Hers for the Evening

by Jasmine Haynes

  In the car, she studied the scenery.

  The silence grated on his nerves. “Let me explain to you about Courtesans.”

  She continued to peruse the view out the passenger window, pine and evergreen sprouting up as the elevation rose. “There’s no need to explain. I understood last night.”

  At least she’d finally mentioned last night. “I used them a couple of times,”

  he said, “but it’s been a year or more since then.”

  She turned then, her gaze as flat as the ocean on a windless day. “I use them all the time. They’re convenient and you don’t wake up with them in the morning.”

  Fuck. That was harsh. “I know you’re capable of being a bitch, Devon, when you feel someone needs to be put in their place.” She’d just never done it to him before.

  A beat of silence. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. We had last night, and there’s no need to rehash anything. You’ve used Courtesans, I use them, Isabel took matters into her own hands, we had a great time, end of story.”

  “Isabel didn’t say anything about you or Courtesans when she called me. She didn’t reveal your secret.”

  She puffed out a sharp breath, indicating the true state of her emotions.

  “How was it not revealing my secret to tell you to come to the office? How was it not revealing a connection when she told you my plans for this weekend?”

  “I called her and said I needed to be there when you met with him again.”

  She didn’t flinch. “She told you. Which broke her confidentiality agreement 149

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  with me.”

  He had no answer for that.

  “I don’t care about that, Hunter. I enjoyed it. The whole episode was very hot.”

  He wondered if she could say it any more coolly. “I agree.”

  “Isabel still has to provide an answer to me.”

  “I’m sure she will.” He’d never asked Isabel her reasoning. He didn’t care. He’d simply wanted in on Devon’s fantasy. Now he didn’t want out. It was clear Devon wasn’t giving him a choice. She pulled her purse closer, fingers on the snap. “Will it make you feel better if I ask her right now?”

  He cast her a sideways glance. She was treating him like . . . a spurned lover. Trying to placate, offer an explanation for something that ultimately wasn’t going to change.

  He should have stuck to peeping on her. It was easier. Christ. He laughed out loud.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You wouldn’t get it.” Hunter waved a hand. “Sure, call Isabel. I’d love to eavesdrop.”

  “Fine, whatever.” Devon fished her phone from her purse. She had Isabel on speed dial, not for Courtesans but because Isabel was supposedly her friend. It disturbed her that her friend had made an executive decision of that magnitude. Yet at the same time, she wouldn’t have given up last night with Hunter for all the gold in Fort Knox. She’d tasted so many new things: two men—two men like Hunter, no less—a cock in her mouth and one in her pussy, four hands caressing her. The intangibles, such as being watched, which was exciting all on its own, the seduction of having her will usurped, the thrill of knowing Hunter’s taste, his scent, the shape, size, and texture of his cock, the saltiness of his skin, the softness of his chest hair beneath her fingers. So many things, the best of which was waking in the middle of the night to his hands on her, then his cock in her. She’d always sent her courtesans home before she slept. When she was married, she’d slept like the dead, and her husband never would have woken her for sex. Hunter gave her those things, the memory of which she would cherish. She couldn’t very well castigate Isabel for giving her all that. Then again, she couldn’t allow her friend to believe it was fine to take liberties where Devon’s 150

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  career was concerned. Mixing business and pleasure was not part of her personal code. Hunter needed to hear it, too.

  She hit Isabel’s speed dial.

  “I thought you’d be calling,” Isabel answered. If Hunter hadn’t been listening, she’d have lightly gotten her point across, perhaps something like, “Naughty, naughty, Isabel,” or “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Hunter’s presence called for something more serious.

  “We discussed this and I told you my reasons for wanting to keep it on a fantasy level. You ignored me.”

  Isabel kept her tone equally steady. “You two are perfect for each other.”

  Devon snorted. “Don’t tell me you’ve known who he was all along.” Every time Devon poured her heart out regarding her obsession with Hunter, over all those long dinners. Now that would really piss her off.

  “I didn’t realize it until you showed me his picture.”

  Devon remembered the odd look at the Halloween store. “You should have told me right then.”

  “You’d have freaked and called the whole thing off.”

  “I like to make my own decisions, Isabel.” Except that the thing she’d enjoyed most about last night was not having to make a decision. She glanced quickly at Hunter to see if he noticed the irony. He studied the road ahead, his fingers tight on the steering wheel.

  “I thought you needed help to see what was right in front of your nose.”

  “Don’t help me, Isabel.” She heard the edge in her voice and didn’t like taking her turmoil out on Isabel. Even if she was justified. “What I mean is—”

  Isabel cut her off. “You’re right. I overstepped the bounds of our friendship. It won’t happen again.”

  A friendship should have no bounds. That’s what friendship was all about. Damn. She never should have started this with Hunter bearing witness. There was no choice but to see it through, though, or risk permanent damage to her relationship with Isabel. “I know you care about me, and you did what you thought was best, but talk to me about it next time instead of doing it behind my back.”

  “I apologize sincerely, Devon.” A sharp inhale of breath. “I’m so used to interpreting what my clients really want that I forget to ask my friends.”

