Done Deal

by Lynda Aicher

  “Dani.” His whispered plea broke free in a moment of weakness. He clung to her, aftershocks rippling one after the other as he floated in the free fall of euphoria. Dani.

  She owned his heart even if she’d never possess it.

  Chapter Eight

  The soft cotton of the baby-doll dress slipped over Danielle’s oversensitive skin to wrap her in comfort. A shiver embraced her from head to toe before she pulled her trench coat around her. She cinched the belt tight with the same mechanical movements that’d taken over since she’d come.

  Dani.

  The agony in Trevor’s voice had torn through her meager shield to gut her defenses and bare her truths. She’d clung to him with a desperate intensity that he’d returned.

  If only for that moment.

  She inhaled, fortifications rebuilding. The city skyline still twinkled outside the window. Car lights still moved over the Bay Bridge. Life still continued on its meandering path with no guarantees.

  Her toes protested when she slipped her heels back on. The discomfort was worth the dignity they’d provide when she left the building. She’d made the trip here knowing full well how it would end. She had no illusions and wouldn’t resort to hiding behind some fake belief that one intense moment would result in a changed ending.

  If anything, he’d be even more remote now.

  Her sigh picked at the sorrow that nipped at her heart and begged her to vault into a pity party of her making. She shook her head, chin lifting. Nope. That would be another pointless endeavor.

  A last exhale. A quick fluff of her hair. A check of her lipstick, and she was ready to go. This was just another Boardroom scene. She’d been a member since her divorce two years ago, and she’d never regretted either decision.

  Trevor was her poison and her friend, and she’d learned to live with both.

  The hall was empty when she stepped out. A deserted feel echoed through the air and howled her isolation. Another chill slid down her spine on a path of regrets she refused to have.

  She hitched her purse strap over her shoulder and strode to the stairs. Her heart was perfectly sheltered before she reached the first step.

  The low sound of deep voices drifted up to her before the source came into view. She didn’t need to see them to know who was in the lobby. The options were limited, but Trevor’s voice was attached to her memory with a permanence she’d never shake.

  The conversation died away as she descended. Drake and Trevor both turned to watch her. Her pulse jumped, but she kept that hidden behind the front she’d honed and perfected in her teens.

  “Danielle,” Drake said with a small nod. “It’s been a pleasure.” He turned to Trevor. “I’ll talk to you next week.” He swung through the glass doors without looking back.

  Danielle watched Drake as she approached the man who knew her as none other did. Not even her ex-husband. The light from the elevator lobby shined through the glass doors to brighten the interior lobby of Faulkner Investment Group with its yellow glow. An elevator arrived, and Drake entered it without looking back.

  Danielle stopped beside Trevor, his presence vibrating over her like it always did. Her composure was wrapped around her when she looked to him. “Thank you. I enjoyed the evening.”

  He studied her, his expression giving away nothing. It rarely did. He’d withdrawn the second he’d pulled away from her in the boardroom. They’d clung to each other until their breaths had slowed and time had dictated they part. The others had finished, and the scene had ended. There’d been no reason for them to hold on to each other.

  He reached out, trailed his fingers down her hairline to tuck a few strands behind her ear. The familiarity and intimacy of the gesture had her longing once again for what could never be. “As did I.”

  Her smile faltered, fell. Her heart lurched, only to resettle when he pulled his hand back. He hadn’t bothered with his suit jacket when he’d redressed. His resemblance to the man who’d stood at the window earlier and stalked her with his open lust ended at his clothing. There was nothing in his gaze now except for mutual respect.

  She gave him the same thing back. Their interlude was over, and the real world dictated their standing within it. “Good night, Trevor.” Her voice was level with a hint of honest warmth. That was the most she could give him now.

  He opened the door for her and stood aside as she passed. “I’m glad you came,” he said when she was in the outer lobby. The words hit her in the back, and she was thankful he couldn’t see her wince. The truth in his voice nailed her dreams with the cutting edge of acceptance.

  She pressed the down arrow on the bank of elevators before looking back to him. “So am I.” She was, truly. She’d never regret a single encounter with him.

  An elevator arrived on a ping of announcement that saved her from further comment. There was little left to say. Tomorrow would go on like normal. She had a life full of friends and work and goals that had nothing to do with Trevor.

  She tilted her head in a silent goodbye and entered the elevator. Her breath held until the doors slid closed and her descent started. Only then did she let a gulp of air into her lungs.

  Only then did she close her eyes and give in to the moment of loss. One that ended when she reached the first floor.

  Shoulders back, she strode through the grand lobby of the office building, smiled at the security guard behind the counter and left through the revolving glass door.

  One step outside, and she was done with Trevor James. They had the Boardroom and nothing more. She could meet him there anytime she wanted and she would again—when she was ready.

  Chapter Nine

  Trevor kicked his feet up on his desk, a glass of whiskey held aloft in his hand. He studied the shimmering gold and amber hues through the rounded curve that contained the liquid. He could slam the contents in one gulp, but it wouldn’t burn away the memories of Danielle.

