Talking Dirty with the CEO

by Jackie Ashenden

  Cursing, he glanced at the time. Jude’s photography exhibition would probably go on until late so perhaps he could go there after he’d finished his date with Naughtygirl. Hell, maybe he could even bring her with him if they got on well enough.

  Quickly Joseph sent his sister a text.

  I’ll be late. Sorry. Got caught up. Usual story. Okay to bring a date?

  Jude would understand. She was used to the ADHD playing havoc with his memory.

  A moment later, a text came back.

  Sure. No worries. Who’s the date? Actually, no, don’t tell me. She’ll be gone by morning anyway.

  Joseph snorted. Judith tended to be snarky about his transient love life.

  After flicking off a sarcastic reply, Joseph put the phone back in his pocket. Then he picked up his half-empty bottle of beer and took another scan around the bar.

  Where the hell was Naughtygirl25? He was getting antsy, the familiar, impatient tension building inside him. When he felt like this, he’d often spend an hour on the treadmill or get on with some work. But he couldn’t do that now. Instead he began recounting in his head every single thing he’d done that day, a trick he’d learned as a teenager to help himself relax and concentrate.

  It was as he was going over the minutiae of the afternoon’s third product launch meeting that he spotted an interesting-looking woman—very tall, very skinny, with a quantity of chestnut hair swept up on top of her head. Sexy, though. Very sexy. He was a leg man all the way, and her legs, left bare by the extremely short black dress she wore, were spectacular. Though it wasn’t just about her legs. There was something unusual about her. Unlike all the other women in the bar, she appeared to be the only one who obviously did not want to be here. In fact, her whole manner projected intense discomfort, as if she were marching to face a firing squad. Beside her stood another woman, blond and curvy, who kept leaning over and whispering in her ear. The interesting brunette had a hand planted over her heart, a growing, almost mutinous look on her face. As if her friend were telling her things she didn’t want to hear.

  Joseph watched them, interest piqued. As if sensing his gaze, the brunette looked in his direction. Her pale face was delicate, pointed, with thickly fringed dark eyes the color of green agates. Not beautiful, but not plain, either. Striking somehow. His interest sharpened, attention focusing on her in the way it always did when he spotted something or someone intriguing.

  Her eyes widened when they met his and color flooded her skin, flushing her face bright red. Then she turned hurriedly away and was out the door before he could move.

  But not before he’d caught a glimpse of the silver brooch pinned to her black dress. A brooch in the shape of leaping lamb.

  Naughtygirl25. And she’d bloody well run out on him.

  …

  Christie came to a teetering halt outside the packed bar, her heart galloping like a racehorse at Ascot. Her lungs felt tight, the air thin and lacking in oxygen.

  Man, talk about a WTF moment. What the hell had gotten into her? First she’d been standing there, freaking out about meeting Studman500 and trying to ignore Marisa telling her to get her hand off the silly lamb brooch she had pinned to her chest so everyone could see it. Then she’d noticed the guy at the bar. The incredibly hot guy. And he’d been staring at her as if she were the only person in the room. Such absolute and complete attention. His gaze refracted heat like sun through a magnifying glass and something inside her had burst into flames, filling her with a strange panic. Then before she could stop herself, she’d fled. Idiot. She was an idiot.

  She took a couple of steps along the sidewalk, high, unfamiliar heels making her stumble.

  Okay, so the pub had been her own personal version of hell, with all the beautiful people talking and laughing and carrying on. And okay, so she’d felt like an imposter wearing the ridiculous dress and stupid shoes Marisa had insisted on for the date. But did one look from one hot guy really warrant running away like a coward? No, it did not.

  Christie took a slow breath, trying to calm herself.

  She hadn’t had that weird panicky feeling for years. Not since she’d been a teenager forced into going to her mother’s hideous society parties. The ones where she stood out like a shaggy pony in a stable full of Thoroughbreds.

  Leaning against the wall to try to take the pressure off her feet, Christie attempted to figure out yet again what on earth had possessed her to say yes to Ben’s dating article. Yes, he’d promised he’d give her the Ashton Technology E-Slate product launch to cover, which certainly beat having to do yet another review about yet another wireless mouse. But surely even that wasn’t worth this humiliation?

  “You’re not wearing Ugg boots,” a male voice said from behind her. A voice like dark, brushed velvet.

  All the remaining air escaped her lungs and she gave a gasp, whirling round.

  A man stood on the sidewalk not far from her. Tall—taller even than she was—perhaps over six-three, with the broad, powerful shoulders and the lean hips of an Olympic swimmer. She was staring and she couldn’t help it. He had black hair, a bit disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and the five o’clock shadow that covered his classical cheekbones and strong, angular jaw gave him a faintly disreputable look. And those eyes… God, the same eyes that had been looking at her back in the bar. So blue. So dark. The color of the sky on the cusp between twilight and full night.

  A shiver went through her.

  “E-e-excuse me?” she squeaked, her stupid stutter bleeding through.

  His gaze dropped to the lamb leaping up her shoulder. “Naughtygirl25, I presume?”

  No. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be Studman500. Online dates did not turn out to be men who looked this dark, dangerous, and seriously sexy. Like a pirate or the kind of bad boy your mother warned you about. Oh no they did not.

  “Studman?”

  “In the flesh.” He grinned and her heart slammed to a halt inside her chest.

  Oh God. Why did he have to be her naughty, wicked Studman?

  “Uh…I…I…” she managed before her tongue froze and stuck to the roof of her mouth in a way it hadn’t for years and years.

  Studman raised one winged brow, hands pushed into the pockets of the black jeans that sat low on his lean hips. There was an air of barely leashed energy about him, like that of a restless lion about to pounce. It was attractive. Thrilling. “Is there a problem?”

  Yeah, there was a problem. And it was standing right in front of her. “N-no.”

  “But you are Naughtygirl25, right?”

  She wanted to say of course she wasn’t. Which was weird because there wasn’t any reason to. Not that she could anyway with the damn brooch on her shoulder, glinting in the streetlight.

  Christie tried to get her tongue working again. “Yeah.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I must admit, you’re not quite what I expected.” His gaze began to travel down her figure, assessing her, pausing on her legs before rising back to her face again. “But that’s a good thing.”

  A good thing? Something lingered in his eyes, a flame that burned hot. Intent.

  She went still, her heart thundering. No guy had ever looked at her like that before. Like she was something delicious he wanted to eat.

  “Oh,” she said stupidly. “Why?”

  His mouth curved in a slow, sexy smile. “Because I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous.”

  Christie gaped at him. Gorgeous? Had he perhaps inhaled something before meeting her? Something illegal? Guys liked her because she was a gamer. Because she didn’t zone out when they started playing their favorite Minecraft YouTube clips or talked about the number of frags in their Halo games.

  “What? I’m being inappropriate again?”

  Speak, idiot!

  “Uh…n-no. I just…just…” She stopped, flushing.

  “You just?” he prompted.

  “N-nothing.”

  His smile deepened. “So do I get to f
ind out why you took one look at me and ran out?”

  Ah. Yes, her frightened-rabbit exit. She shifted on her feet, heels giving a dangerous wobble. “I…it was just…I had to leave.” Lame. So lame.

  He waited for her to elaborate and when she didn’t, prompted, “Leave for….?”

  “Uh, urgent…um…women’s problems.” Oh dear God. Had she really just said that? Was she insane?

  But Studman or whoever he was only laughed, the sound of it making her feel good. In the same way licking melted chocolate from a spoon made her feel good. Hot and sweet, and very, very naughty.

  “Urgent women’s problems, huh? And here I was thinking it was because you didn’t find me attractive enough.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  His lazy sensual smile went straight to her head like a glass of expensive champagne. “Perhaps. But chemistry is a tricky thing.”

  “Chemistry?”

