One-Click Buy: December 2009 Silhouette Desire

by Susan Mallery

  “I know.”

  His expression was hard to read. “Why?”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “No, but you were uncomfortable.”

  “The party was dying. Something had to be done.”

  Duncan looked around at his employees, then back at her. “This wasn’t your responsibility.”

  “People should have a good time at an office party. Isn’t that the point of giving it? So they can hang out together, talk and learn about each other in a way that isn’t about work?”

  He stared at her blankly.

  She pointed at the people in the room. “Go talk to them. Ask questions about their lives. Pretend interest.”

  “Then what?”

  “Smile. It will confuse them.”

  He looked at her quizzically, then did as she said. She watched him approach a group of guys who were drinking beer and tugging at their ties.

  The employees weren’t the only ones who were confused, she thought, staring at Duncan. She was, as well. She was with him for a reason that had nothing to do with caring or being involved. He’d basically blackmailed her into pretend dating him so he could fool the world into thinking he was a nice guy. So why did she want to be next to him now, helping him? Why did the sight of his smile make her want to smile in return?

  Complications she couldn’t afford, she reminded herself. She wanted forever and Duncan wanted to be left alone. She was staff, he was the boss. There were a thousand reasons why nothing would ever work out between them.

  And not one of them could stop her from wishing for the very thing she could never have.

  Six

  Duncan kept his hand firmly around Annie’s elbow as he guided her toward his car in the parking lot. One of the first rules of boxing was not to fight mad. It gave your opponent an advantage. He’d learned the lesson also applied to all areas of life, so he wasn’t going to say anything until he was sure he was under control. A state hard to imagine as anger pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

  He was beyond pissed. He could feel the emotions boiling up inside him. The need to lash out, to yell—something he never did—nearly overwhelmed him.

  “Just say it,” Annie said calmly, when they reached the car.

  He pushed the button to unlock the doors, then opened hers. “I have nothing to say.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re practically frothing at the mouth. You need to just say it.”

  “I’m fine,” he growled, waiting until she got into the car, then closing her door.

  He walked around and got in on the driver’s side. She put her hand on his arm.

  “Duncan, you’ll feel better.”

  He angled toward her, staring into her wide blue eyes, nearly vibrating with rage. “You had no right.”

  “So you are mad.”

  “What the hell were you thinking.”

  She sighed. “So much for the warm fuzzies.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Excuse me?”

  “Before, at the party, when I brought in the karaoke machine and humiliated myself by singing and saved the day, there were warm fuzzies. But now, all because I make a simple little suggestion, you’re upset.”

  “A simple suggestion? Is that what you call it? You have no right. This isn’t your business. Our bargain in no way gives you any kind of authority over me or my decisions. You don’t know what you’re talking about and because of that, I have to deal with your mess.”

  She nodded slowly. “Feel better?”

  “I’m not a child to be placated.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  She wasn’t afraid of him. In the back of his mind, he appreciated that she was sitting calmly while he ranted. Most people couldn’t do that. They were too aware of his size, his background, his ability to physically rip them in two if the mood struck.

  She shifted toward him. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “You’re not the one who has to pay for it.”

  “You’re paying for it already,” she said reasonably. “Parents have to miss work because their day care isn’t available. Or they can’t stay late because of the hours. It’s out of their control and that makes people worry. Worried people don’t do as good a job.”

  “I’m not offering in-office day care. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s expensive and unnecessary.”

  “Do you know that for sure?” she asked.

  “Do you know that it really helps?”

  “No, but I’m willing to find out if it does. Are you?”

  “I don’t come into your classroom and tell you how to teach. I would appreciate it if you didn’t come into my business and tell me how to run it.” The anger bubbled again.

  “I’m not doing that. I was talking to a group of your employees and they spoke pretty passionately about it. I said it was an interesting idea and something you’d look into.”

  “You do not speak for me.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice. “As far as they’re all concerned, I’m your girlfriend. The entire point of this exercise is to make the world think you’re a nice guy. Nice guys listen to good ideas.”

  He couldn’t take much more of this. “It’s not a good idea. I listen when the person talking has something worthwhile to say.”

  “Oh, and I don’t?” Now she was glaring. “Do I need an MBA to be worthy of a meeting? No wonder everyone was afraid to speak at that party. You don’t allow them to communicate without your permission. Do they have to get it in writing in advance? Not listening to anyone else must make for short meetings. But why have a meeting at all? You’re so damned all-knowing. That must make their jobs easier. You issue proclamations and they go forth and produce. What a concept.”

  She was seriously pissed. Her eyes flashed and color stained her cheeks. She actually leaned forward and poked him in his shoulder.