  Dani.

  He took a long swallow of the whiskey and focused on the harsh trek it made down his throat. His wince had little to do with the drink, but it was pointless to acknowledge that fact. There were so many things he couldn’t acknowledge, so many things he’d buried in order to move forward every damn day.

  His phone buzzed on his desk, but he ignored it, just like he’d done to the other four texts that’d arrived since he’d sat down. The messages could be from anyone, but he doubted they were from someone on the West Coast.

  He should go home, get some sleep. A few hours would be better than none. Like he’d really sleep tonight. Not with a fresh dose of Danielle images taunting him. When her scent still lingered on his fingers and her taste floated under the heavy weight of the whiskey.

  They had moments in time, that was it. Brief interludes grounded in public and negated by the presence of others. Hedonistic offerings that gave them what was otherwise forbidden.

  He finished his drink, set the glass down on his desk. More would only result in a headache and an even longer day tomorrow.

  He stood, stretched his back as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. There were so many things he couldn’t change and many more that he could. He chose to focus on the latter. There was no point in dwelling on what was already defined.

  The Boardroom was a prime example of that. Danielle could be his within those boundaries. Only there.

  And only when she came to him.

  Until then, he’d go on like he always did. The Boardroom was their safety zone, the one he’d created for her even before she’d been aware of it.

  * * * * *

  Interested in more from the Boardroom?

  Read on for an excerpt of AFTER HOURS, the first full-length novel in THE BOARDROOM series by Lynda Aicher.

  After Hours

  by Lynda Aicher

  Chapter One />
  The folder had to be in the boardroom. There was no other place she could’ve left it.

  Avery Fast plowed down the empty stairwell, engrossed in her thoughts as she backtracked her way through her afternoon. She’d already checked the smaller conference room, the breakroom and Shelley’s desk. And that’d been after she’d torn her own desk apart and scanned her boss’s.

  As the executive assistant to the Financial Controller at Faulkner Investment Group’s San Francisco office, a lot of confidential information flowed through her. Her boss, Gregory Conwell, counted on her to keep the data secured, and she had never let him down in the eighteen months since she’d been in her position.

  And she wasn’t about to now, either.

  Her heels tapped on the stairs, the echo bouncing around the cavernous concrete silo. The single flight wasn’t enough to work off her frustration. She swept her bangs away from her eyes as she swiped her badge through the reader and yanked the heavy fire door open with a grunt.

  The Faulkner offices were spread over two floors of a high-rise in downtown San Francisco. A staircase near the main entrance offered a grander connection than the fire stairwell she used, but it was also out of her way. Efficiency was crucial right now.

  A clammy sheen had built up on her heated skin the more her panic deepened. Had someone taken the folder from her desk? Why? Who? Had she even brought the folder to the meeting in the boardroom that afternoon?

  Doubt twisted with the knot constricting her chest. She didn’t remember doing so, but... The preliminary quarterly numbers were in it. The ones no one saw until they were verified, rolled up and strategically manipulated. The raw data wasn’t for general consumption, especially the payroll details.

  Her stomached roiled at the thought of having to explain what happened. What if someone had found the folder and shared the information with others? Her job would be toast—along with her reputation.

  Why had she printed them anyway? Oh yeah, Gregory had asked her to. Why couldn’t he keep everything online in the age of digital everything?

  The office doors along the darkened hallway were closed, the lights off behind them, but a dim light shown from the open door of the conference room. She’d sat on the far side, near the end of the table during the meeting. Could someone have set the file on the coffee credenza? Or maybe it was still on the table, if she’d even left it there.

  She was out of options. It had to be there.

  Her brain stalled about a second after her feet did in the boardroom doorway. Her mouth fell open. Oh my...

  The boardroom wasn’t empty after all. Nope. Not even close.

  She scrambled to comprehend what she was seeing while knowing exactly what she watched: Sex. Wanton, hedonistic, erotic sex. A woman and two guys.

  But here? In the office? On the boardroom table?

  Heat raced up her back to engulf her chest and neck. Blood roared in her ears, accelerated by her racing heart and the strange desire blasting through her.

  She blinked once, twice, but the image remained. Propriety told her to look away. No, she should run away. What was she doing standing there? Walk the hell away. Now.

  But she didn’t move.

  The scene was...unbelievable. Unreal. Wrong. And so damn hot.

  A single lamp on the credenza provided a soft glow to the room and dulled the edges of the threesome along with their actions. Their reflections were hazy shadows in the large windows along the outside wall. The lights from other buildings and the streets far below provided an open backdrop and little protection from prying eyes.

  Like hers.

  She should go—before they noticed her. She should.

  She searched for moisture in her mouth. Swallowed hard. Slowly wet her dry lips.

  What would it feel like to be that woman? The one splayed on the table, naked except for her black stilettos? Her eyes were closed, her red lips parted in a silent sigh, or would that be a cry of pleasure? Her black hair was spread in a messy array across the wood, her wrists bound by two thick cuffs over her head. She was lean yet curvy. Beautiful. And totally lost in what was being done to her.

