What a Girl Needs

by Aimee Duffy

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Aimée Duffy

  About HarperImpulse

  About the Publisher

  HarperImpulse an imprint of

  HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  77–85 Fulham Palace Road

  Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

  Copyright © Aimee Duffy 2014

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  Aimee Duffy asserts the moral right

  to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is

  available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

  the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

  actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

  entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International

  and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

  the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

  and read the text of this e-book on screen.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

  stored in or introduced into any information storage and

  retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

  whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

  hereinafter invented, without the express

  written permission of HarperCollins.

  Ebook Edition © March 2014

  ISBN: 9780007540297

  Version 2014-09-26

  Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

  I definitely need to dedicate this one to Susan Thomson. The conversations we've had will keep the ideas flowing for years!

  Chapter 1

  Dear Sally,

  I read your column weekly but never thought I’d be writing this email. The truth is there’s something wrong with me. I can’t climax. I’ve never been able to, and my recent ex told me this was normal for some women. Not the women I know. Was he telling the truth? Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one.

  Yours,

  Anonymous

  Georgia Lewis forced herself to leave it at that. It was one thing to think of herself as a freak, another to sign off using the label. Moving the mouse over the mat provided by Briggs Department Stores, she tried to click ‘send’, but her finger wouldn’t obey the command.

  Frustrated, she let go of the mouse and raked a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. She couldn’t be the only woman in New York who’d never experienced what her friends kept banging on about, could she? Plus she’d created a false email address so none of Sally’s Sexual Help readers would know it was her who sent it in, so what did it matter?

  She needed to pull on her big-girl panties and send the damn thing. Maybe then she’d be able to concentrate on the end-of-year accounts on her desk. After all, she was here to work, not worry about body parts that didn’t function correctly.

  Resolved, she reached for the mouse again. Her desk phone rang and she stifled a sigh. Abandoning the mouse, she picked up the phone.

  ‘Accounts Department,’ she answered, though she could hardly call it that, more ‘two women forgotten in closets at the back of the building.’

  ‘Georgia, I need the buying accounts for last month.’

  His deep voice made her skin prickle, like it always did. She shook off the weird sensation. He was her new boss; until his father got better anyway, and she’d never let herself look at him any other way. Okay, maybe she had on occasion, when she trailed behind him in the hall. Who wouldn’t check out an ass like his? It was high and firm and utterly squeezable.

  ‘Sure, Maxton. I’ll get them ready.’

  ‘Georgia…’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Max. Sorry.’

  Hard to break a habit of a lifetime. His father, Maxton Briggs the First, never allowed his name to be shortened.

  But it was Maxton Briggs the Second running the show now.

  ‘You’d better. I’d hate to have to punish you.’

  He disconnected the call leaving her staring at the receiver. Heat rose in her cheeks and her heart hammered in her chest. He didn’t mean…

  No, he didn’t. He was joking. God. She had to get a grip. Sexual frustration was driving her to think her boss was flirting with her. And sure, Max was less formal than his father, and she supposed a good guy to work for, but since his break-up, which was unfortunately witnessed by half the staff at Briggs, he wasn’t his usual happy-go-lucky self. Not to mention a little bit weird. Though she couldn’t blame him for that.

  She rose so quickly she left her swivel chair spinning. Pulling open the cabinet drawer, she shuffled the slings until she came across the empty one which should have housed the file he wanted.

  ‘Damn it.’

  The sooner she gave Max the file and sent him on his merry way, the better. Usually she struggled to keep her thoughts from rolling off her tongue around everyday people; with him around it was impossible. And the boss didn’t need to know what she thought of his ass, or how hot he looked in one of those charcoal suits with the silk ties. Or even about those dreams she’d had starring Maxton the Second, and very little in the way of clothes.

  Well, apart from his ties. The silk ones, though, he never wore them as such. Either they were around her wrists securing her to her bed frame, or sometimes she dressed in nothing but a tie and pair of skyscraper stilettos.

  A flush spread over her body, flooding into her lower tummy and making her shiver. Shit, she had to stop thinking about ties. None of it was knowledge she wanted to share with him.

  Girl, the file. Get the damn file.

  A quick glance around the hole she called an office didn’t help. Loose papers and an old coffee mug hid a desk she remembered was mahogany. Stacks of blue files were piled in a corner next to a half-dead plant. The file she was looking for was beige. On top of the filing cabinets? She hadn’t touched that area in a year and the inch of dust confirmed it.

  Then it clicked. She’d left it with Janice to double-check the final reports.

