by Lynda Aicher
Strictly Confidential
By Lynda Aicher
What’s your pleasure?
From Lynda Aicher, author of the bestselling Wicked Play books, comes an exclusive invitation to the Boardroom—where working late has its rewards.
Life is about power—who has it, who doesn’t.
Anyone who says otherwise hasn’t spent time in Kennedy Keller’s business-casual two-point-five-inch heels. A woman in a world very much run by men, Kennedy does whatever it takes to keep her power, in the office and outside of it.
Until she lets her guard down and decides to submit to a man for just one night. He’s everything she doesn’t usually let herself have: sexy, strong…dominant.
Matt Hamilton said goodbye to the Dom life years ago—power games and the delectable push/pull of dominance and submission might start in the bedroom, but it never stays there.
Reunited in the Boardroom, Matt and Kennedy test their desires and boundaries…and learn that one night is never just one night.
Dedication
To my family for believing in me, my writing network for supporting me, my editor (Stephanie Doig) for making me work harder and my readers for keeping me motivated.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Excerpt from Signed Over by Lynda Aicher
About the Author
Also by Lynda Aicher
Chapter One
If one more person—man—rubbed against her, intentionally or not, Kennedy was going to scream. Okay, not literally. But the urge boiled within her until she was ready to let loose with a banshee wail of rage. Not that she would.
A Keller wouldn’t do such a thing. Not a female one at least. Now her father, he’d probably be admired if he did, but not her. Not when she fought every damn day to be respected in a man’s world.
Irritation merged with fatigue to increase the pounding in her head. The exaggerated echo in the oversized convention hall lifted the noise level to a dull roar that resonated on a ready-to-explode scale. She rubbed at her forehead, determined to hold her facade as she wove through the people, smiling when appropriate, noting the location of certain booths, until she reached the end of the aisle where a wave of cooler air beckoned to her from the lobby.
The line for the only coffee shop at their end of the Long Beach convention center was of course long. Men in suits mingled with guys in Tshirts and jeans—unlikely pairings that worked in the manufacturing world.
She eyed up the soda machine, looked back to the coffee line. The choice was easy.
Her sigh was long and encompassing after the fizzing beverage hit her throat. Tucked along the wall away from the congestion, she could finally breathe—and let her guard down. She was used to the battle, but that didn’t mean it became easier or less exhausting.
Twenty years of working in the family business, of showing that her intelligence outshined her looks, might’ve gained her some professional respect, but there was always someone else she had to prove herself to. Especially when one glance at her business card linked her to the company. Assumptions were always made.
Founded by her grandfather, Keller Pallet was a key supplier of custom and standard pallets within the San Francisco Bay Area. Her father made the business a Bay Area success, and now, as the VP of Operations, she was determined to grow it even more.
She set her briefcase on the floor, rolling her shoulders to stretch the tight muscles. There were two hours left before the venue closed for the day, which gave her plenty of time to touch base with three or four more companies.
Their product was far from glamorous. Most overlooked it completely, yet the global market relied on pallets to ship everything from food to electronics to drywall. She liked to compare them to underwear. Everyone needed them, but most hated spending money on them.
One deep preparatory breath, a last glance through her contacts, and she was ready to dive back in. Headache or not, she had a job to do.
A scan of the lobby showed a number of people leaving the venue, some likely headed to private dinners or drinks where deals were negotiated or lost. Her gaze caught and held on a man as he exited the convention hall, his expression switching from cordial to exhausted the second he passed the plane of the doorway. She snickered, identifying with him. He undoubtedly didn’t know he was being watched, but she found the silent honesty refreshing and attractive.
Tall, but not overly so, he held himself with the stiff-backed formality she associated with the military. He wasn’t in uniform, but she pegged his suit as tailor-made and done expertly. It emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the trim line of his waist, the material crisp even after a long day.
A flash of lust curled up to tease her. A handsome man in a well-cut suit got her every time. Add in his aura of control backed by authenticity and she was even more enticed. The stony, impersonal act was a tired concept that too many still equated to power. But this guy offered something different. Something…real.
His polite mask shifted back into place when he turned toward the building exit. He cut a path of authority with nothing more than his stride and calm demeanor. His crew cut defined his no-nonsense air, the tablet in his hand indicating his technical savvy. And he was leaving, like she longed to do.
That thought had her mind snapping back to the work she had to finish before she could go. Following him to his hotel room wasn’t an option, no matter how much she’d like it to be. Her prospect list was never-ending, even though added sales was just one component of expansion. Competitive pricing, diversified offerings and services, efficiency and customer service were all part of the overall package. One she controlled.
Confidence flowed in on that reminder. She had this.
She tucked her hair behind her ear and headed into the fray. There were men to dazzle and others to commiserate with. She’d listen to every complaint and counter when appropriate. She’d endure the subtle once-overs along with the blatant ones and use her looks as a means of entry.
Resentment got her nowhere, but owning and using her assets gave her power she had no trouble wielding. Her mother thrived among the social elite, and Kennedy had been raised to excel within that set as well. But she needed more than that. She wasn’t born to simply exist. She had things to prove and security to achieve—for herself.
Keller Pallet would belong to her one day, a right she would earn, just like her father had.
*
“We’re heading out to dinner in an hour or so,” Thad said, glancing her way as he shoved a notepad into his briefcase. His gray hair receded sharply at his temples, complementing the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. Both traits hinted at his age, which edged toward sixty. “Are you going to join us?”
“Are you meeting with anyone?” Kennedy asked, checking the aisle. Most of the booths were shutting down, the flow of people dwindling.
“I don’t think so. Cr
aig?” He sent a questioning look to the other salesman.
Craig adjusted his shirt collar before flipping through his tablet. Younger than Thad by a good thirty years, the salesmen balanced each other. Kennedy took pride in that. Where Craig was aggressive and innovative in his thinking and deal shifting, Thad was tenacious in a milder way that displayed his years of experience in the pallet industry.
“I haven’t arranged anything,” he said.
She kept her relief contained. “I’m going to pass, then.” She flashed a smile. “But thanks for the invite.”
Thad frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I have some paperwork to catch up on. I’ll just grab room service.”
“Come on, Kennedy,” Craig cajoled as they headed out of the convention center. “You can’t work all the time.” His grin held that open flirtatious edge he leveled at everyone.
Kennedy dismissed his remark without comment. She wouldn’t defend herself or refute her work ethic. “How about we meet here at seven tomorrow morning to go through our game plan for the day?”
“Sounds good,” Thad said before Craig could respond. The fresh air hit her with a stroke of warmth when they stepped outside. “Can we walk you to your hotel?” He glanced down the block, squinting into the sun.
“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “But thank you.”
“Have a good night,” Craig said. “Let us know if you change your mind.”
“I will.”
Responsibility shed itself with each step she took away from the salesmen. She lifted her face to the sun, its warmth sinking through her on tingling waves of freedom. Duty had been engraved in her since birth. The Keller family standards were directly tied to their image, both corporate and social. Forgetting that for even a moment wasn’t allowed. Not within the reach of her parents.
But away from them and everyone connected to them…
Her hotel beckoned a block down, its shiny windows reflecting the surrounding landscape. Night was settling in with the slow descent of the sun, bringing with it a slight breeze. The October weather was almost perfect. Not too hot or cold. Yet another reason why she loved California.
She stuffed her convention badge into her briefcase and took a moment to breathe. Her headache had diminished to a dull throb that lessened when she forced her shoulders down. Stretching her neck eased the tension even more. An outside coffee stand tempted her with the alluring scent of freshly ground beans. Her four o’clock alarm that morning was zapping her energy now, but she usually caught another wind if she just persisted through the drain.
The hotel lobby was littered with people in suits, some still sporting their convention badges as they continued to network. The knowledge that she should be doing the same battled her desire to ditch it all. And do what?
She scanned the area for the guy she’d noticed earlier. The one who’d caught her eye and her interest. More than one man openly stared at her, but she ignored them. The speculation she glimpsed on their expressions countered any thought that they were eyeing her up as a potential business contact. Feigning ignorance granted her an element of safety. Plus, bruised egos were hard to overcome in the sales game.
Her steps slowed as she passed the entrance to the bar. Sectioned away from the checkin area, the wide opening welcomed people in without putting the entire room on display. Softer lighting offered an illusion of quiet supported by the lounge chairs and scattering of cocktail tables. The room was still fairly empty, which only made it more inviting to her.
Her gaze snagged on the profile of a man sitting alone at the far end of the bar, his focus locked on the TV mounted on the wall. A smile formed as she recognized him. What were the odds?
His polite mask was gone, his fatigue visible in the slight downturn of his mouth and the hunch of his shoulders. Once again, she related to him—whoever he was—and admired his openness, along with his confidence that required no front or false projection.
His beard shadow darkened his jaw, adding to his air of unattainable that only made her want to obtain. Was he married? Attached? His roughened good looks had the mature quality of age, which placed him firmly in the questionable zone of taken family man. But then, he could also be single and open to every fantasy circling her mind and nudging her forward.
