Bargaining with the Boss

by Gatta, Allison

  "Do you know why I haven't touched you yet?" His deep voice rumbled.

  Because you hate me?

  Because you're a sadist?

  She shook her head.

  "Because I've spent months wondering what you look like and you're just as gorgeous as I thought. Maybe even more. And then next time I walk into the office and see you at your desk, I want to imagine what you looked like this morning, laying on your bed and waiting for me."

  He reached out and brushed his thumb down her cheek. "And the next time your cheeks redden with anger, I'll be able to smile and remember how rosy they are right now. Waiting for me."

  His rough touch travelled down her neck until he cupped her breast. Gently, he massaged it, then took her sensitive nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched.

  "When you storm into my office, I'll picture the way your ass swayed as you moved to the bed. And about the way your breasts bounced as you moved."

  She swallowed hard as he released her nipple and travelled lower still. Slowly, he teased her lips, brushing the pad of his thumb along her mound, then slipping inside.

  When his thumb rolled around her hard clit, he closed his eyes for a moment, and then said, "I might not be able to control you in the office, but for tonight your mine."

  She should have roiled with anger or at least have rushed to correct him, but the urge didn't strike her. Instead, a fresh wave of need swept through her and she arched her back, hoping that he'd slide his finger lower and sooth the growing ache between her thighs.

  "Tell me you're mine," he said.

  "I—" She stopped. It was so hard to think, hard to talk.

  "Tell me. And then you can have me."

  "I'm yours."

  It happened so quickly that she nearly lost her breath. In one moment, his hand was on her, gently stroking her mound and the small patch of hair above it, and then there was a tear of foil and the shifting of the world as he filled her up.

  She held her breath as her body stretched to accommodate his enormous length, but with every inch the pleasure was that much keener. That much more intense.

  The world split apart as he thrust into her deeper, pushing himself to the hilt. Until she was sure she could hardly breathe. And then he pushed deeper still, like he might go on forever.

  He was all around her, his lips against the shell of her ear, the rough pad of his thumb teasing her clit, and then the rest of him, pulsing in and out of her in a way that was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

  That was so much better than anything she’d felt before.

  She moaned and he pulled away almost completely, but she reached for his bicep and pulled him close to her again. She wasn’t going to back away this time, and neither was he.

  Not now that she knew how he felt. How he made her feel. He smiled down at her, then pinched her nipple and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

  He plunged again, and this time it felt as if the world had split apart. It was so fast and deep and intense. The way he filled her, the weight of his body on hers, the intimidating feel of his muscles.

  “Damn, you feel incredible,” he ground out.

  "So do you." And he did. He didn't even have to move to make her writhe with desire, and already she was arching into him, trying to bring him even deeper.

  She buried her lips against his neck, peppering him with kisses as he cupped her breast and then squeezed.

  She was already so close, so near the breaking point that she knew just one more push off the edge would do it. Once they found that angle, she'd close her eyes tight and lose herself in the contracting of her muscles as wave after wave of pleasure flooded her body.

  And she would have let it go. Dropped off the edge into the abyss if she’d had anyway of knowing if this might be their only time together. As it was, though, she wasn’t going to waste a single moment by rushing to the finish line.

  But then her lips met his again and she knew she couldn’t hold back. Not with the way his soulful blue eyes gazed down at her.

  Something was happening here, just as it had last night, and when her tongue swept out to meet his, push and pulling in time with the thrusts of their bodies, she knew this wouldn’t be their last time together.

  It simply couldn’t be.

  Because whatever Brooks was—whatever he had been—he was different now. He was hers.

  And just like that, she was coming, hard and fast and so intense that she sucked in breath for dear life. The ball aching want splintered inside of her then shot out to her every extremity, exploding into warmth and light and sound.

  Her heart might beat out of her chest, but right now it felt like a fair trade, and even trade.

  Because when the final ripples of her orgasm began to fade? She got to look into Brooks’ eyes and watch him do the same.

  Chapter Nine

  Brooks tapped the little bell on the receptionist's desk and Linda looked up, already red-faced and flustered.

  "Mr. Adams. She bum rushed me. I didn't even say anything and she--"

  He held up a hand. "It's okay. Thanks for trying. Did you get the card?"

  "The card? Um, no. I didn't think it was right to--"

  "I understand. Thank you." He nodded, then opened the wide glass doors and strode into the office, careful not to glance toward Natalie's desk.

  Not that it would matter if he did.

  Ever since they'd first been together two weeks ago, she hardly ever spoke to him in the office, and when she did it was always clipped and short. She was convinced the other secretaries would talk about them. As if they weren't already.

  He sighed, fighting his better instinct and catching a glimpse of her desk. She wasn't there, but the huge plume of red roses were.

  The same damn flowers that still showed up every single day.

  The same ones she refused to tell him about, no matter how many angles he tried.

  It was underhanded to try to check the card, he knew that, but didn't he have a right to know? They'd been seeing each other for weeks now, and even if there wasn't anything official about it...

  He shook his head. There was no use. It wasn't his business. And if they were from another man? Well, the more time he spent with Natalie, the more he could understand why someone would work so hard to get her.

  She was gorgeous and fun. Intelligent. Quick. She was the most intoxicating woman he'd ever been around and half the time he spent in his office, he found himself imagining ways to call her in surreptitiously.

  So much for settling his curiosity.

  Instead, the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to know. She was just as snippy and rambunctious now as she ever had been, but that only fueled the fire of his interest. Their jabs at each other only made her laugh.

  And when she laughed…

  He closed his eyes, trying hard to play the sound in his mind.

  That was it. He had to see her today. Find a way to trick her into joining him in a supply closet or a meeting room.

  Not that that would ever work. She was too smart to fall into that trap. Too--

  "Mr. Adams." Eliza stood from her tiny desk outside of his office. Her blouse was askew, though he wondered if she'd done it on purpose to match her hair. Every day since she'd started, she looked like she'd been through some kind of war.

  Still, he had to give the kid credit. She was trying.

  "Good morning, Eliza." He took off his coat and handed it to her.

  "Good morning. Let's see." She hummed, rolling her eyes while apparently lost in thought. "Oh, you missed the partner's meeting with your brother."

  "Okay."

  "He said he'd like to speak with you at your earliest convenience. Um, he said he wanted to talk to you about the Charity gala this weekend. And some of the other things you've um... You know what, I don't think he meant me to repeat it."

  "Probably not." He tilted his mouth to the side.

  There'd be no use in visiting with Garret. He
already knew what his brother would say. Brooks'd been shirking his responsibilities, that his main goal in the business was to be seen and make a name for them.

  Well, he had no intention of listening to that speech today, nor did he have any intention of setting foot in that Charity gala. It was the stuff nightmares were made of.

  The biggest, glitziest event of the year—filled with aristocrats and grannies and snobs the world over. No, thank you. He was done with that now. He and Natalie would be spending that time blissfully tucked away in the back row of a movie theater, laughing at some stupid comedy. Like normal people.

  From now on, He'd just have to advertise for the company the old fashioned way.

  "Mr. Brooks?" Eliza cleared her throat and he blinked back into reality.

  "Hmm?"

  "Did you hear me?"

  He smiled and she went on, "It's okay. I said that your messages are on your desk and that Garret rescheduled the partner's meeting for this afternoon. He wanted me to remind you that it's mandatory."

  "Oh good, when he calls be sure to let him know that I won't be attending."

  "But--"

  He moved into his office and closed the door. Eliza could figure out how to deal with Garret. He wouldn't yell at his sister in law the way he'd yell at him, and it would be a real shame if he had to break the guy's nose so close to his wedding.

  He picked up his notes, both written on light pink stationary that Eliza had picked up. The first was from Debbie Bowhart, but there wasn't much by way of actual message.

  If he had to guess, he imagined she'd probably just done a bunch of heavy breathing and asking when he'd next be free. Which, if he had anything to say about it, was never.

  Of course, that all depended on Natalie. Natalie and those damned red flowers.

  Maybe if he sifted through her trash he could get the pieces of one of those cards and figure it out for himself...

  He shook his head. He had to play it cool and back off. Anything else might scare her away. Yeah, he just had to give it time and every thing would—

  He glanced at the second piece of paper, blinked, and then read it again.

  Franco Del Rossi requests that you call him back at your earliest convenience. He says it's very important.

  He blinked again, then sank into his desk chair and stared at the phone on the edge of his desk.

  Technically, he and Natalie hadn't struck a bargain. She'd been very clear about that each time they'd seen each other. But if Franco was calling...

  The right thing to do was to stay out of it.

  If Garret was angry about Brooks not being out on the town, he could only imagine what his brother would do if they suddenly decided to take on the PR disaster that was Franco Del Rossi.

  Then again...

  Then again, it would help Natalie. And even if they weren't a couple. Hell, even if they hadn't made a deal, would it be so much to risk just to call the man and find out what he had in mind?

  He toyed with the buttons on his phone, but knew he would dial before he started.

  The phone rang only once before Franco greeted him with a heavy Italian accent.

  "Good afternoon, Franco. This is Brooks Adams. How are you?"

  "Brooks, I'm surprised you called."

  "Me too, frankly." There was no use in lying. He'd know Franco long enough to know that it wouldn't do either of them any good.

  "Natalie has been telling me to get in touch with you, but...well, you can understand my reluctance."

  "I can. So what is it you'd like for me to do?"

  "I was hoping to find a girlfriend. Someone to sweep this situation of mine under the rug. Do you have any...ringers?"

  "Ringers?"

  "You know, women who will pose for high-profile men. As their wives or girlfriends? Fiancés? I'm truly not particular. I just can't get myself into another situation like this. Business has tanked."

  Brooks hedged. "I think you may be mistaken, Franco. We're a matchmaking company, not an escort service."

  "Is this a matter of naming price?"

