Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection

by Monica Corwin

  “I’m finding that hard to believe.”

  “No, it’s true,” he insisted. “I have so much respect that I still have my V card. And I need all the practice in wooing I can get between now and Friday if I don’t want to screw up my chances with my second date in the last five years.”

  “V card?” He backed away in alarm like virginity might be contagious. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  The bartender studied Kenneth, astonished, then squinted at Reese. “You really have nothing but respect for your life coach?”

  “She’s a lovely woman. She took me shopping today.”

  “And that’s what she picked out for you?” He raised a bushy eyebrow.

  Reese’s stomach flipped. He must think she’s ripping him off with terrible advice. “No, that’s not what I picked out for him. That’s what he picked out for himself this morning. Which is why we are working together, as personal coach and client.”

  “Good to know. I was about to advise my bro to find a new life coach. You want something to drink?”

  “Spritzer. Thank you.” Her hand went automatically to her purse, but Kenneth was quicker on the draw. He dropped a five for her drink and sat down to nurse his beer.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it if the bartender threatens to kick your ass?” Kenneth asked.

  “It’s an eight, eight and a half.”

  She grinned at him, and he cracked a smile. Reese liked his smile. She wanted to lick it. She had a feeling the smile would disappear soon, though.

  After a few moments of respite, she leaned towards him. “I want to see your moves on the dance floor, Kenneth.”

  He coughed and smacked his beer glass on the bar. “My moves are to get as far away from the dance floor as possible,” he said.

  “This is part of your training. It will be hard to really get a woman if you never dance a single time with her.” She grabbed his hand and wended between the tables, Kenneth in tow.

  Then they reached the dancefloor.

  Kenneth stopped walking. He was as solid and solitary as a boulder at the end of an ancient glacier path. She put her hands on his back to nudge him forward, but he turned slowly to face her.

  “I understand,” she said. “Normally, this would be a situation I work up to with my clients, and I would encourage them to find a professional teacher for private lessons—which I’ve tried myself by the way—or to go in a group of good friends. The more the merrier. But, Kenneth, we don’t have time to beat around the bush. You have to grapple your fears head on. You are the ram, put your head down and charge ahead!”

  “More like, I’m the king of the back doors in the Matrix sense. I slip unnoticed from the crowd.”

  The music changed, and a familiar twanging guitar piped from the speakers. Reese squealed and jumped up and down. “Oh, it’s my favorite from the eighties! Come on!”

  “Footloose” blasted in the bar, the iconic drum and guitar entry sending a thrill to Reese’s heart. “Feel that beat in your chest and hips, not too fast, not too slow. Dance with me, Kenneth.”

  She dragged him mercilessly to the near-empty floor.

  “Do you feel it?” She stomped and jumped to the music in a circle around Kenneth, letting the music guide her body in the Molly Ringwald moves her aunt had taught her on their weekends together.

  “I’m feeling something,” he said through a clenched jaw.

  “But you’re standing stiff as a board. Relax! Pretend you are playing one of your online games with a bunch of dudes from the comfort of your living room. Trust me. No one is watching.”

  “That guy sitting by himself at that table is watching me, and I stay fairly tense when I play games.”

  “Just copy me.” She simplified her movements to a bouncy, stationary march. Anything to get him started.

  “Hold on, I have to break this down and analyze.” He studied her, concentrating. “Alternating kick and swing of arms and legs, snap fingers—”

  “Stop, Kenneth, and feel the music. Here”—she touched his chest—“and here.” She put her hands on his hips, hooking her pointer fingers through his belt loops and tugging, left then right, in time to the music. “Let yourself go for a one minute with me.”

  When he barely budged, she got a good grip on his hips and pulled him in closer, matching her swaying to his. He grinned.

  “That’s it, you just smiled again. Second time this evening, and the first time while dancing—am I right?”

  “This is the first time I haven’t hurt any dancers within arm’s reach, but the night is young.”

