Taking Care of Business

Kathy Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

One night, my fiancé had a huge project due at work that required a ton of data entry. Because I loved him, I agreed to help. We finally got it done at 2:00 a.m. when, flushed with elation, we realized that we were alone in a huge office building. And given that he worked in an electronics firm, my mind quickly danced through a zillion gadget and gizmo fantasies.

I will never tell what exactly happened that night, but suffice it to say that I had much more imagination than stamina. I will also confess that we did not resort to raiding the lab. Turns out there’s a lot you can do in an office that has nothing to do with high-end electronics!

So there you have it. My deep, dark secret: I have office fantasies. Thankfully, I was able to put some of them to paper in Taking Care of Business. It helps that I modeled my hero after my own special geek of a husband, a man with more integrity than sense, more heart than hunkiness. Hopefully you’ll fall in love with him as quickly as I did.

Sincerely,

Kathy Lyons

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Copyright

1

THANK GOD FOR COFFEE, James Samuel Finn thought as he reached for his triple venti latte.

“I made it extra sweet,” said the barista with a smile. “You look like you could use it this morning.”

Sam gave her a rueful smile as he dropped a generous tip in the jar. “At least I got the project done.”

“Good for you,” she quipped as she turned to the next customer.

Yes, Sam thought as he took that first glorious sip. Good for him, but more importantly, good for his company. He’d stayed up all night putting together the prototype, hence the celebratory latte. He just had time to polish up the presentation, change out of his lab coveralls, and make it to the board meeting at ten. And didn’t he just feel like the genius inventor that everyone thought he was.

“Get out of the way, you old bat!” bellowed a cabbie. “You’re blocking the road!”

Sam started, looking up from his drink and blinking rapidly against the bright sunlight. It wasn’t hard to find the source of the problem. An older woman, probably in her seventies, was trying to parallel park an old Crown Victoria. The thing was too big for downtown Chicago parking spaces, and the woman was too short to see well over the dash as she inched her way into the spot. Meanwhile, traffic was backing up behind her, led by one extremely irate cab driver.

“Come on, lady. You shouldn’t be driving, and you know it!”

“That’s enough!” Sam snapped as he stepped forward. The woman needed help, not insults. He stepped out into traffic, completely blocking the cab who was now trying to squeeze his car around hers. The bastard started cursing up a blue streak, but Sam ignored him. Instead, he gestured for the woman to roll down her window.

She did, and he gently began directing her into the parking spot. It wasn’t that hard. Once she had someone else’s eyes to rely on, she relaxed and the car slid easily into place.

“Oh, thank you!” she breathed gratefully. “The parking garage was full, and I didn’t know what else to do! I never come out into the city, but my grandson fell and broke his teeth, and this was the only time the dentist had available. Usually my daughter …”

She rambled on, obviously still upset. Meanwhile, the cabbie finally streaked past, throwing more insults as he left.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said as he waved to the eight-year-old in the back seat. “Those guys give Chicago a bad name.”

“No, no,” the woman said as she finally killed the engine. “He’s right. I should get a smaller car, but we can’t afford it. And this old monstrosity has been with me for twenty years.”

Sam’s tired brain kicked into gear as she got her grandson out of the car and headed toward the dentist. She was a perfect candidate for his prototype. He’d designed a strip of sensors that attached to anything—robot, wheelchair, massively old car—and gave a beautiful display that anyone could read. There was even a state-of-the-art verbal interface. Making a sudden decision, Sam popped open his cell phone and called Roger, his best friend and CFO.

An hour later, the grandson’s teeth were done, Sam’s coveralls were streaked with street grime and engine grease, and the Crown Victoria had his brand-new prototype attached to its body. He’d even rigged a dashboard attachment for the display.

“See,” he explained to Mrs. Evans. “You won’t have any problems maneuvering out of the parking spot now. You can see right on the display exactly how far you can move.”

“Why, it’s just like on those fancy new cars!”

Sam nodded. The system was actually a great deal more powerful than what was in new-model vehicles, but that wasn’t important to Mrs. Evans. All she cared about was that she’d be able to park with confidence now, even in her huge Crown Vic.

“We’ll be in contact in a few weeks to find out how it’s working out for you,” he said as she started up her car. Then he stepped back and watched her maneuver out of her parking spot like a champ. She was halfway down the street when Roger finally spoke up.

“You realize that equipment is worth far more than her car.”