  “Yeah, chemistry. We had it online but I wasn’t sure we’d have it in real life.”

  “A-and do we?”

  His gaze traveled down over the stretchy black dress again before returning to her face, making something way down inside her feel hot and restless and needy. “Oh yeah,” he murmured. “I think we do. Don’t you?”

  He seemed to want an answer from her, but the look in his eyes had made her brain decide to take a vacation and she had no idea what to say.

  Naughtygirl would know.

  The thought hit her like an electric shock.

  Yes. Naughtygirl would know. And this was kind of like being online, wasn’t it? He didn’t know who she was and she didn’t know who he was. There were no expectations. No pressures. She could be whoever she wanted to be. Even Naughtygirl25, who took her clothes off and lay on sheepskin rugs with gorgeous, disreputable strangers who called themselves Studman.

  Christie swallowed. Then gathered her courage. “Y-yes. I think we do have c-chemistry.”

  Way to go with the stutter. Great start.

  Both brows drew together this time. “You don’t sound very sure.”

  Just pretend you’re typing this into the computer. That he’s not standing right in front of you, blinding you with his hotness.

  She lifted her chin. “Well, of course I’m sure. They don’t call me Naughtygirl for nothing, you know.”

  “Is that a fact? You were pretty naughty online.” The flame in his gaze burned hotter. “How about in real life?”

  Oh wow. Something was crackling in the air between them, a tension that left her breathless.

  Was this the chemistry he was talking about? Because if it was…damn.

  Christie took an uncertain step toward him. “Oh, I have been known to get pretty naughty there, too.”

  He smiled. “Would admitting that I do, in fact, have etchings you can come up and see be too much?”

  “Etchings are never too much.”

  “In that case, would you like to come up and look at mine?”

  “Only if you have a sheepskin rug and Neil Diamond.”

  “I don’t. But I can make a mean Bloody Mary.”

  “I have a confession. I don’t really like tomato juice.”

  “Good. Because neither do I.”

  Somehow they’d gotten closer to each other and she had no idea how it had happened. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to get even closer.

  Excitement caught in her throat. She took another few steps, her heels teetering, her dress pulling tight around her thighs. Unfamiliar sensations. Reminding her of who she was supposed to be. Naughtygirl.

  She took a breath. “Then what do you like?”

  “I like women with long legs that go on forever. In stretchy black dresses. Wearing sheep on their chests.” His gaze never left hers.

  Another step closer. “It’s not a sheep. It’s a lamb.”

  “Some kind of bovine, then.”

  His eyes were so blue, even in the dim light of the street. And he smelled good. And he was warm. Hot. She could feel his heat even from… Good God, she was barely inches away from him now.

  “Cows are bovine. Sheep are ovine,” she corrected thickly.

  He didn’t move, just let her come close, staring down into her eyes, into her. Looking at her as if she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. The door to the bar opened behind him and people spilled out onto the street, full of loud laughter and shouting. But he didn’t even turn, all his attention focused on her.

  And she soaked it up like a plant starved of sunlight.

  “Naughtygirl,” he said. “How far are you planning on taking this naughtiness? Because I have to confess, I want to take you home to find out right now.”

  Christie’s breath caught. “You want to take me home?” she repeated. Just to be sure she’d heard him correctly.

  He smiled. Again. And she melted. Again. “Yes. I’d like to see if you’re wearing a garter belt along with your Ugg boots.” He took one hand out of his pocket and pushed back an errant curl that had come down from her bun. His fingers brushed the side of her neck and she shivered, sparks scattering all over her skin. “And perhaps explore this chemistry.”

  Oh bloody hell. He wanted to take her home.

  Christie felt the moment slow and come to a complete stop, the air around them thick. Taut with promise. And she was caught in it like a fly in amber.

  She could have this. She could go home with this amazingly sexy bad boy. See where it led. See how far she could go. And why not? Why couldn’t the geek get the hot guy for once?

  A hot guy who, for some insane reason, seemed to want her, too.