  Taking off at full speed – for a woman in five inch stilettos anyway – she bolted next door. Janice was on the phone, twirling a lock of her permed shoulder-length hair that was now more gray than brown. Her mentor blew a bubble of pink gum while she nodded, even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see her.

  Georgia crossed the room and stabbed the bubble with her super-sharp new manicure, catching Janice’s full attention. She mouthed ‘buying accounts’ and, thank God, Janice knew what she meant. She rummaged around her equally cluttered desk for what felt like an age.

  Georgia briefly wondered if she had a mentor who was organized, she’d follow suit, but quickly dismissed it when an image of her unruly bedroom popped into her mind. Thank God her roommate Eloisa had OCD when it came to cleaning or their apartment would never be fit for company.

  Janice mumbled what sounded like an agreement into the phone while she located the file. Grabbing it, Georgia called a quick ‘Thanks’ over her shoulder and she was off again. />
  Her journey back was frantic, especially since she noticed the empty hall. The water cooler two doors away was usually circled by the gossip crew come three-thirty, and their absence made the hairs on the back of Georgia’s neck stand to attention.

  Oh, but it was much, much worse than she could imagine.

  When she got to the doorway of her room, all six foot four of male glory was already on her chair, facing her computer with a frown above his deep-blue eyes. His dirty-blond hair was neater than usual, swept away from his face, but the waves made her think of him rolling out of bed after he’d just run his hand through it. Or worse, like she’d just run her hands through it, pulling him down into a kiss that would melt her panties.

  Quit it. He’s my boss.

  But then the blood drained from her face, leaving it numb. Her whole body froze as she stared at him wide-eyed, comprehension slamming into her mind. Who’d have thought mortification could paralyze someone? Not her. Until now.

  She forced herself to unfreeze and took a step into the room. Pulling on her best ‘what the hell are you doing?’ glare, she cleared her throat.

  Max straightened and turned to her with his full lips parted.

  Georgia refused to let herself look at his mouth and focused on being mad—completely ignoring the fact she’d been using working hours, not to mention the company’s internet connection, to try and fix her sex life. Or current lack of one. After all, no guy wanted the ego beating of bedding her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded. But she’d never live the shame of this one down. Her boss now knew she was a freak.

  Max stood, ran a hand down the front of his suit to smooth imaginary wrinkles, or because he was stumped at what to do. He cleared his throat, but before he could say a word, Georgia took control of the situation and shoved the file into his hands.

  ‘Everything you need is in there, now if you’ll excuse me I have work to do.’ And shame to live down, but she could do that without an audience thank you very much.

  ‘Georgia—’

  ‘Don’t.’ She shook her head, fighting back the burn creeping up her neck.

  He eyed her for what felt like an hour, studying her with an intensity that made the blush spread. She cleared the way to the door and headed toward the filing cabinets, hating the attention he was paying her. Especially now he knew. God, a man like him, all virile male with testosterone seeping from every one of his pores, was the last person in the world she’d want to think she was a freak.

  The door to her office clicked closed and she heaved a sigh of relief, which turned into a squeak as she turned around to see he was still standing there. He’d ditched the file on top of a bunch of papers on her desk, and had his arms folded across his chest. The delicate material of his suit jacket pulled tight over trim muscles, and she had to force herself to focus on his face.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ he said.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  But she’d heard him and understood what he was referring to. Eloisa had often been in predicaments she’d described as so embarrassing she wished a hole would open in the ground and suck her in. Georgia had never understood, since nothing normally embarrassed her, and if she started to feel uncomfortable she took herself out of the situation. But right now, with nowhere to run—unless she wanted to climb out the window and take her chances with the two-story drop—and all of her failings as a woman laid bare for her boss, Georgia understood her friend’s words perfectly. She’d have to grit her teeth and get through this, showing as little emotion as possible. And bite her tongue. The last thing she needed was her runaway mouth making this a hundred times worse.

  Why the hell had she left that email open?

  ‘You heard me.’ Max thrust his chin in the direction of the computer and her cheeks caught fire, or felt like they did anyway. ‘What kind of jerks have you been dating?’

  Anger leaked into his tone and she wondered if Mr. Mood Swing was paying a visit. She squared her shoulders. ‘That’s not your business. None of this is.’

  One brow rose over his incredulous eyes. ‘When you use company time to worry about your sex life, it becomes my business.’

  Georgia’s quick tongue deserted her. He was right, she should have waited until she’d gone home, but Eloisa or Shey could have caught her, which struck her as horrifying. This situation made her friends’ teasing seem like lying in the bath with her favorite scented salts after a hard day.

