One Hot December (Mills & Boon Blaze) (Men at Work, Book 3)

by Tiffany Reisz

  “A tell? Like a poker tell?”

  She nodded.

  “What’s my tell?”

  “When you’re working and somebody says something to you, you answer them while you’re still working. Unless it’s me. You always stopped what you were doing if I said something to you, no matter how minor,” she said as she traced circles around the head of his cock with her fingertip. “Steve or Jack or Davis could ask you something while you were reading a contract or blueprints or something, and you’d answer them without looking up. With me you put whatever you were reading down on your desk. Then you looked up.”

  “I liked looking at you.”

  “I got that feeling. I liked looking at you, too. You’re pretty sexy for a suit,” she said.

  “You like my suits. Admit it.”

  “I love your suits. They make you look...powerful, important, in charge. I like a man who wears authority well.”

  “You like me.”

  She nodded again, smiling.

  Ian grinned that grin again, that “I love my fucking life” grin, which he wore so well. The world had been very kind to him and his one redeeming virtue was that he knew it and appreciated it.

  “Since I’m in charge here,” he said, “I’m going to give you an order.”

  “I order you to order me.”

  “Tell me why you’re uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not. This hot tub is great.”

  “You know what I mean.” He looked at her, grin gone. He was Mr. Serious Ian now. She much preferred Mr. Horny and Distracted Ian.

  He put his hand on her face, caressed her cheek.

  “Tell me,” he said. “You play your cards close to your chest. Let me see some of your cards, okay?”

  “It’s dumb,” she said. “I know it’s dumb and you’re just going to tell me it’s dumb.”

  “I am not. Tell me.”

  “You come from a wealthy, powerful and big-deal family and I don’t.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  She splashed water in his face.

  “I deserved that,” he said.

  “You did.”

  “But it is dumb.”

  “Ian...”

  She moved off his lap and sat next to him.

  “I’m only teasing you,” he said as he dragged her bodily back into his arms.

  “Ian, I have worked at a construction site for two years now. The only woman on a construction crew. I’ve been called a slut. I’ve been asked how big my cock is. One guy calls me Lady Gaga all the time.”

  “No, that’s gotta be a compliment.”

  “Not when the sentence starts with ‘Shut the hell up.’”

  Ian winced. “I know a lot of the guys felt threatened by you. I’m sorry. I did my best to make it a safe place to work. I know my best wasn’t enough.”

  “It was subcontractors mostly, other guys on other crews who didn’t know me and thought they could get away with saying that stuff.”

  “Can’t fire the subcontractors,” Ian said. “If they don’t work for me, I can’t fire them.”

  “Right. Even if you could, if you fired everyone who said something inappropriate at work, you would have fired everyone. Myself included.”

  “That’s true. There was the porn name incident.”

  “Lady Welder is a great porn name.”

  “Yes, and it’s mine. Go get your own.”

  “Knowing what you know about what my life has been like the past couple of years, do you really think it’s irrational of me to be nervous about dating you?” she asked, and waited, wanting a serious answer, needing a serious answer.

  Ian gave a heavy sigh and sat up in the hot tub.

  “No. It’s not irrational. You’ve had to put up with a lot of shit over the past couple years, and I don’t blame you for worrying about having to go through another couple years of proving your worth to people who don’t get you.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you understand where I’m coming from. The last guy I dated before you had full-sleeve tattoos and a blue Mohawk. He was a bartender at a music club. We matched. You and I, we don’t match very well. We clash. We’re like Joe Biden and Joan Jett.”

  “I can’t believe you called me Joe Biden.”

  “He’s the first Catholic guy I could think of who wears suits all the time.”

  “First of all, Joe Biden and Joan Jett would be the founders of the greatest rock n’ roll supergroup ever. And second, we do not clash. You’re sexy. I’m sexy. We match.”

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “I am. I swear I am. Okay, let’s discuss it. Yes, my father has a lot of money and a lot of companies and he’s kind of important out there.” Ian pointed west toward Portland and presumably the world at large. “But I don’t have a lot of money. I make a good salary, but I’m not rich. I own no companies. I’m not important to anyone but my father, my family, my friends and you.”

  “I know all that. I know you don’t care that I don’t have much money or that I live in a kind of crappy apartment or any of that. I know.” She raised her hands in surrender. “But I also know people aren’t going to expect to see someone like me with someone like you. Not even me. When I picture you, Ian Asher—scion of the Asher empire—with somebody, it’s not me.”

  “Who do you picture me with? Is it a guy? Because I picture you with other girls sometimes.”

  “Ian.”

  “Is he cute? Is he well-hung? I’m shallow enough to admit that’s important.”

  “Ian.”

  “Does he like me or is he just using me for sex? I hope he’s just using me for sex. I don’t want to break his heart, but I’m already in a serious relationship.”

  Flash had no choice but to sink under the surface of the water in the hopes of drowning. She lasted all of one second under the water before her face nearly melted off from the heat and she resurfaced.