“We need real-world testing,” he answered as he took a sip of his latte. Damn, it had gone cold. He’d been so hurried trying to get the prototype installed before Kevin’s teeth were done that he hadn’t drunk his latte. Now it was ice cold.

“Yes,” Roger concurred, “but we need to test it in harsh environments like a NASA test center or a deep ocean oil rig.”

“Chicago city streets are a harsh environment,” Sam shot back.

“Yeah? And what are you going to show to the board in …” Roger glanced at his watch. “In less than an hour?”

Sam grimaced as he threw away his latte and headed into the office building, Roger trailing behind. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll think of something.”

“This isn’t the time to be taking big risks, you know. Did you look at the last spreadsheets I sent you? Not just opened the email, but actually read it?”

Sam nodded absently as they entered the building. Usually, he’d go to the back service elevator, especially since his coveralls were covered in grime. But a vision in yellow swept past him, and Sam’s libido took control. Instead of turning left, he swung right to follow the woman. Or maybe he was just trying to ditch Roger.

Unfortunately, his right-hand man was not so easily distracted. “I’ve put together a slick package to distract the board,” he was saying, “but they certainly have read the spreadsheets, even if you haven’t. Please tell me—”

“Who’s that woman?” Sam asked, tilting his head toward the vision in a flowing yellow sundress. It wasn’t just the dress that made her stand out. It was her smile and the way she walked—all confidence and positive outlook. Given that she was surrounded by dark suited office stiffs, she stood out like the sun on a dreary day.

“What?” Roger frowned at his friend. “Aren’t you dating Cindy?”

Sam shook his head. “Broke up six … er, seven months ago.”

“Really? Why?”

Sam shrugged. The same reason he’d stopped seeing Marty and Josie and Tammy. “She wanted James S. Finn, multimillionaire, not plain old Sam.”

Roger snorted. “That’s because Sam dresses in coveralls and smells like engine grease.”

Sam didn’t answer. He was too busy maneuvering so that he could get into the same elevator as the woman in yellow.

JULIE THOMPSON WAS DRESSED for battle. Not in armor or anything, but in a bright yellow sundress and sandals that made her feel sexy, beautiful and beyond brilliant. In this outfit, nothing could stop her. Not an ad campaign that refused to come together. Not rent coming due on both her minuscule apartment and her office space on the seventeenth floor. And certainly not poor Harry, a young lawyer on her floor, who was buried under three huge boxes of folders.

“Goodness, Harry, doesn’t the law firm have a dolly for stuff like this?”

Harry gave her a sad laugh. “Why have that when you can force the first-years to lug the crap?”

They were standing in the elevator alcove, waiting their turn. She could tell by the bags under his eyes that the guy hadn’t gotten much sleep. And if his rumpled suit was anything to judge by, what little rest he’d gotten had been in these clothes.

“Come on. How heavy can it be?” she asked as she reached forward and lifted off the top box. “Umph!” Heavy didn’t even cover it. Apparently, the law firm made the first-years lug files weighted with lead.

“Don’t do that—” cried Harry, but Julie was already shaking her head.

“I’ve carried much heavier stuff. Trust me.”

He gave her a grateful smile as the elevator dinged. “You’re the best.” Then they both waited as the people in front of them maneuvered into the cramped lift.

As this was a huge downtown high-rise, that was a ton of people. Amid the suited professionals from one firm or another, she also caught sight of one of the bigwigs from the robotics firm on the top floor. He was standing next to a janitor or something. The guy wore dirty coveralls and had a dead leaf caught in his hair. Whatever he’d just been doing, it hadn’t been easy. Still, he looked cute even with the grease stain across his forehead. And with his sleeves rolled up like that, she could see his muscular forearms. It was silly to notice a guy’s forearms, but she did. And she liked the way he smiled at her.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” murmured Harry as he pushed his way into the elevator.

“Maybe we should wait,” Julie suggested. There really wasn’t room for everyone plus the boxes.

Harry flashed her a look of apology. “I’m kinda late. Let me just take the box—”

“No, no,” Julie returned. “You’ve already got the other two. We’ll all fit,” she said hopefully.

It was hard maneuvering herself and the huge box of files in. She turned around to face the front, apologizing to an accountant from the fifth floor as she jostled him. Harry had managed to somehow push their floor button, so Julie tried to back up enough to allow the doors to close.

It was a tight fit. It was a really, really tight fit, and she ended up backing into the guy in coveralls. She knew because she could feel the heavy cotton against her backside. Then the accountant elbowed her, shoving her even farther back. She stumbled. Not badly. Hell, both of her legs could be broken and she would be still standing upright in this cramped space. But it did force her bottom to bump hard against …

Oh my! That wasn’t a zipper she felt pressed hot and hard against her rear. That was coveralls-guy getting a very human reaction to her pressed against him. She ought to feel mortified. She ought to feel embarrassed for them both. Especially since there was nothing either of them could do, crammed together the way they were. All she could do was stand there pressed against his erection.

What to do? What to do? She didn’t know, but for the first time in months, she stopped thinking about her company slowly going belly-up. She stopped worrying about how she would pay her next bill or drum up her next contract. Her entire mind was absorbed with feeling a strange man against her backside. A well-endowed strange man.

And in that moment, a bizarre sense of daring hit her. After all, no one could see what was happening. They were shoved into the back corner, completely anonymous and yet completely intimate. Without her even planning it, biology took over. She allowed herself to drop a little farther back onto Mr. Coverall, and then she squeezed. Yup. Right there. She squeezed him for all she was worth.

She heard his gasp of shock and had to work to cover her smile. Good lord, had she just molested a perfect stranger? Apparently so because as the doors pulled open, she felt an answering pressure from him. Was he thrusting against her? Oh. My. God! She was both excited and appalled by the situation. And turned on like she hadn’t been in months.

And then, damn it, the ride was over. They had arrived at the seventeenth floor. Julie stepped forward because she had to. She didn’t even dare look behind her to see his face. Was his as red as hers? Was what they’d just done written on the blush that she knew was staining her cheeks?

She followed Harry to the law office, handed off the box to another first-year, and then headed to her own suite. Web Wit and Wonder was her very own advertising firm, started with best friend and brilliant graphic artist, Karen Wilson. Unfortunately, it was going under. That was why she’d worn this dress today. So she could bolster her confidence as she tackled one last bid for a contract. Except now, all she could think about was Elevator Man and how she’d.

“Good morning!” called Karen as Julie entered their office suite. “I brought muffins …” Her voice trailed away as she looked at her friend. “And my, don’t you look flushed today.”

Hell. There was no fooling Karen’s eagle eye. “Um. Yeah. I think I need some coffee.” Julie set down her purse and went straight for the cappuccino machine. Everything else in their office was stripped down to the bare essentials. But this lovely thing was an office-warming present from her parents. Sadly, that hadn’t been all they’d given her. They’d also loaned her money to start the business. And if Web Wit and Wonder didn’t get a new contract soon, that debt was going to go unpaid.

“Come on, Julie. What happened?”

Julie sighed. She knew she’d never get to work if she didn’t tell her friend the truth. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “Just, well, something happened in the elevator.”

She told Karen it all. Everything in glorious detail so she could relive the thrill of it. She’d never been someone to go for anonymous sex, much less today’s weird elevator fondle, but there was something so thrilling in what she’d done. As if she were suddenly scandalous or incredibly daring. It had just been a butt squeeze in a full elevator, but right then, she felt like she’d walked on the dark side. And Karen, bless her, found it just as exciting.

“You have to do it again!” Karen pressed.

“No!” Julie countered. “Besides, how could I?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I get crammed into elevators all the time. You just have to keep an eye out for your guy and make sure to—”

“What I’m going to do is focus on this campaign. Our proposal has to be perfect.”

Karen paused a moment, then huffed in disgust. “Fine, fine. All work and no play makes you a dull girl.”

Julie bit her lip, wondering just how much of the dollar and cents her artistic partner understood about their company. “Um, you know, I was going over our books last night and the picture—”

“I know,” Karen interrupted, holding up her hand to silence her friend. “Well, I don’t know the exact figures, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Julie nodded. There was nothing more to say to that. Except, perhaps, that they would get through this. “We’re going to put together a kick-ass proposal. We’re going to be brilliant.”

“And we’re going to win this contract,” Karen echoed with confidence. “I just know it.”

2

Seven weeks later …

“WE DIDN’T GET THE contract.” Julie stared at her laptop, her mind going numb. “We didn’t get it.”

Across the desk, Karen sighed and set down her sketchbook. Neither one of them had to say what they were thinking. They were both far from home, buried in debt, and as of five minutes ago, their company was dead. Bankrupt. Belly-up. Finito.

“This should have worked,” Julie said as she fell back in her chair and stared at the ceiling tiles. “I think and breathe advertising. You’re the best graphic designer there is. And together we know the internet like the back of our hands. We should be buried in accounts, not.” Dead broke.

Karen released another heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay, so this campaign didn’t work. It was brilliant, they’re idiots for not hiring us, but now we have to move on. So, what’s next?”

Julie didn’t answer. She didn’t have the heart to tell her best friend that after two years of scrimping and sweating and bleeding, she just didn’t have it in her to try again. She’d put everything into this last pitch: heart, soul, and her last borrowed dime. They’d failed anyway. They hadn’t gotten the account.

“My dad’s started a new bowling league,” she said, still talking to the ceiling tiles.

“In Nebraska?” Karen snorted. “You hate Nebraska!”

She hated starving, too. And being homeless. Which she would soon be since she couldn’t pay any more rent on her tiny apartment or on this cramped office space.

“Come on, Julie. Usually you’re the one with six more possibilities lined up, just in case. So what’s next? What have you got up your sleeve?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Absolutely nothing. We’re done.”

Karen was silent for a long time, clearly absorbing the finality of that while Julie tried hard to not think of returning to Nebraska, suitcase in hand. How did she tell her family that her plan to make it big—the one she’d talked about since she was twelve years old—had ended up in a huge pile of debt?

“Okay, I’ve got a new plan,” Karen said firmly. “I think you should get laid.”

Julie lifted her head to stare at her friend. “What?”

“I’m serious. You’ve been working nonstop for months. Years, even. Too much tension stops the flow of qi.”

“What?”

“Your energy, your power. And nothing else opens up the qi like a good—”

“Karen! You can’t possibly think that sex is an answer to bankruptcy.” There. She’d said the word aloud.

Her friend shook her head. “We’re not closed yet. We’ve got almost a month left for you to think of something brilliant. But you won’t think of anything with your qi all clogged.”

Julie didn’t answer. Her friend was being silly as a way to lighten the mood. It was sweet really, but some things couldn’t be changed regardless of her state of qi.

Karen leaned forward, dropping her elbows onto Julie’s desk. “When was the last time you saw Elevator Man?”

Julie nearly choked. Gawd, she should never have told her friend about him. Especially since the elevator seven weeks ago had only been the first incident. They’d had approximately one anonymous encounter a week since then. And that was nothing compared to her nighttime fantasies. Who’d have thought that she would become obsessed with elevator sex? But she had. She didn’t know whether her fantasies were fueling her forays into the scandalous or the reverse, but whatever the reason, she’d been unable to stop herself from orchestrating increasingly sexual encounters with the hunky janitor.

Their second time had been in another jam-packed elevator, but this time she’d gotten in first. She hadn’t even been sure it was him except that his general height and build were the same. He was about six foot and lean in those blue denim coveralls. His hair was rich brown, all curly and shaggy, and his shoulders broad. As she’d stared at his dark, dark brown eyes, she’d wondered: are you him? Are you the first man to touch me in forever?

He hadn’t answered, of course. But he’d inhaled deeply, and she’d thought about her perfume. Was he smelling the sandalwood she liked to dab on her wrists? Or the minty herb of her shampoo? Did he know what she was thinking?

She’d smiled at him, then. Something in her had taken over and she’d flashed her best come-hither smile. He’d seen it. His gaze zeroed in on her lips. But he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything. If anything, his eyes had gone impersonal and vague.

Her ego had crashed. This wasn’t her elevator man. Or if it was, he wasn’t interested in her. She had been stunned by the pain of that. The disappointment had cut deep, probably because she’d built so many erotic daydreams about him. She’d just been biting back a sigh when he reached forward to press the button for his floor.

Top floor. No biggie. Except on his way to the panel, he’d brushed across her right breast. It could have been an accident. After all, there were a dozen people crammed into the elevator. There was hardly space to breathe, much less reach for a button. But he had brushed her breast and her nipple reacted with a nearly painful point.

And on the way back from pressing the button, he’d done it again. Or perhaps she had “accidentally” pushed forward so that he had no choice but to caress her hard nipple. That was it for Encounter 2.

Encounter 3 came the next week, this time on the way down to the garage. Half-packed elevator, close quarters, but she’d been wearing a suit jacket so there was no accidental nipple brushing. But Elevator Man was nothing if not innovative.

He’d murmured, “Excuse me, excuse me,” as he maneuvered to stand right in front of her. Then he knelt down to open an access panel beneath the floor buttons. Everyone had shifted to accommodate him. Everyone, that is, except her because his position on the floor left his elbow pressed to her mons.

Oh, God, it had felt so good. