“Sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Parker, sir.”
“Oh. Then I am not sure why I am here, Mr. Parker. Sir.” Crickets, that felt weird and somewhat kinky, especially with him staring at me so.
“Miss Lavender?”
“Yes.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Sir?”
He grins, slightly. “I want to make arrangements to fuck you.”
Chapter Two
Gage Parker stared across the expanse of his glass-topped desk at the whip of southern belle cupcake perched on her chair on the other side. This confection caught his eye earlier in the week when they’d brought the new staff in for orientation and he’d studied her from afar since that moment. As she’d crossed the outer lobby that day, his cock jerked to full attention. When she spoke with her soft, southern flair, his stomach clutched. And, when he had eavesdropped in on that rather intelligent conversation concerning marketing trends, his brain came to the party.
Cock, gut and brain engaged, a deadly combination.
She was unlike any woman he’d ever had.
He couldn’t wait to peel back every single layer of her—literally and figuratively. Physically, mentally, and emotionally strip her down to nothing but her bare ass and basal instinct, and fuck her senseless.
Muss up her perfect make-up. Tangle her long, straight hair. Dirty her up.
And that was just on the outside. He wanted to fuck with her brain, too.
But not today. And not tomorrow. Her layers, he suspected, would take a while to unpeel, and when it was time, he would find great pleasure in removing them.
One by one.
“Excuse me?”
Gage honed in on her porcelain complexion and slightly freckled nose. Her azure eyes, wide as buttercups, amused him. As her lashes slowly closed and fluttered open again, twice, his libido intensified.
“I want to make arrangements to fuck you, Ms. Lavender. I believe I was quite clear.” He was pretty sure the southern gentleman she may have been used to would not be that crass. The thought tickled him.
She swallowed. “Are you asking me for a date? That is against—”
“I don’t date, Ms. Lavender, I fuck.”
“Oh.” Both of her hands went to the arms of the chair, likely in preparation for her escape. He’d seen it before.
“And your response?”
Emma Lavender stood, and he watched the folds of her pretty pink skirt flow around her legs. This was the single reason why he had not implemented a strict dress code policy for his employees. Black slacks and jackets were boring. Pretty pink skirts were meant to be ogled.
And gave him easy access.
“I believe, sir, that corporate policy is against asking me for a fuck, as well as a date. I’ll see myself out.” She turned and started for the door.
Just hearing the word fuck burst from her delicate mouth nearly took him over the edge. He rose. “Ms. Lavender. Stop.”
She did, abruptly. Good.
“Turn around.”
She whirled back, staring.
“You got the job, Ms. Lavender. I, or someone from my staff, will be in touch Monday morning to go over the details. Have a good weekend.”
She just stood there, mouth gaping. Closed. Open. Closed again. Her head shaking a little.
“You may go now, Miss Lavender.”
She started to speak.
Gage intercepted. “Now, Miss Lavender.”
Maybe I do want to fuck with her brain today.
****
For the third time this evening, Gage shook off the daydream he was having about Emma Lavender. Driving home to the ranch, particularly this time of night, he needed to pay attention to the road. Too many animals on the move and too many drunks on the highway. But every time he tried to focus on driving, his mind drifted toward the vision in pink who had turned her pretty backside on him earlier this evening.
It wasn’t the first time his tactless requests had provoked that type of reaction. Turned down more than once in the same manner as she, he expected no less. In fact, where was the fun with women who gave it up so easily? He was all about the chase, and his gut was telling him Emma was going to be quite a filly to chase down and break.
Because he would break her.
This was the first time, however, the thought of a woman had preoccupied him to this degree. He was not the kind of man to pine around and think about a woman unless immediate fucking was in order. Until then, his brain was otherwise engaged.
Maybe she’s the one fucking with my brain.
There was just something about this particular potential fuck that pulled him sideways. He’d grown up with women who ranched. They were tough, hard, and sometimes abrasive. Oh, there were plenty of western women with their soft edges, but they generally still took no shit and often could curse a blue streak like a ranch hand. They were savvy, smart, and in control.
Until they wanted to give it up.
But Emma… She was soft where others were hard. Pink where others were red. And she said crickets rather than curse. Who the hell says crickets?
Hair. Nails. Makeup. Clothes. All perfectly chosen and complementary. Her body was a vision of temptation—soft and curvy, well taken care of, and pampered.
Definitely not rode hard and put up wet. He’d had plenty of those.
Her eyes spoke of innocence, although he suspected she was experienced to some degree. He hoped, anyway. He did have his rules, and not taking a virgin was one of them. He wouldn’t. A virgin was not woman enough to take him on. He hoped Emma was woman enough.
Emma was just—different. And that difference tugged as his nuts like a motherfucker.
Gage reached to the console and retrieved his cell. His eyes darting from road to phone, he pushed a number.
One ring. “Yes, Mr. Parker?” His assistant had been with him for nine years and was on call 24/7.
“Chad. Did you vet Ms. Lavender?”
“We ran the usual background checks, sir.”
“What about the unusual ones?”
There was a slight pause. “No sir. I did not run that one.”
