Up Close and Personal

by Magda Alexander

  “Yes, dear.” Her voice holds neither joy nor regret. Like every damn time I say goodbye to her.

  “You done, Mr. McK?” Bobby greets me at the lobby. I met him at one of the stock car races. He’s in his early thirties, same as me, and had grown disillusioned with the racing circuit. After my accident, he was one of the few who visited me at the hospital and managed not to feel sorry for me. Before I was discharged I asked if he’d like to be my chauffeur. He’d jumped at the chance of a steady salary and regular meals. I thought he’d grow bored with the life, but he’s fallen for Rose, one of the maids. According to Moseley, they are saving money to marry someday.

  We ride back home in silence until the phone rings. “Hello.”

  “Mr. MacKay?” Caitlyn. Her voice quivers. Wonder what disaster has struck now.

  I take a deep breath. It feels like the first I’ve taken today. “Yes, Ms. Bennett.”

  “Ummm, one of the guests is sick with the flu.”

  “Which one?”

  “A Mrs. Armstrong. She can’t make it. Neither can her husband.”

  Not a disaster. We’re down to ten. “Okay.”

  “Mr. Jeffrey Sellers has an emergency he needs to handle. And Mrs. Simmons’s daughter just flew into town so she can’t attend.”

  Sensing a pattern here, I ask. “How many guests are left?”

  “Four.” She rattles off the names of three lesser luminaries from the Washington elite, plus Brandon Lattimer, my Vice President of Finance, whom I’d invited as well.

  “More food for us then.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She sounds relieved.

  I hang up. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make them pay for the snub.

  When I arrive home, the place hums with activity. People coming and going. And Ms. Bennett barking out orders like a five-star general. “Mr. MacKay! You’re home.”

  I don’t question why her voice makes me happy. Not after the morning I had. “I do live here, do I not?”

  She giggles. “Yes, of course. I just didn’t expect you back til this afternoon.” When something crashes in the distance, she lets out a soft curse. “I’ll go find out what that was.”

  “You do that.” My lips turn up in a smile. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  “I won’t.” She yells running off. Hope whatever broke wasn’t expensive.

  When I arrive at my desk, I pull up my company staff listing and ask my computer to dial a few of their phone numbers for me. Apologizing for the late invite, I ask six of them to the dinner party. Happily, they all accept. Good. I’ll enjoy conversations with people I actually like. As soon as I hang up with the last person, I call Caitlyn into my office. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say about the change of plans.

  “I invited six people to the party from the office. So we’re back to twelve for dinner, including you and me.”

  “Ahhhh.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No. Sir. No problem. It’s just I told Chef Henri there would be only six.”

  I grin, anticipating the Gallic outburst from my French chef. “Well, go tell him that number has doubled.”

  “Very well, Sir.”

  “And Ms. Bennett?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you run into any problems with Chef Henri, let me know.” I pay my chef an obscene amount of money, more than enough for him to jump through whatever culinary hoop I ask him to jump through.

  The dinner party is not the disaster I expect. My employees, of course, know each other so it’s easy to see why their conversation flows. But I’m pleasantly surprised by those of the Washington elite who managed to attend. They’re actually interested in my business and ask intelligent questions of both my staff and me. The abundance of premium spirits—wine at the table, top notch liquor afterward doesn’t hurt. After dinner, we retire to the music room where I arranged for a string quartet to play for us. Caitlyn vanishes, probably to check things in the kitchen. God only knows what she promised my cook to get him to cooperate.

  While she’s gone, one of the lesser luminaries of the Washington elite, Connor Gardner, makes his excuses. He has another engagement to attend. Strange. He sounds like he’s in pain. Maybe he’s not a fan of string quartets. At midnight the last of our guests stumbles out, half inebriated, to where his limo driver waits for him. I return to the living room to thank Caitlyn. But she’s not there. I go searching for her and find her in the library, searching the shelves.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Going by where she’s standing, she’s not looking for light reading. The only books on that shelf are business books.

