Текст книги "Miss Match"

Автор книги: Laurelin McGee

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Once she left, Blake schooled his expression into his usual serious-work face. It wasn’t worth thinking about while she was gone. What was done was done. He busied himself by calling maintenance to deal with the remains of the broken chair then had his secretary find him a suitable replacement. She located one from an unused office on the seventh floor. It was delivered and the other taken away, all evidence of his tryst erased in the matter of an hour.

Which was a good thing, he reminded himself. Then why did his chest feel so tight?

After the office had been set right, Blake found he couldn’t concentrate on anything but watching the clock tick. Andrea still wasn’t back and he worried what her prolonged absence meant.

It meant she was pissed, of course. She probably wasn’t coming back. She was likely at that very moment filing a report against him with HR. Maybe he should call down and check …

No, he couldn’t do that. He had to put some trust in her. It was only fair. He sagged in his chair letting the weight of the morning’s events—or event, rather—settle on him. It didn’t take long before he decided it was the worst thing he’d ever done.

Then he decided it was the greatest.

Then a glance at Andrea’s empty desk across from him and he was back to thinking it was the worst.

But the sex had been so amazing.

He had replayed the entire thing at least five times, inhaling deeply to recall the last vestiges of her scent, mentally rewriting the chair situation. In his mind, he’d both told Andrea this was inappropriate and cut the whole thing off at the pass, and given her six screaming orgasms.

Blake, for once in his life, had no idea what to do or think. Every scenario he imagined seemed equally likely. If he were to ask himself what it was that he, Blake Donovan, not the CEO but the man, wanted—well, he’d tell that voice to go to hell, too. Because the truth was that he had always known what he’d wanted until the day that damnable Andrea Dawson had waltzed into his life and turned it upside down.

Now he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her. Fuck her or fire her. No, he did know that much. He wanted her around. He wanted her close. She was infuriating and illogical and feminine and absolutely fantastic. God, his therapist was going to kill him. He made a note to fire her instead.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Get it together. Make a plan.

His pulse still throbbed with the uneasiness of Andrea’s long absence, but after several deep breaths, he managed to steady his nerves enough to enter his straightforward thinking mode. The B-Zone, he called it, but only to himself. B for Blake, but also cleverly for business. And, on particularly good days, B stood for Badass. It was his berserker mode, his karate mind-set. Everything fell into place when he could block out the world and simply problem-solve.

Today he needed to be Badass in a big way. Wasn’t he a little bit already? Even with all the rules he’d broken and policies he’d violated, there was no taking away the fact that he’d totally scored. He had to give himself a high five for that. It had been hot. Fucking Andrea Dawson had been way hot.

He let that sink in. Let himself relish it. Let himself beam with pride.

Then, in proper B-Zone style, he made himself look to the future. Mentally he made his list of options, adding pros and cons to each. He shut out all thoughts of the carnal delights the woman elicited and stayed focused. Firing her was out of the question. Not just because of the legal ramifications but because he didn’t want her gone. He needed her. To find him a bride, of course, though thoughts of matchmaking seemed foreign and unwelcome at the moment. But it was part of The Plan and The Plan would not be altered because of one feisty, albeit pleasantly curvy, female officemate. No way. Not a chance. Not happening.

Yes, he thought as he relaxed into his chair, he was definitely in the Badass Zone. He could handle this just fine.

After another several minutes of working through his options, Blake determined the best way to handle their situation was to move on. When Andrea returned, he’d acknowledge it had happened, admit that it was entirely his fault—though the blame most certainly was shared—and promise never to lay a hand on her in an unprofessional manner again. They would go forward without another thought about their attraction. Surely it was out of their system now, anyway. Right?

The answer to that threatened to take him out of the Badass Zone so he decided not to dwell on it. His plan was in place, whether she was out of his system or not.

He looked at the time again. She’d been gone nearly two hours. Where was she? Maybe she wasn’t coming back after all.