  He took a step closer and she had to force herself to meet his eyes. They were stormy-blue now and focused on her in a way that made her blood race faster. Was it anger? Or something else? Closed into the crappy closet that acted as an office with him was unnerving, especially when a line formed above his brow and his jaw clenched tight.

  Georgia’s heart kicked up double time as she imagined a formal warning coming. Maybe he would even can her on the spot. Was what she did a violation of her contract? She couldn’t remember.

  Biting back her pride, she said, ‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’

  Both brows shot up this time, and his arms unfolded. Messing up that wavy hair of his with a drag of his hand, he blew out a breath. ‘That’s not why I’m pissed, actually. I’m pissed because a selfish jerk made you feel like there was something wrong with you.’

  His eyes softened and she felt the pull of their connection right down to her toes. This was not what she was expecting. Her heart sped again but it had nothing to do with fear of losing her job.

  ‘This is going to sound crazy.’ Max’s gaze dropped to the floor for a second, and the frown was back. When he looked at her again, determination etched across his handsome face, making her stomach swarm. ‘I think we could help each other out.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ But she was starting to, though maybe that was wishful thinking. No, she shook the unruly thoughts away. She had to work with him, for cripes sakes.

  His jaw tightened. ‘I’m sure you heard the rumors after the Halloween party.’

  Georgia nodded, remembering walking past the gossip circle down the hall where they had all whispered that Max’s ex, Clarissa, was all over some guy dressed as Dracula, though she hadn’t bothered listening to the specifics.

  ‘She’s with him now. He’s one of our designers.’

  His voice was void of emotion and his expression a mask. To hide his pain at losing his love, or maybe his anger at being betrayed, Georgia didn’t know.

  Max took a deep breath. ‘My father still controls what designers we sign. As you know he likes to treat them to nights out to keep them from giving up their work to the competition. Since his health’s deteriorating, I’m expected to play host at the parties.’

  Georgia felt some of her own shame drain out of her, to be filled with a sad understanding. If the guy brought his date, Max’s ex, he’d be forced into their company again. ‘I’m—’

  He held a hand out. ‘I don’t want your pity, I’m telling you because you could help me out on that score.’

  Her brows furrowed. ‘How?’

  ‘Come with me to all the social events. As my girlfriend.’

  Georgia’s lips parted on a gasp. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  It was clear from his tone he was dead serious. ‘In return I’ll show you that you are normal, that you can—’

  ‘Stop.’

  The shame burned back, along with something else that made her lower belly warm and tingly. She covered it with her hands, hoping to quell the sensations. No such luck. Especially when she’d just been imagining herself with him, doing all those things and more. That was fantasy, though; this was reality and it could never happen.

  ‘You’re my boss. That would be…’

  Insane, delicious, even more embarrassing when he had solid proof she was a freak, and yet seriously tempting.

  ‘Inappropriate, I know.’ He stepped closer again and she backed up, knocking over the night-of-the-living-dead plant in the process. ‘But it would benefit us
both.’

  His gaze got hot, then dipped to her mouth. On reflex she licked her lips, but cursed the second she did. She wasn’t encouraging him. No way. Even if her panties were soaking at the thought of him dropping to his knees and hitching her skirt around her waist.

  She couldn’t let herself think about being with him. Couldn’t allow the fantasy to form – well, this new one anyway. Shit, shit, shit.

  Grasping for anger, she said, ‘Let me get this straight. You want to save face in front of your ex and pay me in sexual favors when really, the only one getting anything from that would be you. I’m nobody’s free hooker. Go find yourself another woman who’ll pant all over you.’

  Screw the fact he was supposed to be her boss. He’d crossed the line first.

  Max took a step back, surprise widening his eyes. ‘Georgia, I don’t see you like that. I never have.’

  ‘You’ve never seen me. Not as more than an employee.’ She slammed her mouth shut before she gave away anything else to this man.

  Frowning at her, he picked up the file. ‘That’s bullshit Georgia, and you know it.’

  She pressed her lips together and glared at him, fighting the urge to open her mouth and let far more than she should roll off her tongue.

  He let himself out, but before he closed the door behind him, he threw over his shoulder, ‘This isn’t the end of the conversation.’

  ‘You’ll get the same answer every time,’ she let slip.

  His slow grin made her heart stutter. ‘We’ll see.’

  * * * *

  Georgia was the third wheel. Again.

  Shey was laughing at something Calvin had said, but Georgia wasn’t focused much on their conversation. She was too busy pushing the pasta around her plate. Max’s proposal earlier was playing on her mind; building up a storm of burning emotions she could only assume was anger.

 
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