Master of the Hunt Page 8

  “You called me one twice last night.”

  The smile that ran over his face could melt almost anyone, even me. “Now, honey, I think we both know why I said that.” He walked over to me, placed his well manicured hands on my hips and pulled me to him. “You didn’t seem to mind me calling you that when you were bent on your hands and knees. Bedroom play aside, I respect your work too much to think ill of you. You’ve put out some amazing promotions and you’re our youngest team leader.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” It did, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. Knowing he’d squirm was much more fun.

  “No. It’s supposed to keep me out of the doghouse.”

  “Don’t you mean, keep you out of your own house?”

  It was no secret. Charles had a live-in girlfriend that he’d never gotten around to breaking up with. No part of me believed he ever would. Belinda spent a great deal of her time away for photo shoots and fashion shows. The processed blonde woman was model material for sure but spent her time behind the scenes as a “hands on” agent. She prided herself on how tight of a hold she had on Charles. If she only knew.

  At no point did I enter into a sexual arrangement with Charles under the pretense I could change his wicked ways. Charles wasn’t a man to make a commitment and that was fine. I wasn’t fond of the idea myself. No part of me wanted to settle down and spend my life in some cookie cutter suburb anyway. A set of pearls and an apron didn’t just turn me off—they scared the living hell out of me.

  Visions of turning into my mother plagued me every time a man wanted more. Being married to someone who was as screwed up as me when it came to relationships would only lead to disaster. Finding a man who was the complete opposite of me wouldn’t be any better. Hell, he’d head for the hills before the honeymoon was over.

  No thanks. I’ll pass.

  “Mmm, I like this,” Charles murmured, pulling my white georgette blouse out of the top of my short grey and black patterned skirt. “Tell me you have the little lace bra on. You know, the one with the matching crotchless panties and I might forgive your behavior at work lately. I should warn you that if you are wearing those, you will be good and thoroughly fucked before you set foot out of this room. And don’t think I’m joking. I’ve had dreams about you spread out on this very table, with your hair fanned out around you, your skirt up over your waist ... mmm, I’m sure you get the picture.”

  Apparently not as clearly as he did.

  I held my grin back as best I could. Charles’ dream sounded more than fun to me. The urge to climb onto the table and spread myself wide for him was great. Somehow, I held back. That could be an after work hours game. Besides, we’d already decided to tone back our ‘little sessions’ and acting that fantasy out was far from restraining ourselves.

  “Sorry. As much as I’d love to be off the hook with you, I opted for underwear with a crotch. Better luck next time.”

  Not wasting any time, Charles reached around me, grabbed my butt and gave it a good squeeze. “Elizabeth, you scared me. For a minute there I thought you’d changed your thong wearing ways. Don’t do that to me. My heart isn’t what it used to be.”

  “The way you carry on in the bedroom you’d still want me even if I wore a paper bag and there’s not a damn thing wrong with your heart. You’re ego is a bit on the over inflated side, but there’s really no cure for that.”

  Charles laughed, and I couldn’t help but to move closer to him. “You’ve got me figured out.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “Do you know what I’m thinking as I stand here looking at those sexy legs of yours?”

  A knowing looked passed over my face. “My guess is how nice they are wrapped around your waist.”

  “Close.”

  The look in his eyes told me just how close I really was. He’d always been a sucker for my height. At five-nine barefoot, Charles’ mouth was in kissing distance while standing. Almost being as tall as he was had other advantages. We could have sex standing up, a feat many missed out on.

  He pulled a strand of my dark hair up and began twirling it around his finger. “I love this too, you.”

  No surprise. Charles was a sucker for women with long hair. With hair that bordered on black, I was the opposite of what he had at home. Often, Charles would make tiny comments about how blue my eyes were compared to Belinda’s. The last thing I wanted or needed was to be an unwilling party in a “who is better than whom” contest so I tended not to comment.

  “Elizabeth, you could get a man to give up anything to be with you with just one look.”