The renewed idea sent him spiraling out of the B-zone and into panic mode. He stood up, ready to go out looking for her, when she meandered back into the office, sandwiches and drinks in hand. His heart settled at the sight of her. Then it quickly jolted into high-speed racing again because, well, she had that effect on him. Especially when her hair still looked tousled from earlier, and her cheeks had that glow from walking that mimicked the flush she’d had after she came.

Andrea cleared her throat. “Could you maybe help, please?”

He shook his head out of his stupor. “Oh. Of course.” He hurried toward her to help with her load, stopping at the line of tape that crossed his path. Not sure how things were between them, he glanced at her with a questioning brow.

“Yes, you can cross the tape, Blake. I can’t believe you’d even hesitate after … you know.”

He had to smile at that. He finished crossing to her, taking the sandwiches and bags of chips from her hands so she could handle the sodas. He set them on his desk, planning to turn back to her and deliver his prepared speech or at least ask her how she’d managed to carry everything up.

But before he could, she was next to him, setting the sodas alongside the sandwiches, her arm brushing against his, warming him to the very bone. Wakening the parts—or rather part—of him that had been put to sleep by his earlier planning. He cocked his head toward her, catching her eye.

“Andrea,” he began at the same time she said, “Blake.”

At the sound of his name and the lusty look in her eyes that he knew had to mirror his own, his speech and plans went out the window. In a blink, he was on her again.

It had been instinct, to take her into his arms, and she submitted to him as if it had been her idea. Her lips tasted as good as they had two hours before—a little less sweet, perhaps, a little more salty. Just as frantic. His hands were already searching beneath her shirt to find her plump breast. He pressed against her, pushing her toward his desk. There were no files of dating candidates over here, after all. That made this surface completely fair game.

But just as he leaned her back against it, she put her hands to his chest and pushed him back. “Wait, wait. Stop.”

Panting, he took a step back, his hands raised in surrender. “You’re right. This isn’t right.” Leave it to Andrea to have her wits about her. As disappointed as he was with her pronouncement, he had no cause to argue. “We have to stop.”

Andrea, who had turned away from him the moment he’d released her, swiveled back now to face him. “No, I was just worried about the drinks.”

He looked behind her, seeing she’d moved the sodas to the floor. “Oh.” That was surprising. Pleasantly surprising.

“But now that you’ve mentioned it…” She bit her lip.

Before he let his hopes dash, he clarified. “We shouldn’t be doing this?” It was a question he hoped he didn’t know the answer to.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that. We’ve already done it. Does it really matter now?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He tilted his gaze at her and rubbed his hand across his chin. It was obvious that Andrea’s long absence had given her time to sort out things on her own. Normally he wasn’t keen to listen to the opposition’s viewpoint, but he liked where she was going.

She reached up to straighten his tie, reminding him of the way she’d tugged him to her earlier. “I mean, obviously this … whatever this is”—she peered up at him from underneath her long lashes—“isn’t going to go away.”

He swallowed. “Interesting conclusion you’ve come to there.” Obvious conclusion she’d come to. And by obvious, he meant the same as his own. And if fooling around was cool with her, then why was it again that he was against it?

Not a damn good reason came to mind. He put a hand on her waist and started to tug her closer when she halted him once again.

“I’m not saying there aren’t things to discuss.”

He dropped his hands to his side. “You’re right. Very right.” What the hell was it about this woman that made him lose all sense of control? Whatever it was, he was getting it back now. And this time, he meant it.

He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, sit.”

“Ah, new chair. Nice. That was fast.” He tried not to notice her blush as she sat.

Blake moved to take his seat on the other side of the desk. This was good. They could talk things over while they ate. The barrier of the desk in between them should serve as some protection from their raging hormones. He scooted a sandwich toward her, indicating his intentions.

Seeming to understand, she bent to pick up the sodas from the floor and handed him one. In silence they unwrapped their sandwiches. He watched as her mouth opened for her first bite. Too many wicked fantasies flashed in front of his eyes. He had to address this now.

Setting down his uneaten pastrami on rye, he leveled his gaze. “I should apologize. My behavior as your employer has been unseemly.”

She paused mid-bite. “Yeah, you think?” Did she look pissed as she bit down for another mouthful?

