After Hours

by Lynda Aicher

  Oh. My. God. Avery suppressed a shudder and bleached the thought from her mind before it took hold. She would not walk around the office wondering who was “working late.” That was just...gross.

  Her friend sighed, picking at the last of her salad. “Hopefully, not too late.” She glanced at her phone. “Not if I get back and focus on work.”

  The afternoon was winding down when Avery pushed Save on the last of the quarterly report changes. Pride danced a little jig through her at making the four-o’clock request with a few minutes to spare. She pressed Print on the series, the buzzing whirl of her private printer kicking in moments later.

  She could do this. Carson and his sex den hadn’t crossed her mind once that afternoon. She’d smirked when she’d passed the boardroom, though, the doors closed for a meeting. Did they sanitize the table afterward? Would she ever be able to set anything on it again without wondering if it was clean?

  Fortunately, she didn’t attend many meetings in there. The one yesterday had been a rarity.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Fast.”

  Avery whipped around, the reports clutched in her hands. Her heart somehow stalled and raced at once, causing her chest to constrict and her brain to go blank. Carson Haggert stared down at her from the other side of her desk. His smile teasing—right? That little curve matched the glint in his eyes—right?

  Was he thinking of last night? Was this when the taunting started? The harassment? Would he do that? How should she respond?

  He cleared his throat, the deep rumble caressing her skin. “Is Gregory in his office?” He nodded to the closed door, his brow lifting slightly.

  Gregory. Her boss. Of course, he was here to see him. Not her.

  She wet her lips, kicking herself for her floundering stupidity. He didn’t need more evidence of exactly how much of a dork she was. “Yes,” she managed to say, her voice croaking on the single word. Wonderful. She swallowed, set the reports down and stood. “Let me check if he’s free.”

  She kept her back straight, her steps precise as she made the short walk to Gregory’s door. She knocked, waited for his call to enter, acutely aware of Carson watching her. A shiver of tingles fluttered down her spine. His presence alone seemed to suck the air from the room, and she struggled to keep her breathing even.

  “Yes?”

  Gregory’s muffled call allowed her to open the door. She popped her head in, a glance confirming he wasn’t on the phone. “Dr. Haggert is here to see you.” Her voice was clear and even that time. Professional—thankfully.

  Gregory stretched back, arms raised over his head before he let them drop. “Send him in.”

  She turned to Carson, a polite smile hiding the wave of nerves chattering through her stomach. “You can go in.” She stepped aside to let him pass.

  He nodded, his smile stretching higher on one side. “Thank you.”

  Damn his voice for being so low and rumbly. He’d always sounded like that, from the first time they’d been introduced. Only now it came across as seductive, with a dark and naughty edge.

  She swallowed again to both hide her sigh and to dislodge the lump that’d formed. He passed her on a slow wave of masculine cologne and dominance. She inhaled, the woody musk invading her. Sultry, like his voice. Yet teasing, like his smile.

  He stopped before her, the space between them down to inches in the doorway. Her heart raced, palms growing damp to match the clamminess that suddenly coated her nape. She held her smile, though.

  With him a good six inches taller than her, she looked past his lips with the distinct dip in the top center, the dark stubble that was starting to frame his mouth, the nose with a defined bump on one side to his blue eyes. Dark blue with a ring of gray on the outer edge. Eyes that seemed to look into her and had witnessed her open display of lust.

  “Would it be possible for you to bring me a cup of coffee?”

  His request processed at slug-speed in her mind. Coffee? Could she get it? Would he like her to caress his broad chest too? Maybe run her fingers through his hair. Would the blonder strands show brighter in the sunlight? Was it soft? Coarse? Would the shorter sides tickle her palms?

  “Ms. Fast?”

  She jerked, blinked, heat racing up her neck. “Yes. Of course.” She stepped away, cooler air finally racing over her neck. “Would you like cream or sugar?” Her training saved her now. She brushed her bangs away from her brow, waiting politely.

