Dedication
To the Playground for helping me get back on track. Thanks!
Chapter One
“How sweet. Little Morgan thinks she has a chance in hell of getting Ridge’s attention. You know those clothes won’t make a damn bit of difference, don’t you?”
Morgan Crenshaw clenched her jaw. It was all she could do not to slap the smug look off Amy Lee’s face.
“He doesn’t go for ho,” Amy Lee continued.
Oh, that was rich coming from someone who wasn’t dressed much different. Amy Lee had gone too far. Yes, the skirt was mini and the top, well, she’d call it formfitting, but she did not look like a ho. Did she?
Amy Lee gave a contemptuous sniff as if she were better than everyone and flipped her long hair off her shoulder with the backs of her fingers. Morgan started to rise only to stop dead when her boss’s business partner, Carter, crossed between her desk and Amy Lee, saving the other woman from Morgan’s desire to strangle her.
“Sweet, Morg.” Carter paused at her desk and took in her outfit. “Like the new duds. You get hit by the make-over fairy last night?”
“Something like that,” she muttered and slumped back in her chair. Amy Lee’s snort nearly had her getting back up.
“Bitch,” she said to Amy Lee’s retreating back.
A few seconds later the outer office was empty. The prissy woman who thought she was God’s gift to men had finally gone back to her own workstation and Carter—one of the owners of the architectural firm, Malone and Casey, where she worked as the other owner’s PA—had sequestered himself in his office.
She had to get to the task at hand and not let Amy Lee get the better of her. Today was announcement day for a bid they’d put in for the design of the Honor Center and there was plenty to do for when they won it. She was sure they would. Losing those last two bids had to have been a fluke, even in this uber-competitive business.
Morgan took a moment to collect herself, sucked in a deep breath and tried to clear away the ugliness that was Amy Lee. As if she wasn’t already self-conscious enough about the outfit. Her sweaty palms itched. She wiped them on the short, short skirt she wouldn’t normally be caught dead in. Jeans and a T-shirt were more her style, but since her tomboyish clothes hadn’t caught the attention of a certain hardheaded man, she’d had to branch out.
She wiggled in her seat, shut her eyes and inhaled again. How the hell did women wear this kind of underwear? She smiled. Maybe this was why Amy Lee always looked like she had a stick up her ass. Only it wasn’t a stick, it was a string one had to dig for in the crack of one’s ass to get out. She must wear this kind of underwear all the time. In the hour since Morgan had arrived, she’d spent more time trying to pick the floss from between her cheeks than actually working. But hey, if Ridge Casey liked the black lacy string, who was she to care, right? Certainly enough women had paraded through the office dressed as she was now, so this had to be where his tastes ran. Morgan wasn’t naïve. She knew where those skanky women ended up.
And there it was. She had turned into a skank. No better than the women who oohed and aahed and fawned over her boss like they had nothing better to do than drool over the most beautiful man in the world.
God, she was such a loser. Deflated, Morgan sank back into her chair. Her face flamed with both embarrassment for having lowered herself this far and anger for not having the nerve to flat-out go for the man of her dreams in her normal modus operandi. Maybe she should just go home and change before he saw her. If he didn’t think she was good enough for him as is, she should move on.
“Morning, Morgan.”
“Morning,” she grunted, then shot up in her seat, her once heated cheeks draining of blood, leaving her lightheaded. Lord, she hadn’t even seen him come in.
Ridge came to a dead stop at the door to his office, those fantastic navy blue eyes facing away from her, his hand resting on the knob.
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.
He cleared his throat. “Morgan?” His voice cracked despite how he’d tried to avoid it, but he didn’t turn.
His broad shoulders were rigid beneath the starched white shirt that tapered down to lean hips. His ass clenched under his slacks. Morgan did a double take. His ass clenched? Had to be her imagination. She openly gawked—he was facing away from her, after all. There! He did it again. This time she didn’t miss the action. No doubt his jaw was making the same movement. The man had a tic in his jaw whenever he was angry.