  Her back arched, a soft moan escaping to flow with a sultry lethargy through the room. It swirled around Avery to drag her deeper into the eroticism. Avery’s breath hitched. Her nipples puckered with sharp tingles that raced to her pussy.

  The men were feasting on the woman. That was the only way she could describe it. Both of them. At the same time. A guy in a dark suit had his back to Avery, his head buried between the woman’s spread legs. Another in a white dress shirt and navy tie was sucking on a nipple while rolling the other between his fingertips. He stretched back, the tip clearly caught between his teeth, and the woman’s back arched impossibly more. She squirmed, another purring moan tumbling out before a gasped, “Please.”

  Yes, please. Avery’s back bowed in time with the woman’s, her nipples aching for the same attention.

  It didn’t make sense. She’d never enjoyed porn. And she’d certainly never considered going to a live sex show. Yet...

  She swallowed. Inhaled. The heavy scent of sex and arousal flooded her, adding another layer of stimulation. She sucked in another long, slow breath. The hedonism flowed through her to dislodge every concept of conservatism or impropriety she held.

  A low growl—yes, growl—from one of the men tore through the room. Raw, fierce, exalting. No man had ever made that sound with her.

  A soft whimper of want tumbled out before she realized it was there. Oh, God. She clamped her mouth shut, fear charging in. Had they heard her?

  She took a step back, prepared to flee. Guilt sped in, yet it wasn’t enough to make her go. She’d be mortified if they caught her, but what would they do next? Would the men switch places? Would they fuck her? Both of them? At the same time?

  Her pussy clenched, lust swarming hot and fast from her core. Her head spun with so many desires she couldn’t process them. She shifted her feet and bit her lip to keep quiet.

  She’d never had a guy who’d been that devoted to her pleasure. Ever. Let alone two.

  The woman gasped, her legs spreading even wider. The man between her legs pumped his arm, a low sucking and squelching sound emanating. Avery’s eyes widened on another inhalation. She couldn’t actually see what he was doing, but she didn’t need to.

  Her pussy pulsed again. Her nipples tightened even more. They ached to be touched. Her hand inched up before she clenched her fist and forced it back to her side.

  The woman on the table turned her head. Her eyes fluttered open as a soft cry bled from her lush lips. She closed her eyes only to reopen them, her focus squarely on Avery.

  Oh, shit.

  Her panic pounded out a frantic S.O.S. in her head, yet she remained trapped in the moment. A sultry smile curved over the woman’s ruby-red lips, her hooded eyes conveying the pleasure the men were giving her. Passion overrode logic along with every ounce of self-preservation Avery had. Heat flashed another wave of want over her chest and burst into an aching demand between her legs.

  She gripped the doorjamb, her head swaying with the heady sensations. The eye contact made the whole experience intimate. Like she was supposed to be there.

  But she wasn’t.

  The woman wet her lips in a slow pass that screamed seduction. The movement swiped out at Avery in the tease that it was. And for some damn reason, she wanted to tease her right back. Her tongue pushed at her teeth, but she kept them clamp tightly closed.

  This was insane. She’d never been sexually attracted to women. Not really anyway. Not enough to act on it.

  But...

  What am I thinking?

  She jerked her gaze away, determined to leave only to freeze again.

  Another man stood in the darkened back corner of the room, arms crossed over
his chest, feet spread in a power stance. And his eyes were locked squarely on her.

  Her muscles seemed to petrify along with her thoughts. She had no doubt that he’d been watching her the whole time. He didn’t move either. Not even a flick of his lips or brow. He simply stared at her. Waiting.

  Embarrassment doubled down on the lust blazing through her to set Avery on fire from head to toe. Heat flamed over her cheeks before sinking down her neck—and she still didn’t move.

  His face was shadowed, but she didn’t need the florescent lights to know exactly who he was: Carson Haggert, the Chief Technology Officer for all of Faulkner.

  And possibly one of the sexiest men she’d ever encountered.

  His tie was loosened, suit jacket gone, shirt sleeves turned up to expose his forearms, but he still emanated that all-consuming authority that prickled over her skin whenever he was near. It consumed her now, sucking the truths from her and exposing every lascivious thought running through her mind.

  The exposure trembled down her legs, and she locked her knees to stop it from showing. A high whine of unabashed pleasure winged past her in an unnecessary reminder of what she’d walked into. The pace of the sucking sound increased with the woman’s panted breaths and soft moans.

  “Make her come.”

  The hard command shot from Carson to crack through the mounting tension. Avery flinched, her lips parting in confusion. His focus was still squarely on her. Did he mean Avery was supposed to make the woman come? Or were the men supposed to make Avery come?

  Three short cries were followed by a long, drawn-out note that left no doubt about who was supposed to make whom come. And she wasn’t included in the party. At all.

  She was the intruder.

  The uninvited observer.

  The one risking her job by standing there.

  That last thought finally got her moving. Mortification set in the second she spun around and fled down the hallway. Her heart pounded in another flight of panic, this one dogged by fear.