  Charles was always one to say sweet things but never one to go this overboard. Maybe he was finally going to tie the knot with Belinda and thought I’d take the news hard. I’d feel bad for him, shackling himself to a manipulative bitch, but I’d be fine.

  “Something you want to tell me?”

  “Only that I can’t stop thinking about having those full lips wrapped around my—”

  Putting a hand on his chest, I interrupted him. “Whoa Don Juan, laying it on a bit thick there aren’t you?”

  “Am I?”

  “Ask a question, get a question. Ah, Charlie, you know that’s my absolute favorite game to play.”

  Something flashed in his blue eyes as he leaned into me. “Nice try, but you’re sexy when you’re annoyed too.”

  “Then I should run for Ms. America. The swimsuit competition alone would put me in a lovely mood. I mean with all those judges rating on how well my ass looks in bloomer style bottoms just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.”

  Charles planted a tiny kiss on the tip of my nose and chuckled. “Are you still going out this evening?”

  Seeing where this was headed, I decided to stop the jealous outburst in its tracks. “Are you still going home to Belinda tonight?”

  He bit the corner of his bottom lip and released his hold on me. “I deserved that.”

  “I know. And yes I am going out tonight.” I rolled my neck, hoping to work out the perma-kinks that had taken up residency there some two years prior. Surprise. It didn’t work. “I’m tired, Charles. I’ve pulled seventy hour work weeks for months handling Joanne and Doreen’s teams and I deserve some down time.”

  “Listen, I understand that I’ve put a lot on your plate these last few months but I knew you could handle it. Besides, you’re taking two weeks off soon. I still think you should let me come along. I’d love to meet your family.”

  “That would be one for the photo album. Mom, Dad, this is my boss who is just a smidge older than me. We’re fuck-buddies. Who wants cake?” Even I couldn’t stop the tiny giggle that followed.

  “Charles, I hardly consider taking time off for my ten year reunion as extensive downtime. And you know, as well as I, that I’ve not taken a vacation in over two years.”

  “There was that week we spent in Italy acting like bunnies every chance we got. Remember the veranda? I don’t know about you but I was chafed the next day.”

  Tapping one long fingernail on my hip, I just stared at him, hoping he’d feel just how annoyed I truly was at the moment. It must have worked.

  “I know, I know. We were there on business, Elizabeth, but you have to admit it was fun.”

  “Yes it was fun.”

  “See, I haven’t tossed anything at you that you can’t handle. You are truly an amazing woman.”

  Wonderful, because he thought I was superwoman, I got screwed picking up the slack for Joanne who eloped with a guy she met on the subway less than a month ago. If that wasn’t bad enough, Doreen, the head of the layout department up and decided to have her baby a month early.

  They give you a due date for a reason. Stick to it.

  “With the Becker account on the table does that mean you won’t be coming to my reunion with me?”

  “As much as I’d love to, honey, I can’t. There’s no way I can walk away from a deal like this.”

  I was disappointed but I’d live.<
br />
  “Since you’re in need of some downtime, do you want me to give the project to Walters? It’s yours if you want it, honey. Just say the word.”

  The very mention of Vincent Walters’ name made my skin crawl. He was a one hundred percent, Grade-A asshole, who specialized in making my work week hell. His idea of funny was always at my expense.

  My knee jerk reaction was to raise my nails and snarl at Charles. I held back only due to the fact I knew I’d snap if I stayed a second longer. There was no possible way I could handle an account the size of one he was offering while in Ohio. And I wasn’t about to not go. So far, I’d missed two of my closest high school friends’ weddings, and the birth of their first children. I would not miss anything else. The speed there was much different from New York. I’d got my parents a computer for Christmas and they had yet to take it out of the box. No. Controlling the Becker account wouldn’t work for me. “Fine, whatever. It’ll make his day. Could even compensate for that ‘little dick’ thing.”

