Lip Lock

by Susanna Carr

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” her boss said as she backed up to the glass door.

  Was she kidding? Molly felt her skin burning. She was furious with herself for getting into such a deep hole of debt. Sure, most of it was medical bills because she had no insurance when she got pneumonia, but her finances were in dire straits before that. Getting sick just took her over the edge.

  It would take years for her to crawl out of debt. She would’ve liked to blame it on her good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend, her series of dead-end jobs, and her bad luck.

  But the fact was, she’d messed up and she was paying for her own stupidity. As far as Molly was concerned, that wasn’t something to toot her own horn about. Only until she could pay back every dime would she be able to hold her head up high.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Thank you.” She struggled getting the words out of her constricted throat.

  “I don’t know why you’re hiding it,” Sara said as she swiped her ID on the black security box next to the door.

  “I want to keep my job.” Was so afraid to say it out loud, to show how much she wanted it, that she nearly choked on the words. To her horror, Molly felt her eyes sting. She bet her nose was turning red.

  Sara scrunched up her face. “No one is going to fire you because you’re a trust fund baby.”

  Molly froze in mid-flinch. Trust fund baby? Was she joking? She stared at the other woman through squinty eyes.

  “I promise,” she said as she yanked open the door.

  She was afraid to move, to do anything that would straighten out this turn of events. But her boss seemed sincere. “O…kay.”

  “It’ll be a secret just between us girls,” Sara decided as she walked into the executive floor’s inner sanctum.

  Relief flooded her so fast it hurt. “Thank you!” she called after her boss.

  Oh, good grief! People thought she was a trust fund baby? Molly pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing like a lunatic.

  Well, if that was how people wanted to see her, who was she to disappoint? She’d do her best.

  Trust fund baby.

  If only.

  Sara pushed the door open and dashed through the reception area, making a run for the elevator. “I forgot! I’m late for a meeting. Kyle is going to kill me.”

  What else is new?

  “Can you start looking for hotels?” she asked, hitting the up button. “Nicest penthouse suites you can find.”

  “Sure thing.” Molly grabbed her pen, noticing her hand still shook from the heartfelt relief. “Days?”

  “Monday to Monday,” she said. “You’ll have to look up the dates.

  She wrote it down with a flourish. “Got it.”

  “Love that scarf of yours, by the way,” Sara said as she stepped into the elevator. “Where did you get it?”

  “One of my travels.” To the consignment shop.

  “Yeah, where’s it from?”

  Molly remembered the care label. “Bangladesh.”

  “Wow.” Sara looked impressed. Molly was impressed she pronounced the country’s name correctly. “Oh, I should be back in an hour.”

  “Okay.” Molly watched the elevator door close and sank into her chair. She was so going to burn in hell for each and every one of her lies.

  Why’d she do that? It just came spilling out of her mouth and she apparently had no shut-off valve. Stop trying to push the image down her throat!

  Trust fund baby. Molly clucked her tongue and grabbed for the phone. Yeah. Just watch this trust fund baby work the cash advance stores.

  “Anything else, Kyle?” Sara asked, her fingers flying over her keyboard.

  He scanned the faces along the conference table. He had just updated his top executives on what they needed to know about the attempted theft, and they watched him, everyone on their best behavior.

  And Kyle wondered how much could they be trusted.

  His mind wandered to the first time someone stole one of his ideas. He had been in high school when he and his friends came up with a groundbreaking idea. It had been a fun and wild time until the big software companies started sniffing around.

  Those friends were long gone. The moment they could, those guys took the idea, the credit, the money, and ran.

  Kyle never mourned the energy and sacrifices he made for that idea. And he now made more money every day than the lump sum his friends had received. But he missed the innocence he once had, and the freedom that went with it.

  He didn’t know what happened to those friends, and wasn’t interested in looking them up. They did teach him a valuable lesson, though. He had to watch his back.

  “Kyle?” Sara prompted.

  “No, we’re done.” He stood up, reminding himself that he wasn’t that high school kid anymore. He was now in a position of power.

  He craved power more than seeing his ideas come together. It was what pushed him to become a leader in computer software. He achieved his goal, but not the invincibility he thought would go with it.

  As he headed for the back steps, he heard Timothy calling for him. Kyle hesitated. He didn’t want to talk to the guy, even though he was probably one of his closest friends.

  But that was the problem, Kyle thought as he turned to face Timothy. Rumor had it that the head of security was the unofficial source for a tell-all book about Kyle’s rise to power.

  Kyle considered it a betrayal, and the possibility was strong enough that he was investigating to see if the rumors were true.

  To him, Timothy’s revelations were more than releasing proprietary information. Kyle’s business dealings, his successes and failures, were private. He would’ve liked to keep it that way.

  It had nothing to do with image, or if he had to hide any shady dealings. He hadn’t done anything illegal. At the time, he thought wryly. Some of those actions were against the law now.

  The head of security wove through the other executives to catch up with him. “Are you going to the game tonight?”

  “No, I have work to do.”

  Timothy’s mouth dropped open. “This is the playoffs!”