  “Don’t be a jerk,” she said loudly. “You know this idea has merit. Other companies have put day care in place successfully. Maybe you’re right—maybe it won’t work, but the current system is causing problems. So fix it. Contract with a couple of day care places so they’ll stay open later. Offer a program that allows employees to pay for day care with pretax dollars. I’m saying that if people who work for you think there’s a problem, then there’s a problem, whether you like it or not.”

  He leaned back against the door. “You about done?”

  “No. The people at that party tonight were scared of you, Duncan. That’s not a good thing.”

  He knew she was right about that. A frightened workforce put more energy into protecting themselves than into the company.

  “I don’t want them to be afraid,” he admitted. “I want them to work hard.”

  “Most people can be motivated by a common goal a whole lot better than by intimidation.”

  “What intimidation? You’re not scared of me.”

  “I don’t work for you. Well, I guess I kind of do, but I know you. They don’t. You can be a scary guy and you use that to your advantage. Maybe that was a successful strategy at one time, but now it’s getting in your way.”

  “I’m not going to get all touchy-feely. I don’t care about their feelings.”

  “Maybe not, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it. You know I’m right about the day care problem. You should look into it.”

  She was right, dammit. Even more frustrating, he wasn’t pissed anymore. How had she done that?

  “You’re a strange woman, Annie McCoy.”

  She smiled. “Part of my charm.”

  It was more than charm, he thought, reaching for her hand. He laced his fingers with hers, then pulled her close. She came willingly, leaning across the console. He stretched toward her, then pressed his mouth to hers.

  Annie had never experienced makeup sex, but she’d heard it was terrific. If the fire shooting through her the second Duncan’s lips touched hers was any indication of what
it could be like, it was something she was going to have to look into.

  Her body was energized from their argument. She’d enjoyed battling with him, knowing she could stand up for herself. While he could easily overpower her physically, emotionally they were on equal ground. And they would stay that way. A feeling in her gut told her Duncan fought fair.

  She tilted her head, wanting more from the kiss. He tangled his free hand in her hair and parted his lips. She did the same, welcoming his tongue. He tasted of Scotch and mint. Heat from his body warmed her. She leaned closer and wrapped her arm around his neck.

  They kissed deeply, straining toward each other. She ached inside—her breasts were swollen and there was a distinct pressure between her legs. If the car console hadn’t been between them, she would have had a tough time keeping herself from pulling off his jacket and tearing off his shirt.

  But instead of suggesting they take this somewhere else, he straightened, putting distance between them.

  In the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes and wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

  “You’re a complication,” he said at last.

  Was that good or bad? “I’m also a Pisces who enjoys long walks on the beach and travel.”

  He laughed. As always, the sound made her stomach tighten.

  “Dammit, Annie,” he muttered before kissing her again. When he pulled back, he said, “I’m taking you home before we do something we’ll both regret.”

  Regret? She had no plans for regrets. But not being sure of his response, she stayed silent. Wanting Duncan was one thing. Wanting Duncan and having him flat-out say he didn’t want her back was more than she was willing to take on.

  Courage was a tricky thing, she thought as she fastened her seat belt. Apparently she needed to work on hers.

  Annie survived the next two parties fairly easily. She was getting the hang of meeting businesspeople and explaining that yes, she really did teach kindergarten and loved what she did. She’d made friends with a couple of the wives, which was nice, and had met several more business reporters. The world of the rich and successful was less intimidating than it had been at the beginning, as was Duncan himself. The only regret she felt was that he hadn’t kissed her again.

  She told herself it was probably for the best and in her best moments, she actually believed it. Duncan had made it more than clear that theirs was a business relationship. Anyone who didn’t listen only had herself to blame if it all ended badly. She had been warned.

  “What’s in the box?” Duncan asked, after they’d left the marina hotel and were driving back toward her place.

  She’d brought it out with her on the date and had told him she wouldn’t discuss it until after the party.

  “Christmas decorations,” she said. “For your place. A small thank-you for all you’ve done.”

  He glanced at her. “What kind of decorations?” he asked, sounding suspicious.

  “Nothing that will eat you in your sleep. They’re pretty. You’ll like them.”

  “Is that an opinion or a command?”

  She grinned. “Maybe both.”

  “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Come on. I’ll even let you put them where you think they should go.”

  Before she realized what he was doing, he’d gone north instead of south on the freeway. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into underground parking at a high-rise condo building.

  Annie told herself to stay calm. That his bringing her home didn’t mean they’d gone from a fake couple to a real one. They were friends, nothing more. Friends who pretend dated. It happened all the time.

  She followed him into the elevator where he pushed the button for the top floor. A penthouse, she thought, feeling her stomach flip over. She shouldn’t be surprised.

  The elevator opened onto a square landing. There were four condo doors. Duncan walked to the one on the left. He opened it and flipped on a light, then motioned for her to step inside.

