She’d whispered an apology. She hadn’t intended it that way, but it was like a knife had stabbed into his chickenshit heart.
Trembling, he’d pulled his shirt over his head. “It’s okay,” he’d told her. Walking over to her he’d given her a kiss on top of her head. A Judas kiss is what it felt like. And after all the passion she’d given him. Kissing every inch of his skin, licking down his muscled body, beautiful eyes closed in a gesture of pure devotion. Not to mention the press of her lips to the tip of his cock, her little tongue greedily claiming the tiny drop of pre-come that was to be the foretaste of a cascading fountain, every bit of which she took willingly down her sweet throat.
But that was only the beginning. Twice more, they’d made love, each time more amazing than the last, their bodies spurring each other to ever greater delights.
“It was fun, Eleesha,” he’d told her. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
That last statement of his had haunted him the most. There wasn’t a worse thing he could have said if he’d taken a hundred years and studied with the world’s masters of bad behavior. It was confusing and demeaning what he’d told her and it made the whole thing look like he either wanted to continue to take advantage of her body and avoid knowing her as a person or that he was just paying her lip service to shut her up.
His retreat had been hasty, but not so hasty that he hadn’t heard her crying. There had been no mistaking the meaning, no misunderstanding, the damage he’d done. She’d had feelings for him. That’s what the note that the sorority girls had written had been about. Going over it in his mind he’d thought of the tragedy of it all. Those sorority sisters had been damned mean to set Eleesha up. She’d been just a kid. So was he, come to think of it. If only he’d had the good grace to say no.
But the sex had been so good. He’d nearly forgotten how much she turned him on, what it felt like to look into those blue eyes of hers, to feel her soul open to up to him, or to hear her say “yes”.
Ross had never been loved like that by any other woman. His cock had never felt so at home, so welcomed in a woman’s body. She’d honored him—that was the word. It had bordered on worship. No other woman had felt that for him. Not any of the cheerleaders, not the starlets, and not even Chelsea.
He revved the bike, moving to the outside lane. He was going to get a ticket but he didn’t give a damn. Ross needed the speed to clear his head. A tragic mistake of a marriage later, a shooting star of a career that had ended with him facedown on the ground in agonizing pain, and now a totally unexpected series of business successes and somehow he was back where he’d started.
Under the same roof as Eleesha. Damn, but she’d looked good to him today. It was months since he’d made love to a woman and she was more than just a woman. She was a superheated sex siren, glowing with her heat and energy. That body—shapelier than ever. That face—the lines of her life filled in so nicely. He’d wanted her, right there in the lobby, wanted her in his arms. Wanted her up there on that security desk.
She was sassing him something terrible. Just begging for a man to take hold of her and show her he meant business. And that ass when she’d walked to the elevator. Was it his imagination or had she been flirting with him just then?
This was all too confusing. He wanted to love her, he wanted to apologize on bended knee, he wanted to run like hell—a thousand miles away in any direction.
This meant one of two things as near as he could tell. Either he was about to come down with a severe version of the flu, or else he had unresolved feelings for this woman he’d yet to deal with.
Let it be the flu, he prayed.
* * * * *
Eleesha loomed over the desk of Lyle Wainwright, palms on the man’s blotter, nails dug in, teeth bared. It was her best fighting stance, the one she saved for must-win battles. The do or die situations when she could not afford, for one reason or another, to back down. She liked to hope she did this for the sake of justice or at least for corporate fair play and efficiency, though every now and then she had to admit to taking things too personally.
This was not one of those times. And woe to anyone who said otherwise.
“I won’t work with that man,” she said. “And that’s final.”
Lyle leaned back in his chair, assuming a fretting, thoughtful countenance. He was a short, baldheaded man with heavy jowls and thick fingers. Lyle was as close as she’d ever known to a father, which made it doubly hard to ever hear a “no” from his lips.