  “You’re forgiven. I have to go, we’re getting on the plane.” She used the little 151

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  white lie. “I’ll call you later.”

  She disconnected after Isabel’s good-bye. “There,” she said, snapping her phone closed. “Issue resolved. We don’t need to analyze it ad nauseam. It’s over and done, back to work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” Hunter tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Work as usual tomorrow.” He removed his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. The day was cool, but bright. Devon did the same. Since the only sound was the rhythmic swoosh of the tires on the road, she once again stared out the window.

  Well, that was the end of that odyssey. Kenneth wouldn’t work out again. He had his own name and his own personality. And he wasn’t Hunter. Despite what Isabel thought, business and personal still didn’t mix any better than oil and water.

  The problem? Now Devon knew what she was missing.

  AFTER A FULL WEEK, THEY WERE BACK TO NORMAL. THEY DIDN’T mention that night, didn’t eye each other as if they remembered every second, every breath, every touch.

  Yet Devon woke each morning, her pussy wet, her nipples hard, her breath fast from some erotic dream about him, his taste and the feel of him inside her. As with Kenneth, her vibrator no longer did the job. Monday at five in the evening, seven days, thirty-six hours, and thirty-five minutes since Hunter had last touched her, Devon snapped the clasp on her briefcase. She had a few errands to run before her dinner meeting with Joseph Stewart, potential S&M veep. She winced at the title; it reminded her of Hunter and his bawdy sense of humor. Joseph had worked at Simcoe Systems with her and Hunter. She’d heard through the grapevine he was looking, and she’d always been impressed with his work ethic and his astuteness at reading people. At the restaurant, the mâitre d’ led her across the elegant, quiet, dimly lit dining room to a secluded booth in the back corner. Her heart stopped. Wham,
bam, splat. She couldn’t breathe for the life of her. Seated next to Joseph, Hunter nursed a drink. She almost asked him what the hell he was doing there, stopped herself only a second away from freak-out.

  “Hey, Devon.” Joseph rose, stuck out his hand, shook hers hard. He’d always had a strong grip. Mid-fifties, he’d lost all the hair on the top of his head, 152

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  whereas the last time she’d seen him his hairline was merely receding. Never on the thin side, he’d gained a bit more middle-aged weight.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I gave Hunter a shout.” Joseph jerked a thumb at him. “I figured getting two opinions was better than one, and it works both ways.”

  “Not at all.” Seated in a booth, she was forced to sidle around next to Hunter. He smelled good, all male and woodsy. She wanted to ask who really called whom, but that would be bringing Joseph’s actions into question. “Two heads are better than one.” Somehow it sounded like a double entendre. Hunter’s lips twitched.

  For the next hour, they talked about GDN, the product lines, the customer base, the sales and marketing needs, the executive staff, what the company could bring to Joseph, and what Joseph could bring to GDN. He was sharp, he adored his kids and wife, and he wasn’t about to seduce his administrative aide. During dessert and coffee, his cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my wife.” He smiled, and Devon admired that he didn’t glower as many men would have. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Climbing out of the booth, he flipped open his phone and was already talking as he headed to the back of the restaurant and the restroom hallway for privacy.

  “Did you put him up to this?” she asked once Joseph was out of earshot.

  “You mean being interested in the job?” Hunter gave her a singularly innocent look she didn’t buy for a minute.

  “You know I mean inviting you to this meeting.”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  Hunter sighed. “He called me after you spoke to him and wanted to know the scoop. Like I would have done. Like you would have done.”

  “So you invited yourself.”

  He raised his eyes heavenward. “No. He suggested it.”

  “And you agreed.”

  An edge crept into his voice. “Of course I agreed or I wouldn’t be here. A week ago you would have invited me yourself.”

  “A week ago we hadn’t—” She cut herself off.

  “Fucked?” he supplied for her ever so politely. “You wanted to pretend it never happened, and I’ve played by your rules. You won’t let things get back to 153

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  normal.”

  Damn him. He was right. He’d treated her exactly the same as he’d always treated her. She was the one who was afraid to sit next to him in a quiet, elegant, romantic restaurant, the conversations hushed, the servers in crisp white shirts and black pants, candles flickering on the white tablecloths. Devon took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I jumped down your throat for no reason.”

  Something sparked in his eye. She’d made another double entendre. It seemed inevitable with Hunter. She was fixated on sex whenever she was around him. And when she wasn’t.

  Joseph returned but didn’t take his seat. “Sorry about that. Emergency at home. I need to take off.”

  “I hope everything’s okay,” Devon said politely. Joseph grinned. “Emergencies are subjective. Nothing life threatening.” He spread his hands and his smile. “Thanksgiving coming up, family arriving. Everything constitutes an emergency when my wife’s mother is coming.” He parted his suit jacket to pull out his wallet. Devon waved away his money. “We’re courting you for the job, we’ll pick up the tab.”

  Joseph nodded his appreciation. “I’m very interested.”

  “So are we. HR will be in touch to have you interview with the rest of the team.”

  He saluted, turned on his heel, and left Devon alone with Hunter and every single one of her desires for him.