She entered the bar without another thought. The draw was unexplainable. The urge to meet him had her heading straight for the empty seat next to him. Add in the bonus of getting a drink along with a break from the forced hospitality, and she almost whimpered.
Her prospects for the evening had just changed for the better. At the very least, she’d make another contact and have a chance to relax. But in truth, she was really hoping for more than that—if he was willing to play.
Chapter Two
“Can I get you another?” the bartender asked.
Matthew Hamilton stared at his beer, blinked. “Sure.” He emptied the contents in one long swallow before handing the glass to the bartender. “Thanks.”
The woman shot him a smile. “No problem.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s my job.” Her flirtatious wink sailed past him before he registered the action. With her blond hair, sculpted features and large breasts accentuated by her tight shirt, she worked the bar like it was her stage.
His chuckle was dry as she pulled another draft from the tap. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and shook the fog from his mind. “I appreciate it,” he told her when she set the full glass before him.
She sent him another suggestive look, her voice softening to a low rumble. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I’ll take a gin and tonic,” a woman said as she dropped onto the barstool beside him. Her shoulders visibly sagged, relief swooping in on a brief reprieve before she released a smile and added, “Please.”
The bartender straightened, her expression swinging back to polite in a shift so quick Matt almost laughed. “Bombay?” she asked.
“Sure,” the woman responded with a dose of sarcastic enthusiasm. “Sounds great.”
He let his laughter out this time. “Long day?”
The woman glanced at him as she lowered her leather briefcase to the ground. “I thought that’d be obvious.”
He nodded, acknowledging the truth of her statement as he took in her sleek black pantsuit and white blouse beneath. “Convention drain?”
Her lips twitched, countering her deep exhale. “Yes.”
He could commiserate with her on that. For a man who rarely traveled, let alone attended a national convention that drew in thousands of people, the event was a special form of social hell for him. But as the new owner of McPherson Trucking, he saw networking as a required evil if he wanted to expand the company.
The bartender set her drink on the bar, and Matt lifted his glass in a toast to his bar mate, waiting until she clicked it with hers. She took a long drink, her smile full and beautiful when she sat back. “I so needed that.”
He froze, his own glass held suspended in the air. He couldn’t look away when she leveled the full impact of her smile on him. Her eyes were a striking hue of blue-green that danced with amused relief, mesmerizing him. How long had it been since he’d noticed a woman’s smile, let alone her eyes?
Too long.
He chased away his thoughts and interest with a much-needed drink. The TV mounted over the bar provided an excellent distraction, but awareness prickled over his side and teased at desires he shouldn’t acknowledge.
She shifted on the stool, crossing her legs as she flicked through her phone, her dark red nails flashing with each decisive swipe. She tucked her hair behind her ear, but the long locks escaped to fall in a gentle wave over her shoulder. Every detail was caught in his peripheral vision until he gave up his pretense and studied her openly.
Her features were young but mature at once in a way that coincided with her mannerisms. She was alone in a bar getting a drink, and she’d chosen the seat next to his when there were empty ones lining the bar, along wit
h plenty of free tables. That bold statement intrigued him more than it should. Yet she hadn’t pushed their conversation or initiated the flirting dance.
Her scowl deepened the longer she stared at her phone, the slight pull leaving a small crease between her brows. He itched to rub it away as all signs of her previous relief vanished.
What was causing her stress?
He cut off the thought as soon as it’d formed. It was none of his business. She was none of his business.
Normally, he would pay his tab and leave without a backward glance. But he didn’t now, not when his desire dug at him in ways he’d thought long gone. Ways that’d been pushing more and more since he’d exchanged his work shirts for suits. Ways that had him craving things better left untouched.
Her thumbs tapped in quick succession as she typed out a message, her lips pursing and releasing in an unintentional tease. A soft glow tinted her cheeks and drew him to the faint smattering of freckles that trailed over her nose. The little imperfections softened her appearance and added an innocence that didn’t match the confidence she projected.
“I thought you were relaxing,” he commented, unable to hold back.
She looked to him, going still. Her lips curled in a slow crawl upward as she lowered her phone. “Apparently, I’m not very good at that.” She hitched her brow in an insinuation of a shrug.
“Maybe you should try harder.” He lifted his own brow, enjoying the banter. She was a nice distraction on an otherwise bland evening, that was all. Just a simple conversation. Yet her short chuckle hummed inside him, mocking his lies as it drew his interest forward.