“Morgan,” he said with more force, snapping her out of her perusal of his very fine backside.
“Yes, sir?”
His shoulders relaxed, as did his butt. Damn. He nodded once. “Just making sure it was you.” Why did he sound so strangled?
Oh that’s just great. She’d worn the dang clothes for nothing. Ridge opened the door to his inner office and stepped through, having yet to meet her gaze. Stare. She’d been staring, no question. He paused again and she thought this time he would face her, but after a slight hesitation and a shake of his head, he continued on. Perhaps her boss had been more affected by her virtual state of undress than he was prepared to be.
The corners of her mouth lifted. Maybe today would be her day after all.
Holy shit.
What the hell had happened to his PA? Taking a seat behind the huge mahogany desk that had been his grandfather’s, he leaned a few inches to the left until he could see out the door to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming.
Holy shit.
Nope. He’d seen right. His tomboy PA wasn’t a tomboy anymore. She was all woman, and his cock agreed, coming to life to tent his slacks. Thank God he didn’t have any clients this morning. In fact, if he could make it to the front door and turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED, he could make fine use of his massive erection. Too bad shutting out the public wouldn’t keep the rest of the employees at bay. Hell, he needn’t go any further than his own door to do that. All he had to do was bring her in his office, lock the door and—
Stop. Stop right there. This is your PA, for God’s sake. He didn’t date employees. Or fuck them on his desk with that glorious chestnut hair spread out across his memos, her legs wrapped around his waist while he plunged in and out of her sopping…
Holy shit.
Ridge shook his head to clear it. He didn’t need this. It was hard enough to keep his mind from wandering to the woman just outside his door. The one he spent more time with and knew more about than any other woman in the world besides his sister and mother. The only one he really wanted to know more about.
Maybe she had a twin. Had to. Maybe Morgan was sick and she’d sent the identical twin she’d only met last night to take her place so she wouldn’t have to take a sick day. No way would his sensible, blend-into-the-crowd Morgan ever show up at work dressed the way she was. It was inappropriate. It was scandalous.
He had to see the whole thing.
“Morgan, get in here,” he barked. He should not be thinking about this right now. Their recent bid was what he should be focused on. The bid they should win hands down. But given the way their last two bids—which should have also been won hands down—had gone, he wouldn’t take an easy breath until he saw a winning result.
“Yes, sir.”
The shy, nervous reply made him lower his brows. She’d never been afraid of him. They had an easy companionship. He was her boss, she was his assistant, even though he wanted more and she’d never shown any interest. Hell, Morgan knew more about him than he did.
Holy shit.
Long, long legs—hell, those fucking pants she always wore had to go so he could see those beautiful legs of hers more often—balanced somewhat precariously on high h
eels. Not stiletto, but high enough, which made her legs look even longer.
A miniskirt covered the tops of her thighs. Barely. Just barely. Ridge swallowed and continued his open study of the transformed woman before him. A strip of tanned belly was visible between the fabric someone had deemed a skirt and the hem of her…tank top? Her small breasts strained the top, making his mouth water. He could even see her beaded nipples poking out, begging for him to take them in his mouth.
Holy—
“Goddammit.” How many times had he mentally repeated that phrase in the last few minutes?
Morgan jumped with a squeak and looked ready to bolt. Her gorgeous green eyes—now those he had noticed many times before—were wide disks on her petite face. Big enough to drown a man in. His erection jumped and he cursed under his breath when she took a step back.
“Stop.”
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and looked anywhere but at him. Better get to the bottom of this now before he did ravish her on his grandfather’s desk, OPEN sign and unlocked door, or not.
“Morgan, what’s going on, sweetheart?”
Her stomach fluttered with his use of the endearment. He’d never used one before. At least, not with her. Now those sluts she’d seen parading through here…
Morgan lifted her chin. “What do you mean?”