Blake winced, fearing she meant that bite to look as menacing as it did.

Oh, well, he was going for it. “I don’t plan to apologize, however. I thoroughly enjoyed everything that happened today. I hope you did, too.”

With a chuckle, Andrea dabbed at the mustard on her lower lip. “Now, there’s the Blake I know,” she teased. She set her sandwich down. “I enjoyed it, too, if you really couldn’t tell.”

His heart skipped at her revelation. “I was hoping we could do that more often.” Where in the blazes had that come from? That certainly hadn’t been an option in the B-Zone. But now it was out there and he couldn’t deny its truth. He held his breath.

“We could definitely do that more often.”

He released it. Thank goodness. Now to revise the rest of his plan on the spot. Not a problem. He’d always been good at improvisation, hadn’t he? Yes, he thought. “Let’s discuss how this affects your position.”

Andrea gasped, her eyes wide and Blake knew instantly that he’d somehow said the wrong thing. Maybe he wasn’t so good at improv after all.

*   *   *

“Are you going to fire me?” A tight ball of dread and hurt and pure rage formed in Andy’s chest. “You can’t fire me. Not after that. Oh, my God, Blake. That’s not even a little bit right. In fact it’s a whole lot wrong. This was two-sided. You and me, Donovan. Got that? I’m sure there were company policies that have been violated by both of us, buster.”

She took a quick breath ready to spout off more when she realized Blake was shaking his head at her, an amused expression on his face. “Oh. Then yeah, I guess we could talk.”

Intending to give Blake her full attention, Andy relaxed back into her seat. But then, as she tried not to wonder if this new chair was sturdier than the last, a whole slew of other thoughts followed. Dirty thoughts. Delicious thoughts. Squeeze-her-thighs-together-and-bite-her-lip-so-she-wouldn’t-moan thoughts. And what exactly was wrong with those thoughts anyway? She’d already decided on her walk that she would have no regrets about what had happened. In fact, she unabashedly hoped what happened might happen again. And again. And again and again, even.

It wasn’t completely an absurd idea. Blake had even suggested it himself the other day. It was why she’d shown up on his doorstep, and after she’d had time to think about it, it seemed the man felt bad about his reaction the night before. At least, she hoped that’s what the flowers had been for and that she hadn’t been on the receiving end of a pity screw.

No, that had definitely not been pity in his eyes. And he’d just admitted he’d enjoyed it.

Plus, she noted to herself, Blake having sex was an entirely different Blake. A Blake she needed to know more about. For work purposes, of course. He was generous and unselfish. He’d given her not one, but two amazing orgasms, and truthfully, there had been a time or two in Andy’s past when she had considered that she might be frigid; two orgasms in the space of one session was mighty big news for her.

The sound of a throat being cleared brought Andy back to the present moment.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks flushing. “Go ahead. Unless you’d like me to go first.”

“No. I got this.” Blake’s brow creased, a frown playing on his lips. “I don’t quite know how to put this without seeming, as you so eloquently put it, douchey.” He actually looked nervous.

Jeez, if Blake is nervous about coming across poorly, this is bound to be bad. “Shoot.” She braced herself for where he might possibly go from there. If not fired, then what? Transferred out of the office? Oh, God, was this going to affect her performance review?

Or maybe, possibly … was he asking for this to be more? Was her job in jeopardy because Blake Donovan no longer needed a matchmaker? The idea sent goose bumps racing along her bare skin.

Blake scratched the back of his neck. “As I said, I would like to continue doing—this—with you, and I would also like you to continue working for me in your current capacity. I realize this is a cake-and-eat-it-too situation.”

Andy swallowed hard against the knot of unreasonable disappointment in her throat. Besides the failed seduction attempt, this was what she had hoped for. String-free sex with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met in real life. Just what he needed to keep his raging libido in check while he dated the women she found him. Just what she’d wanted. She’d never even considered more with the man until … well, until about ten seconds before.

And more with that man was a ridiculous idea. Crazy. Insane.