  “Looking for a book that Brandon suggested.” Brandon Lattimer, my head of finance. They’d been thick as thieves during dinner. “Ah, here it is.”

  “What is it?”

  “Valuation for Mergers and Acquisitions. He recommended I read it before Hong Kong.”

  “I should have known Brandon would waste his time at the dinner table talking shop.”

  “He didn’t. Well, not much. I asked him what he did and I was able to follow him up to a point, but then when I couldn’t quite understand everything, he recommended this book.”

  “It’s not exactly scintillating reading.” I take it from her hand, and she tenses up.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. May I have the book, please?”

  But I can tell she’s upset. She’s not her usual vibrant self. “Something happened. Tell me.”

  “It’s nothing.” The more she denies it, the more I’m sure something’s wrong.

  “Ms. Bennett, I can’t abide liars. Now tell me the truth.” Sensing she’s getting ready to run, I grab her hand to stop her.

  She gasps. “Ouch.”

  I immediately let go. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It wasn’t you.”

  Not me. Someone else then. Somebody hurt her? “Who?”

  “No one. I. . . I hurt myself.”

  “No, you didn’t. Tell me. Tell me, Caitlyn, or, by God, I’ll shake it out of you.”

  She breathes out a hard sigh. “Connor Gardner. He pulled me into the game room and tried to . . .”

  I’ll get the bastard if it’s the last thing that I do. “Tried to what?”

  “He tried to kiss me. When I pushed him away, he yanked my arm. I struggled while he—”

  I growl.

  “Anyway, I managed to free myself and ran out. That’s all.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Connor Gardner lives on the fringes of society, going from one party to the other. I invited him because he can be amusing at times and because he contributes the occasional column to the Style section of The Washington Courier. I’d hoped he would report on the party. But now, I sincerely hope he doesn’t. If he does, I’ll sue the bastard. Hell, I may sue him anyway for hurting Caitlyn.

  “He’s your guest. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

  “You’re my guest as well, and my employee. You are to be treated honorably.” Not like a piece of meat. He’ll regret what he did to her. I have ways of making him pay. “Did he bruise your wrist?”

  “A-a little.”

  “I’ll pummel the bastard.”

  “You don’t have to.” Strangely, her voice holds a smile. “I kneed him before I ran out.”

  I laugh. “And here I thought the string quartet chased him away.”

  “It’s not funny.” Her joy has turned to anger. As well it should.

  “Oh, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Nobody should ever hurt you.” Without thinking about what who she is, who I am, I reach for her hand and kiss her wrist.

  She makes a sound of some kind. Not a protest, but a surprise. For a a couple of heartbeats, neither of us say anything. What is there to say? I’m her boss. She’s my employee. We’re headed toward forbidden territory. Again. But it’s too late to take back the kiss.

  She wiggles her hand loose from my g
rasp. “I should go. It’s late.”

  I don’t want her to leave. “Stay.”

  “I . . . can’t, Mr. MacKay.”

  “Sterling. Sure you can.” I find her shoulder and trail the satiny skin of her shoulder blade. Only a thin spaghetti strap greets me, one which wouldn’t take much to tear off. Resisting the temptation, I continue my journey to her throat, her jaw. My thumb rubs against her lips, soft as an angel’s wings. The sweetness of her beats at me. I want another taste of her mouth, of her.

  “Wh-What are you doing?”

  I chance a smile. “If you don’t know, I’m doing a lousy job of it.” She smells of something citrusy. Oranges, lemons. Whatever it is, I want to eat her up. I kiss the hollow of her throat, nibble the heartbeat that throbs beneath her silky skin.

  “Someone could come in.” She chokes out.

  She’s right, damn it. But there’s a simple solution. Trying hard to keep my lust in check, I step back. If she remains, it will be her decision. I won’t force myself on her. There’s only one entrance to the library and it locks from the inside. “The door has a lock. Turn it and stay or open it and leave. Your choice.”