  “Yes,” she heard herself say, without a trace of a stutter. “Yes, I’ll come home with you.”

  The look on his face changed, his smile taking her breath away. “I was hoping you’d say that. So what’s your name? Or do I keep using your Naughtygirl handle?”

  Definitely she wanted to keep being Naughtygirl. Being Christie seemed kind of lame right at this point in time. And tonight was her night to be naughty. As naughty as she dared. “I prefer the handle, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t.” His gaze lingered on her mouth. “Every girl should be naughty at least once.”

  Exhilaration fizzed in her blood. “What about you? Or should I keep calling you Studman?”

  He laughed. “No, please don’t. I’m Joseph.”

  “Oh, that’s better than Studman.”

  “Anything’s better than Studman.”

  “This is true.” She wanted to touch him. Touch him the way he’d touched her. And why shouldn’t she? Naughtygirl wouldn’t hesitate. She reached up and touched his stubble-roughened cheek. “But you kind of do look Studman-like. I think it’s the beard.” His skin felt warm, whiskers rough against her fingers “It’s very…” Her breathing faltered.

  Oh God. You’re touching him. Actually touching him.

  The look in his eyes blazed. But he didn’t move. “Manly?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, unable to take her hand away. “And also quite studly.”

  “Studly isn’t a word.”

  “It should be.”

  At that point her mobile burst into song. A stupid tinny version of “Evil on the Rise” by her favorite metal band, Dead Friends. Great. Talk about a mood killer.

  Flushing, Christie dropped her hand and turned away, digging in her bag. “God, sorry,” she muttered, hauling out the phone and glaring at the screen. Then stopped glaring when it turned out to be a text from Marisa.

  I met a friend who trapped me with a cosmopolitan. Please tell me you’re okay.

  “I, um, have to answer this,” she said and quickly typed back a response.

  Am fine. Have located Studman. All okay. We’re going out on a date. I’ll text you if I need you.

  Then she switched her phone to mute and shoved it right down into the bottom of her bag.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  …

  Joseph’s apartment was in one of the rid
iculously expensive buildings that lined Auckland’s harbor, only a brief walk away from the bar. And it was the most incredible place she’d ever seen. All white, curved walls, and vast windows that gave stunning views out onto the harbor. With minimalist furniture that looked very expensive. Not to mention uncomfortable. The cheerful clutter of her own apartment looked like a garbage dump in comparison.

  She stood in the lounge gazing around wide-eyed while Joseph disappeared into the kitchen to get drinks. There were paintings on the wall, abstracts mostly, but one she recognized. It looked like one by New Zealand’s foremost painter, and his paintings were worth close to a million dollars. She edged up to it, not wanting to get too close in case breathing on it was a bad thing. It was an original, not a print. Obviously Joseph-Whoever-He-Was wasn’t short of money.

  She glanced in the direction of the kitchen. So who in fact was he? He’d seemed kind of familiar in some way though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Then again, did she really want to know? Finding out who he was would shatter the whole anonymity thing they had going on here, and she didn’t want to do that.

  It was nice being Naughtygirl. Easier somehow. Meant she didn’t have to talk about herself, and let’s face it, that was a relief. People either got her interest in gadgets and computers or they didn’t. And when they didn’t, they really didn’t. Plus she’d also have to confess that this date was research for an article on dating and she didn’t want to have to do that, either.

  It’s not research now, though, is it?

  No, it wasn’t. She wasn’t here for just for Ben anymore. She was here for herself, too.

  Taking another scan around the apartment, her attention snagged on the stereo unit against one wall. Something sleek and white and seriously sexy.

  Her eyes widened. Was that a Karlsson Series 6?

  One of the guys at the magazine had gotten the chance to review a Karlsson a couple of months ago and had raved about it. Everyone else, Christie included, had been full of tech envy. The brand was just about the best in the world. Not something you could pick up for a couple of hundred dollars at your local appliance shop. The receiver alone cost thousands.