Tempting the Corporate Spy

by Angela Claire

  “You don’t get along with your father?”

  “I don’t really think about it. Way less than he does, that’s for sure. He’s always trying to—”

  She waited expectantly, though he couldn’t remember why the hell he was even talking about this. Something about her attentive expression, her wide eyes.

  “—bond with me,” he finished. “It gets to be a bit much.” Especially given his dad’s top dog mentality. Sometimes he wished one of his dad’s girlfriends would lie about the pill or something and give him another son to take his mind off his firstborn. But his father didn’t allow mistakes like that. He’d probably gotten a vasectomy as soon as he saw how his first two kids disappointed him.

  “You got any sisters and brothers?” For some reason he wanted to keep the conversation going, put off leaving by asking questions he already knew the answers to.

  “No. Just Jen. She’s like a sister, I guess you could say. A good, good friend.”

  He nodded.

  “Anyway, isn’t being a consultant a real job?”

  “What?”

  “You said your dad—”

  “Oh, right. He doesn’t think it’s a job for a man.” For all Jon knew, that might be true. He’d never asked. “No job is, unless it involves sixty thousand people working for you. A pyramid, you know, with the alpha boss man, you, at the very pinnacle.”

  “That’s ridiculous. And sixty thousand, eh? Your dad must be somebody I’ve heard of.”

  Jon froze. He had been giving too much information. She was really easy to talk to and not what he had been expecting.

  “I said he thinks I should have that kind of job. Not that he does,” he lied. “Parents trying to live through their children is a very common phenomenon… and leads to a lot of disappointed parents.”

  “I suppose. I wouldn’t know. My mom was too busy living through herself, I guess. Sometimes too much of that’s not a good idea, either. You have to remember there is a kid around at least.”

  The elevator in the hallway dinged and Jennifer rushed out. “Hi, people!” she called out as she came into the office suite in a short gold dress, a stark contrast to the staid suit she’d had on earlier. “I have good news and we’re celebrating!”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I got a promotion from level three to level three-point-five! Isn’t that great?”

  “I can never get these level things straight,” Liv admitted, with a glance his way, as if he might know. “What does that mean? More money? Better office? What?”

  “No. No. And a chance to move up to level 4 in record time.” Her friend turned to him. “You have to come with us, Jon. We’ll celebrate your first day, too. My treat.”

  Sealy didn’t seem to him as if she would be right for the Human Resources Department of a big corporation, but he could certainly get behind the sudden opportunity to sneak back here and have the office to himself for a sustained time, without the distracting knowledge Liv could walk in on him at any minute—not that she did much.

  “Thanks for the invite, Miss Sealy—”

  “Jen! I told you that.”

  “But I’m sure I’d just be in the way.”

  “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.” Jen reached into her bag and took out something red and silky, which she threw at her friend. “Go put this on.”

  Liv held it up. “If this is yours, you know it’ll be at least one or two sizes too small. I’ll have to pour myself into it.”

  Now that he would wait around to see. He sat at his desk again as if he’d forgotten something, grabbing a pen.

  “Go on, Livvie. I’m not taking no for an answer. You need a night out and I need to celebrate.” She shooed her back into her office to change.

  Jon was thankful Dickhead’s software camera had been removed.

  Jen perched on his desk, twirling one long, jet-black curl around her finger and batting her exotically outlined brown eyes at him—punctuating it with a flirtatious comment here and there—until Liv came back out. The shiny red slip of fabric had really been sort of that. A slip. Bright red, with silky straps and a bodice he knew for a fact her bra wouldn’t fit under. Her generous breasts were snug within the tight fit of the dress, affording a mouth-watering view of creamy cleavage. She was all curves and long legs.

  He swallowed hard as Jen elbowed him and said in a stage whisper, “I know. She’s like Clark Kent changing into Superman, right?”

  “Right,” he said blandly, standing up.