  “Cream, please.”

  And she was not going down the euphemism sinkhole with that. She looked past him to her boss. “Gregory?”

  “Yes, please.” Her boss came around his desk. “Thank you, Avery.”

  She nodded and left for the break room before she made a bigger fool of herself. What was she doing, ogling an executive like a teenager? She knew better than that. She was better than that.

  Yet she’d just fantasized about running her fingers through Carson’s hair, which was actually mild compared to her many thoughts last night. And he’d been completely professional. No lewd looks or innuendos. No hint that he even recognized her from last night.

  Maybe he didn’t.

  And maybe she hadn’t stumbled into his sex den. Ha!

  Coffee. Just get coffee. Cream in one. Cream and two sugars in the other. Don’t spill it. Don’t trip or slosh it down her blouse.

  Walk slowly. Head up. Smile in place.

  Breeze into Gregory’s office, hand over the coffees. Avoid eye contact. Retreat before she got caught in Carson’s web again. That alluring, magnetic thing that tweaked her nipples, frazzled her mind and set her aflame.

  She closed the door behind her as she left Gregory’s office, a relieved sigh bursting free when the latch clicked. That couldn’t continue. She wouldn’t let it.

  He wasn’t going to chase her out of her job either. She liked it here. Liked her boss and what she did. She’d made a home in San Francisco after taking the risky leap to move out here five years ago. It’d been hard at first, but she’d made friends, figured out the city and fell in love with the area.

  She was staying. Both in San Francisco and at Faulkner.

  That settled, she focused on her work again, refusing to look up when Gregory’s door opened. She kept typing as Carson strode past her desk, every nerve ending acutely aware of him despite her refusal to acknowledge him or her own reaction.

  Her skin buzzed with energy and she had no clue what she was typing, but she held her position. A breath swooped in once he’d rounded the corner, his wonderful sex-and-man scent remaining to tease her. Really?

  The desire to bang her head on her keyboard was curbed by the open location of her desk.

  She deleted the last two lines of gibberish on her screen before grabbing a bottle of peppermint oil spray. She misted the air around her desk and rubbed some on her nape. Another inhalation found only sweetness and candy canes. Nice.

  Perfect.

  All was good until Gregory walked out of his office, a manila folder in his hand. “Can you run this down to Carson?”

  Avery stared at him for a long moment, silently damning the universe before responding. “Of course.” What else was she going to say? She extended her hand, smile painted on once again.

  “Thank you.” He handed the folder over and turned away. “Oh.” He looked back. “Thanks for getting the reports adjusted. I’ll look at them tonight. At my home.”

  Heat spread over her cheeks at his over-obvious clarification. “Thank you.” She refused to be embarrassed for standing up for herself, no matter how her body responded. He should’ve told her last night too.

  She stared at the damning folder in her hand, hateful curses silently flung at it. I am not affected by Carson Haggert. Nope. Just like her embarrassment, she refused to let him befuddle her, despite her physical reaction.

  Maybe she could leave it with Jean. It wasn�
��t like Avery could avoid him for the rest of her career at Faulkner. The office wasn’t that big. But there was no requirement for her to hand-deliver the folder either.

  She took the main stairwell down to the lower level where the IT department was located. As she understood it, their office handled the software and networking for the entire corporation. With multiple international and US offices, the complexities were far beyond her understanding.

  Her heart sank when she saw that Jean’s desk was empty. Maybe Carson was gone too. Then she could leave the folder with a note and be gone.

  Relief spread into a smile as she ripped a sticky note from the stack on Jean’s desk. She grabbed a pen and bent over to scratch out a brief message.

  “Ms. Fast.”

  Avery jerked up, eyes closing. Shit. She plastered on a polite smile before she turned to face Carson. “I didn’t realize you were in your office.” Her racing pulse agreed with the statement. No, she hadn’t checked, but she also hadn’t expected him to sneak up on her. She crumpled the sticky note in her hand and held out the folder. “Gregory asked me to bring this down to you.”

  See, she could be completely professional with him. This was work. She was an adult. What he did on his own time wasn’t her business—even if she had intimate knowledge of it.

  “Would you mind coming into my office for a moment?” He stepped back, all manners and politeness. There was no hint of insistence or reprimand in his tone or his expression, but that didn’t ease the apprehension crawling through her.

  She lowered her arm, folder still in her grasp. “Can I ask why?”

  His smile was a slow curve that spread in taunting increments. Not malicious, but humorous when paired with the light in his eyes. He arched a brow, the action slightly condescending, slightly doubtful. “I think you know.”

  So it was about that.

  She shook her head. “It’s all right.” She glanced behind her to assure their relative privacy. “I swear. I know nothing. I won’t say a word.” To anyone who knew him at least. There was some gossip her best friend had to hear, and this fit clearly within that arena.

  His smile disappeared with his quick nod. “That’s good to know. But I still need to speak with you. I think we can both agree that here is not the best place.” He made a pointed look at the cubicle farm that stretched in an open sea behind her.

  Heat rose from her stomach over her chest, and no amount of willpower kept it from creeping up her neck. Damn it.

  She looked away, lips pursed to hold in the mortification she’d sworn she wouldn’t feel. He couldn’t do this to her. He was the one who should be embarrassed. A quick glance showed that he wasn’t. At least not visibly. If anything, he was amused by her reaction. Maybe by the entire humiliating experience. Dick.

  He stepped up, and she barely stopped her flinch. Anger flashed in then, determination backing it up. She glared at him, uncaring who he was or what his position was. He didn’t get to intimidate her.

  He dipped and slid the folder from her hand, eyes never leaving hers. They took in everything once again. She was powerless to stop him, so she let every bit of her annoyance show. He clearly wanted to push—or was he testing her?

  “You walked in on something very personal,” he said, straightening. He tapped the folder against his palm, eyes narrowing. “I’ll be at Chester’s in North Beach at seven tonight. Meet me there.”

  Her brows sprang up. “What?”

  “I won’t discuss private business at work.” He made another pointed scan behind her. “Especially here.”

  Stubbornness alone kept her from looking over her shoulder. Who was watching? Where was Jean? Was anyone staring at them? She had no reason to be talking to Carson for so long.

  “I don’t believe we have anything personal to discuss,” she countered. Pretending was all she had left. Her anger had faded too quickly, and the brief adrenaline hit was leaving its quaking trail behind. She inhaled slowly only to be assaulted by that hypnotizing woody scent of his.

  “We do,” he countered, the authority tickling her desire. His gaze landed on her lips, and she bit her tongue to keep from licking them. Was that for real? Was he playing her? Did he think she’d fall into his lap just because he was gorgeous? Or powerful? Or... Yeah, he probably did.

  And she just might—if he didn’t have the leverage to get her fired.

  Even then...

  No!

  “I’ll see you tonight...Avery.” Her name tumbled off his lips in that low rumble of his, tempting, sexy, provocative.

  Her nipples tightened in a sharp spray of tingles that left her exposed even though she was fully clothed. “And if you don’t?” she asked, her voice intentionally flat.

  His chuckle was just as low, a dirty rumble that matched his voice. His smile was real and wide. “I think you want to.” His shrug held a calculated carelessness to it. “But it’s ultimately your choice.” He leaned in an inch. Not enough to be inappropriate, but enough for her to catch his scent. Enough to suck the air from between them.

  Enough to make her wonder what would happen if he leaned in more.

  “However, we will have a private discussion—soon.” He paused, his point reaffirmed by his hard stare. “I’m offering you a public option.” He took a step into his office, turned back. “Thank you for bringing the file down. Tell Gregory I’ll get back to him tomorrow.”

  About what?

  Avery stared after him until his door clicked shut, another array of thoughts and doubts frying her mind. Had she just been propositioned or ordered to meet him?