It was just that now that she’d had sex with him, truly fantastic sex at that, she didn’t know what she wanted. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know what she wanted. But if this was acceptable to him, to continue giving her orgasms while also keeping her on staff—so be it. She’d take it. And maybe she’d slow down on the matchmaking, though that really shouldn’t be a factor in this internal debate. It was separate. That was her job, and this was … this was Blake.

She released the lip she’d been biting, put on a bright smile, and threw her shoulders back. “I accept.”

“Excellent.” He winked and the glint in his eyes made butterflies stir in her stomach. “There will have to be rules.”

“Yes, rules.” She nodded a little too enthusiastically. Then she stopped. “Such as?”

“No fooling around in the office.” Blake considered a moment, his expression seeming as disappointed with his statement as she was. “Well, just not during office hours.”

That was better. “But after work is okay.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “And before.”

“And lunchtime.”

“And lunchtime.” His eyes grazed her half-eaten sandwich before rising to meet hers and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was—namely, that it was at that very moment lunchtime.

She forced herself to look away, grabbing her soda for a long sip. Though she’d happily spend the rest of their lunch spread across his desk, there was more to discuss.

“I’m on birth control,” she announced when she put her drink back down.

“Oh?” His eyes widened ever so slightly.

“But I’d still prefer we keep using condoms. Do you mind?” It wasn’t only protection from STDs, but protection from becoming too intimate. So many walls had been removed, there needed to be some barrier between the two of them.

“Of course not. It’s practical.” He sounded a little disappointed.

For some reason, that made Andy happy. “Exactly.” She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers on her thigh. “Is there anything else?”

Blake’s eyes were pinned on the newly exposed skin of her leg. “Anything else? Oh. Yes. Nothing romantic. No candlelight dinners. No overnights.”

It was her turn to feel disappointed, but he was right. It was the best way to keep this … what? Businesslike wasn’t at all the right term. Simple, maybe. “No beds in general.”

He narrowed his eyes. “No beds?”

“Do we need them?”

Blake laughed. “No, we do not.”

While she was certain that he was calculating all the places that were not beds in their shared office, she took the moment to stick him with the big one. Her big rule. “And I hate to be old-fashioned about this, Blake, but I need to know you aren’t sleeping with your dates. Not just because of the problems I’ve mentioned before, but it’s simply not fair to me.”

It looked like Blake was going to argue for a second, but he didn’t. “No, that wouldn’t be fair at all.” He studied her for several seconds, and she thought that she’d give up her other Prada shoe to know what he was thinking.

Finally he shook his head once as if clearing whatever thought he was having from his mind and said, “That’s why we’re doing this, anyway. So that I can better focus on the candidates. Right?”

The butterflies from earlier fell with a thud at the bottom of her gut. “Right.”

She lowered her eyes to her fingers and tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. Without a doubt, she knew that Blake was as into the sex as she’d been. That it wasn’t simply because he thought it might better help him find a bride. But she also knew what admitting that would mean—it would mean exposing himself. It would mean letting yet another one of his masks down. Maybe that was something he simply couldn’t bring himself to do.

With that thought, she felt she understood the man a little bit better. And okay, if that was how he had to be, that was fine. But she didn’t have to. So she raised her eyes to his and said proudly, “Also, we’re doing it because it’s fun.”

His smile could have lit a dark room. “Definitely because of that.”

That was all he’d needed, it seemed. Reassurance from her. Good thing she’d spoken honestly. But she still hadn’t gotten an answer to her big rule. “So, you won’t? Be sleeping with your dates?”

“I can promise that I will not be seducing any future dates, Ms. Dawson.” The honesty in his voice threw her for a second.

“Thank you.” She stood, gathering the remains of her sandwich and her drink and headed to her desk. “Now, shall we go over potentials for next week and finalize this weekend’s dates?” She sat in her chair and went decisively back to her work, suddenly anxious for the familiarity of it. She picked up a pencil.

“One moment. This conversation isn’t over yet.” She swiveled back. He was staring at her with the same deadly serious look he’d had earlier. What now?