  "No, it's simply the truth. But, I do believe in our service and I think we can find you a woman who will suit your needs and clear your name."

  "I see."

  Silence stretched over the line and Brooks sat back, tapping his fingers along the leather armrest of his chair.

  Natalie had been telling Franco to call?

  Was that back when they thought they'd had a deal? Or had it been more recent? Did she think that he'd help her because of their relationship?

  And how often did she talk to Franco Del Rossi anyway?

  Franco's Italian grumble interrupted his thoughts. "I don't want these women to go public. One date and they could say I did anything just to get in the tabloids. It seems like I'd be asking for trouble."

  "We'd handle everything. The girls would sign confidentiality agreements. Your name would be altered in the system so you'd be untraceable."

  "And you would work with me personally? I don't want one of your people to run off and talk to the press."

  "We could arrange something like that. But to be honest, you do have to admit that this is quite the risk for the company. You don't have the most sterling reputation."

  "If it's extra money you want, that can be arranged. Just bring me your options at the gala on Saturday and we'll discuss the details."

  "I actually—"

  "Please, I can't go into your offices. I'm too high-profile right now and with the email hacking of late...just do this for me, okay?"

  For him or for Natalie?

  Either way, he knew he couldn't refuse.

  "Okay, Franco. I'll see you on Saturday."

  "Excellent. Ciao."

  The line clicked off and Brooks took a deep breath. Maybe if he told Natalie why he'd decided to go to the Gala, it'd be easier to break off their date. With any luck, he could convince her to join him and ease Franco's concerns.

  Then, his door bumped open and Garret prowled inside, Eliza hot on his heels.

  "I told him—" she started, but Brooks already knew how that story was bound to end.

  "It's fine, Eliza. Will you call Natalie over here? Tell her it's important and insist that it's not a trap."

  "Not a—?"

  "Just trust me. And get the door on your way out?" She nodded, and when the door was finally closed he turned his attention to his murderous-looking brother. Garret leered at him from the corner of his desk, his mouth set in one tight, long line.

  "I'm going to the Gala." Brooks said.

  "You're damn right you're going to the gala. You've blown off every social event for practically the last month and now you're telling me—"

  "That I'm going to the gala. Calm down."

  Garret swallowed hard, and Brooks tiled his head to the side as he surveyed him, waiting for the waves of his rage to crash and mellow.

  "Is that all?" Brooks asked.

  "What the hell is going on with you? I mean, I don't mind that you're not in the society section every week next to some crying socialite, but people have been calling to ask where you've been. We need to be out in the community. That's part of your job."

  "Look, I know, I've just been distracted."

  "By Natalie?"

  He paused for a moment. There was no way his brother could know about Brooks’ relationship with Natalie, not unless she’d told Rachael, and she’d sworn that she wouldn’t.

  They’d kept it cool around the office, too. He barely even got to see her anymore, and on the off chance he did, they never dared make eye contact.

  “Who said it was Natalie?” He tried for his best casual voice, but Garret only rolled his eyes.

  “Do you take me for an idiot? You haven’t been out in public, you haven’t been hovering around her desk like a sick puppy, and now you’re handing in reports on time.”

  Brooks gritted his teeth. No sense in denying his brother’s assumptions, but that didn’t mean he had to affirm them, either. "Why
I've been distracted is none of your goddamn business. Just go back to planning your wedding and leave me to take care of this, okay?"

  Garret stared at him for a long moment, then gave him a curt nod and headed for the door.

  Just as he was about to reach for the handle, though, it flung open, nearly slapping him in the face as Natalie burst through the door.

  "What's your angle?" she said, and then blushed when she realized Garret was standing there.

  He smiled, then headed out without a word.

  When the door closed behind him again, she repeated herself, "what's your angle?"

  "No angle." He held up his hands and tried to bite back the smile that was tugging at his lips. If he grinned, it'd be that much harder to convince her he wasn't up to anything.

  "I'm not having sex with you on your desk."

  "How about on the floor?" He raised his eyebrows. It was too hard to resist the temptation to tease her.

  "Nowhere in the office. We've been over this. I swear, Brooks, if—"

  "Hey, hey, hey, cool it. I only wanted to ask if you'd mind changing our plans this weekend?"

  She eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

  "The charity gala is this weekend and I was wondering if you might go with me?"

  "I thought you—"

  "Hated it? I do, but Franco Del Rossi wants to meet and discuss terms for coming on with us as a client. I thought you might be interested in joining that discussion."

  "Franco...but I told you, we don't have a bargain.”

  "I know that, but a client is a client. What do you say?"

  She chewed on her bottom lip. "People will see us there together."

  "Yes, they will. But I want them to. I know you're nervous, but I'm sick of pretending I'm not with you. I want to show you off."

  "I don't know."

  "Well, think about it, okay? I do have to go regardless, but I would rather it was with you."

  She nodded slowly, and then turned on her heel to leave.

  "Hey, I didn't upset you with this, right? I thought you'd be happy to--"