  What should she do?

  She should tell him to fuck off—over what, though?

  He hadn’t threatened her or made an unwanted advance. He’d simply spoken the truth. Whether she wanted to admit it or not—whether she wanted to or not—they really should talk.

  And his offer seemed like her best option.

  Chapter Four

  Carson glanced around the room from his seat at the end of the bar. The low ceilings and dim lighting provided a cozy atmosphere that was countered by the upbeat music piped through the sound system. The hipster after-work crowd was peppered with middle-aged couples catching dinner, which offered a nice, upscale balance.

  His location gave him a direct line of sight to the front door and a good perspective of the entire room. He didn’t recognize anyone. Good. He’d picked this place because it was far enough from the office to avoid their after-work crowd without being completely inconvenient.

  He checked his watch, took a sip of his scotch. Would Avery show up?

  The line of booths along the wall would’ve given them a more secluded space to talk, but he didn’t want this to be intimate. He was potentially fucked enough as it was. He didn’t need to add harassment to Avery’s list of complaints.

  The door swung open. A fading swatch of daylight shot in. He blinked as his smile spread. Avery stood in the entry, scanning the room. Her cheeks were pink, most likely from the chilly breeze that’d kicked up with the setting sun. But she flushed easily, at least around him. It screamed of an innocence begging to be explored.

  He stood, nodding to her when she spotted him. A subtle shift went over her from relaxed to guarded. He could almost see her armor slapping into place. She pressed her lips tight, chin lifting, stride determined. Her black trench coat was cinched around her waist, a red bag clutched over her shoulder in a flash of hot color.

  She was on a mission, and he was pretty certain it varied from his.

  “Avery,” he said, greeting her. “I’m glad you came.”

  She frowned, her brows pulling together beneath her bangs. “I didn’t have much choice, did I?”

  He pulled the bar stool out for her, taking her coat as she removed it to hang it on the high back. “You always have a choice,” he leaned in to tell her, nudging the stool forwa
rd.

  A light peppermint scent drifted over him to drown out the wet bar smell. He inhaled again, held it. Goodness and Christmas. He hadn’t picked the scent up when he’d been at Gregory’s office, but it’d been there when she’d come to his. “I believe I clarified that earlier.”

  Her sigh was long and weighted. She shot him a glare as he took his seat. She set her bag on the ground, then twisted to face him, hands clasped on her lap. Her eyes were narrowed with intent.

  Damn, she had spunk.

  “Look—”

  “Can I get you a drink?” he interrupted. Her mouth snapped shut, eyes darting to his half-full glass, suspicion glaring. “No strings. I promise.” He lifted his scotch. “Nothing that is said tonight has strings. Another promise.” He took a drink, letting the peaty heat sit on his tongue before he swallowed it.

  How would it taste licking it off her neck, her breasts? Would she squirm or purr?

  A tense pause stretched while she searched him. He didn’t look away. Hell, he had no desire to look away from her stunning eyes. A mix of blue and green that ran closer to blue. Did they change based on her clothing color?

  It took more strength than it should have to keep from reaching out to see if her cheeks were warm or chilled. The tinge complemented the shade of her lipstick, a light pink that meshed with her porcelain skin tone.

  “And,” he went on when she remained silent, “this has nothing to do with work. Not this meeting or anything that is discussed.” He signaled for the bartender. “No one will ever know of it—unless you tell them.”

  Her eyes widened at that. She shifted her focus to the bartender, compressed her lips. “A glass of red wine, please. House is fine.”

  Carson’s relief eased out on a low exhale. Maybe this wouldn’t go too badly.

  He remained silent until her wine was set before her, then he lifted his glass in a toast. “To a productive conversation.”

  Her burst of laughter was clipped and sharp, but the remaining smile took the edge from her stiffness. She shook her head, eyes closing briefly. Her shoulders dropped and she clinked her glass against his. The wine was dark against her pink lips when she took a sip. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the common act that became sexy with her.