  Liv seemed even taller than she had been all day, only an inch or two shorter than him, and he glanced down to see black, strappy stilettos, high and pointy. She must have had those in her closet.

  “Too much?” Liv asked, and his gaze wandered back to her face. “I feel ridiculous. I can barely breathe.”

  “Please!” Jen popped off the desk. “You look great. Doesn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Last chance to come with us.”

  “No, I wish I could. But I can’t.”

  “Scared, huh?” Jen made an exaggerated face at him. “We’re too much woman for you, aren’t we?”

  “Leave him alone, Jen. I just got through telling him he didn’t have to put up with sexual harassment.”

  “That sounds interesting.” Jen looked between the two of them.

  “Come on.” Liv grabbed a bulky black blazer from a hook and shrugged into it, instantly transforming her sexy outfit into a shapeless lump, giving no hint as to the luscious curves beneath.

  “Oh, no, you’re not wearing that!”

  “It’s late October, Jen. I’m cold. Walk out with us, Jon?”

  His phone rang and he saw his sister’s number. “No thanks. This one I have to take. I can lock up, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. No problem. Extra keys are in the drawer. See you tomorrow.”

  The two women walked out, arm-in-arm, Jen sniping at Liv about the overcoat, warning her she better take it off in the bar.

  When they were gone, he picked up the call. “Hi sweetie.”

  “Hi, Jonathon. I’m sorry to call.”

  An apology was always hovering on his little sister’s lips—for something, for anything—her voice high, like a child’s, and often quivering as it was now.

  “You don’t have to apologize for calling me, Julie. You know I’m never doing anything important.”

  She laughed. “Huh, you’re probably solving the problem of global warming.”

  “Only if it doesn’t interfere with binge-watching Breaking Bad. So what’s up?”

  There was a lengthy silence on the other end, and for the first time it occurred to Jonathon to wonder whether Julie might know about the existence of the tape and be worried about it. He’d been so concerned with getting it back, he hadn’t thought about that.

  “Nothing,” she finally said. “Are you upstate?”

  “No, I’m in the city for a bit.”

  “You are? Do you think maybe we could have dinner?”

  “Sure, of course. How about the beginning of next week?”

  “Oh…yes…thanks.” The cadence of her response told him she had meant right now. Tonight. But he couldn’t. He had to use this time to work. He was doing this for her, even if he wasn’t comfortable discussing it with her yet. He wanted to bring it up only when he had ensured the threat was safely eliminated.

  But what if it wasn’t an isolated incident? Why should he believe Dickhead that it was just the once. “You’re, ah, you’re not seeing anyone, are you, Jules?”

  Like that decadent asshole senator who lured you into God-knows-what?

  “No,” she said in a rush. “Of course not.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with, ah, all I meant is, you need to go slow on things, Julie, you know? You’re not as old as you think you are.”

  Christ, he wasn’t equipped to talk to his little sister about this.

  “I’m not using again,” she said flatly. “I’m going to my NA meetings.”


  “I know, I know. You’re doing great. Way better than I could.”

  “As if. You do everything better, Jonathon.”

  “Don’t believe that crap. You’re a great kid. You should think about going back to school.”

  Julie had always struggled with her studies as well as the rest of life, not because she didn’t have the intellect, but because she didn’t have the emotional armor to focus in on them. She had dropped out of Columbia, where she should be age-wise, but she could have been working on her doctorate by now, if she didn’t have all her other problems. She had inherited their mother’s brains, but not their father’s fuck-you ability to deal with the world. Jon, for better or worse, had gotten both, he supposed.

  “I don’t know. I feel like school would be too much now.”

  Jonathon picked up a pen on the desk and clicked it open. Then closed. Again, in rapid succession. He needed to talk to Julie about what she was apparently doing, or had done, but he certainly didn’t want to over the phone. He dropped the pen. “We’ll catch up at dinner. So I’ll call you, okay?”

