The Geek Gets The Girl (2 page)

His appeal had to be the spicy cologne she’d noted as she’d slipped between him and the door. Because it certainly wasn’t the pencil-thin black slacks that revealed bargain bin shoes, or those studious black-rimmed glasses. And toss in a skinny tie? She’d known he was from tech support without an introduction. Those guys never seemed to have a sense of style.

And yet she’d lingered on his mouth for a few seconds too long. That mouth had been intricately formed, with the bottom lip slightly thicker than the top. And stubble had darkened his jaw, framing those pouty lips. Lips that had absolutely demanded a kiss. She could have kissed them. But had not. Because? 

Just because. 

Or, no! She knew the answer to that one. She was at work, and office managers did not kiss the tech help. 

“Right,” she whispered, and focused on the folders popping up on the computer screen. “You are the manager, Rachel. Act like it.”

Yet that lusty little vixen that lived inside her shivered with anticipation, shook her hips in a sexy boogie, and whispered, “Come and get me, geek boy.”

Oh, mercy, but she needed sex.

Shaking her head and repressing a smile, Rachel noticed that the monitor prompted her for LeTrec’s password. She shoved the vixen into her red-velvet-walled closet and clicked on LeTrec’s employee profile where the company passwords were stored. Another wait as the little spinning ball taunted her.

She wondered if the geek liked to be called Zac? Hmm…

Then she wondered what it would feel like as his dark stubble brushed her skin and made her nipples tighten and knees soften. And if the vixen were prodding at her, then she had been ignoring her lately.

Her last hookup had been…well before Bastille Day. And it was July 28th today. Rachel, you so need to get laid.

No, she needed to be the manager the paper sign on her door stated she was. Because in assuming the role, perhaps she could win the role. It was a possibility that she didn’t want to slip through her fingers.

With all the work to be done, she hadn’t a moment to think about her sex-starved vixen, or the man sprawled under her desk, not two doors down; his cheap shoes tapping rhythmically as he hummed some random tune she’d heard before but couldn’t quite place. His deep tones resonated in her bones, setting her at the edge of the seat. She squeezed her thighs together, focusing a flash of wanting sexual energy.

“Mercy.”

No. He was not distracting her. She would not allow it—

Ah! Saved by the password.

But really? The red velvet door hung open, and the vixen stuck her head out, hungry for attention.

Chapter 3

The office always cleared out at five, on the dot. Despite the workload piling up on her desk—and everyone else’s desks—because she’d skipped lunch and her stomach was not happy, Rachel decided to leave early tonight. Early, being an hour after closing time. Normal departure time for her? Well after eight or nine. 

Lately, she hadn’t much of a life beyond the office. Dating was out of the question. Thank God for girls’ night out on Saturdays. It was hookup night, and no one went home alone. And if they did, it was because the idea of a late-night movie while snuggled up in a warm blanket and nursing the Pamprin was the better choice.

It had been a long day. She needed carbs and red wine.

Something crinkled in her skirt pocket. Right. The note Amelie had suggested she read immediately this morning. She tugged it out and read it while gathering her purse and slipping on her shoes.

“Oh, no.”

The plague she’d anticipated had descended upon Haute Heels.

“Headquarters is sending in a bigwig to assess the Paris office this week?”

Her breaths ceased for a full six seconds. She pounded her chest to kick her lungs back into action. Purse in hand, she staggered out from LeTrec’s office toward one of the beige cubicle walls, she clutched the edge as if it were a life raft bobbing in the ocean. 

She’d heard rumors the company wasn’t doing well financially because a couple of their branches were underperforming. And if a company exec were arriving to assess this office? That meant she had to make him believe they were worth saving. Because they were. They just needed a little tender loving care at the moment. 

Rachel was trying to hold it all together. Juggling. That was her strength. She loved working for Haute Heels. Small town girl from the States snags a job at a ritzy Paris shoe company? Hell, yeah. Two months earlier, she never would have thought she’d be managing an office instead of working in Marketing where her real strengths could shine. But still. She was a trooper. She didn’t do stress. Stress was not a word in her vocabulary. Instead, she confronted challenges.

Stretching back her shoulders, she inhaled then exhaled long and deep.

“I can do this. I need to do this. I am the best person for the job,” she said in a confident tone. “This company needs me.”

Turning around, she braced her elbows upon the cubicle wall. One more deep breath for good measure. Poised for action, her feet remained planted. But seriously? What to do? She had to get her head together, assess the situation, and rally the troops. 

The troops had all left for the evening. 

“Chill, Rachel.” 

She exhaled again, finding a calm that had seen her through many a crazy office storm lately. There was nothing she could do until morning. And a good night’s sleep would put her brain back on track. 

With a decisive nod, she shut off the lights in the office, and headed down the hallway toward the elevator bay. When she saw the doors closing, she picked up speed, her steel heels clicking on the marble floor.

“Hold it!”

A foot jammed between the doors and they buffered open to allow her in. The bespectacled tech guy winked and flashed a grin. Oh, that stubble. Something so masculine about it. Very un-nerdlike.

“Car park,” she said. 

The button was already lighted, but the doors remained open. This old elevator took its time with everything.

Rachel had deftly avoided Zac throughout the day in an attempt to keep the red velvet door from bursting wide open. Because she knew one sniff of his spicy scent would lure her closer, making her forget her name and beg for his touch.

And what was with that tie? She wanted to touch it. Or was it that she wanted to touch him?

Tugging at the skinny black tie that should have been vanquished to the 80s hall of fashion shame, he then offered his hand. “Rachel.”

She was about to correct him that Miss Parker was appropriate—or even, Mademoiselle Parker—but the sound of her name coming from those kissable lips made her silently offer blessings to some random Goddess of Self Control. Because she wielded it now to keep from gripping that tie and pulling him in for a kiss.