He waggled a finger in her direction. “The um, er… Why are you dressed like that?” he blurted, obviously trying hard not to look at her.
Hope sizzled its way across her skin. The mighty Ridge Casey was flustered. She had done that to him. Well, her and this ridiculous outfit. She was freezing. Goose bumps pebbled her skin and her nipples stood at attention beneath the cotton of her shirt. A quick glance down confirmed it. Crap. In a self-conscious move she couldn’t prevent, Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. The motion drew Ridge’s gaze to her belly. The one she knew was bare between the minimal amount of cloth on both her top and bottom. She swept one arm down to cover that area too.
“Stop.” Ridge’s raspy voice had her looking up. One of his hands crushed a pen on the desktop, the other rested somewhere below in the region of his lap.
Heat flooded her pussy. She’d never seen that particular look on his face. Not directed at her anyway.
Time to adopt a bold new attitude. If ever she was going to get the man to notice her, this was it.
She unfolded her arms, rested her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to one foot.
“Stop what, exactly?” Okay, so trying for a sultry voice didn’t sound quite as good out loud as it did in her head.
“Moving,” he murmured, his gaze zeroing in on her breasts. He wouldn’t find much. A sorry B cup was about all she had to offer. Hell, B was fudging just a bit. They were more like an A plus. If only an A plus meant for your boobs what it meant in school, she’d be all set.
But he kept looking, his mouth open and his nostrils flaring softly.
Snap. The pen in his hand broke in two pieces. Ink bled onto his skin and dripped on his paperwork.
“Shit.” Ridge jerked out of his appraisal of her body and stamped at the mess with a tissue. By the time he’d gotten the worst up, both hands were sticky with black ink. Glaring down at them, he growled with sheer menace. Six long strides took him around his desk to the private bathroom in his office. As he brushed by her she thought she heard him mutter, “This is going to be a long day.”
Morgan giggled. Served him right for ogling her breasts.
Wait. That’s what she wanted. She waited patiently, as patiently as she could under the circumstances, for him to finish cleaning up. When he finally returned and faced her once more, he busied himself with trying to dry his stained hands. Soap hadn’t taken care of the problem. She should apologize, but it hadn’t been her fault. If he couldn’t control his reactions, he ought to at least be more careful. She pursed her lips and fought the urge to whistle as if not noticing his state of unease.
“Why the hell are you dressed like that?” Why are you messing with my head?
Damn ink. He’d never get it off. He swiped at it uselessly with the paper towel, careful not to transfer the shit to his clothes. Clothes, or lack thereof in Morgan’s case, were the cause of this mess. Damn her for standing in front of him in a way he’d never seen her before, begging him for something he couldn’t give her at this particular second. Jesus, all the blood in his body had flowed straight to his groin.
His normally cool assistant pursed her lips. She thought this was funny. Ridge wondered how funny she would find the situation if he threw her down on the butter-soft leather couch across the room and ripped those threads off her pretty little, very sexy, made-to-be-touched-by-a-man’s-hands body.
She looked down at herself as if just now noticing her state of undress. Morgan was completely out of her comfort zone. He’d wage his entire company on it.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Ridge snorted. “Not a goddamn thing.” If you were dancing on a pole right now. He skirted by her, half afraid if he touched her he’d be inside her in less time than it took to lay her down.
Fuck laying her down, he’d take her standing up. “I’m just not used to you wearing them,” he admitted.
“Well…”
When she hesitated, he met her gaze. She nibbled on her lip, and he groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. The little minx had no idea the havoc she was playing on him. Or maybe she did…
“Well what?” he said a tad too forceful.
Morgan caught her breath and stood straighter. He had to give her credit. She lifted her head and looked him square in the eye. “Every girl has the right to feel like a girl sometimes.”
Was that what this was all about? Her testing out her feminine side? “All right.” He sat back down, trying to decide what he could salvage from the ink disaster. “Just wish the skirt wasn’t quite so short,” he murmured.
“What was that?”