  The space was large and open, like the lofts she’d seen on the Home and Garden channel shows she liked. There were hardwood floors, a seating area in the middle, a flat-screen TV the size of a jumbo jet, windows with a view of Los Angeles and a kitchen off to the right. Her entire house, including the backyard, would easily fit just in what she could see. No doubt his place had more than one bathroom. Maybe she could send the twins over here to get ready on Friday nights. There would be a whole lot less screaming for the mirror at her place if she did.

  Duncan closed the door, then glanced at her.

  “It’s nice,” she said, taking in the neutral beige walls and taupe sofa. “Not a lot of color contrast.”

  “I like to keep things simple.”

  “Beige is the universal male color. Or so I’ve heard.”

  She followed him into the sitting area. Or great room. She wasn’t sure what it was called. The leather furniture looked comfortable enough and there were plenty of small tables. She put her purse on a chair and set the box on the table next to it. Duncan walked into the open kitchen.

  “Want some wine?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He looked back at her, his eyes bright with humor. “It’s not in a box.”

  She laughed. “Lucky me.”

  While he poured, she brought out her decorations. There were three musical snow globes with different holiday settings. Two flameless candles that sat on painted bases. Some garland, a snowman liquid soap dispenser and a nativity scene. The last was still in the box, the small porcelain figures protected.

  She glanced around the room. The candles and the garland could go on the dining table. The snow globes fit on the windowsill. Duncan didn’t seem to have any blinds to get in the way. She spotted a hall bathroom and put the soap there, then set up the nativity display on the table under the massive T V. When she was done, Duncan handed her a glass of wine.

  “Very nice,” he said. “Homey.”

  “Are you lying?”

  “No.”

  She couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. “I wanted to bring a tree, but wasn’t sure you were the type.”

  “My housekeeper would be unamused.”

  She wasn’t surprised.

  “Want to see the rest of the place?” he asked.

  She looked around at the open room, the tall ceilings, and resisted the need to say “There’s more?” Instead she nodded.

  Next to the half bath she’d noticed was a guest room. It was bigger than any two bedrooms at her house, but that no longer surprised her. On the other side of the bath was a study. The walls were paneled, a big wood desk stood in the middle, but what caught her attention were the trophies on the built-in bookcases. There were dozens of them, some small, some large. A few were of boxing gloves, but most were figures of a man boxing.

  “You won these,” she said, not really asking a question.

  He nodded and sipped his wine.

  She crossed the carpeted floor to read a few of the engravings. Each trophy had his name. There were dates and locations. She also saw medals in glass cases.

  “I don’t get it,” she said, facing him. “Why do people want to hit each other?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “It’s not all about hitting. There’s an art to it. A talent. You need power but also smarts. When to hit and where. You have to out-think your opponent. It’s not all about size. Determination and experience play a part.”

  “Like in business,” she said.

  “The skill set translates.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t it hurt when you get hit?”

  “Some. But my uncle raised me. Boxing is what I knew. Without it, I would have just been some kid on the streets.”

  “You’re saying hitting people kept you from being bad?”

  “Something like that. Put down your glass.”

  She set it on the desk. He did the same, then stepped in front of her.

  “Hit me,” he said.

  She tucked both hands behind her back. “I
couldn’t.”

  The amusement was back. “Do you actually think you can hurt me?”

  She eyed his broad chest. “Probably not. And I might hurt myself.”

  He shrugged out of his suit jacket, then unfastened his tie. In one of those easy, sexy gestures, he pulled it free of his collar and tossed it over a chair.

  “Raise your hands and make a fist,” he said. “Thumbs out.”

  Feeling a little foolish, she did as he requested. He stood in front of her again, this time angled, his left side toward her.

  “Hit me,” he said. “Put your weight behind it. You can’t hurt me.”

  “Are you challenging me?”

  He grinned. “Think you can take me?”

  Not on her best day, but she was willing to make the effort. She punched him in the arm. Not hard, but not lightly.

  He frowned. “Anytime now.”

  “Funny.”

  “Try again. This time hit me like you mean it or I’ll call you a girl.”

  “I am a girl.”

  She punched harder this time and felt the impact back to her shoulder. Duncan didn’t even blink.

  “Maybe I’d do better at tennis,” she murmured.

  “It’s all about knowing what to do.” He moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You want to bend your knees and keep your chin down. As you start the punch, think about a corkscrew.” He demonstrated in slow motion.

  “That will give you power,” he said. “It’s a jab. A good jab can make a boxer’s career. Lean into the punch.”

  She was sure his words were making sense, but it was difficult for her to think with him standing so close. She was aware of his body just inches from hers, of the strength and heat he radiated. There were so many responsibilities in her life, so many people depending on her. The need to simply relax into his arms was powerful.

  Still, she did her best to pay attention, and when he stepped in front of her again so she could demonstrate, she did her best to remember what he’d said.

  This time, she felt the impact all the way up her arm. There was a jarring sensation, but also the knowledge that she’d hit a lot harder.