“Eleesha, you know the confidence I have in your judgment.” He held out his hands. “But I just don’t see where you’re coming from on this. Ross Maclean comes very highly recommended, and by a lot of people I respect. I’ve met him myself, and he seems not only sharp, but decent, too. If anybody can find a way to make this place more efficient and save our jobs, it’s him. I know it’s hard to believe an ex-jock could be a business whiz, but it turns out he’s got the knack. Loves it, too. Anyway, I fail to see what you could have against him. You only just met him.”
Eleesha frowned. “He parked in my spot,” she said, well aware that she was running the risk of sounding like a spoiled child.
Lyle exhaled, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake, Eleesha. We’ll get the man his own spot.”
She felt the wind being sucked from her sails. Ross was winning this battle. If she pulled back now, however, she could yet win the war. “I guess you’re right,” she relented, carefully preserving her objectivity. “I ought to give him a fair chance.”
Lyle narrowed his gaze. He knew Eleesha better than to take such an easy surrender at face value. “And that’s really all that’s going on?”
“Yes. Although I will be keeping an eye on him, if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely.” He seemed relieved now. “Any problems, you let me know.”
She arched a brow. “Count on it, Lyle.”
Lyle licked his lips. She knew from experience that he was debating whether to ask a question.
“What is it, Lyle?
He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Eleesha didn’t like the sound of that. He was already suspecting something personal here. It occurred to her now that Ross might well start bragging about his prior conquest of her. Would he be that low after all these years? Why not? Hadn’t he parked in her spot just for spite?
Saying her goodbyes to the boss, she headed to her own office. A plan was formulating in her mind. It would do no good to sit around waiting for Ross Maclean to screw up. She was going to have to go to him, face-to-face and convince him just how unwise it would be to stay.
Men weren’t the only ones who could tell stories, after all. And even a ne’er-do-well like Ross would have some desire to keep his reputation as a gentleman. If for no other reason than to go on deceiving other innocent women.
“Martha,” Eleesha said to her very efficient blonde-haired personal assistant, fresh out of secretarial school. “I need you to set up an appointment for me with the new consultant. ASAP.”
Her big blue eyes lit up under her soft bangs. “You mean Mr. Maclean? Omigod, he is like so hot. And he was a big football star, too, in like the NBA or something. Wouldn’t you just die for a date with him?”
Eleesha shot daggers at the pretty young thing behind the desk in the outer office. “It was the NFL, Martha, and no, I most certainly would not. In point of actual fact, I would prefer a date with Wolfman Jack.”
Martha cocked her head. “Who’s that?”
Eleesha rolled her eyes, feeling worn to the bone with frustration. “You’re too darned young sometimes, Martha, do you know that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said meekly as Eleesha slammed her door behind her.
A moment later she popped her head back out, sheepish. “Sorry, Martha. You didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s okay, boss,” she smiled. “It’s an executive thing, right?”
“Something like that,” she
managed weakly.
Something like that, indeed.
Chapter Two
Ross showed up promptly at eight-thirty the next morning for his scheduled appointment with Eleesha Greene. He’d been a bit surprised when her secretary had called yesterday to arrange a meeting, but the more he thought about it, the better it was to just deal with things straight up.
The last twenty-four hours had given him lots of time to think about why he’d reacted so strongly to seeing Eleesha yesterday. Since it was abundantly obvious by now that he did not have the flu, he was going to have to do the one thing he hated most in life—meet his emotions head-on.
Logically, the place to start was to truly and sincerely apologize. He owed that to her. He was man enough now. And with any luck, that would lay it all to rest. She would simply be another colleague, with whom he’d had a distant association, once upon a time. She’d be a generic worker, one of the many vice presidents here with no more sexual appeal than, say, Lyle.
Never again would he be up half the night, tossing and turning, dealing with an irrepressible erection as he imagined the Eleesha of the present, stripped of her clothes, helpless in his arms, unable to resist the power of his will. Twice he’d awoken from erotic dreams. The second time was so real that he’d had to stop and think for a minute if it was an actual memory of their encounter over the motorcycle or merely a fantasy.
