Lena Wicks didn’t often find herself nervous enough to nibble on a fingertip, but wearing four-inch heels and a shimmery dress that plunged far enough to get her arrested in certain states did it. So did being the center of attention, and as guest of honor at a party with every bigwig she’d ever needed to impress present and accounted for, she was definitely going to be center of attention.
If only she’d become a legal secretary like her mother had wanted. But no, she’d had to become a fraud investigator for ImageTech, one of the biggest corporations in America.
And then she’d gone and cracked wide open a case that had saved ImageTech millions. She’d actually had help, from her equal at Aztec, a sister corporation to ImageTech, but she preferred not to think about Max O’Reilly tonight because whenever she did her brain warred with itself.
Kill him.
Kiss him.
She settled for Not Thinking About Him, a plan not made easier by the fact that — shockingly — for once Max hadn’t been an egotistical, bulldozing jerk. Instead, he’d been rather gracious in that he’d actually shared credit with her for solving the case. It had surprised her, thrown her off balance — a feat she was quite certain he’d done on purpose.
She wondered if Aztec was throwing a party in his honor, as well, then remembered — she didn’t care because how often had he gleefully stolen her thunder?
Too many times to count!
This case had been hers from the start, and the fact that he’d given her a helping hand — briefly! — didn’t mean anything. She herself gave lots of helping hands…
Damn it, what was that pit in the bottom of her stomach? Guilt? Or… oh, God, and this was hard to admit… maybe it was that lingering crush she’d harbored for him for so long it humiliated her every time she let the thought take root.
In either case, it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t have to deal with him tonight. A definite blessing.
ImageTech had insisted on a black tie affair, which had been not a blessing at all, but a curse. For the tenth time in as many minutes, she tugged at the slinky material of the vintage dress she’d borrowed from her sister. She’d asked for something cool and sophisticated, and her sister had purposely brought her only one choice, backless and low-cut and sexy as hell, with no time to spare. She nibbled at the lipstick she wasn’t used to wearing. Her sister had promised the dress worked on Lena’s petite form, but unused to such glam, she felt a bit like Camping Barbie playing at being Party Barbie.
On the drive from the village into midtown, she’d noticed her cabbie kept peering at her in his rearview mirror. The damn dress, of course. She zipped her coat hoping it was cold enough in the hotel that she could keep it on all night.
Fifteen minutes later she arrived at Hush hotel, the gorgeous new art deco hotspot where the party was being held. The doorman helped her out of her cab. The icy Manhattan February air sucked the breath from her lungs, but somehow she managed to slip into the hotel without falling on her face.
The place was ultra sophisticated and elegant without being intimidating. Actually, the warm, quiet, plush lobby went a long way toward soothing her nerves. The ballroom, however, was a completely different story. The vast, glittery room sparkled with silver balls, balloons and confetti as the sounds of a party in progress drifted over her; music from the full band in the far corner, talking, laughing, more talking…
Taking a deep breath, Lena reluctantly relinquished her coat and forced herself to step inside. At first glance, she recognized no one. Rather than give in to the urge to turn tail and run, she headed toward the bar. A glass in her hands would definitely help the nerves.
“Ginger ale,” she said to the bartender, knowing alcohol would only heighten her sense of discomfort, the last thing she needed.
Why had she agreed to this? She didn’t want a party; she preferred calm order. She liked quiet nights and one-on-one conversation with good friends, not this glossy, pretend stuff.
Taking her glass, she sipped her soda as she turned to face the room again and accept her fate for the night. Directly ahead was a group of suits that included her immediate supervisor, his boss, and holy-smokes-don’t-choke-on-your-drink, the CEO and CFO of ImageTech.
What were the odds that they hadn’t seen her, she wondered as she contemplated the nearest exit —
Too late. They were waving her over. Damn. With a smile she’d perfected as a twenty-six-year-old woman in a man’s world, she sauntered toward them with her usual chin up, don’t-make-me-kick-your-ass manner, which she belatedly realized didn’t quite go with her heels and glam dress.
“Lena.” This from Dan, her supervisor. He clicked his glass to hers. “You look…” He shook his head, baffled at how his normally tomboyish investigator had transformed. “Great. You know everyone here; Tom, Phil, Mike…” He pointed to all the bigwigs, who nodded.
Lena smiled at them all, but the smile congealed when her eyes drifted to the last man in the group.
Tall, built like the champion swimmer he’d been in high school — yes, she’d had the misfortune to know him that long — he’d been blessed with the face of an angel and the smile of a sinner.