Gage thought as much. Emma was not his usual flavor. “Then run it. Call me with results over the weekend with a print-out on my desk at my arrival Monday morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gage clicked off the phone. “All right.”
The sign to the Branded Filly, his ranch, came into view, and he was glad to be almost home. There were no sessions this weekend, and for that, he was grateful. He’d had two physically demanding, although fulfilling, weekends prior and a down weekend was welcome. Besides, Ms. Emma was still tagging along in his head.
Although he had a condo in Billings, the ranch was home, and where he headed to most Friday nights. The hour drive served as a transition from corporate to cowboy. Or, from corporate to Dom, depending on the weekend. Seventy-three-thousand acres of ranchland complete with cattle, fences, ranch hands, and a little ore mining to the south, balanced out the daily grind. He worked damned hard throughout the week, and his weekends were his—if not for prearranged playdates, then for ranching. Running WestInn Enterprises kept his brain engaged, but when it was time for the weekend, WestInn played second fiddle.
Some men rode broncs, watched football, or played golf.
He fucked.
For Gage, sex was sport, and weekends at the ranch was his game. It was physical. Recreation. Pleasure.
What sex for him was not, was commitment, and it definitely wasn’t for love. He’d made those decisions long ago. At thirty-four years of age, nothing was going to change that.
His sexual requirements were simple. His appetite fierce.
He required discretion. Anonymity. His lifestyle was not public information. But he knew who he was and what he wanted.
Needed.
He was a loner and stinking rich. He was a strong, dominant male with an incredible and insatiable
sexual appetite, and a fundamental need to control women sexually.
And he wanted Emma Lavender.
****
Saturday morning came, and Gage was up making coffee, glancing at the clock and wondering where in the hell his ranch manager Cole Stevens was. Seven o’clock. It was a rare morning when Gage beat him to the coffee.
He turned as a key jiggled in the back door and Cole let himself in. He tipped his head and removed his hat, hanging it on a peg by the door. “Mornin’, boss.”
Speak of the devil. Gage sipped his coffee, his backside against the counter. “Mornin’. How’s the barn coming along?”
Cole swiped a hand across his brow. “It’s comin’. Rain slowed us down some, but we’ll have her done in a couple of weeks.”
“Good.”
“You got plans this weekend?” Cole edged toward the cabinet and pulled down a mug. Gage watched him from the side as he poured himself a cup.
Gage shook his head. “Naw. Down weekend.”
“I thought so.” Cole took a sip of the coffee. “Damn.”
Chuckling, Gage pushed away from the counter. “Too strong or too hot?”
Wincing, he cocked his head to the side. “Both.”
“Cowboy coffee,” Gage said and took another sip. “Keeps me rollin’.”
“I thought you said this was a down weekend.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t need to keep my energy up.” In fact, he needed something to do with his hands today, besides jerking off and thinking about Emma. “I need to do something physical before I go nuts. I’m already restless. What’s on the agenda for today?”
Cole looked at him straight on. “Squirming in your Wrangler’s already, huh? You might do some better planning with those womenfolk of yours.”
“Planning isn’t the issue. I don’t necessarily need sex, I just need a good, hard, physical workout.”
Cole nodded. “Feel like wrestling some calves? We’re castrating.”
“That’ll do it.” Gage said.
He eyed Cole. They’d been friends since they were teenagers, both of them rough stock and randy. Gage more so than Cole, but Cole had his days. He wasn’t a Dom, like Gage, but Cole understood his friend’s need for control and sex and didn’t judge. Best thing about Cole was he knew when to speak up and when to shut up. And when to let him be. Couldn’t find much better a friend than that.
“You found you a woman yet, cowboy?” Gage directed to him.
Cole smiled. “Oh, I find them all the time. I just can’t seem to get them to follow me home.” He chuckled and stepped to the refrigerator, changing the subject. “I figure if we’re going to be cutting nuts off bulls all day, we need something more than coffee. I’ll get some breakfast going.”
Gage’s phone vibrated in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the number, and pushed the button. “Chad.”
“Mr. Parker, I have the information on Ms. Lavender.”
He eyed Cole, who lifted an eyebrow and watched him. “Give me the brief.”
“She’s clean. No mental health issues. Dating history normal. One significant, long-term boyfriend. Family intact. No priors.”
“Excellent.”
“Anything more on the relationship?”
“It appears to be severed.”
“Not necessary, but nice.”
Chad continued. “Just one other thing, sir.”
“And…?”
“Her credit is lousy. Student loans. Upside-down on her car. Credit cards maxed out.”
Gage smiled. “I see.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you, Chad. Just have the paperwork on my desk in the usual manner Monday morning. Thanks for the speedy work.”
“My pleasure.”
“Wait.” Gage switched the phone to his other ear. “Text her cell phone number to me now.”
“Will do.”
Gage cut off the phone and set it on the table. He waited and then the phone binged, signaling a text message. All right.
Cole still stared at him, brow arched. “Good news?”
Gage smirked. “Yes.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both.”
“That’ll get you into trouble every time.”
