I hope so, because I’m not sure my desk can take any more.” I was very fond of my desk. It had been a present from Dad when I got promoted and I planned on taking it with me, even if I changed offices.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he left as if he was running away from something, and I was left wondering what the hell that was all about.

“I thought you would need this,” Sloane said, handing me a glass of wine when I stumbled in the door that night. I hadn’t been that tired after work since I’d pulled a few all-nighters a month ago.

“You’re my favorite,” I said, and gulped the wine. Ah, sweet elixir.

“I also took the liberty of ordering takeout,” she said, holding out her arm like a bimbo from a game show presenting a brand new stove as she gestured to the bags and boxes on the counter.

I collapsed on the couch and downed the rest of the wine.

“I didn’t know sexual tension would make me so tired. I mean, it’s not like we were ready to rip each other’s clothes off in a fit of lust, but it definitely wasn’t easy.” Watching his mouth as he talked, remembering what it could do on my body . . .

“You’re such a liar. You totally were ready to rip each other’s clothes off in a fit of lust. I bet you eye fucked each other all day. I know I would. He’s not really my type, but damn. I’d be on my back on the desk for him.” I gave her a look and went to stuff my face with takeout, which included pizza, a tortellini salad from my favorite Italian place, chow mein and baklava. Our tastes were eclectic.

“You’re being so nice to me lately,” I said when I sat down on the couch again with a full plate.

“I’m just buttering you up to ask you a favor.”

“It must be a big one. What do you want?”

She took a big bite of chow mein and chewed it before she answered.

“I need your body.” Ah, that was what I figured. Sloane had all sorts of mannequins and models for her clothes, but sometimes she wanted to try them on a real person. I was usually her guinea pig, but she normally just started putting the stuff on me without asking.

“Okay, why the big production. You know I never say no.”

“Well . . . here’s the thing. I’m working on a new line. Of undergarments, but ones for real women.” She wouldn’t look at me.

“So you’re saying you need me for my ass.” I guess I should have been offended, but I had no delusions about my body or the size of it.

“Not just your ass. I need your tits as well,” she said, smiling. I set my food on the coffee table and stood up in a huff.

“You only want me for my body. I thought I meant more to you than that!” I pretended to cry and Sloane got up and hugged me.

“I love your sexy mind, but I really only need your bod. Please?”

I sighed like it was the hardest thing in the world, but turned around.

“Fine. But you’d better buy me some flowers afterward and call me the next day.”

She clapped her hands and I knew that the food would have to wait. Fashion waited for no man. Or woman, in this case.

“What is that?” I said, pointing to the mess of black lace and red ribbons that was laid out on Sloane’s cutting table.

“That is the first piece I’ve been working on. See, here’s the thing. I was thinking that I’m good at the clothes part, right? But what about what’s under them? What if I could sell someone an entire outfit, down to the undergarments? Why wouldn’t I? Plus, the lingerie market is huge and it requires a lot less material, in theory, and it gives me a chance to be a little naughty. So. Here it is!” She picked it up and I saw that it was basically a bra with panties attached by crisscrossing red ribbons, with little bows on the ends where they meet the bra and panties. It’s more of an outfit than a set of underwear.

“How the hell do I get into it?” It looked impossible. Like half the moves in the Kama Sutra, or going to Coach without buying something.

“You’re such a drama queen. Here, you can snap the ribbon part off. So it’s like a little extra. You can wear the bra and panties without it.” She showed me how to get the ribbon part off, leaving just the bra and panties, which were cute on their own.

“You’re going to make me try it on now, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Sloane said, shoving me toward my bedroom. I would also be expected to model as well, and I hoped the panties would be big enough to cover everything they need to cover. Good thing I got waxed on a regular basis.

I stripped down and slid on the panties first. Success! I almost did a little victory dance in front of the mirror. The bra was also my exact size, with no spillage. I got myself situated and then snapped on the ribbon parts and checked myself out.