And, apparently, the gift of wearing clothing, because his incredibly gorgeous and well-fitted dark suit looked as if it’d been made just for him. Or maybe it had been made just for him. He certainly had the ego for such a thing.
He, of course, being Max O’Reilly.
Cocky, son-of-a-bitch know-it-all who’d one-upped her on just about every case they’d worked on together, and there’d been many.
He actually winked at her. Winked. And she felt something deep within her begin to heat. Damn it. Oh, it was so easy for him; a man smarter, stronger and better looking than most. Probably just that little wink alone had women falling into his bed.
You’re just jealous, her inner voice said. No. She refused to buy that about herself. Purposely, she looked away, but then Dan pointed right at Max. “And I believe you know —”
“Max,” she said through her smile, if baring clenched teeth could be called smiling.
“And Max,” Dan said, turning to the tall, enigmatic man she’d hoped to avoid for the foreseeable future. “You already know —”
“Lena,” Max said in that voice that could melt the Arctic Circle, the one that had charmed the panties right off every cheerleader in high school, no doubt also every coed he’d ever chased through college, and God knew how many women since.
Not that she cared.
“We thought we’d surprise you with a bonus, each of you,” Dan said to both Lena and Max. “You both deserved it. When I think of how much money you saved ImageTech…”
The CEO and CFO nodded. Everyone nodded.
Max just looked at Lena, a small smile still playing around his mouth.
Lena concentrated on breathing, hoping steam wasn’t coming out her ears. She had no right to be mad. She hadn’t wanted the spotlight in the first place, and he had indeed helped her with the case.
But damn, he didn’t need the ego boost.
“We had Susan pick something out. She promised it would suit you both, and in turn made us promise that you’d share the gift equally.”
Susan was Lena’s administrative assistant, who knew she and Max had been insanely competitive since the dawn of time, so Lena had no idea what sort of present could possibly suit them both. After all, Susan didn’t — couldn’t — know that Lena had been secretly lusting after the man. Could she?
She glanced at Max, who merely lifted one broad shoulder, indicating he had no idea, either.
Tom and Phil and Mike all smiled as Dan handed her an envelope. “Enjoy.”
She looked down at the envelope with a new sense of dread. “Um…”
Max, always inscrutable, didn’t give a thing away, but she knew he had no more idea what she held in her hands than she did.
Not a particularly comforting thought.
Then the men all walked away, heading toward the bar, leaving Lena standing there.
With Max.
“I’ve never seen you dressed up,” he said, and was it her imagination or was that appreciation in his eyes. Maybe someone had spiked her ginger ale because suddenly she felt warm. Tingly.
“Yeah, well…” She smoothed down the dress, hoping no one could see the heat in her cheeks. She’d had secret fantasies about this for years, but she knew the difference between daydreams and reality, and Max in her reality was never going to happen. “They said black tie.”
“You look… hot.”
The words washed over her heated skin like a deliciously cool mist. “I look the same as always.”
“Not exactly your usual fare of jeans and tank tops, Leen.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged. “That’s what happens when you actually use makeup and a brush —”
“Stop,” he said, and put a big hand on her arm. His fingers were callused, and she had the inane thought — what would they feel like on the rest of her? “I’m trying to give you a compliment.”
She had no idea what to say to that. “Oh,” she said brilliantly.
He laughed softly. “You’re supposed to say thank you.”
“Thank you.” She stared down at the envelope.
“I doubt it’s a bomb,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re looking at it like it might blow up.”
A waiter passed by with an empty tray. She set her glass on it and kept looking at the envelope. A check would be extremely welcome.
But in that case, shouldn’t there be two envelopes, one for her and one for Max?
“How bad can it be,” he murmured, still sounding amused. “It’s supposed to be a bonus.”
“Right. For the happy couple. Only we’re not a couple, Max.”
“But you’ve always wondered what it’d be like,” he said softly, shocking her.
Had he read her mind? Visited her late night fantasies? “Have not.”
“Have too. And so have I.”
She stared at him in shock. “Liar.”
His eyes never wavered, just held hers prisoner. “I’m being straight with you. Come on, Lena, admit it. We’d be great.”
“We’d kill each other.”
“Yeah, but what a way to go.”
Oh boy. Her belly tightened again, and so did other spots, the ones with all the erogenous zones. He’d wondered… Still inexplicably amped up as if she’d had alcohol instead of ginger ale, she handed the envelope to him. “You do it.”
Their fingers brushed and something deep within her belly tingled. Hmm. Not good. Not good at all. Had he noticed? She glanced up into his face. He was watching her with those fathomless eyes, giving nothing away. Then, with apparently no hesitation at all, he tore open the envelope and pulled out…
A black room card with the pink logo HUSH.
“A… room key?” she asked, shocked. “To a room here, at Hush?”
Max lifted his gaze to hers. She knew from memory that his eyes were brown. Milk-chocolate brown, with golden specs that danced when he was at his most obnoxious. But here, in the ballroom, they looked so dark she couldn’t tell where his iris began or ended, and the effect was startlingly mesmerizing. To give herself a moment, she grabbed the envelope back and peered inside for something, anything, else.
There was a small note that simply read:
To Lena and Max,
A night off, with our best wishes.
Enjoy!
Ohmigod. “Oh, no she didn’t.” This wasn’t happening. Susan was dead. Dead meat! She hadn’t booked them a room — together! — at Hush, the hotel known for its sexual adventures. On the company.
“Why? Why would she do this?”
Leaning in, he read the note with his own eyes, then shook his head. “Pricey bonus.”
She gaped at him. “That’s all you have to say, pricey bonus?”
“Do you have any idea how much the rooms here run? They’re all special rooms, you know. And by special, I mean —”
“I know!” She didn’t want to hear about the variety of rooms available, each supposedly a lovers haven complete with exotic, sensual materials, colors… toys. “There’s no way they know what Susan did,” she said, gesturing to the back of the executives. “We have to give it back.” She pushed the key away, once again touching his hand, and it seemed as if he hesitated a long beat before speaking. And when he did, his voice was lower, more husky than usual, making her wonder if her little touch had gotten under his skin, as well. Which was silly, she was just an average looking woman and a pain in his ass. He’d never given her any indication of being interested in her that way. And why would he when he could have — and had — any woman he wanted?
“After all the hype on this hotel, you don’t even want to peek at the room?” he asked.
“No!”
“Now who’s the liar?”
Yeah. Yeah, she was one big, fancy liar all right. She wanted to go check out the room so badly she was shaking with it, and goose bumps had risen over every inch of her skin. She stared down at the black room card, hoping he didn’t notice the excitement shimmering off her in waves as she bit her lower lip, admittedly train-wreck curious.
“Let’s go,” he whispered in her ear, creating another set of delicious shivers chasing each other down her spine. God. If she went to that room and he spoke to her in that voice, she was going to forget he bugged the hell out of her. She was going to want to do something entirely inappropriate, and when she glanced up into his eyes, filled with mischief and, oh man oh man, heat, such blistering heat, she knew he knew it, too.
“What about the party?” Was that her voice, all soft and whispery?
“Yeah, you’re just dying to stand here and be the toast of all the cheers.” Knowing her well, he laughed, and put a hand low on her spine, a touch that warmed her from the inside out. “If we slip out now, no one will see us go…”
“I’m not going up to that room with you to have…” She tripped over her own tongue. “Sex,” she whispered, as if departing a state secret.
“I never said you were.”
“Good, because I’m not.”
“Noted.”
“Seriously. I just want to see these famed designer decorated rooms,” she said, and lifted her chin to nosebleed heights.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Me, too.”
Now she laughed. What else could she do? “You have absolutely no interest in designer anything, Max O’Reilly.”
“No,” he said, smile gone, eyes suddenly, startlingly serious. “But I have an interest in you.”
Oh boy.
* * *
They’d been given more than a mere room. Max stood in the doorway of the opened hotel suite, with Lena right next to him, watching her take in the luxurious sight. The French Deco-inspired sitting room had cream and pistachio stripes on the walls, a large, comfy-looking forest green couch with a table in front of it already boasting a tray filled with sodas and waters, and in the opened room off to the left, the hugest bed he’d ever seen, complete with plush silky-looking bedding and more pillows than he knew what to do with.
There was a tall armoire, and he knew from what he’d heard about the hotel that it would be loaded with toys for the sexually adventurous.
He didn’t need toys. All he needed, all he’d ever needed, was the woman at his side. He just hadn’t figured out how to convince her of that fact yet. Her blue eyes, usually sharp as a tack, were soft and dreamy as she looked around, her lightly glossed lips parted in a way that made him want to kiss her long and hard and deep. Her long brunette hair, usually back in a ponytail, had been piled on top of her head tonight to go with that mouthwatering dress. Yeah, definitely a nice departure. His gaze landed on the crisscross spaghetti strap across her smooth back, at the small bow she’d tied low on her spine, and he couldn’t help but wonder… if he tugged that bow, would the entire dress slip off and pool at her feet?
Damn, that thought was hard to pull away from. He wanted her, and had for some time. But if he said so now, she’d level him flat with those see-all eyes of hers.
She wouldn’t believe him.
It’d become his mission to change that fact. “Yeah,” he said casually. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to stay here. So plain and ordinary.”
She laughed softly, a sound that always revved his engine, and stepped inside the bedroom.
He followed her, enjoying her awe at the gorgeous elegance around them. “Wow,” she breathed, turning away from him to soak it in while he soaked in the sight of her slim figure and all that creamy skin bared by her dress.
“Be a shame to waste the room,” he said much more lightly than he felt.
At that, she turned to face him, her gaze searching his for he had no idea what. “Max… what are we doing?”
Well, he knew what he wanted to be doing. His answer must have been all over his face because she let out a frustrated growl and turned back to the armoire, reaching out to open it.
Her shocked gasp reverberated through the suite. Inside was a wide assortment of all things leather, whips and fur-lined handcuffs. Not to mention costumes, such as a French maid and dominatrix gear. “Oh my,” she whispered, and pulled open a drawer — filled with a myriad of various flavored and sized condoms.
A wordless murmur blew from her lips, and she pulled open the next drawer. Oils; every scent imaginable. The next drawer… brand-new battery operated toys. The sound that escaped her managed to perfectly convey her shock… and reluctant arousal. “I don’t even know what half of these things are for,” she whispered, and touched something he knew would shock her if he explained the use.
And just like that, at just the thought, Max’s entire body tightened. Lust, oh yeah, definitely. But as it had been with her from the beginning, only with her, it felt like so much more. A confusing, shocking, disturbing more that he’d never wanted to face. Until now. “Lena…”
Distracted, she looked up, her face flushed, her eyes lit. She focused on him, taking in his undoubtedly hungry expression, and her distraction vanished. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to show me what all these things are for.” The moment the words escaped, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t just say that.”
“You did, and I do.”
“Oh, God.” She shook her head. “Bad idea.” She headed back into the sitting room, turning to face him, coming up against a soft overstuffed daybed as she did. “Very bad idea.”
A few steps brought him flush to her. Moving slow but with fierce intent, he put his hands on her face, his thumbs sweeping once over her lower lip, which trembled open.
“Max —”
“I’ve waited a long time for the right moment,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened. “Right moment for what?”
“For this.” And he kissed her. Kissed her liked he’d dreamed of doing, feeling with satisfaction her cling to him like a drowning woman, as if he alone could save her. It was intoxicating, and incredibly arousing, but far more than that because he was drowning right along with her, also feeling as if she alone could save him. It was new, this amazing connection, and somehow terrifyingly familiar, as well.
She pulled back first, pulse pounding at her throat, eyes huge and wide on his, her hand — shaking — coming up to cover her still wet mouth. “Max.”
She was frightened. Not of him, but of what he’d made her feel. Well, join the club, he thought grimly, and reached for her again. “If that didn’t tell you how right we are,” he said. “Then let me try again.”
With that, he pulled her against him, and suddenly the room around them was different than it had been only a moment before. No less sexually charged, but a new element had appeared, a slow, thrumming, yearning that enveloped the both of them. Subtle, but undeniable, and when Lena shifted restlessly in his arms, he knew she felt it, too.
No turning back, at least not for him.
But any moment now she was going to. She’d feign a laugh to cover her unease at this… this almost chemical-like hunger connecting them, and then they’d go back to being bicker buddies.
It would kill him. He wanted to feel her beneath him, over him; he wanted to experience everything he could with her before she came to her senses. He lifted his hand to stroke her jaw.
Going very still, she stared up at him, her eyes filled with both a desire that weakened his knees, and the urge to run hard and fast. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”
“This is such a bad idea, Max.”
He nodded, he knew, but God, he didn’t care. He kissed her again, softer this time, with all the pent-up tenderness and gentleness he felt for her, capturing her startled gasp, swallowing it, stroking his tongue over hers to soothe as he tunneled his fingers through her hair, causing it to topple down so that the silky strands fell over his arms, her shoulders.
Her hand came up to his chest, and he braced for her to shove him clear but she didn’t. Slowly her fingers fisted in his shirt, holding him close. “So many layers,” she murmured. “Too many.”
No problem. Setting a world record, he shrugged out of his jacket, kicked off his shoes, while she began working the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged out of that, too, and then pulled her against him again, into his hips, making her let out a little hum of helpless arousal that weakened his knees. He rocked against her and she let out another soft sound, then what sounded like “bad idea” again before opening her mouth and shyly taking the kiss to the next level.
Just that sent bolts of pleasure and desire skittering down his spine to pool behind his zipper, and with fingers that shook, he tugged on that bow low on her back.
With a gasp, she brought her hands up to catch the dress as it slipped off, barely holding it to her breasts. “So many layers,” he said, repeating her words, and gently pulled her hands away, down to her sides.
The dress slid off her breasts, over her belly, and with a little help from his eager hands, down her hips, as well, to do exactly as he’d hoped — to pool in a puddle on the floor, leaving her in nothing but a lacy black thong and heels. “My God,” he murmured. “You take my breath.”
It didn’t make much sense, how badly he wanted her, but he didn’t have the blood resources left in his brain to devote to the thought so he kissed her. And kept kissing her until she was making the most erotic, arousing sounds from deep in her throat, slipping out of her panties, and him out of his pants, urging him to take her down to the daybed, where he held himself above her and stared into her dewy face and soft eyes. He wanted to make her promise not to regret this, not to hate him in the morning, but then she slid her fingers up his chest and entwined her arms around his neck, pulling his weight entirely on top of her.
Talking became the last thing on his mind. Her body wrapped around his like Saran Wrap, and what might have been awkward became both sensual and heart-stoppingly perfect. The daybed had been designed for comfort, and they both sank deeper into it as he slid a thigh between hers, and then, holding her legs open, sank deep inside her.
Her breath came in short pants against his shoulder, as if she’d already run five miles uphill and was out of control, and he felt the same. If she so much as moved, it was going to be all over, which gee, was going to make such a first impression. Desperate to hold off, he slipped his fingers into her wet folds and stroked her. Her reaction, a low, throaty moan, nearly sent him skittering over the edge. Unable to hold back, he thrust, and then again, and there in his arms, she began to come undone, which in turn completely undid him.
If he was honest with himself, she’d undone him long ago. Back when he’d first laid eyes on her, and he was only now coming to terms with it. He could only hope, as he fell shatteringly into ecstasy, she’d come to terms, as well.
* * *
Lena opened her eyes and found herself staring into Max’s chocolate ones. He was wrapped around her, solid and warm. “That was…” There were no words, she realized. “Wow.”
Certainly far more wow than anything she’d ever experienced. But now was when he’d get up. He’d smile, say, “let’s do that again sometime,” and strut away. At that thought, her heart just about shriveled up and died.
But she wouldn’t show it. In fact, she’d just close her eyes now to save herself —
“Leen.” He stroked a finger over her cheekbone.
Hmm, not walking away, at least not yet.
“Open up, Leen, and look at me.”
Damn it. She swallowed hard and hoped that her eyes weren’t shiny with too much emotion.
He smiled down at her, utterly void of his usual cockiness. Sweetly he leaned in and kissed her softly. “Yeah, that was wow.”
“Not sure how to recover from that,” she admitted. Go now, please, before I lose it.
But instead of leaving, he gathered her close and sighed in undeniable pleasure, keeping their limbs entangled. “I don’t have to be back at work until Monday,” he rumbled in her ear. “You?”
“Me, either,” she whispered, thoughts racing. Monday was the day after tomorrow… Surely, he wasn’t suggesting that they stay here until then?
His eyes were so deep she could have jumped in and happily drowned, if she hadn’t felt so tense. Tense enough to shatter at the uncertainness of what he wanted from her.
“Why don’t we stay?” he murmured softly.
“Here?” she squeaked. “Tonight? Together?”
“Here.” He kissed her jaw. “Tonight.” His clever mouth moved to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Together.”
Right. More mind-blowing sex. Which would make it even harder to ever go back to the same relationship they’d had for so long. After what they’d just shared, going back was hard enough, but after another night or two, it would be impossible. “Max —”
“And tomorrow night.” His mouth cruised down her throat to her collarbone. “And —”
“And what?” she whispered. Stupid, stupid, but somehow hope took root deep within her.
He lifted his head and looked down at her, letting her see for the first time that he felt just as off his axis, just as unsettled and unsure as she. “And then the next night,” he said.
Her heart stopped altogether.
“And the one after that, too.”
The hope bloomed and spread. “What are you saying, Max?”
“That I don’t want this to end now. Or tomorrow. Or anytime soon.”
Her heart trembled. “We both know I’m not your usual type.”
“The others were all imitations of this, of you. Say yes, Leen.”
“To what exactly?”
“To another night. To giving me a chance for even more nights. All your nights. To everything, Leen.”
Oh God. Her throat burned, her chest felt so tight, and yet it was all somehow just exactly right. “Yes,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and said it louder. “Yes to everything.”
The End