Gage dipped his head, ignoring Cole’s words. He never got into trouble, he was smarter than that, and he frequently mixed business with pleasure—but of course he had his ways of making sure the combination did not come back to bite him. “I can handle it.”
“I see. Shall I clear the decks for next weekend?”
Gage stared off, thinking. “No. Not next weekend. Let’s shoot for two weekends from now.” That should give him enough time to get Ms. Emma primed and ready—and for him to anticipate what was coming. Foreplay was half the game.
“The barn will be done by then, hopefully.” Cole whistled through his teeth. “You’re sure though, Gage? Two weeks can be mighty long time for you…”
Gage lifted his coffee to his lips, sipped, and then grinned. “This one’s worth the wait. Give the crew a cash incentive to get the barn finished, along with a three-day weekend off. I don’t want anyone around. No interruptions. Make sure Helen has the house cleaned by the Thursday before. Including the tack room.”
Cole raised one brow. “You’re sure about that? Might be a little early to break in a new filly in the tack room.”
“I am.”
He nodded. “It’s clean. She was here on Monday. Probably just need a dusting by then.”
Gage figured as much. The woman was like clockwork. “Good.”
Chapter Three
I want to sleep in, especially since my eyes barely closed the entire night, due to Mr. Gage Parker’s face and words haunting my dreams, but sleeping in isn’t happening today. Restless, I glance at the digital clock—seven-forty-five and too early to get up—but I toss back the covers and throw my legs over the side. I stumble to the bathroom, take care of my most urgent needs, and look into the mirror.
“Gah!” Horrified at the bags under my eyes, I glance away. “I should work out and sweat. Lots. Get rid of the bloat.”
Or is it bloat? Maybe it’s just puffy eyes from lack of sleep.
Of course, it is.
Besides, going to the gym means going to the hotel. And going to the hotel means risking meeting up again with Mr. Parker.
I shiver. No way. Not today. I don’t want to deal with that until I go back to work on Monday. I have to figure out if I can keep my job and avoid Gage Parker, or…
I don’t want to think about it.
So, I crawl back into bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and flip the channels on the TV with the remote control. Maybe I can find a movie that will help me drift off to sleep again….
My cell phone vibrates on the nightstand. Odd. Who texts this early? I pick it up and read the message:
Good morning, Emma.
I don’t recognize the number. It’s a Billings exchange and since I don’t know many people in Billings, I figure it is probably someone from work.
I type: Good morning. Who is this?
You’ll know soon enough. If you don’t already.
No, I do not. To quote my younger brother: What the hell?
I am looking forward to our meeting on Monday.
I gasp. Gage Parker? Oh. My. God.
Wrong number.
I push the power button on my phone and shove it under my pillow. Immediately I question if that was the right thing to do. He is my boss, after all, but that exchange frightened me a little—especially after the encounter we had yesterday afternoon.
What the hell is right. This man already ruined my night’s sleep; he is not going to ruin my Saturday.
I had already decided to decline the job offer for the management position and planned to spend time online this weekend resuming my search for work back home in Charlotte. Time to face it. Life in Billings, Montana is not my cup of tea. Although I’m intrigued by the weste
rn lifestyle and mentality, it is so far removed from my laid-back southern upbringing—I’m not sure I can adjust.
Not to mention that Gage Parker frightens me more than a little.
Quite a lot, actually, and he frightens me in ways I’ve never considered before. He is sexually appealing, and I am extremely attracted to his gruff mannerisms, his direct and to-the-point demeanor. A far cry from the kinds of men I have dated in my past—southern gentlemen or country rednecks, take your pick. Both of which have egos to rival the other but are polar opposites in most ways.
Gage Parker, for all of the rough stock quality to him, is also a sexy, smooth and slick businessman. He knows what he wants and goes after it. And I find it intriguing, as well as sexually stimulating, that he appears to be coming after me.
A large part of me is relieved I’d made it out of his office last evening unscathed. To say I was taken aback was an understatement. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. On the other hand, another part is so totally curious about what having sex with Mr. Gage Parker might actually be like.
I know it will be different—dark and dangerous?
Recalling the image of him in the gym, staring at me in the mirror, gives me chills. Either way, I know I have to get out of Billings and back home where I belong.
And very soon. Gage Parker is bad news.
****
“I don’t date, Ms. Lavender, I fuck.”
“Oh.” My hands grip the arms of the wooden chair. I want to bolt. No man has ever approached me with those words. Not like this. What is happening? This is so…unprofessional!
“And your response?”
I stand. His predatory gaze falls from my face and travels to my hips, my…crotch. I hike my chin up and raise my voice in an attempt to jerk his gaze up to my face again. “I believe, sir, that corporate policy is against asking me for a fuck, as well as a date. I’ll see myself out.” I turn and start for the door.
His chair screeches behind me. “Ms. Lavender. Stop.”
I did. Abruptly. Crap. Why did I do that?
“Turn around.”
I whirl back, glaring at him. Who in the hell does he think he is? It’s like I have no control over my own actions. Whatever he says, I do it.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 211