In the dream, he’d come up on Eleesha as she was complaining to the security guard Frank. That much was the same in both versions. But in his dream version he told her flat-out that the spot was no longer hers. When she demanded an explanation, he told her it now belonged to him, as did everything else in her life.
Naturally she objected, and it was at this point that he moved in to kiss her. Instantly, he reclaimed all the territory of ten years ago and then some. She was his, according to the passion of his lips, the brand of his hot mouth. And not just the Eleesha of old, but the one from the present, ten years wiser, more mature and stronger.
He let her get the struggling out of her system. Her wriggling only brought her closer against him, anyhow. She moaned in frustration as she realized she was only managing to arouse him further, the motions of her breasts and pelvis inviting more, not less exploitation of her person.
In his dream, Ross took his time with his tongue, letting her know in no uncertain terms that he had penetration on his mind. The worse part for her was dealing with his erect cock, pushing out the material of his jeans, pressing intimately between her legs. When she tried to leverage herself sideways he simply slid his hands down her back, taking public claim of her full, womanly ass cheeks. A sigh escaped her captive lips as he settled her right back where he wanted her. Crotch to crotch.
Ross was patient. He made sure she had no fight left in her at all. Heartbeat by heartbeat he waited until she was reduced to proper, feminine panting.
Releasing her lips at last, he spoke. “Everything,” he reiterated, “is mine.”
To punctuate the point, he took hold of one full breast. It felt like heaven in his hands—as firm as he remembered.
“You sure know how to handle her, Mister,” Frank said. “Makes you the first, too.”
Eleesha tried to recover herself, pushing at his chest with her palms. He held her fast.
“It’s not fair,” she exclaimed, stamping her foot.
The gesture, so totally sweet and female made him want her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. It was the handling part that really got to him. The way she was being taken control of, but at the same time willingly surrendering herself.
“Frank,” he called to the guard. “Is there a room we can use?”
He chuckled. “You aiming to tame her good and proper?”
“I just need to finish something,” he said. “Something I started ten years ago.”
“Might try the first-floor conference room.” He pointed down the hall. “There’s a nice big table. Hope you won’t mind that, Miss Greene.”
“She’ll be just fine,” he answered for her. “Won’t you, Eleesha?”
Her response was predictably hostile. “I hate you, Ross.”
He started unbuttoning her jacket. “That’s fine, sweetheart, but you’ll still come for me.”
“No, I won’t!”
“Stop fussing, Eleesha, or I’ll put you over my knee.”
Eleesha settled down, though her breathing remained harsh—deliberate exhalations to indicate how unhappy she was. “You’d never spank me,” she declared.
He pulled the jacket down over her shoulders and handed it to Frank. “Try me.”
Her hands went up over her blouse-covered breasts. “You can’t strip me out here in the open. I draw the line there.”
“She’s right,” said Frank, employing classic dream logic. “The board members are coming and they are bringing your mother. You know how she hates you to tease the girls.”
Never mind that Frank had never even met his mother. He found himself answering. “All right, I’ll do it in the conference room. Let’s get your pretty backside in motion,” he barked the command to Eleesha.
She squealed as he slapped her ass, sending her down the hall.
He and Frank were laughing hard as she disappeared down the corridor.
“Say,” the man told him, suddenly serious, “you better not let her get too far ahead.”
Ross went after her, but the corridor was changing as he went, lengthening, and switching directions. He started running, knocking on door after door, calling her name.
He’d awoken in a cold sweat, his hard dick in his hand. It was as close as he’d come to a nocturnal emission since he was a teenager.
No doubt about it, he needed to lay Eleesha’s romantic ghost to rest in his mind. Pronto. Armed with singular determination and a belly full of coffee, he presented himself to the woman’s secretary.