  “You’ll have to tell me how it was,” Kyle told his friend as he took the back stairs to the executive floor.

  “You’re taking this workaholic thing too far!”

  Kyle ignored the words echoing in the stairwell. He knew some people thought he was driven—too driven—and they were right. He’d do whatever it took to be king of the hill.

  He would never be at a disadvantage again. He needed to be in control of his surroundings. In control of his creation. And he’d sacrifice everything to get that.

  He stepped onto the executive floor and walked by the reception desk. He automatically glanced over, prepared for the fierce attraction to hit him, when he saw Molly talking to Curtis Puckett, one of their elite programming architects.

  She glanced at him and stilled. A hectic blush crawled up her skin before she darted her attention away.

  His own body reacted. Kyle felt tight and alert. Ready to pounce. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel like a primal animal ready to mate around this woman? There was nothing overtly sexual about her.

  But there was something about her eyes. The brown eyes twinkled and flashed. Took on mysterious shadows even when she batted her eyelashes.

  Kyle looked away and entered the executive suites. There was also something else about Molly that screamed trouble. He couldn’t place it, but he knew he was dealing with enough trouble.

  Okay, that wasn’t true. There were times when he welcomed trouble. Courted it. And when he got the better of the problem, he felt a buzz that was better than sex.

  Now put trouble and sex together, Kyle considered as he strode into his office, and that would be a potent combination.

  Molly and sex…He thought about it as he sat down at his desk. Damn dangerous. And tempting.

  He wondered what it would be like, the two of them. Would it be hard an
d fast, or seductively slow? He admitted he’d spent too much time over the past few months thinking about the problem and never came up with a conclusive answer.

  He knew what he would prefer. He would like nothing better than to have Molly come into his office—right this very minute—and close the door. Lock it. Have her sashay to his desk with the soft sway of her hips and a gleam in her brown eyes.

  Kyle wanted Molly to nudge her way in and stand between him and his desk. Fall to her knees in front of him and unzip his pants.

  Okay, if this was his fantasy, he also wanted her to gasp at the size of his cock, cupping it reverently with both hands, before taking him into her mouth.

  She would deep-throat him—of course—and know just what to do. Nibble the length and lick him with sure, sweeping strokes of her tongue. Draw him inside her warm, tight mouth and suck hard.

  Kyle shook away the daydream and shifted in his chair, his pulse pounding hard. But the images wouldn’t go away. They grew stronger. Almost real.

  He could see Molly as if she were right there, feel her soft hair under his hand. Watch her rise from the floor and perch on the edge of his desk. He’d run his fingers along her silk-clad legs and discovered she wore the sexiest garters that he had yet to see a woman wear.

  He would glide his hands under that peach dress she was wearing today. He’d push her legs apart and reveal the fragile panties as his only barrier.

  Kyle could easily imagine tearing the scrap of lace away before dipping his head and tasting her. He closed his eyes as his mouth flooded with anticipation.

  His scalp tingled, as if her hands were already bunching in his hair. Her knees would be hooked over his arms as he drove his tongue into her core.

  She’d go crazy, of course. Her responses would clearly show that no man had made her feel this way, and no man ever would. It was his fantasy, after all.

  And in his fantasy she would be sprawled on his desk, naked and panting for his next touch. His hands would possess her breasts, pinching her hard nipples as his tongue teased her clitoris.

  She’d be screaming his name and incapable of hiding anything, unable to lie, unwilling to cause trouble.

  “Here’s your speech for the next annual meeting…”

  Kyle flinched violently as Sara walked into his office. His heart stopped and he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. “I have to stop doing this,” he muttered to himself.

  He turned to his computer and punched in his password as Sara continued listing status reports on various projects. He listened while scanning through the voicemail saved on his computer, silently willing his cock to lie down. Damn the glass desktop.

  He frowned when he saw a recent call and clicked play. The audio streamed through his state-of-the-art speakers.

  “Hi, Kyle. This is Laurie, the caretaker of your island cottage. The redecorating is almost complete, although I still question the butt-ugly wallpaper in the bedroom.”

  “What?” He looked at the computer screen and then at Sara.

  “Anyway,” Laurie continued, as she was known to do, “the reason I’m calling is because my daughter is expecting a baby soon and when she goes into labor—”

  “Kyle, I’m sorry.” Sara stepped closer to his desk. “I don’t know why Molly forwarded that call to you. She knows I take care of those issues.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” He clicked off the audio. He wasn’t aware that Laurie was about to become a grandmother. And he’d forgotten about the redecoration. It had been his first getaway and he hadn’t been there in a year.

  “I’ll follow up with Laurie,” Sara offered.

  “Okay.” He started to scroll down the other messages and paused. “What does she mean about butt-ugly wallpaper?”

  “I’ll ask the interior decorator.” Sara shrugged. “And I’ll talk to Molly and remind her which calls go to me.”

  “I’ll do that.” Kyle rose from his seat before he thought about it, ignoring Sara’s bewildered look.

