by Kira Archer
Cole frowned and continued to his office. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he walked into. The lights had been dimmed, someone was burning some kind of aromatherapy crap, and in the middle of the room, Kiersten lay face down on a massage table, covered with nothing but a sheet, while a big blond hulk of obvious Viking descent diligently rubbed her down with glistening oils.
Cole stared, momentarily stunned. What in the ever-loving fuck was she doing?
Well, if you wanted to get fired, getting the interns to do your job while you got a massage in the boss’s office was a good way to go about it. And explained why everyone in the office behind him was doing their best to peek over their cubicles and watch the show.
The masseuse glanced up at him, and Cole held up his finger to his mouth, hoping the man kept his mouth shut, and then jerked his thumb at the door.
The guy nodded. “Just one moment,” he said to Kiersten. Then he left them alone.
Cole quietly closed the door behind him and stripped his jacket, then took the masseuse’s spot. He looked down at the tapered lines of Kiersten’s back, glistening with warm oil. Flashes from the nightclub invaded his mind. Oh, this was such a bad idea. Then again, she willingly stripped down in his office for a massage. So a massage was what she was going to get.
He took one of the bottles of oil and liberally coated his hands. The masseuse had been working on her shoulders, so that’s where he started. He hesitated only briefly, his hands hovering over her skin. And then he committed. He pressed his fingers into her muscles. Good God, she had rock-hard knots beneath that porcelain skin of hers.
And whose fault is that?
He shook off the thought and kept massaging, working at her shoulders until her muscles were loose and pliant and she was moaning beneath his fingers. He closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on himself. This was turning into something far more erotic than he’d anticipated.
She uttered another small moan. “Oh, that feels amazing.”
Cole’s head nearly spun at the speed with which his blood rushed south of the border. He let his hands drift lower, working the muscles through her back, his fingers trailing along her spine. Over and over. Running down her sides. Skimming oh so close to those tantalizing breasts of hers.
This had been a terrible idea. He was supposed to be trying to get her to quit, not get her into bed. That would be exceptionally bad. Well, actually it would be fucking amazing. But afterward would be a nightmare.
And none of that made a damn difference because he couldn’t make himself stop to save his life.
Her breathing sped up and he moved back to her neck, slipping his hands beneath her hair. The faint scent of magnolia floated to him, and he leaned forward so he could get a good whiff, sliding his hands down her arms while he did so.
Then he moved to the head of the table so he could get her back again. Leaning forward to press into her flesh, his hands drifting under the towel and stopping just before the top of her buttocks, the precariousness of his position didn’t escape him. Her head was mere inches from a body part that very much wanted to meet her. He dipped back down, trying to keep himself in check. But with her body warm and slick under his hands and soft moans emanating from her as he touched her, he was seconds from having to excuse himself.
His hands skimmed up her sides again, and she dragged in a tremulous breath. And then she raised her head. He’d been leaning over to reach her back which brought her face-to-face with him, mere inches away. Her eyes stared directly into his. Widened. Their gazes locked for exactly half a second.
And then she was scrambling up, clutching the sheet to her chest like it was the last barrier between her and a fiery pit of scorpions.
Chapter Nine
“What are you doing?” Kiersten nearly shouted at him.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage so hard it had to be doing damage. The rest of her, though, still tingled from where he’d touched her. She wasn’t sure if her trembling legs stemmed from the shock of finding out who was massaging her, or the fact that she’d been fantasizing that it had been his hands on her when she’d found out they actually had been. Either way, she needed to sit down before she fell down.
She plopped onto the couch and drew her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself as small and inaccessible as possible. Thankfully, the sheet was large enough to cover everything, and she draped as much of it over her shoulders as she could while still leaving plenty to cover her vital bits.
Cole, damn him, didn’t seem fazed at all. He calmly took a towel from the sideboard where the masseuse had left his things and cleaned the oil from his hands. “I thought it was fairly obvious. Giving you a massage, which you were apparently enjoying.”
“I was not.”
That damn eyebrow of his cocked up. “The moans coming from you said otherwise.”
She glared at him, trying to think of a good comeback to that. Hard to argue with the truth though. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought Toby was massaging me.”
“Toby?”
“Yes, Toby, and those moans were for him.”
The other eyebrow went up.
“Not like that,” she said. She dropped her head on her knees, trying to remember why she’d thought this was a good idea.
Well, in her defense, she hadn’t expected him to come in and participate. He was supposed to march in, get pissed she was using company time, assets, and his office for something so personal, and fire her on the spot. Not join in. How was she supposed to get herself fired if he kept responding in ways she never expected?
“I’m sorry you were moaning for the wrong person. But really, what else is a man supposed to think when he walks into his office and sees his assistant nude and oiled up?”
“Um, maybe that he should go back out and give her some privacy.”
“You were in my office. If you wanted privacy, you could have done this in your office. Or better yet, at home.”
