Play Thing

by Nicola Marsh

  When she picked up and responded with a cool, ‘Yes? Can I help you?’ Alex wished he hadn’t rung her. Hearing her voice served like a kick to the head, his instantaneous reaction making his chest twang and his fingers dug into the wood of the desk while he clutched the phone to his ear with the other hand.

  ‘Are you busy?’

  ‘Always.’ Her clipped response catapulted him back to the many times over the weeks she’d sounded just as dismissive, as if he was an unwelcome intrusion.

  ‘Could you spare fifteen minutes to help me with something?’

  She hesitated, as if remembering the last time she’d entered his office, and not wanting a repeat performance.

  ‘Sure,’ she finally said, her tone demure yet aloof. ‘I’ll be there in five.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He hung up and let out a long breath. His plan to keep business and pleasure separate was fast becoming blurred if his visceral reaction to hearing her voice was any indication.

  Even her terse, sharp responses reminded him of last night and the breathy way she’d murmured his name as he’d plunged into her, the whispers of want as he’d teased her with his tongue, the soft pants as her excitement had escalated.

  ‘Hell,’ he muttered, focusing on the documents in front of him and seeing nothing. The figures swam before his eyes as all he could see was Charlotte sitting up in bed, sleep tousled and adorable, staring at him with expectation.

  He didn’t like expectations where women were concerned. For the simple fact he could never live up to them.

  He’d outlined their arrangement so clearly, had been adamant he’d stick to it. But he hadn’t banked on Charlotte getting under his skin, and knowing he had to see her shortly to discuss work meant he had to get his act together. Pronto.

  A knock sounded at his door and he called out, ‘Come in,’ putting his game face on. The one he hoped conveyed professionalism, not the one that showed his inner turmoil.

  She opened the door and strode into his office, defiantly meeting his eyes as if she expected him to bring up last night.

  As if he would.

  However, as his gaze flicked over her, taking in the calf-length grey fitted skirt, pale blue blouse and plain black pumps, all he could wonder was what lingerie she wore under the sedate outfit.

  Which took him straight back to last night, exactly what he didn’t want.

  ‘We’ve got a lot of ground to cover,’ he said, sounding way too abrupt as he gestured at the seat opposite. ‘I need your input on the client referral system.’

  She quirked a brow, impressively imperious, as if his attitude didn’t impress her one bit. ‘Why should my opinion matter?’

  ‘Cut the crap,’ he barked, instantly regretting it when her eyes widened in shock. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m grouchy because of these.’

  He pointed to the paper stack in front of him. ‘I hate doing appraisals. It’s the worst part of my job, coming into a new company and making the hard decisions based on performance. So I’m leaving these until later and dealing with the easier stuff first.’

  He picked up a folder he’d set to one side and waved it at her. ‘By the way, this is yours and in case you’re wondering it’s beyond reproach. I’m not surprised the old manager suggested I liaise with you over the last few weeks.’

  His apology and subsequent explanation for his terseness meant little considering her rigid posture didn’t soften one iota. The frostiness turning her eyes a glacial grey was a dead giveaway too.

  ‘I know how proficient my work is. I do a damn good job for my clients.’ Her nose tilted in the air slightly and for the first time this morning he felt like smiling. Her snootiness was beyond cute. ‘But if you think you’ll get my help on the appraisals too, I’m not a tattle-tale.’

  ‘I’m not that unprofessional. I’d never put you in that position.’ He placed her folder off to one side. ‘Like I did with you, I won’t take the manager’s word for it. I’ll observe staff, check their billable hours versus productivity. I set you tasks over the last few weeks, made you jump through proverbial hoops and you proved your worth. That’s what I’ll do with the other staff.’

  He drummed his fingers against the stack of files in front of him. ‘I’ve done my homework on each and every employee. I know their strengths and weaknesses. But not everything is obvious on paper and I want to see first-hand what they’re capable of. But for now, can you offer insight into this referral system?’

  The disapproval pursing her mouth vanished. ‘Fine, what would you like to know?’

  For the next thirty minutes, Alex worked through the files, gaining more insight into the client referral system than he’d hoped for. As he already knew from her previous work, Charlotte articulated her opinions clearly and used facts to back them up.

  She didn’t mince words or show a hint of sentimentality for the old system, which surprised him. She might be an astute businesswoman but he’d figured she had a soft core and would try to sway him towards keeping the old system.

  Her objectivity would make her perfect managerial material, just as he’d suspected.

  When he’d closed the last file, she stood. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, that’ll be all, thanks.’

  She turned on her heel and stalked towards the door as if she couldn’t wait to escape. He didn’t blame her. Keeping business and pleasure separate was one thing, treating her with palpable coldness another.

  It wasn’t her fault he was in a funk.

  Well, it partially was, but he was the one with the intimacy issues. She could obviously handle their scorching after-hour activities while maintaining a cool politeness at work, no problems at all.

  ‘Charlie,’ he called out, wanting to say something, anything, to make this awkwardness better.

  However, as she turned and stared at him, a master of the poker face, he couldn’t come up with one, single thing to say to make any of this better.

  So he settled for a lame, ‘Thanks for your help,’ which she acknowledged with a brief nod before barging out of his office and slamming the door.

  Reinforcing a clearly delineated line between the pleasure they’d shared last night and the business of today.

  He should be happy. He wanted it this way.

  Then why did he feel like flinging a stapler through the window?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHARLOTTE COULDN’T STAND being in the office for another moment so at the conclusion of her meeting with Alex she grabbed her bag and laptop, told Reception she’d be working offsite for the afternoon, and hightailed it out of there.

  She ran the gamut of emotions as she headed for Le Miel. Annoyance. Anger. Hurt. Self-doubt. And back to anger again.

  How could he treat her like that?

  She could have handled indifference but his obvious coldness had her doubting the wisdom of letting this man into her life, albeit only on a physical level.

  She’d felt it before he’d bolted from her apartment, had put it down to the usual morning-after awkwardness. Not that she’d had much personal experience of it but she’d been floundering before he’d appeared in her bedroom bearing coffee.

  When he’d fled, she’d made a decision to keep her distance at work and had managed to avoid him all morning. She’d been almost relieved when he’d called her into his office to work, thinking it would give them both the opportunity to laugh off last night and get down to business.

  She’d been wrong.

  He’d been brusque to the point of rudeness and even though he’d apologised, it hadn’t eased the hurt deep inside.

  She hated feeling so fragile, her latent insecurities ready to flare with the slightest provocation. She knew where her lack of self-worth stemmed from and it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Being abandoned by her parents at a young age ensured she’
d always felt not quite good enough.

  What was it about her that made them choose poorer children worldwide over their own child?

  She’d always been a model child, a quiet kid who did exactly as she was told, with an innate sense of righteousness that ensured she wanted her parents to be proud of her.

  She remembered bringing home a certificate her fourth week at primary school, a pink cardboard star for neat handwriting, being friendly to other kids and staying back to clean up at lunchtime. She’d loved that star, had clutched it to her chest with pride, not caring that gold glitter had become embedded in her jumper. When she’d presented it to her folks after school, they’d smiled, ruffled her hair and returned to scanning websites for their next lost cause. They’d never noticed that the pin on the corkboard hadn’t stuck and the star had tumbled behind their desk. They hadn’t cared.

  She should have known then that nothing she did would ever be good enough, that they’d leave her regardless and it had been almost a year to the day afterward that they’d left her with Dee.

  She’d felt lacking ever since.

  Unfortunately, her inbuilt insecurities affected all aspects of her life. She didn’t feel confident with men so she’d never had a boyfriend. She didn’t feel like she belonged in the trendy world of fashion, cafés and clubs, so she’d never had girlfriends. Sure, she’d hung out with fellow nerds at school and uni, quiet, diligent types who preferred studying to partying, who caught up for the occasional coffee, who were happy to share books but not much else. Acquaintances more than friends, the type of girls happy to hang out but only if it involved study load.

  She hadn’t minded at the time, or so she’d told herself to banish the desolation that swept over her at the oddest of moments, making her solitary existence seem so hollow. It gave her time to focus on achieving her goals. It didn’t fill the forlorn ache in her heart.

  Mak and Abby had been her first real friends and that had only come about because Mak had been her flatmate and nobody said no to the exuberant, bubbly dancer. Mak had brought her out of her shell a tad and had introduced her to Abby, but while she valued their friendship, she still felt different from those girls. They were determined and bold and confident, three things she could never be no matter how hard she tried.

  She always felt inherently lonely.

  Being dumped by her folks ensured she retreated from everyone, knowing that if her own parents could leave her others could too. She couldn’t depend on anyone. Even her exuberant aunt Dee, who’d smothered her with love and attention, couldn’t shake her unswerving sense of self-preservation.

  Depending on others could result in her being alone and devalued. Again.

  Which was why Alex’s callous treatment now rankled so damn much. During their sizzling encounters he’d made her feel assured and she already liked it too much to be good for her.

  She should never have agreed to a fling.

  For someone who weighed decisions carefully, she’d sure lost her mind a little the day she’d had sex with a stranger, then followed that up with a steamy night with the promise of more.

  So she’d responded in kind in the face of his hostility. Answered his questions regarding the referral system. Showed no emotion. And envisaged strangling him with one of the whips she’d glimpsed in her aunt’s paraphernalia a few days ago.

  Stomping into Le Miel, she had a craving for the biggest croissant Abby could create and one of the patisserie’s signature hot chocolates. The more sugar, the better. She needed sweetening up today.

  She also needed her friend to talk some sense into her, though she knew deep down she was well past that. For the simple fact that even after the way he’d proved how he intended on keeping business separate from pleasure, she still wanted him.

  Last night reinforced that.

  She’d never, ever felt that way.

  Strong, confident, empowered.

  The kind of woman who could actually inspire passion in a man. A woman confident in her own skin. A woman capable of taking pleasure as well as giving it.