  Charles arched a dark blond eyebrow. “And how exactly do you know how big or little his dick is?”

  “Is that jealousy I’m hearing?” Bringing the word jealously into the equation always seemed to snap Charles out of the moment. This time, it didn’t.

  “What would you say if the answer was yes?”

  The room suddenly felt hotter than it should. Was it supposed to feel as though it were closing in on me? My palms began to sweat as the grey boardroom walls seemed to press closer and closer to me. Heat rose to my face and the urge to expel my lunch was tempting.

  Charles moved to me, touching my cheek lightly and giving me his ever calming smile. “Relax Elizabeth, I’m not asking for a commitment. I’d never do that. But I think I’ve earned the right to be a bit jealous when it comes to you. Do you agree?”

  “Uhh-huh,” I murmured between deep breaths.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone more afraid to settle down than me.” He kissed my forehead gently and held me to his chest, driving me mad with need. The woody smell of his Givenchy cologne drove me nuts. It always did and Charles knew it. Maybe it was his way of teasing me throughout the day. Whenever I was close to him and caught scent of it, I was left in a near drool state.

  “We’ve been in here a long time. I should get back to my office.”

  He didn’t let go of me. “Are you still catching flack from Walters and Seraphim about us?”

  I nodded but said nothing. Of course I was still catching crap from the two stooges. They’d made it their personal mission to “out” my relationship with Charles. The only reason we didn’t announce it ourselves was that neither of us were serious about it. Our arrangement was purely sexual. Sure, we were friends, but that was it. Nothing long term.

  Letting the entire company in on our sexual arrangement seemed a bit pointless. Apparently, Walters and Seraphim didn’t think so. Though, as pathetic as they were, my sex life most likely was the most interesting thing they had to discuss.

  “Do you want me to call an informal meeting and clear the air? I could lay what we have out on the table. It would pull the rug out on their suspicions? If they know I’m supportive and behind this then it might scare them enough to rethink how they treat you. I own the place. Piss me or my significant other off and you won’t have a job come Monday morning.”

  Horrified, I looked at Charles as though he’d sprouted a second head. “What? We have nothing more than sex between us. We are not significant others, Charles. I know that you’re just tossing that out as an example but still I’d rather not have everyone in on that. You swore this was just sex.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Don’t Elizabeth me.” I shook my head, unable to believe the weirdness Charles was giving off. “I think you should make a doctor’s appointment. Something’s gone screwy upstairs.”

  I didn’t wait for his response. Instead, I headed towards the doors, ready and willing to face the wealth of speculation that would arise from my extended period alone with Charles. I was in the mood to make snappy comebacks. Hell I was always in the mood for that. Now, I’d get to direct them at my favorite targets, Walters and Seraphim.

  Game time.

  To learn more about Bright Lights, Big City Series and find out where you can purchase the rest of the books, visit www.MandyRoth.com

  We thought you might like

  Mountain’s Captive Chapter One Excerpt

  By Michelle M. Pillow

  “Devon, I'm here.” Chloe Masters looked dazedly around the Las Vegas hotel lobby. The brilliant lights of the strip glared through the hotel's massive front windows but she hardly noticed through the dark lenses of her designer sunglasses. From her place on the phone booth floor she could see the feet of numerous tourists sauntering past. Not one of them distinguished her as the drunk, miserable woman who crouched in the corner of the small cube. “I made it.”

  “What took you so long? Your flight got there four hours ago. I know because I called the airport to check.”

  Chloe flinched as Devon Wentworth's sobering voice boomed out of the phone. Devon had a way of talking too loud when she was agitated.

  “Devon, you have to understand. I wanted to enjoy my last night of freedom,” answered Chloe with a slight slur, as she closed her eyes against the overbearingly bright lights that peeked through the edge of her glasses. “I walked around the casinos trying to regain my composure. You wouldn't have me making a bad impression, would you?”