  She would have laughed, but suddenly she felt him move on his own under her hands. He was dancing, dancing with her. And that electric thrill from the music transformed into something deeper and harder to resist. Kenneth’s body moved with hers. Her stomach clenched. The closer, the better.

  He is my client. Client.

  She had to make it a lesson, not take advantage of him.

  “Now let’s get really brave, I’m going to spin.” She put her hand in his and spun outwards, expecting him to keep her going for the full circle.

  He didn’t. He spun at the same time and they wound up back to back.

  “Hey, Kenneth, you weren’t supposed to turn at the same time.”

  “But you said to copy you. I’m following orders tonight.”

  He was following orders? Damn, she would love to test that.

  They bumped butts. Her platform shoes that gave her an extra five inches were paying off, she realized. He matched her rhythm, and they were pressed together by the lengths of their backs.

  They must look ridiculous, dancing butt to butt, but she didn’t care. They both laughed out loud. To think she had spent a ton of money on ballroom dance lessons for that charmed moment she met someone refined enough to ask her to waltz.

  Not once had she laughed during those lessons.

  Kenneth broke away, but in the same instant he turned and wrapped his arms around her chest, his cheek to her ear.

  “There’s a problem, Reese,” he said.

  The music changed.

  Sinead O’Connor’s plaintive “Nothing Compares to You” followed the brief silence. Kenneth swayed more or less in rhythm, holding her.

  “No problems. You’re doing great,” she said. She lifted her chin half an inch to rub her ear to his warm skin, taking advantage of his nearness.

  “But she’s here.”

  Reese froze. She? His date for Friday?

  If his date saw them together it would ruin his training, his chances, and the reason he had paid her a fat envelope of cash.

  She stepped free and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job,” she said loudly. “Which one is she?”

  “Brunette with three friends. Hair in a ponytail.” He cocked his chin towards the entry.

  “I though your date was blonde.”

  “It’s not Amanda, my Friday date. It’s Sheryl, my two-weeks-ago date that ended in disaster. What do you recommend I do? Ignore her?”

  Reese peeked around him toward the bar. It looked as though a group of girlfriends had come in after work in the medical lab. The brunette with a ponytail was ordering a drink.

  “There are two ways to react,” Reese said. “You can be an adult and give her a friendly hello or nod if you happen to get close enough. Or…” her voice faded as she contemplated what she would do in his shoes.

  Should she suggest it?

  Yeah, she should suggest it. “Or you can get a little petty revenge by buying me a drink at the bar.”

  He grinned. “Admittedly, I have a hard time saying no to petty revenge.”

  “It’s all in the name of just deserts. Shall we?”

  Kenneth took the hand she offered, as if it was a real date. The calm part of her brain checked off an item in the running list in her head.

  Escort his dance partner from the floor.

  The rest of her was singing Hallelujah in the choir.

/>   8

  Kenneth

  Kenneth reached the counter and signaled the bartender; thankfully the woman from before and not the beefy pit bull who wanted to throw him out.

  “Kenneth,” Reese said, leaning into his side, running her fingers along his arm. His heart nearly stopped. “I’ll have a strawberry margarita.”

  She spoke unusually loud, given their proximity. His failed date swiveled around. Their eyes locked, and there was a tiny jolt of recognition in her face.

  He nodded at her, once in hello.

  Sheryl swallowed and tipped a drink at him, and she studied Reese as she sipped it. He could have sworn her nose started twitching, but in the next instant she flounced off with her friends toward the dance floor.

  He expelled the pent-up air in his lungs and rolled his shoulders quickly.

  “That was a thing of beauty,” Reese said. A smile lit her face. “Your ex-date just realized what she’s missing out on. Don’t ask me why, but there is nothing like not being able to have something to make it desirable. She’ll be kicking her butt for letting you slip through her fingers for the rest of the evening, trust me.”