Hard to argue with that point, but it’s hard to get fired from home. “You were at a meeting. I thought I’d have enough time.”
“Well, you thought wrong. And I’m sorry if you were upset that I took Toby’s place, but in my defense the poor guy had worn himself out trying to work those knots out of your shoulders.”
“Yeah, and whose fault is it those knots are there?”
His eyes widened. “You’re not suggesting it’s mine, are you?”
She uncurled her legs, her embarrassment giving way to irritation. “Of course it’s your fault. You’re the one who has me running off my feet twenty-four hours a day, doing the work of five people, and—”
“You knew that was the job when you took it.”
She stopped and took a deep breath, surprised she’d dared speak to him that way. “Yes, I know. But knowing something and experiencing it are two completely different things.”
His gaze raked over her. “That is very true.”
That fine-tuned tremor ran through her body again, and she clenched her muscles against the delicious sensation. Oh, he was good. But she wasn’t one of his models he could play with and put away when he was bored. Time to turn the tables on the Boss Man.
“Okay, you’re right. It was bad of me to use your office.” She stood and let the sheet fall from her shoulders, though she kept the rest of it clutched tightly to her chest, her fist right between her breasts. A perfect vision of sexy modesty, if she did say so herself. The sudden flush of his cheeks gave her a hint she was probably right. “I know what a breach of protocol this was. I’d completely understand if you’d rather not work with me anymore.”
Okay, that might have been a bit too strong of a lead, but come on, the man was being impossible. What did a girl have to do to get fired around here?
He stood, much too close for her comfort, but no way was she going to step back and let him know that.
“I agree. It was completely inappropriate.”
She held her breath. This was it. Finally.
/>
“But then it wasn’t entirely appropriate for me to take over for Toby like I did.”
Seriously? She released her breath. “Not entirely appropriate? I think I could successfully argue that what you did was worse.”
“Are we playing mine is bigger than yours?”
She couldn’t quite keep the smile from her lips at that one. “No, I just meant I used your office space. You used my…space.”
The words tripped out of her mouth and there was no stopping her cheeks from flaming red hot. That was so not what she’d meant to say.
That intense gaze of his raked down her again, and her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t think I’d phrase it quite like that.”
“No?”
He shook his head, scraping his bottom lip ever-so-briefly with his teeth in a tiny, insanely sexy bite. Where the hell did he learn moves like that? “I think I gave you exactly what you needed.”
She was starting to understand why the women of the world seemed unable to keep their silk thongs on around him. She swallowed hard and tried to hold it together. A few days ago she’d have willingly shoved this man in front of a train, and now it was all she could do to keep from dropping the sheet she held so she could climb him like a tree. When had all that changed?
Probably somewhere between her third and fourth shots of tequila and a hot beat on the dance floor at the club.
“Kiersten?”
She blinked and brought her gaze back into focus, realizing much too late that she’d been staring at those full lips of his while he rambled on about whatever it was he’d been saying.
“What?”
He gave her an overly amused half smile and repeated himself. “I said that under the circumstances, I’d completely understand if you’d rather not work with me.”
Yeah. She didn’t think so. They stared at each other, totally at an impasse. No way was she going to quit, and he apparently had no intention of firing her. She narrowed her eyes, staring at him more intently. He merely stood with that calculating, stoic stare that had sent more than one power-suit-wearing scion into hiding.
Finally, she blinked. Damn it. She never was good at playing chicken. “Why don’t we just forget it,” she said.
He nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
He turned and walked to the other side of his desk, breaking the spell between them and leaving her standing naked in a sheet in the middle of his office, feeling like a total jackass.
“I’ll, um…just go get dressed.”
“Probably a good idea,” he said, already busy on his computer with something, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had just happened.
She didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. It wasn’t like he was watching anyway. She hiked up her sheet and dragged it into the bathroom, where she got dressed as quickly as possible.
Once she was ready, she stood staring at the door, supremely unwilling to face him again after what had happened. She leaned her head against the door and breathed deeply. What was she doing? She was supposed to be getting herself fired. Instead, she kept getting herself in great positions to get royally screwed by her boss, and not in the way she was going for.
That tremor that she was starting to associate with him ran through her again, and she took another deep breath.
“Keep it together, Abbott,” she muttered. “This shouldn’t be so hard.”
“Kiersten?”
She squeaked and jumped back from the door, the proximity of his voice startling her. After months of him calling her by every name under the sun but her own, it was odd hearing her actual name coming from him. And much nicer than she’d expected.
“Everything all right in there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat to remove the strangled sound. “I’ll be right out.”
She needed to hurry and get fired before she lost her damn mind. The thought of what she’d set in motion for that Friday night brought a smile to her lips. Oh yeah. Public humiliation. Surely, he wouldn’t be able to keep from firing her after the “goof” she was about to make.
“You won this one, Harrington. But the war isn’t over yet,” she whispered.
She smoothed out her skirt, gave her hair a quick check in the mirror, and went back out to face her adversary.
Chapter Ten
Kiersten took another sip of her champagne, hoping the bubbling liquid would calm the riot going on in her stomach.
Cole should be walking in the door any second, and the shit was going to well and truly hit the fan. Part of her wished she could have stayed home that evening, where it was safe. The rest of her wouldn’t miss it for the world. The charity ball that evening was a costume event, but the outfit she’d chosen for him wasn’t quite what the event planners had in mind, she was sure. If he wore it, the photos were going to be priceless. And he’d definitely wear it. He never questioned what she selected for him.
She brushed invisible lint off her tasteful black-and-white polka-dotted cocktail dress with its full skirt and sweetheart neckline and lightly touched her 1940s curls, making sure her hair was still in place. Then she checked her phone again. Nine forty-five. The annual Henry and George Ball had been in full swing for almost an hour now. Swing being the operative word. The Swing Kings were on stage and had the ballroom hopping. Despite her anticipation of Cole’s arrival, she couldn’t help but tap her toes with a little surreptitious sway of her body. The music was infectious. She wanted to grab the nearest guy and have him toss her around the floor like they were on Dancing with the Stars. But her eyes were glued to the entrance.
Five minutes later, she was rewarded. She took another sip of her champagne just as Cole came striding into the room, staring at his phone as always. She spit her champagne back in her glass before she choked on it. Oh, this was better than she’d ever dared to hope.
He was totally decked out like some Baroque king, complete with the curled wig, overly bedazzled velvet jacket and satin breeches, and high-heeled shoes. He glanced up and she knew the exact moment he realized something was off. She also knew the exact moment he spotted her. His expression went from confusion to flat-out fury. At least she thought that was fury. Maybe it was extreme surprise. Either way, he was making a beeline for her and those eyes of his had her rooted to the spot, though every instinct she had screamed at her to run. Weren’t her fight-or-flight instincts supposed to kick in during moments like this? Science didn’t say anything about Cole-induced paralysis.
He came to a stop in front of her. The band still played, but the utter stillness around them made Kiersten fairly certain no one was paying attention to anything but the guy in the crazy King Louis costume.
“Kiersten,” he said, drawing her name out like a parent would to a misbehaving child.
Showtime.
She leaned in. “Didn’t you get my text?”
“What text?”
She pulled up her text history on her phone and gave what she hoped was a believable gasp. “Oh my God, I didn’t send it. I mean, I thought I did, but I must not have hit the button hard enough.”
She showed him the phone. He glanced at the message she’d typed out earlier that day in anticipation of this moment. The message explaining she’d misunderstood the theme and that he could just wear one of his pinstripe suits as a costume.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. “So the theme is Swing Kings: Give it a Twirl instead of King of the World, huh?”
“I tried to let you know,” she said, with her best contrite voice.
Cole’s gaze never wavered. If he didn’t turn down the intensity soon, she was going to start sweating.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a man in a bright red zoot suit, complete with a black shirt and white tie, clapped him on his shoulder.
“Harrington! I think you missed the memo. The theme is the 1940s, not the 1740s.” He chuckled at his own joke, and Cole gave him a strained smile.
“Oh, you know me, Perry
. I like to shake things up now and then. Old King Louis was supposedly a major swinger back in the day, if you know what I mean.”
Perry Michaels, CEO of one of the largest financial consulting firms in the city, clapped him on the back again, guffawing at Cole’s naughty implication. “Ah, you old dog. Better watch out, young lady,” he said to Kiersten.
“Oh, I will,” she said. Cole’s gaze shot back over to her, and she hastily drained her glass, praying the alcohol would quickly go to her head.
“I think I’m going to take this young lady for a spin,” Cole said, plucking the glass out of her hand and handing it to a surprised Perry.
Before either of them could say anything else, Cole grabbed Kiersten’s hand and tugged her onto the dance floor.
“Mr. Harrington, I really don’t know how…”
“Follow my lead. You’ll be fine.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “If I can manage in this ridiculous outfit, which we will discuss later, by the way, then I’m sure you can figure it out.”
He grasped her waist and spun her away from him before she could protest, though she still worried about what sort of retribution he’d take for the pictures and videos that were probably already popping up all over social media. The music was incredible, a mix of swing and electronics that she hadn’t even known existed until that night. She couldn’t help but get into it.
And Cole was just another huge surprise.
“How do you know how to dance like this?” she asked during one of the sections of the music when he drew her in and held her close while they danced in a fast, tight circle.
“Dance lessons as a kid.”
He spun her out again and worked some fancy footwork while she tried desperately to keep up.
“Why, impressed?” he asked, his cocky grin already sure of her answer.
She was impressed. Wasn’t going to tell him that, though. Then he picked her up, one arm behind her back and one under her legs, and spun. She clung to his neck, biting her lip to keep a shriek from erupting.