  Hunter wasn’t the one who scared her. She was afraid of herself. 154

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  12

  HUNTER HAD SWORN TO HIMSELF HE WOULDN’T TRICK HER AGAIN, but Joseph Stewart had called him a little after five. Devon was already gone when he went looking for her.

  Their waiter topped off their coffees and took away the signed credit card slip.

  Alone again, Hunter said, “Stewart’s a good man.”

  “He’ll be a good fit for the team.” Devon toyed with her coffee cup.

  “We need to talk.”

  She pursed her lips. “We are talking.”

  “About us,” he stressed.

  She glanced around. “Please keep your voice down.”

  She was trying his patience. The dining room wasn’t full, the tables were spaced a decent distance apart, and theirs was in a dim back corner. No one could even see them well. “Move closer so you can goddamn hear me.”

  He was surprised when she did what he told her to do, sidling around the booth’s circular seat. Her fear of being overheard was greater than her terror of him.

  “There is no us.” Her voice was quiet yet emphatic. It was taking advantage, but he shifted even closer, his thigh scant inches from hers. “I don’t like that you’re jumpy every time we’re in the same room.”

  There were several things in that statement she could have taken umbrage with. “You don’t like it?”

  This was the Devon he knew so well, but he sure as hell liked the one who obeyed his orders. “Yes, I”—he gave her the same emphasis—“don’t like it. You don’t look me in the eye. You disagree with every suggestion I make. In short, everyone in the office knows there’s something up.” There definitely was something up beneath the table. She’d driven him crazy during dinner, how she smelled, the way she tasted her food, laughed, talked. Even arguing with her didn’t tone down his reactions.

  “That is completely untrue. I’ve been totally normal.”

  He eyed her. Her breath came fast, breasts rising and falling beneath her suit jacket, her nostrils slightly flared like a high-strung filly, her mouth tense. 155

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  “Normal like you are right now?”

  She stopped long enough to take stock of her body’s reactions, then sighed.

  “I’m nervous about it.”

  “Because you’re in denial.” He expected her to get all uppity again. Instead, she leaned forward, elbow on the table, her cheek propped on her fist as she looked at him. “Denial about what?”

  What was she looking for? A dissertation on how great it had been? A declaration that he wanted more? She needed a demonstration.

  “Denial about this.” He slid his hand along her thigh, between the buttons of her skirt. All day he’d been looking at those buttons. Calf length, the skirt buttoned down the front, but Devon had left it undone from the knee down, her legs encased in black stockings. He’d wondered: garter belt or panty hose, thong or bare?

  He had to know.

  “What are you doing?” She didn’t stop him as he undid two more buttons, sliding higher up her thigh.

  “What I’ve wanted to do all day long. You wore that skirt to make me nuts.”

  “I didn’t.” Her gaze was unfocused, bewildered. He slipped another button loose. “I can smell you. You’re wet, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” The word wasn’t even a whisper, just a parting of her lips. Their coffees were full, the check had been processed, their waiter was taking care of other patrons. Hunter pulled her thigh over his, spreading her legs, opening her to him. The long white tablecloth would cover the view of whatever he did. “You’ve been dying for me to touch you all week, haven’t you?”

  She swallowed. “It’s all I’ve thought about.”

  Triumph sizzled through him. He quested higher, finding the top of her stockings. Question one answered, garter belt. His gaze locked to hers, he didn’t miss the slight widening of her pupils. “It’s all I’ve thought about, too. Let’s stop denying. W
e’re going to do it again.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Higher. He found her pussy, bare, wet. She shuddered. Question two out of the way. “I’m shocked,” he said. He hadn’t expected Devon to go pantiless at work.

  She drew in a long breath, let it out. “I suppose subconsciously I was hoping for something like this.” She spoke without a smile. The realization didn’t please 156

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  her.

  Turning toward her, he leaned an elbow on the table, hiding the movement of his arm from view. “I would have fucked you any time you asked.”

  She closed her eyes, opened them. “I know.”

  It was written all over her. That was the problem. Hunter wasn’t going to let it stop him. He would make her see how good they were together. How much better they could be.

  Sliding between her folds, Hunter found her clit unerringly. Devon almost bit her lip in ecstasy. It felt as if she’d waited forever. Wrong time, wrong place, but she couldn’t help herself. Hunter’s fingers made her wild. She couldn’t have stopped him if the waiter came over or the world threatened to end with an earthquake. She needed this, had to have it.

  Devon sank her fingernails into his forearm. He stroked, rubbed, and circled her clit slowly. Heat rose to her face. Her lips parted on puffs of air. His eyes were intensely blue, hot, burning. For her.

  “You’re going to come for me.”

  She whimpered, it was so good. So wet, he slid and slipped in all her moisture, faster. The shockwaves started in her belly, shimmying out to her fingers and toes, shooting back to the very spot he touched her. The world quaked around her. She didn’t cry out or faint. She trapped every moan and sound inside. The effort only increased the magnitude, six-point-five, sevenpoint-oh, eight, then off the Richter scale. She came off the high to find her fingernails biting into her palm, a tear at the corner of each eye, and Hunter buttoning her skirt. She wondered what he would have done if it been a tighter fit with no buttons. Have her hike it over her hips?