Submitting to the Boss: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 2

by Jasmine Haynes

  God, he felt good. She thought of the orgasm in the car. She should have done him, too, really given him something to remember.

  He leaned in, lips to her ear. “I can smell you on my fingers, and I can still taste you.”

  Ruby opened her mouth to say something. It was just too weird to be doing this in front of Clay. Of course, she’d done all manner of sexual things for Clay, and with a lot of other men. But this was different. This wasn’t about turning him on; this was about who was the man in charge. And it wasn’t Clay anymore.

  But Holt didn’t let her get a word out. He simply swooped in and took her mouth with a deep kiss, his tongue on hers. She could swear she tasted herself in his kiss, too. She forgot Clay was looking on. She forgot the cars and the people and the noise and the exhaust fumes. There was only Holt, and she never wanted to let him go. She wrapped her arms around him, held him tight, gave him back the kiss with everything she had.

  Then he was setting her on her feet. She felt dazed.

  “Here’s the car keys.” He had to curl her fingers around the remote in case she dropped the whole bunch. “I’ll call you when I get there.” Like something you’d say to a girlfriend or a wife...but not a secretary.

  Finally letting her go, Holt stepped to the curb to grab his stuff.

  She glanced at Clay. His expression was completely unreadable. But then he’d always been that way except in the heat of the moment. He gave her a slight nod. Holt blew her a kiss. Then they melted into the crowd and disappeared inside the terminal.

  Back in the car, she put her fingers to her lips and savored that kiss for one last moment before she maneuvered into the airport traffic.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Your punishment appears to be working,” Clay said as he idly rifled through his conference registration bag, tossing the advertising junk in a pile on the coffee table in front of them.

  It had taken Clay long enough to mention that steamy kiss at the airport. They’d had the entire flight from San Francisco to Phoenix, but they’d discussed business for the most part, when Clay wasn’t flipping through paperwork.

  “She’s coming around to my way of thinking,” Holt said. The kiss had been as much for Ruby’s benefit as for Clay’s. Holt was staking his claim in no uncertain terms. And Ruby needed to realize that.

  He took a healthy drink of the excellent coffee the resort served. Everything was topnotch. While waiting for Ward and Spence to arrive, they’d taken seats in the lounge, which was filled with comfortable sofa-and-chair groupings rather than tables. It was fronted by a wall of windows affording a magnificent view of the golf course. How the groundskeepers managed to keep it so damn green in this dry climate was beyond him. The water bill must have been astronomical. The weather, however, was exceptionally fine. He’d been to Phoenix in May before and found the heat oppressive after a Bay Area spring, but currently it wasn’t much above eighty-five. He hoped the cooler trend continued for Saturday morning’s golf game.

  “Ruby’s never really going to change,” Clay observed.

  Nothing against Clay, but Ruby needed a heavy hand to guide her. “I have to disagree. She already has changed. She regrets what happened.”

  “I never doubted that she regretted it.” Because of what she’d lost, that was Clay’s implication.

  “I’ve decided she’s learned her lesson,” Holt said.

  Clay gave a half laugh, half snort. A group of businessmen—and one lady— burst out with a raucous round of laughter at precisely the same moment, as if punctuating Clay’s nonverbal comment.

  Holt didn’t take offense. “I’m ready for something more ongoing.” He had no intention of letting Ruby go now that he’d had her. Clay needed to accept that; so did everyone at West Coast. So did Ruby.

  Clay eyed him. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “We’re an item. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Or whatever you call it when you’re our age. I might even think about having her move in with me.”

  “Are you crazy?” Though quiet, Clay’s voice carried a sharp edge.

  Holt gave him a long, speculative look. “No more crazy than Jessica Murphy quitting her job so she could be with you, her boss.”

  Clay opened his mouth to fight, then closed it, thinking a moment. “I’m in love with her.” He shrugged. “It hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d do anything necessary to be with her.”

  “I realize that.”

  For Clay, there was the question of impropriety—cooking the books—but Holt and Ruby had no such issue. She had no signing authority, and any problems with purchase orders could be handled by having HR authorize her purchases.