  “Why, what are you wearing?” Devon's authoritative voice inquired sharply. “Please tell me it's not sweatpants. I was afraid that you were going to do something like that. That is why I bought you that little white dress.”

  “What does it matter?” Chloe snapped in return. “I don't care what he's wearing.”

  “It matters because this is going to be your new life.” Devon softened her tone before continuing. “Chloe, I went to a lot of trouble arranging this for you, despite what it might do to my reputation if it was found out. I would be scorned out of every prestigious law firm in New York. My career would be over. We have been through this. I can't change your father's will.”

  “I know, Devon. Believe me, I know. It wouldn't be his if you could,” Chloe interjected. “You're a good friend to me.”

  “I gave you every chance to back out and you said that you were confident that you wanted to go through with it.” Devon sighed in frustration. Chloe could hear the honking of horns behind her friend's voice.

  “Tell me again,” Chloe paused and gulped, “about him.”

  “He's everything you requested—adequate looking, smart, and by his background check we know him to be loyal and discreet. He also comes from old money, so he won't have a use for yours. Though I don't know how much he's worth exactly. His financial information is well protected.” Devon's voice cut out. “Damned cellular phones! Chloe are you there?”

  “Yeah, I'm here,” Chloe slurred.

  “Hmm. The best part is he also agreed to the prenuptial.” Devon's stout voice vibrated in her hand. She was using her most professional courtroom tone. “You haven't been drinking, have you? You know you can't hold your liquor. What will Paul think if you go to him intoxicated?”

  “I just had a little on the plane.” Chloe gave a short laugh as she set down her glass of scotch and soda. “And a few in the casinos.”

  “Stop. I can hear the ice tinkling in your glass. You're going to need your wits about you. You don't want him to think you are a lush and back out, do you? He's your only chance.”

  Chloe moved her head away from the phone to make a childish face at the receiver. She readjusted herself on the floor and blinked heavily when a group of tourists wearing bright yellow jackets passed too close.

  “Chloe, are you listening to me?” Devon sighed again in exasperation.

  “Yeah, I'm here.” Chloe took another drink, this time crunching on an ice cube as she reached the bottom of the glass. A piece of her wayward blond hair fell
over her eyes. As she swatted at it, her watchband got caught in a tangle. “Damn it.”

  “Chloe?” Devon's voice cut out again. “What'd you say? I didn't hear you.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fine,” Devon huffed before lowering her voice and slowing her words. “Now, Chloe, I want you to dial Paul's room and tell him that you're there. Then I want you to finish what you went there to do. Ten years will be over before you know it. When it is, you'll have your freedom back and this nightmare will be over. Until then, maybe you could come to an arrangement with him.”

  “Yeah, I know and with the right plastic surgeon I won't look half bad in ten years.” Chloe set the empty glass on the ground. “I'll call you tomorrow with the horrible details.”

  “Fine. Remember, its room three, five, eight. Got it? 358.” Devon sighed, refusing to dignify her friend's ill humor with a comment. “Congratulations and good luck.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe mumbled against the phone and hung up.

  “Yeah, good luck,” she mumbled to herself. Chloe shook her head and hugged her knees to her chest.

  She took a deep breath before ambling slowly to her feet. The liquor had taken more of an effect on her then she had realized. She was drunk and didn't care. Somehow, she knew that it was one of the reasons why she had picked Vegas—free liquor. The other reason was the quick and painless ceremonies offered by the numerous chapels.

  Pausing for a moment, she let the numbing effect of the liquor take over her mind. She closed her eyes, wishing that Devon would call her back and tell her she didn't have to go through with it. But she knew it would never happen, just as she knew that she couldn't turn back.

  Chloe made a beeline through the blur of the crowd to the white courtesy phone. She stared at it, wondering if she should run and get on a flight back to New York. If she did, no one would know of her selfishness. Well, no one but herself. Taking a deep breath, she realized that there was no other choice. She had to do it. There were a lot of people depending on her.