  The bartender cleared her throat, wiping the counter at his elbow to get his attention.

  “Can we have a strawberry margarita and a Corona?” Kenneth asked.

  Reese winked. “This toast will be to you. A resounding success for tonight, I’m very proud. You are facing fears and conquering them one after the next, like a grizzly bear of the mountains. You let nothing stop you.”

  “Grizzly bears have to face the females who reject them in bars?” he asked.

  “No, not literally,” she said, laughing. She reached for her tiny leather bag hanging at her hip, and he didn’t hear what else she said.

  The bartender set the drinks down a little behind Reese. Kenneth handed her a twenty and reached for the glasses.

  Reese, who had been rifling through her purse, presumably for money she didn’t need, seemed flustered. She jumped, realizing that Kenneth had already paid. “You shouldn’t have—”

  The beer behind her tilted dangerously. He lunged forward and caught it, bumping into Reese’s shoulder. They were so close. A hairsbreadth from one another.

  Their eyes met.

  Their lips met. They pressed together in a furtive kiss.

  Kenneth pulled back, sucking in his breath. He righted the beer before it toppled and soaked them both. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

  She was staring at his mouth, then slowly placed a finger on it. His heart raced, but he didn’t dare breathe. She tilted her head and leaned into him.

  A brush of her lips and he was lost. He placed his hand at her nape to cup her face upwards. He needed her closer.

  Her soft lips moved with his, against his, in pursuit of his. He wanted to taste her. Tongues touched, hesitant and shy, and he explored her mouth deeper.

  She pitched forward half-off her chair, and he supported her, ready to carry her in a second’s notice. The noise of the bar faded. The smells and sights and everything that was not her faded.

  This was all that mattered and all that existed. He could do this all fucking night.

  No, he couldn’t do this all night. There were too many other things he wanted to do. He pulled back, taking a deep breath. Glazed eyes stared into his, then blinked and focused.

  Reese sat upright with a jerk backward. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what just happened and I apologize. That is not what I usually do with my clients, I swear.”

  “Really?” He blinked, refocusing and coming back to reality. It was a hard landing. Her hand trembled as she reached for her drink. He had to recover the situation. Make a quip. Act nonchalant. Yeah. Fake it. “I thought since I was your first real-life client you wanted to set a dangerous precedent.”

  Reese laughed. She thought he was joking. Well, he was joking. He was an ass who made a joke instead of saying what he truly wanted to say.

  Stay with me tonight. Nothing has to happen that you don’t want, but I want to spend the night with you. Talking, cuddling, whispering, whatever you want. There was nothing difficult in those words, and yet it was impossible for him to say out loud.

  Kenneth chuckled, grabbed his beer, and chugged it.

  The alarm that registered on her face as he slugged back twelve ounces in one go was understandable. This was not a logical situation he could explain.

  “Again, I apologize. That shouldn’t have…” She trailed off and he followed her gaze across the room.

  Sheryl either had her panties in a serious bunch over something or she had swallowed the lemon slice in her margarita.

  Nope. She had seen them.

  It was petty and he knew it, but it felt good. She was mad someone else had kissed him.

  Reese put her hand on his arm. “I don’t know how it happened. It won’t happen again, I promise.” She stood up.

  Kenneth stretched his arms out, fingers interlocked to crack his knuckles; a habit from too many hours at the keyboard. He rose to accompany Reese, but she hurried off in front of him.

  The kiss must have shaken her. Dammit. It had been wrong of him to presume. To keep kissing her. Despite what his body was screaming—and the budding hard-on in his pants was yelling loudest—it had not been a good idea.

  If he kept his head on straight and figured out this dating jungle, then just maybe Amanda was waiting as his prize at the end. She was worth every effort. The psychology behind successful relationships laid out the facts: the chances of success was directly linked to the social and sexual compatibility of the couple.

  Vinegar and oil didn’t mix.

  Sweet and sour didn’t make for a lasting relationship.