He glanced up at her. “Hmm?”
Now she looked exasperated. Welcome to my world, sweetheart.
“You don’t like it?”
“Oh, me likey.” Damn. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Really?”
Great. Now he had her preening. “You’ll have every man coming in the door distracted.” And all the other male employees too. Shit. The mere thought had him turning green. He didn’t want any other man seeing what he considered his.
What the hell? His? Where had that thought come from? He’d been attracted to her from day one but she hadn’t reciprocated the interest so he’d let her be. There’d been no reason to distract from their easy working relationship.
He had to get her out of here now and dressed more, well, more…dressed. In sweats if need be. In his sweats. After a long romp between the sheets of his bed and another round in the shower. And perhaps a second go-round in the bed. Until they were both completely sated and ready to sleep for twelve hours. Then he would stuff her delectable body in his old workout sweats and keep her tucked away from the lewd eyes of all men everywhere.
He jumped from the chair, stormed around the desk and grabbed Morgan’s elbow, leading her from the office. He wasn’t going to get a damn thing done in his present state of mind. Carter would have to take over for the time being.
“Let’s go,” he snarled.
Another mouse-like squeak erupted from her lips as she was dragged away. Amy Lee, who’d appeared back at Morgan’s desk, no doubt to continue taunting her, wrenched her head and audibly gasped as they rushed by. Morgan didn’t even have the chance to gloat. Her clothes may not have turned Ridge on but they’d certainly gotten his notice.
“Where are we going?” In the ridiculous heels, she stumbled over the threshold and out onto the sidewalk. Ridge twisted in time to catch her against his hard chest, knocking the wind from her lungs. She had to grab something to balance herself, and the only thing handy was his shirt.
“You okay?”
Sta
ring at where her hands had landed—right on top of his incredible pecs—and unable to speak past the sudden rush of drool on her tongue, she nodded. Now was her chance. If she stood on her tiptoes and tilted her head just right and opened her mouth…
His arm burnt a path along the small of her back, crushing her to him, making the ridge of hardness at her abdomen very evident.
Her eyes widened. He had a hard-on. For her! Amy Lee was so going down.
“Can you walk now?” His chest vibrated beneath her fists.
His lips were perfect, his breath minty. The woodsy, manly aftershave he wore tickled her nose and his pulse thrummed at the base of his throat. She itched to lean in and sniff him right there, maybe give it a little lick before working her way up—
He lifted her gaze to his with a thumb under her chin. “I said, are you okay to walk?” The rumble was back, this time against her hardened nipples since he had her whole body squashed to his.
“Uh-huh.” She licked her lips and fought to keep her eyes open when a tingle of heat slid through her belly and sizzled between her legs.
With a sharp nod, he grabbed her hand and started dragging again. Keeping up with him in the unfamiliar shoes was proving impossible. She stopped short, yanking him back since he still had a hold of her hand. A look of surprise crossed his face as she tore off the offensive heels.
Letting out a big breath, Morgan smiled. “Much better.” She tried for cool and confident—absurd really, when she was standing on the sidewalk half-dressed and barefoot, being pulled by her gorgeous boss to who knew where. She didn’t even want to imagine the attention the two of them were most likely drawing.
A quick peek revealed several people around them. A few curious as to her behavior, most others lost in their own world.
“Now?”
“What?” She jerked her gaze back to Ridge to find him staring at her feet. Wiggling her toes, she muttered, “Sorry. These things were killing me.”
Ridge grunted then brought his steady regard of her feet up her legs and abdomen—pausing at her A plus breasts—until he reached her face. Her tummy flipped with the fire she saw glaring from his eyes. There was a predatory hunger in them that made her think he wanted to devour her whole. A sudden flutter of apprehension flitted through her system. She’d wanted him for so long, had dressed the way she had today with the full intention of garnering his attention, but now that she had it, Morgan wasn’t one hundred percent positive she was ready for it.
Between a Ridge and a Hard Place Page 1