“Mr. Maclean,” said the cute as a button blonde. “Gosh, I can’t believe it’s you, right here in front of me. If it’s not too much trouble, would you sign an autograph for my little brother? You were like his favorite pitcher when you played.”
Ross took the blank piece of paper from her hand. “Actually, I was a quarterback,” he offered gently.
“Really?” She blinked her saucer-sized blue eyes. “Wow. I could have sworn he said you were the guy who like threw the ball and stuff.”
“That’s true,” he attempted to enlighten her. “Except in football the one who throws the ball is called a quarterback.”
She looked at him blankly. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just used the same name for things in all the sports?”
It was something Ross had never considered. “You may be onto something, young lady.”
She smiled with glee as he handed back the paper that he’d signed with a flourish. He’d even drawn a big football, so she’d keep it straight what kind of ball he used to throw.
“Thank you, Mr. Maclean, you’re the greatest.”
“You’re quite welcome. I didn’t catch your name, though.”
“It’s Martha,” she blushed.
“That’s a pretty name. By the way, please call me Ross.”
“Okay,” she half-giggled. “Ross.”
Ross knew he could get this woman in bed in a heartbeat. It was amazing how his confidence increased with age. On the other hand, he was also feeling increasingly uncomfortable dealing with younger women. It was like stealing someone else’s fruit, taking unfair advantage of his greater life experience to win cheap seductions.
He needed more than that. The trouble was, the “more” would mean a relationship, maybe even a marriage like he’d had with Chelsea. To do that would be to court disaster all over again. Some people just weren’t meant to marry was all he could figure. And he was one of them.
The door to the inner sanctum opened, just enough to allow a head to pop out. “If you’re quite through flirting,” said Eleesha to the hapless secretary. “I am waiting to see Mr. Maclean.”
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The door closed again, abruptly.
Ross looked at Martha, wincing slightly in sympathy.
“It’s all right,” Martha assured. “She’ll apologize later. It’s an executive thing.”
Personally, Ross thought it was a childish thing, but he kept his tongue. “Any time you want an autograph—” he winked, his hand on the knob to the domain of the wicked advertising witch. “You let me know.”
“You got it, Ross.” Her wink was conspiratorial, more like a little sister than a potential lover. Just as well, he decided.
Speaking of little sisters, he was feeling a sudden need to stick up for Martha. “Eleesha,” he said to the woman standing before him, breathtaking in her blue pleated skirt and pink blouse. “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on the kid?”
Ross knew he’d made a mistake the minute the words came out of his mouth. Eleesha’s pretty features narrowed into a look of pure venom.
“She’s not a kid, Ross, she’s a grown woman. And how I handle my employees is none of your concern.”
Actually it was his concern, very much so as the supposed consultant from the board, but he opted not to point this fact out. “Look, Eleesha, I know we’ve gotten off to a bad start,” he said gently but firmly. “And I want a chance to make things right.”
“Make things right?” she challenged. “It’s a bit late for that, Ross. Don’t you think?”
The images kept pushing at him from his dream—he had to fight the desire to answer her with a kiss, squashing those luscious lips, making her squirm and moan…and surrender.
“Ross,” she would whisper, saying his name as once she had, so full of hope and innocence the night he had laid her defenses bare, possessing her in every manner known to man. Her body beneath his, covered in sweat, yearning and twisting.
He’d put her in ropes, even tying her wrists and ankles, to heighten the tease, to increase the trust. She’d strained against her bonds, helpless as he dove between her legs.
“Let me,” she’d begged. “Let me climax.”
“Eleesha,” he said, fighting to stay in the cold, professional reality of the here and now. “I can’t change things in the past. I…I can’t even begin to address any pain I’ve caused you. But I can apologize, from the bottom of my heart. I don’t expect you to accept it or to ever even like me again, but I hope there can be at least the peace we need to work together. Know this much—if I could change things…”
Come and Get Me Page 2