  Amanda was a better match and a better chance of success. He could really use some success in his love life at this point, and if it was only with one woman, he could deal with it.

  But he needed success.

  Eyes on the prize. Wasn’t that what people said?

  His eyes riveted on Reese’s ass. She paused and twisted to face him. And his eyes went straight to the breasts filling her shirt, and his cock twitched in agony. The feel of her lips still lingered on his.

  Apparently he couldn’t keep his eyes off the prize, but it was the wrong target.

  9

  Reese

  The office lights were blinding in neon blue. Reese’s eyes adjusted painfully, and she paused to give them a moment. Knowing that a long day of cold, hard numbers waited for her rounded her shoulders.

  Reese wended her way to her desk, five minutes late (but who was counting?) and aching after a restless, broken sleep. It was amazing how an extra three thousand dollars in her drawer made her ecstatic, really fired up to get her advice blog rolling, and it also made her feel like a steaming pile of hypocritical, craptastic, imposter shit for kissing a client. She had also taken advantage of Kenneth’s poor dancing skills to press her cheek against his, and cop a feel of his chest and arms, but he didn’t know it.

  She wasn’t fit to be a life coach: the only thing she dreamed of doing for half a decade. Reese was little better than a predator.

  Nothing would make this right, except apologizing again for her behavior and making him the Don Juan of seduction, an irresistible bachelor, a figure of manliness.

  Or, at the very least, give him tips on how to get laid pronto.

  “Hey, Reese’s Pieces!”

  “Oh, my darlin’ Clementine,” Reese said, blinking in adoration at her friend’s cheerful face.

  “You look like death reheated in the microwave.”

  “Sounds about right. Bring me coffee?”

  “Sure, anything for you. I also wanted to ask you something,” Clem said. She leaned against the wobbly partition. “I was wondering…are you doing unusual after hours? When you aren’t at work?”

  What the…“Unusual? No. Nothing unusual going on here. Why?”

  “It occurred to me that you hurry home every day, and you’re so quiet about y
our evenings. I don’t know.”

  “I’m about as boring as they get. I crunch numbers and write reports during the day, go home to my Beta fish and watch Netflix until I pass out on the sofa. That’s me.” Reese forced a short laugh. The laugh might have been too much.

  Clem nodded and backed away with a relieved smile. Five minutes later she came bearing a steamy cup of coffee.

  “Bless you, O fruity coworker,” Reese said as she took the cup.

  “You are the candy in my trick-or-treat bag. Always.”

  Reese’s computer struggled to life about as slowly as she did.

  Emails. Check the emails first.

  There was the same old, same old in the inbox, and she began the tedious task of sorting and prioritizing, shooting out short answers whenever possible. Then came the usual stream of reports and numbers. Her soul withered and dried a little bit more each day she was stuck here.

  She had thought Kenneth was crazy for voluntarily creating graphs to help him find the love of his life. Graphs were right up there with balancing budgets: nothing romantic or fun about them.

  Emotions were what mattered. What did your gut instinct tell you? What made your heart soar? Listening to the whispers from your inner self. That was how you made decisions. Reese should know. Her heart had yanked her in the opposite direction when her mind convinced her to take the business classes in college because she was afraid of failing if she chose a liberal arts program.

  A box popped up in the corner of her screen.

  Kenneth: I apologize again for the mix-up last night.

  Reese’s heart pinched. He was sorry. She was sorry, too, for a million reasons. Nervous fingers flitted over her keyboard.

  Reese: It was all my fault. Don’t forget to fill out the self-reflection survey.

  Kenneth: I’m done. I couldn’t sleep last night.

  She hadn’t slept either.

  Did he toss in his damp sheets for several hours before admitting defeat, the same as her? Did he imagine her with him, her breathing, the curves and lines of her body under the covers next to him? Or maybe he told himself he was a desperate idiot, reaching for the wrong person.