  She’d never been so brazen. Touching him everywhere. Kissing his ticklish spots. Exploring the hard planes of his amazing body with her hands. Sex with Alex was an eye-opening experience and then some.

  She could attribute her feistiness to the lingerie.

  She knew better.

  Alex made her feel that way. As if she could demand gratification and seek it, could fulfil her deepest desires and his.

  She likened it to shedding some of her reservations and being reborn. Wobbly and uncertain at first, but gaining confidence with each mind-blowing encounter.

  It felt fan-freaking-tastic.

  Maybe she should be thanking him for being so cold today. It reinforced that they were one way in the bedroom, another out of it. Smart people who could keep their sensual life separate from real life.

  And if she was completely honest with herself, it was the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

  Considering her residual insecurities, having this fling would be good for her. She could get it out of her system and, when Alex left, focus on finding her for ever guy.

  A sound plan. If she could only ignore the deep-seated niggle that sex with Alex might have ruined her for any other man.

  ‘Idiot,’ she muttered, plonking her bag onto a chair and her laptop on the table.

  ‘Talking to yourself isn’t a good sign, you know.’ Sean, the young guy who waited tables in the afternoons, grinned. ‘How’ve you been, Charlotte?’

  ‘Good,’ she said, the trite response sounding like the hollow lie it was. ‘Is Abby around?’

  He shook his head. ‘She had to fill in for a pastry class at the local cooking school.’

  She didn’t know whether to be peeved or relieved. Talking to her logical friend always served to calm her when things threatened her equilibrium, but she’d already told Abby about her first encounter with Alex and didn’t want to rehash the events of last night.

  Because last night had been special.

  Dinner at her favourite Vietnamese restaurant had been the extended foreplay he’d predicted and she’d barely tasted the sublime food when all she’d been able to think about was sampling him later.

  And sample she had. It had been stupendous.

  She wanted more.

  But at what cost to her pride?

  Could she really put up with his insufferable arrogance at work then melt in his arms at night?

  Doubtful.

  She wasn’t that good an actress, despite her newfound vamp powers.

  ‘What’ll you have?’

  Snapping back to the present, she said, ‘The biggest almond croissant you’ve got and a mega-large hot chocolate chaser.’

  ‘Done.’ Sean beamed, his fresh-faced enthusiasm making her feel a hundred years old. ‘Not many women eat as much as you do. It’s cool.’

  ‘I think I should be insulted.’ She smiled at his horror-struck expression. ‘I’m kidding. I like food.’

  And was blessed with a fast metabolism. One of the few good things her parents had bestowed on her.

  ‘Coming right up,’ he said, beating a hasty retreat, and Charlotte settled in for a few hours of work.

  Only to discover she’d left her client files at the office.

  ‘This just gets better and better,’ she mumbled, reaching for her cell.

  She’d get the office junior to bring the files to her, and send back an afternoon tea treat to the office in return. After leaving a message with Reception, she fired up her laptop and made a start, only stopping to demolish the melt-in-the-mouth croissant and slurp down her hot chocolate.

  The sugar rush instantly comforted and as she waited for her files she wondered if Alex would call her tonight and if so what her response would be.

  Fight or flee?

 
; She had no idea.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ALEX’S MOOD DIDN’T improve after Charlotte left his office. If anything, it worsened because all he could think about was her wounded expression and it killed him that he’d put it there.

  He’d treated her with a coldness bordering on contempt and all because he couldn’t get a grip on his out-of-control reaction around her.

  The entire time she’d been sitting opposite him, so prim and reserved, he’d wanted to rip open her blouse and check out the bra beneath it.

  He’d wanted her spreadeagled on his desk, her panties around her ankles, so he could feast on her.

  He’d needed to be inside her so damn badly it hurt.

  So he’d done the only thing possible to hide his rampant lust: be cool to the point of abruptness.

  She’d noticed. He’d seen it in the disapproving purse of her lips. Lips that had explored almost every inch of his body last night.

  ‘Fuck.’ He thumped his desk. Like that would help.

  He had to see her away from the office, make amends for his boorish behaviour. He’d be honest, tell her how rattled he’d been this morning to wake up next to her, that it wasn’t in him to deal emotionally so he never spent the night and he’d reacted badly because of it.

  They’d worked through lunch so maybe he could ask her out for a coffee. But his plan hit a snag when he discovered she’d left the office to work offsite for the afternoon; to escape him, no doubt. Not that he blamed her. He’d been a stupid bastard, the way he’d handled this entire situation.

  However, his luck took a turn for the better when he happened to be at Reception when a call came through from Charlotte, asking for files to be brought to her.

  She expected a junior to do the job.

  He had other ideas.

  ‘I’ve got a meeting in the city so I’ll drop those files off,’ he said, pleased that the receptionist didn’t find it odd that the boss wanted to do such a menial task.

  ‘She’s at Le Miel.’ The receptionist handed him a stack of files with an elastic band around them. ‘Tell her that if she doesn’t send back afternoon tea for the crew she won’t get her files next time.’