  It probably wasn’t a good idea to be anywhere near Molly after one of his inconvenient daydreams. What could he say? He liked trouble. He liked pushing his luck to the limit, testing his control of his environment and himself.

  But he didn’t know why he felt this way about Molly. Or why he had to constantly keep himself in check around her. He hadn’t felt the need to around any other woman.

  But maybe that was because he couldn’t act on his desires. Kyle considered the possibility as he pushed the security glass door open. The other women knew the score. They were experienced and they were his sexual equals.

  And he’d tamed every one of them. With ease, he remembered as he walked up to the reception desk where he saw Molly alone, but on the phone. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tame the trouble out of Molly Connors.

  “Yes, I know, but—” She looked up and froze before a very professional and very fake smile spread across her face. “How may I direct your call? Thank you.”

  Kyle watched her push a button before replacing the handheld instrument. He glanced at the switchboard. “You hung up on them.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. “No, I didn’t.”

  A bald-faced lie. She didn’t even pretend to check. He’d have to watch out for this one.

  Molly primly folded her hands and rested them on her desk. “How may I help you?”

  Why did he find that ladylike pose more threatening than if she went into a kung fu position? “I’m reminding you which of my personal calls go to Sara,” he began, noticing the confusion flit through her eyes. “Sara said she gave you a list.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She amped up her smile a notch. “She did.”

  No, she didn’t. He didn’t know why Sara didn’t, or why Molly was perpetuating the lie. He guessed she was protecting her boss, which was admirable. Sorta.

  “I must have misplaced the list. I’ll ask Sara to give me another copy.”

  Which was worse? That Sara lied, trying to look good in his eyes, or that Molly lied to take the blame? He considered calling them both on it, but what purpose did it serve? The matter seemed trivial, but he sensed it was the tip of an iceberg.

  Molly grabbed a pen and a rainbow-colored notepad in the shape of an M. “Which calls do you want to go to Sara?”

  “All family.” They had never been close and the only time they called was to ask for money.

  She raised her eyebrows but silently wrote it down.

  He squashed back the need to explain himself. He had no problems giving out the cash to his relatives. Especially if it meant he didn’t have to hear from them until they needed more money.

  “And anything that has to do with my houses,” he added.

  That got her. “Houses?”

  “I probably should get a personal assistant, shouldn’t I?” He scratched his jaw as he thought about it.

  Her gaze followed his hand. “Sounds like you should.”

  Kyle looked into her eyes and held her gaze. The air hummed and crackled. “Know anyone who’d like to apply for the job?” he asked.

  He saw her throat working. “That would depend on the job description,” she said hoarsely.

  “Someone who takes care of me personally?”

  Her mouth twitched. “Too broad of a description.”

  “Caters to all of my personal needs?”

  Her eyes gleamed and she crooked her finger at him.

  The blood in his veins started to zing. This was the first time she’d acted playful to him. He liked it. Wanted more. Kyle leaned over the high desk wall.

  Molly tilted her head, the faint scent of perfume reaching him. “Sounds like a job for an army,” she said in a low, husky voice. “You might want to rethink the personal assistant idea.”

  “Yeah.” He straightened and stepped away. “It would really depend on the person.”

  “And the boss,” she muttered under her breath.

  Oh, yeah. She was trouble.

  Molly stepped off the bus and
hurried toward her apartment. The night seemed murky, the cold November moisture seeping through her coat. Her breath was trapped in her lungs. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  She had no idea what she was going to do. Her landlord had given her a few days of grace to get him the money. She needed to come up with something and talk fast. Molly had a horrible feeling that she’d use every extra second and still come up short.

  She’d already called in every favor, begged and bartered with every friend and acquaintance outside of the office. No one at the office could know about her problem. No one. And she’d do whatever necessary to keep it that way.

  When she had finally got a hold of the landlord who had been avoiding her calls—wasn’t that ironic!—she had to make up a story on the spot. She wasn’t even sure what all she said. Something about a hospital stay. It was like she opened her mouth and some inner storyteller fed her the lines.

  Whatever she had said must have been brilliant because her landlord became sympathetic and ready to call off the dogs. Man, she wished she had written the story down. She might need to use it again the next time a persistent bill collector got a hold of her.

  Now all Molly had to do was get all the money she had on hand to her landlord, find a job she could do on the weekends, and not eat for the foreseeable future. No problem.

  Molly turned the corner to her apartment. She noticed the cluttered front yard under the weak glow of the streetlights. Who was moving out? Oh, please let it be the workaholic prostitute.

  Wait a second…Molly tripped as she stared at the sofa. That was hers! She’d recognize the atrocious orange stripe design anywhere, even in the dark. The hand-me-down was an eyesore.

  She stumbled to a complete stop as it sunk in. Her landlord had kicked her out of her apartment. He’d tossed out her stuff. So many emotions slammed against each other, she was surprised she didn’t collapse on the ground.

  Molly stared dumbfounded at the jumble of furniture and clothes and clutter. Her underwear was tangled with silverware. The rickety chair looked suspiciously broken. A mud puddle seeped underneath her mattress.