He quirked his brows together in consternation. Thick, black brows that looked so…touchable.

“Uh, right. That’s me. Rachel.”

“Whew! I was worried you’d had a stroke for a second there.”

Seriously? She was so off her game. And why was that? The guy was not even remotely of interest to her. She preferred hooking her men in the executive pool.

The elevator doors slowly shut.

“So tell me, Rachel, I’m having trouble understanding how an office in this day and age can exist with such old equipment. Personally, I’d brick your computer.”

“Brick it? I’m sorry, nerd terminology is beyond me.”

Zac lifted a finger between them. “I prefer the term geek. Nerds wear their pants to their armpits and belong in the eighties.”

“Oh. Uh, sure.” But she caught his smirk and sensed he was playing with her. “Geek it is.”

“And a brick means a fried computer. Best thing to do with a brick? Toss it or use it to erect a shelter.”

“But my computer isn’t fried.”

“In theory, no. But it could happen any day now. Your office should have desktop monitors with LED displays for the designers. Not to mention the entire network should be in a virtualized private cloud.”

“I have absolutely no idea what any of that means.” But the tech-speak sounded so sexy, her nipples instantly hardened. “Trust me, I’ve submitted requisitions for updated equipment. The home office keeps telling me I don’t exist and thus have no grounds for such a request.”

“You seem very real to me.” 

His eyes tripped down the front of her silk dress and strolled along her hips. A blatant assessment. But instead of offending, it reminded her how delicious his touch had felt. 

Please, sir, can I have some more?

Rachel mentally slammed the red velvet door shut, and quickly offered, “I was hired into Marketing. When the manager quit a few months ago, he asked me to look after the office until his replacement arrived. I’m still waiting.”

“That’s rough. Abandoned dreams?”

“No, just delayed a bit, is all. And there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with management.” The control she’d been given these past few months was heady. Even if it felt as if she were a captain going down with a sinking ship more than sailing into shore. “Promise you won’t leave until you get our computers in tiptop shape? I’ve waited too long for IT to notice us. I don’t want to lose you now.”

Oh, Rachel, the innuendo in that statement. No, she was not waiting for a man. She was perfectly happy without a boyfriend. She’d been raised by an independent woman who’d divorced when Rachel was three. Mom had taught her to be smart, use common sense, and never believe a man was required to ‘complete’ her. Go, girl power! 

But, like breathing, a girl did require sex. Orgasms tended to fuel her creativity. Seriously. A good sex life made for a happy, relaxed, and well-fueled brain. There had been studies to prove it.

“You’ve got me for the week,” Zac said. “Though, like I said, bricks.”

“Well, if you’ve some magical means to get the office new computers, then, by all means, brick mine.”

His smile, though straight, arched up a thick eyebrow. The man was all spiky black hair, bushy brows and stern glasses. Severe. Yet his kiss-me-if-you-dare lips softened everything. Her knees felt bendy and supple. The velvet door popped open once more.

A whole week to ogle this curious specimen of man who challenged her sensual restraint? Joy! 

No. Not joy. With a secret visit from a company exec on the roster, she would be too busy to notice the IT nerd—oops, make that geek. Which was a good thing. 

Seriously, she was not interested in this man.   

Maybe a little.

If a little meant a lot.

She inhaled a waft of spicy cologne and closed her eyes—until she realized he was waiting for her to speak.

“Yes, uh…whatever you need this week, just ask. I may be very busy, though. So many tasks on my plate. Everyone from marketing is out sick or having a baby so I’m handling that, as well. There’s so much to do! The Paris market is a bitch.”

“How so?”

“Haute Heels needs to sex up their image. They’re a bit old-fashioned.”

“Really? I thought shoes were innately sexy?”

Rachel’s eyes landed on that alluring stubble. Mmm, rub that against my skin. Send shivers over my body. Sexy? Oh. Right. The company’s image. 

“Their ads are too focused on not offending. This is Europe. The French are all about the sensual. Flirtation and sex is in their blood. I wish I had more time to work on ad copy. We’ve a meeting at the end of the week with Les Grands Chaussures, an elite shoe store. I’m not prepared. Sorry. You don’t need me to dump on you.”

“You’re obviously a very busy woman. Dump all you like. I enjoy listening to you talk.”

He did? Hmm… Rachel reached for his skinny tie and gave it an adjustment. Finally! She’d touched the tie. Brazen points for her. “You’re coming undone.”

He caught her hand before she could tighten the knot further. “Leave it. This is how I relax at the end of the day.” 

He didn’t let go of her fingers. The fire in his touch moved up her wrist and arm as if fast-moving lava. Inexplicably compelled, she stepped forward—too close for an office discussion. He smelled like cloves and something darker. Licorice? Nummy.

The red door jittered on its hinges.

Of a sudden, the elevator lurched—and stopped. The door didn’t open. 

“Does this happen a lot?” he asked in a husky voice that was markedly tinged with want. 

His eyes traveled across her face and down her neck. The intensity in the air hung between them like an unspoken scream of desire. Rachel pressed her thighs together, the pressure teasing at her tingling apex.

“Never,” she said dreamily. She shook her head out of the fog, a result of standing in his intoxicating scent. “Oh, you mean the elevator?”

The man’s smile was small, but oh, that mouth. Kissable.

“Yes, it does,” she said. “It’s much like our computers—aged and in need of repair. I get stuck at least every other week. Ten minutes max. Guess we’ll have some time to chat.”

He leaned against the elevator wall. The slant of his body was easy and even made the line of his cheap suit look stylish. “What do you like to do after hours, Rachel?”