  He hung up. Right. Like father, like son. He wasn’t any better at personal relationships than his old man was. And Julie needed him. Well, at least he could do this for her.

  A text buzzed on his phone, and though he didn’t recognize the number, he knew who had sent it. Dickhead. It wished him success on his first day and was accompanied by a picture, a close up of Julie’s brown ponytail, the rest of the lurid scene not included. The text ended with the sentiment, “We’re waiting.”

  With determination, Jon sat back at the computer. He wouldn’t be locking up for quite some time. He’d figure it out. Altman was good—a day wandering around her computer programs proved that—but he was better. He was sure of it. And as guilty as he was starting to feel about the whole thing, he couldn’t let himself be distracted. Not by her sad childhood or her shy smiles or her hot, silk-encased curves. He liked her, a lot, but he had a duty to his sister.

  He unlocked the bottom desk drawer and withdrew the router.

  ...

  Liv stirred her pink cocktail and watched Jen shimmy against some guy wearing black leather and sunglasses. Sunglasses, even though the bar was so dark you practically needed a flashlight to get to the restroom. Her friend saw her watching and gave her a brilliant smile and a hand gesture that beckoned her out to the dance floor as well. She shook her head, wondering if she might have been inclined if Jon had come with them tonight. Despite his odd occupation, he had been so easy to talk to. Once he got off the management theory, that is, and she could understand what he was saying.

  She wished he had come tonight.

  It probably wouldn’t have gotten her out on the dance floor, though. She wasn’t much for dancing. The pounding beat of some techno vibe blasting through the speakers from all angles didn’t help. Instead of having fun, Liv was having a headache. One hand up to her temple, rubbing, soothed for a second as she relived Jon’s shoulder massage. Long fingers kneading, low voice in her ear as he leaned over her.

  “Hi.”

  Liv looked up to see a wide grin, a loosened tie and a mug of beer. She buttoned another button on the blazer she refused to take off, even though it was steamy in the bar. “Hi.”

  “I saw your friend out there dancing with my buddy, Denny, and thought I’d come over here and keep you company.”

  “Oh, well, thanks.” She didn’t know what to say. Well, actually she did, but it had to do with not really wanting company and she didn’t want to seem like a bitch.

  The guy sat down next to her, scraping his chair along the floor to bring it too close to hers, and she got a whiff of the spicy nachos he must have been eating. “I’m Andrew.”

  “Liv.”

  Introductions made, he got right to the point. “Your friend looks hot. Is she as hot as she seems?”

  Jen was circling her partner in a seductive dance, hands on her slender waist, hips jutting back and forth, one strap of her dress falling down on her shoulder. She supposed Jen did look, well, kind of wild. But every time she looked at her friend, she saw the girl with braids and braces who had insisted Liv join the Brownies with her, lying that there was no fee and then arranging for her parents to pay for both of them. The girl who Liv would call if her mom didn’t come home at night and she was scared. A true friend with a heart as big as all her talk. “She puts on a good show, but she’s actually pretty level headed.”

  Liv glanced back out at the dance floor where Jen was now grinding her nether regions against Denny’s.

  “Usually. When black leather isn’t involved.”

  She took another sip of her drink and directed her attention back to her sudden companion. “You and your friend actually don’t exactly look like you go together,” she remarked. “You’re in a suit and he’s…” Words failed her.

  “Denny and I go way back. We make a great team.”

  The chair scraped closer and, if possible, the techno music got louder. “So let me ask you, you think she’d go for a threesome? Your friend? With me and Denny, I mean?”

  Liv laughed. Perfect. Mr. Drunk Nachos guy, er, Andrew, wasn’t even hitting on her. As usual, he only wanted to get to Jen. What a shame. He must be a real prince of a fellow to come over and bring up the subject like that. Yep, a really classy guy.

  “So what do you say? You think she’d be into it? Denny says no, but I think he’s being selfish.”

  “Denny’s awfully perceptive. Jen takes her men one at a time.”