  “He is using me for sex, isn’t he? I knew it,” Ian said with a sigh.

  “You are the most annoying man I’ve ever wanted to have sex with right now,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

  “Too late. I’m stage one again.”

  “What? That was fast.”

  “I can’t help it,” he said with a shrug. “You were talking about my father and it wilted.”

  She put her feet flat on the hot tub floor and stood up, showing him her naked body dripping with water and illuminated from behind by the deck light.

  “That’s helping,” he said. He reached for her again and she stepped back out of his grasp.

  “No touching,” she said. “Not until you at least pretend to take me seriously for a few seconds. It’s all I ask.”

  “I’m taking you very seriously,” Ian said. “You’re my girlfriend and I’m wild about you. I think you’re amazing and sexy and amazingly sexy. I want to spend a lot of time getting to know you, hanging out with you, being with you in bed and out of bed. And in hot tub and out of hot tub. Clothed and naked. All of that.”

  “This sounds very good to me.”

  “Good. I don’t want to be worrying every time we’re out in public together that you don’t feel like you belong with me just because my father has a lot of money. It’s his thing, not my thing. After my mother died, he threw himself into work. He was making millions while I was making those stupid handprint turkeys for Thanksgiving and cardboard Christmas trees covered in cotton balls. Dad’s work has nothing to do with me other than he owns the company I work for.”

  “Don’t pretend he’s not planning on your taking over the empire.”

  “He wants that, yes. And he’s planning on leaving me his money. But—believe it or not—I love my father. I even like the guy most of the time. I
’m really hoping I don’t see a penny of the Asher money for decades. I want him to live a very long time and he probably will. My grandfather is still alive, and he’s in his late seventies. The Ashers have good genes.”

  “You move in very different circles than I do. Can you deny that?”

  “I go to Dad’s corporate functions and campaign fundraisers when he asks me to go. I’d like you to come with me when I go to them but I won’t make you. They’re boring, but they’ll be less boring if you’re there.”

  “You won’t feel weird being at some big fancy campaign fundraiser with me on your arm?”

  “No. Weird is not the word. Erect is the word. Which gets us back to the idea of men wearing the fluffy skirts in public.”

  “I’m picturing you in a poodle skirt. It’s very...arousing.”

  “Speaking of arousing...this is very adorable of you.” He waved his finger in a circle in her general direction.

  “What?”

  “You being nervous about dating me. I’ve spent the last year and a half being slightly terrified of you. It’s nice to know I make you a little nervous, too.”

  “It’s not nervousness. I have pride, Ian.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  She flicked water at him. It went right up his nose. Score.

  “I have pride and I’m not going to take it well if your father’s friends treat me differently than they treat you. You understand what I’m saying? I’m not going to stand by silently while your dad’s friends talk to you and ignore me.”

  “Knowing some of Dad’s friends they’ll ignore me and hit on you.”

  “Or they’ll treat me like shit.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “It’s already happened.”

  “What? What do you mean?” Ian sat up. Now he was taking her seriously.

  “I hate to tell you this, but certain members of your world have made it clear they don’t want me in it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A couple months ago, I tried coming into your world and I wasn’t allowed in. You think I’m making up being worried about us being a couple?”

  “What are you talking about? When do you try to come into my world?”

  “Two months ago, I tried to come to the twenty-fifth anniversary party for Asher Construction.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “You didn’t come to the party. I was there.”

  “I said I ‘tried’ to come. I didn’t make it inside.”

  “Chicken out?” He wouldn’t blame her if she did. In October, his father had thrown an anniversary celebration at Portland’s most elegant hotel. It was a black-tie affair and everyone from the mayor of Portland to the coach of the Portland Timbers came. Everyone who worked full-time for Asher Construction had been invited but with the invitation stressing the requirement of formal attire, almost none of the rank-and-file workers had shown up. He’d hoped Flash would show up. He would have given half his salary to see her in a cocktail dress. All night he kept one eye on the door and one eye on whoever he was trying to have a conversation with. But Flash never showed.

  “I don’t chicken out,” she said. “I came. I came in a dress, a gorgeous dress Mrs. Scheinberg had lent me. Red, strapless and stunning. I had black elbow gloves. I had my hair professionally done so I looked like a redheaded Twiggy with tattoos. And I showed up at the front door looking like a million dollars and then some. And they wouldn’t let me in.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Security wouldn’t let me in since I hadn’t RSVPed in time. I told them I worked for Asher Construction on the crew. The guy laughed and said, ‘As what?’ I told him I was a welder. He laughed again and said, ‘Sure thing, honey. Nice ink, but the Ashers don’t like crashers.’ He was pretty proud of himself for that one.”

  “Fuck.”

  “I tried to get him to find your father. I asked for Mr. Asher and some guy came over and said I should probably run along before they had to call the police.”