  She’s trembling in my arms, but she doesn’t push away like before. “What will you do if I stay?”

  Does she really need to ask? Very well. “Kiss you, taste you. Have my wicked way with you.” I love bite her collarbone so she knows what to expect.

  Her breath harshes as her heart goes to double time. She likes what I’m doing to her. There’s a lot more. If she’s willing to take a chance.

  “Will you stop if I ask you to?” Her question comes out as a whisper.

  Pure lust shoots through me. My cock hardens, thickens. She’s tempted by my offer. And that’s more than I had before. “Yes.” Even if I have to twist myself into knots.

  She doesn’t do anything but stand there, more than likely weighing the consequences of what will happen if she stays. “I think I should go.”

  “I’ll understand if you do. But”—I capture her hand in mine, bring it to my lips, lick the pulse in her wrist—“don’t you want to know?” I’m not playing fair, but I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want this innocent rose.

  “Know what?”

  “How good we can be? I can make you feel things you’ve never felt, take you to places you’ve never been.” I wrap my hand around the hair she’s left loose down her back and pull so I can have better access to her mouth.

  “How do you know what I’ve felt, where I’ve been?” Her voice’s gone breathless.

  “I know everything about you, Caitlyn.” Teasing a finger beneath her dress’s spaghetti strap, I play with it.

  Pushing my hand away, she comes upright. “You checked me out?” She sounds offended. I don’t know why. Any other employer would have investigated her.

  But strangely enough, I never got around to it. “No.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  “Every word you speak, every sound you make, your scent, your actions. You reveal yourself to me in ways you can’t comprehend. I know you’re innocent.”

  She jerks. “I’m not. I had a boyfriend.”

  “Maybe you’re no longer a virgin, but trust me, you’re innocent of men, of the myriad of ways they can own your body, own you.”

  She lets out a shaky breath. “And you’re going to change that?”

  “I will, if you let me.” She’s teetering on the edge of consent but fearful of taking the leap into the unknown.

  “And what will you do to me? Specifically, I mean?”

  “Oh, my sweet Caitlyn. I will do things with you, not to you. There is a difference, you know. And it requires your approval. If you want to know, all you have to do is lock the door and stay.” From the moment I met her, I sensed her innate goodness. I want to surround myself with that innocence, that lack of subterfuge, even while I try my best to seduce her. I’m a bastard, I know.

  On slow steps she walks toward the entrance to the library. The door opens and closes.

  I whoosh out a breath. “Well, that’s that.” Hard and aching for her, I lean my head against the bookshelf. Should have known. She’s too pure, too innocent to take a chance on me. And who wants a blind man to make love to you?

  Something snips, and the light dims. The little I could see is gone. Did she abandon me to the dark? Is that my punishment for trying to seduce her? Panic beats at me. “Caitlyn?”

  The air shifts around me. Her scent surrounds me again.

  She curls her hand around mine. “I’m here, Sterling. You’re not alone. I never left.”

  Chapter 9

  ______________

  Caitlyn

  LETTING OUT A LAUGH, he pulls me into him. I don’t get a chance to say anything. He’s too busy devouring my mouth. I know enough about men to know what he’s doing, where he’s coming from, what he wants. But he did promise to stop if I asked him to.

  “Why did you turn down the lights?” he asks.

  “I wanted to be the same as you.” It’s silly. I know. Even with the dim illumination, I can probably see more than he can. But it’s a way to connect, to let him know I’m the same as him.

  “You’re not the same.”

  When I start to voice a protest, he brushes his finger against my lips. To silence me.

  “You’re so much kinder, sweeter, softer.”

  In the shadows, his big, powerful hands explore me, mapping the nooks and crannies of my arms, caressing my throat. Before I can draw breath, his lips mold themselves to mine again, stealing my breath, my will. I’m trembling like a leaf from the way he makes me feel.

  He picks me up, swings us around. “The chaise lounge is in front of us?”

  “Yes. About three feet.”