  “And you’re saying you feel that way about Ruby?” There was a note of total incredulity in Clay’s voice.

  Holt understood. In Clay’s mind, Ruby wasn’t to be trusted. He had good reason to think that, but Holt had an alternative view. Ruby was excellent at her job, loyal. Everything she did was about what he needed. So yes, he could trust her. As for love... “I don’t know about love. I know about desire. I know that we’re good for each other.”

  He had never gotten quite this personal with Clay. It was simply something he didn’t do, not with anyone. They could talk about sex—minus any graphic details—but when it came to emotion, that was something entirely different. Yet, because of Clay’s history with Ruby, he owed the man an explanation. “She’s special. I want more from her.” Then he shrugged. “Maybe I’m getting older and I don’t feel like being alone anymore. Ruby fills a hole in me.” It was the best he could come up with.

  Clay held up his hands. “Then I wish you the best.”

  Holt laughed. “I hear a but in there.”

  Clay shook his head, smiled. “No. You’re old enough to know what she’s like and accept her that way.”

  He knew exactly what Ruby was, and he wanted her. He’d had her in his work life for four years. Now he wanted her in his house, in his bed, and in every part of his life.

  “Saved by the bell on a comeback for that comment,” Clay said dryly, pointing to the lounge’s entrance.

  In addition to rolling his suitcase behind him, Ward Restin carried two computer bags. Having only recently turned forty, he was the youngest of all West Coast’s vice presidents.

  Stopping across the coffee table, he set down Holt’s computer case. “Here you go.” At six-one, he was a thin, wiry man, like a boxer who didn’t have as much bulk as his opponent, but he could move a hell of a lot faster.

  “Thanks for bringing it. Take a load off.” Holt pointed to the empty chair in their grouping. “Where’s Spence?”

  Ward took the seat, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “We checked into our rooms, and he’s taking his bag up, but I wanted to get you the computer first.”

  “I appreciate the trouble.”

  Ward swallowed before puffing out a breath. “Not a problem.” He closed his mouth, opened it again, then almost as if it burst out of him, he said, “Your daughter was there. She found it for me.” His face colored as he looked at Holt. Then he scraped his hand back through his short brown hair, leaving furrows that took a few seconds to settle back into place.

  “She’s early,” Holt noted. “She wasn’t supposed to arrive until Saturday afternoon.”

  “Well,” Ward said, looking at the coffee table, then over Holt’s shoulder to the view behind him. “She was there.”

  Odd. Not that Cassandra would arrive early—she always made up her own schedule—but odd that Ward seemed flustered by the encounter. Holt had to smile. She must have said or done something outrageous. That was one of her favorite pastimes, scandalizing people. Her irreverence, in addition to her sparkling nature, was one of the things Holt loved about his daughter. He was proud of her, too. She was making a name for herself as a fashion designer down in L.A.

  “Thanks again for the extra trip,” he said.

  Ward nodded.

  Hmm. He would have seen Ruby’s car in the
driveway, too. What would he have made of that? Of course, the obvious explanation would be that Ruby had driven herself to his house and they’d taken his car to the airport. Then again, maybe Ward, being over in the engineering building, had never even seen Ruby in her Beemer.

  Not that any of it mattered. Soon enough, he was going to make sure everyone knew that Ruby had graduated from executive assistant to so much more.

  * * * * *

  Ruby relaxed in her bath. Scooping up a handful of bubbles, she lightly blew them away. Her glass of champagne and her cell phone sat on a small table at the side of the tub. It was a little after eight. Holt had been gone over twelve hours, and she actually missed him. She didn’t expect him to call until later, but she kept her phone nearby just in case.

  She opened a jar of mango-scented sea salt scrub. Raising one leg high out of the water, she smoothed her skin. She did the other leg and foot, then her arms, and finally her upper chest and throat. Second only to her hands, that was where a woman showed her age.

  When she was done, she sipped her champagne, enjoying the sizzle and sweetness on her tongue. That might be fun, a gulp of cold, fizzy champagne, then taking Holt’s cock in her mouth to let him feel it. Or a strong mint under her tongue as she sucked him. Ruby knew all the tricks. She had so many things to try on him as soon as he got home.

  Her cell rang. She quickly dried off her hands with a washcloth she’d placed on the edge of the tub.

  “Hi, sweetie.” She didn’t have to look; she knew it was him.

  “Do you miss me?”

  Ruby purred. It was so romantic. “Of course I miss you. I’m in the tub waiting for you.”

  “No phone sex tonight, baby.”

  Ruby pouted. “Why?”

  “A lot of schmoozing going on here in the evenings. I won’t be back to the room until late.”

  He could call her anytime. Ruby didn’t care. Then her stomach sank. Had he met some smart, sexy executive babe he wanted to do the nasty with? No, not after the way he’d kissed her at the airport in front of Clay. He’d been making a statement. Even she knew that. Except that he hadn’t invited her for dinner with his daughter. So just what kind of statement had he been making with that kiss?

  But she wasn’t going to get snarky about it. Been there, done that before he left. “That’s too bad. Does that mean I have permission to take care of myself for the duration?”

  “Hell, no.” Then he laughed. “I want you crazy by the time I get home. No playing.”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” She was already crazy. She’d gotten too used to sex with him, too dependent. Now she wanted it all the time.

  “Good girl.”

  “By the way, I’m still driving your car. I didn’t feel like going all the way back up to your place after I finished work today. Is that okay?” Driving back from the airport, she’d smelled his scent in the car. The expensive leather had formed to his butt. She liked the sensations, the reminders.

  “That’s fine. I can get Cassandra to drive me to work on Monday. All right, gotta go, baby. Duty calls.”

  She tried not to let it prick her bubble that he still didn’t offer a dinner invitation. Instead, she blew him a kiss she didn’t think he could hear, then said good-bye. If Cassandra drove him to work on Monday, that meant Ruby and Holt would have to go home together. There were definite possibilities in that.

  The only problem was that Ruby wasn’t good at being on her own. Holt phoned a few times on Thursday and Friday while she was at work, having her check this or that for him, but the calls were brief and hardly personal enough to satisfy her. The only satisfaction she did get was the fact that she hadn’t seen Jessica Murphy at all, not one time.

  But Holt didn’t call her at night either. Spending time with the blonde executive babe of Ruby’s imagination? Jesus, she had to stop with this crazy fear thing. Where had all her self-confidence gone?

  Not only was she ridiculously jealous over nothing, she was going crazy without an orgasm. He’d wanted her horny, and she was. Her skin felt tight, her body needy. She couldn’t stop thinking about all the things she wanted him to do to her, and everything she wanted to do to him. God, she was a mess of crazy emotions, up, down, all around.

  Saturday she made an effort to put the apartment in order, or at least make a big dent in it. She’d been at Holt’s so much that most of her belongings were still in boxes.

  After hours of unpacking, she took a much needed bath. It didn’t relax her nearly enough, and she’d gone back to unpacking, wearing an old robe she didn’t care about getting dirty with all the dust on the boxes. God, there were still two more nights before she saw Holt. How would she make it?

  Maybe she should have retracted her bitchy little comment about making him take a taxi from the airport. She could have seen him for a little while before he spent the rest of the weekend with his daughter.

  Damn, didn’t that sound pathetic. But she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to look in his eyes and make sure he hadn’t been...

  The doorbell rang, a strident buzz she wasn’t used to yet. It was almost seven. Holt’s plane was supposed to arrive at seven, but maybe it had been a little early. Maybe it was him.

  Oh my God, the robe! It was old, grubby, and so not sexy. Whatever. She couldn’t keep Holt waiting. What if he went away? Ruby jumped up from the box of kitchen utensils—ones she rarely used—and ran to the door.

  She almost screamed in frustration to find none other than Bradley Palmer on her doorstep.

  “How the hell do you know where I live?” she snapped.

  Bradley Palmer, the bane of her existence, smiled sheepishly. She really hated that kind of wimpy smile. His hair appeared a much more nondescript shade of brown than before, and really, couldn’t he shave? The stubble look was out, in her opinion. She preferred Holt’s clean-shaven jaw line.

  “Can I come in?” Bradley asked.

  “No you may not. Are you stalking me?”

  “No,” he said, a whiny pout to his lips.

  Though Bradley topped six feet, Ruby was taller than average, and despite being in her bare feet, she stared him down.

  “One of the guys on the baseball team said you were driving Holt Montgomery’s car, and they thought maybe you two were doing the do, so he followed you to see where you went.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” The baseball team that West Coast sponsored had several employees on it. Except that Bradley was no longer an employee. He’d quit. “Holt’s out of town, and I took him to the airport. And I can’t believe one of those airheads followed me. Who was it?”

  “I can’t tell, Ruby.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, then slammed the door. She could wheedle it out of him. “Tell. Me,” she stated more emphatically.

  “No, Ruby.”

  Bradley had never said no to her. She glared at him. Then decided to go at it another way, by disarming him with sweetness. “I thought you were going back home to work at your dad’s accounting firm.”

  He sagged onto her couch, his shoulders slumped. “He decided that with this economy his business has fallen off too much, and he can’t afford to take me on.”

  He looked so hangdog, she felt a bit sorry for him. He was twenty-nine years old, he’d screwed up his job, and now he couldn’t even run home to Daddy. To be honest, she couldn’t assign all the blame to Bradley for what happened with Clay. She was the one who’d broken the rules. Perhaps, too, she’d given Bradley expectations. Really, what was the point in being mad at him?

  “I’m sorry about that.” She sat beside him, patted his knee. “But that doesn’t mean you can have people spy on me and just show up at my apartment like this. We’re done, Bradley. You need to move on.”

  “Couldn’t you talk to Clay for me, tell him I’m sorry, and ask him to take me back?”

  He had to be joking. “If you really want your job back, talk to Greg yourself and see what he says.” Greg Stevens w
as head of Finance and Bradley’s former boss. With Jessica quitting, Accounting would be in a bind. She still didn’t think Greg would rehire Bradley, but that wasn’t her call.

  “I guess I could try.” He glanced up at her. “How about one last screw for the road? You were always the best there ever was, Ruby.”

  She should have gotten mad all over again, but he was still a handsome boy, and Ruby enjoyed being appreciated, especially with those debilitating thoughts about Holt’s executive babe. She was jealous, she was bored, she was horny. And Holt had left her on her own for three days, five by the time she finally saw him again on Monday. Her ego needed a little stroking, and her body needed a little male pampering—no, a lot of male pampering. Bradley was just the ticket. She could do him; Holt would never know. It would take the edge off.

  Her thoughts echoed all the rationalizations she’d used for breaking Clay’s rules. What she’d done wasn’t just about screwing Bradley on Clay’s desk or in his bed; it was that she had a total disregard for his rules, for him. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. She’d been bored, and she’d used spicing up their sex life as an excuse to take what she wanted without regard to Clay’s feelings. She’d tested his rules, to see what she could get away with. She’d been a selfish bitch. Not a nice thought, but true. She’d been so into herself that she thought she could do whatever she wanted without any consequences.

  She would not jeopardize her new relationship with Holt. She couldn’t bear it if he left her now. He’d given her a new chance. She wouldn’t break a single one of his rules, and she knew in return, he’d make their sex too exciting to resist. She might be replaceable, but Holt wasn’t.

  Come to think of it, she wanted to be completely, totally, absolutely crazy horny for Holt when he got home. She wanted him to call her into his office on Monday and spank her, or do anything else he wanted.

  She smiled at Bradley almost fondly. His visit had made her see things clearly. “You’re such a schmoozer, Bradley. But the answer is no, N-O. And now it’s time for you to get out.” She didn’t even care anymore who at West Coast had spied on her. It was a blessing in disguise, as the old saying went.