  “Did this man kind of look like Gene Hackman?”

  “Yeah, kind of. Had the mean eyes.”

  “That’s my dad’s ex-campaign manager, Jimmie Russell. He’s kind of an asshole.”

  “I noticed. He and that security guard looked at my tattoos and my piercings and my hair and decided I wasn’t good enough to be in the same room as you and your family. He told me to run along back to my strip club because my pole was waiting for me.”

  “He said what?”

  “You heard me,” Flash said. “And you want to know the really wild thing?”

  “Probably not, but tell me.”

  “That dress Mrs. Scheinberg lent me was vintage Givenchy. It cost thousands of dollars when Dr. Scheinberg bought it for Mrs. Scheinberg in 1960. It’s worth a fortune now. I was dressed better than him, your father and you combined.”

  “You didn’t deserve that,” Ian whispered, true words but they didn’t seem like enough.

  “Nobody does.”

  “Men like Russell don’t know something valuable when they see it. But I do.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I spent that entire four-hour party watching the door, hoping you’d show up. I got cornered by one of dad’s friends trying to talk me into investing in some scheme of his. That must have been when you tried to get in.”

  “I didn’t care about the party. I only went there to tell you I was sorry for what I’d said when you dumped me. And maybe make you a little sorry you’d dumped me. Then they kicked me out. Not much humiliates me, Ian, but that was humiliating. I cried in Mrs. Scheinberg’s apartment when I gave her the dress back.”

  “Jesus Christ...”

  “I don’t think you can say that anymore, now that we know you’re Jewish. But I’m not sure. We’ll have to check the bylaws.”

  He laughed and groaned at the same time.

  “Ian?” she asked. “You okay?”

  He shook his head.

  “No? You aren’t okay?” she asked.

  He looked up from the cradle of his hands and smiled.

  “I hate everything forever,” he said. “On earth. Right now. This second.”

  “Welcome to my life.”

  “I told Dad I thought the black-tie anniversary party was a waste of money and a bad idea. I said we should have a company barbecue. Something everyone could come to without feeling like they had to drop a ton of money on formal attire. He said every Asher event was a campaign fundraiser whether we wanted it to be or not. Fat cats don’t go on picnics, and we needed the fat cats on our side. I lose a lot of these arguments.”

  “I’m glad you tried, though,” she said.

  Ian leaned his head back against the edge of the hot tub and exhaled so hard a whole cloud of smoke billowed from his mouth and nose and up into the night sky.

  “I feel like I’m always apologizing to you,” he said. “And here I’m doing it again. I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to do to you and say to you and I would have put Russell in the hospital if I’d known what was going on.”

  “I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you would have let me in the party. It’s not you. It’s just...nobody wants to see the captain of the football team with the weird Goth girl at school. They want to see him with the head cheerleader. I’m not a cheerleader, Ian. I eat cheerleaders.”

  “Literally or in a sexual way?”

  “Both,” she said. “I’m a bisexual cannibal and proud of it.”

  “You’re wrong, by the way.”

  “About what?” she demanded. “I’m never wrong.”

  “About the football captain and the weird Goth girl. You said nobody wants to see them together. I want to see them together.”

>   “What about your grandparents? What about your dad’s business partners? What about your friends?”

  “I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. And they shouldn’t, either.”

  “What if your grandmother says something to you about my tattoos?”

  “Never too early for the old folks’ home, Grandma.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re ridiculous. Can you not be serious for three seconds?”

  “I can’t help it,” he said with that grin again, that gorgeous grin. “I’m too happy.” He put his hands on her waist and gently drew him to her.

  “You’re cute when you’re happy,” she said. “Why are you so happy?”

  “Because two days ago I thought you were walking out of my life—forever. And now you’re my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m stoned to the gills on hormones. Aren’t you?”

  “Stoned?”

  “Happy?”

  “I’m—” she settled onto his lap again, straddling his thighs and resting her chin on his shoulder “—cautiously optimistic.”

  “It’s a good start.” He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her lips. “I want you to be happy, though. You make me very happy.”

  “I know I do,” she said, and pushed her hips into his erection. He was back at stage three again.

  “Not that kind of happy. I mean, also that kind of happy. But also the regular nonerect kind of happy. My dream girl now my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

  Flash raised her eyebrow?

  “I’m your dream girl? Really?”

  “Apparently I have a thing for women with ink, short hair and very bad attitudes. Maybe it’s an opposites attract thing. Maybe it’s a fetish. I don’t know and I don’t care, but you’re the sexiest woman on earth, you’re terrifyingly talented and you get me off like nobody’s business. And you’re also nearly impossible to read, impossible to please and impossible to impress. So when I do read you, please you or impress you, it means something. I like that you make me work harder than I usually have to,” he said. “Most women smile all the time because they’re told they’re supposed to smile. I love that you don’t smile except when you mean it. When I make you smile I feel like I won a contest—first prize.”

  Flash smiled.