  Andrew harrumphed, guzzling down the rest of his beer, slamming the mug back on the table with a thump. “How about you then?”

  “How about me what?” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask about threesomes.

  “If your friend’s not interested, you want to come back to my apartment? We can have a smoke and see what develops.”

  “No, thanks.”

  He eyed her critically and she shrank a little into her bulky overcoat. “I usually like them skinny like your friend and you look a little more, er, healthy than that, though I can’t get a close look.”

  With a disgusted expression, Liv looked out to the dance floor for Jen, but she and her black leather beau had disappeared. Probably making out in the dark hallway to the john. So much for level-headedness.

  A heavy hand descended on her thigh, inching up to the red spandex hidden under the coat, and she decided this night of fun was over and got to her feet. “I don’t think so. I have to go back to work.”

  Andrew laughed. “What? I was just being nice. You don’t think I usually go for chubby, do you?”

  Liv pursed her lips, dropping a twenty on the table as a tip for the waitress, and texted Jen, wherever she was. I’m getting out of here. Congrats on your promotion. BE SAFE!

  “Your loss,” Andrew said, already scanning the bar for a replacement.

  She didn’t bother to reply.

  ...

  Jonathon glanced up at the clock. It was after ten and he was nowhere. He hadn’t expected it to take this long. He knew he had to be on Lincoln’s computer system from the inside—couldn’t hack into it from outside for this one, since the security surrounding confidential files, undoubtedly developed by the boss herself, was so good—but once on the LAN network he didn’t expect to have much trouble finding her project and copying it. He hadn’t given her enough credit. Or he was more distracted than he thought. Either way, he figured it was little Liv’s fault he wasn’t done.

  He wished he had known a girl like her back in school—actually, he wished he’d known her so that he could have maybe turned her away from the path she got on. Despite his motivations for stealing her project, he still thought it was a bad idea to begin with.

  But hell, if he had met Liv earlier, he would’ve been too young and cocky to know what to do with her back then. But he knew what to do with her now all right. He remembered the horrified way she had explained keeping passwords secret. It was kind of sweet. Especially when, as good as she wa
s, there undoubtedly wasn’t a password she couldn’t hack around anyway. And he knew there wasn’t one he couldn’t. He had gotten through her passwords—the shadow ones, the real ones, the belt and suspenders ones—but once in her files he was still having trouble with the detours and booby traps. He needed some coffee. Or a good whisky. Maybe both.

  But he would crack this and soon. He grinned and grabbed his jacket, intending to take a short break out in the autumn night air. Who was he kidding? He was still a cocky little shit.

  “Be right back,” he said out loud to the computer, shutting it off just in case, and locking up.

  It was an hour or two later by the time he actually did return. He’d walked around, looking for an all-night coffee shop, and had to settle for a bar where he drank more than was good for him—not coffee—and almost decided to pack it in and go home.

  But on the way to hailing a cab, he’d changed his mind, and headed to Lincoln instead. Returning to the deserted building, he let himself in with the card key he had swiped from Jen, since he hadn’t been issued one yet—and wouldn’t be. He didn’t want his face on an ID badge and would be wiping the building’s cameras when he was finished, since he could do that remotely.

  The office was completely dark, so Liv hadn’t come back. Good. He hadn’t expected her to, but still. Flicking on a light, he hung his coat up on the hook near his cube and startled at a voice. Her voice, sleepy and low, but all the sudden right next to him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter Three

  Oh shit. From the look of her, she had been snoozing on the couch just inside her office. She was standing in the doorway in bare feet and those pajama pants some women wore around and another nondescript t-shirt. It took him two seconds flat to realize she was braless.

  He swallowed, hard, and tried to keep his eyes on her face instead of on the enticing jiggle of her chest. She must have come back from the bar, changed out of her good clothes, and fallen asleep. He should have thought of that, but in his haste to finish his task¸ and what with the whiskey, he hadn’t.