  He takes three steps and settles me on the couch. I shiver from its velvet softness.

  Vibrating from the nearness, the sheer size of him, I can’t help but wonder what he finds in me. A man as powerful as Sterling MacKay could have any woman he wants, that idiot ex-fiancee of his notwithstanding.

  “I want to taste you.” His voice thrums with need.

  “Kiss me, you mean?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’d like that too.” I shyly confess.

  His hand travels up my stockinged leg and pauses when it discovers my undergarment, the naughty one I chose for tonight. “You’re wearing—”

  “A garter belt.”

  Light from the full moon out tonight streams through the glass window, illuminating him. He doesn’t know it, but I can see his face. His smile resembles that of a young boy’s who’s found some hidden treasure. “Is that what you bought with my money?”

  “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t have paid me back,” he says kissing my thigh.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I will be keeping it.”

  As his mouth roams up, trailing heated devotions along my skin, I moan. “You like trophies.”

  “Yes.”

  He unsnaps the garter belt while I run my hand through his hair. I love his smell, that expensive cologne and that spicy scent of his. The stocking rolls off in his hand before he does the same to its twin. And then gently, so gently, he raises the dress hem until I’m exposed to the chill of the library. Not that I feel it. Not with my body burning up as it is.

  His finger teases the edge of my panties. “What color are they?”

  “White.”

  “Of course they are.” He’s amused, going by the smile in his voice. I never dreamed my choice of undergarment would be a source of laughter to him.

  He kisses my calves, my knees, my thighs. I’m not a virgin. I told him the truth about that. But my college boyfriend had never given me much pleasure. He only liked a quick fumble in the dark. But now with Sterling’s mouth on me? Sweet God. I didn’t know such joy existed. I’m on the verge of something, something I’ve never experienced, a pleasure like no other.

  And then my conscience rears its ugly h
ead. What am I doing? Am I really going to allow him to seduce me, here on this couch? He’s my boss. I’m his employee. Bottom line, he’s paying my salary. Did he hire me so he could do these things to me? “Stop, please stop,” I cry out.

  His head jerks up. “What’s wrong?”

  I scoot off the couch. Embarrassed to my core, I cover my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

  He stands, tall and powerful, to tower over me. “Why not?” His strained voice demands.

  How did I get myself in this mess? “I work for you. But this is not part of my duties. At least it shouldn’t be.”

  His hand vibrates with repressed tension as it roams up my arm, across my shoulder. Encircling my throat, his thumb pushes up on my chin so I’m forced to look up at him. He may not be able to see me, but I can clearly see the anger in his eyes. “I never required this as part of your job. You came willingly, remember?”

  My chest pumps air in and out of my lungs. He’s right. I did. “I shouldn’t have. Let me go. Please,” I whisper. Just that one word. Nothing more.

  “What are you afraid of, Caitlyn? Of someone finding out? There’s no one here but the two of us. No one would know.” He rests his forehead against mine. He’s trembling with need, with hunger. For me. Something I find hard to understand. I’m nothing special. Why does he want me so?

  “I can give so much pleasure. Don’t you want to know what it would be like? The two of us?”

  The coward in me replies. “No. I don’t.”

  For a couple of seconds, it’s touch and go, as his breathing harshes in and out, but then he drops his hand and steps back. “Very well. Go.”

  I don’t wait for him to change his mind, but race to the door, unlock it, and hightail it up the stairs to my room. Once I cross the threshold, I shut the door, collapse against it. As I gasp for breath, my heartbeat drums in my ears. What should I do? Should I pack and leave? How can I? I have nowhere to go. No. That’s not an option. I have my mother’s bills to pay. I need this job. So I have to stay. I’ll just stay away from him.

  I lock the door and undress, wash off my makeup, brush my hair. All the usual things I do at the end of the day. But I can still smell him on me. Should I bathe? The wicked girl in me screams ‘No.’ I want to smell him on my skin, on my hair. I want to remember what his kiss felt like. Even if I know it can never happen again.