“Your position has changed. We need to discuss your pay rate changing to reflect that.” The pencil snapped in two. Just one sentence; that was all it took to turn the delicious postcoital haze into a blind red rage.

“You want to pay me to have sex with you?” Last chance to dig yourself out of this hole, Donovan.

“That sounds rather ugly, Andrea. I simply want to maintain fairness in acknowledging that you have new duties, which I do not expect to be performed gratis.” She threw the pieces of pencil to the floor, deliberately, one by one.

“Ugly? Duties? Performed gratis?” She began advancing toward his desk. His eyes were widening with the sudden knowledge that he had really said something wrong. Good.

“Again, I feel this isn’t coming out quite the way I had intended…” His eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. Andy continued, one step at a time.

“You mean, you didn’t intend to call me a prostitute? Because that just happened.” She was keeping her voice low and menacing, and it was working. As she stalked toward him, rounding one side of his enormous desk, his chair went sliding away from her.

“Come, now, Drea, you know that isn’t what I meant.” He was chuckling nervously. She rounded one corner of the desk, and his chair disappeared behind another. The soreness between her legs was reflecting the ache in her chest.

Honestly, Andy’s feelings had just gotten hurt, big time. That was one of the meanest things anyone had ever said to her, and she’d worked for Max Ellis, for Pete’s sake. If she were being honest, she’d say it hurt so badly because Blake was someone she was starting to care about, whereas Ellis had never mattered to her. Screw honesty, though. It was much easier to give in to her anger and cover up the hurt.

“I think you meant exactly what you said. And I also think I really missed an opportunity earlier to show you exactly how much I meant it when I told you not to cross me.” She leaned over the desk to brandish his beloved Montblanc in his stupid inside-ugly face before stuffing it down her cleavage. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t go after it there. Lunchtime was over. No fooling around during office hours after all.

“Andrea. Please. We can discuss this. May I have my pen back?” A note of desperation had crept into his voice. It gratified her just a little.

“I don’t want to discuss anything with you, Mr. Donovan. I want a sincere apology.” They stared at each other for a few moments. The silent game of chicken ended incredibly quickly when Blake stood up and strode to her. His hands gripped her upper arms as his eyes blazed into hers.

“I am sorry. I never meant to make you feel cheap, or bought in any way. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know how to talk to you. All I know is that what just happened meant something to me. It even means more than my pen. I think. No, I know it does. I just don’t really understand how we proceed from here.”

That total butthole.

Now she couldn’t be mad even if she tried. How did he do that? It wasn’t fair at all. Just because he “never apologized”—suddenly when he did, she got “weak in the knees” like a swoony romance heroine. She wanted to scream. Who wants to be a romance heroine?

Still, his sincerity was undeniable, and so was his scrumptious scent. She pulled the pen out of her boobs. “Look. I appreciate your apology. Even though I’m not totally ready to forgive you. Us having sex? That isn’t work, that isn’t my job. That’s because we just had really good sex, and if it helps you behave on dates, even better. There will be no change in my pay, because I am not a whore. Got it?”

He stared into her eyes for a bit longer than necessary. Again. That seemed to happen between them.

“Understood.” He released her arms, which immediately grew cold without his touch. “Now, you said you had things to show me?”

“I do. Here’s your dumb pen.” She stomped away from him, easy to do in her sneakers, and sat in her seat. “Slide your chair this way, will you? We’re working from my desk today.”

She waited until he was sitting across from her before she pointed at him with the end of her Bic pen. “I’m still charging you for a new pair of Prada heels, by the way.” She let that sink in. “So, with Lia, I think there might be a couple of issues, but she’s prettier than Alice…”

They started flipping through the stack of folders on her desk, both of them studiously ignoring any topic that hinted at their earlier frolicking or the conversation that followed. Andy stopped on one particular girl, an attractive brunette with the unfortunate name of Gertrude. She studied the profile for the umpteenth time—this chick was great, but the name combined with “celeb blogging” listed as a hobby made Andy unsure.

A prickle on her neck made her glance up. Blake was staring at her. She gave him a smile. He grinned back.

Oh, yeah, nothing was going to be the same now.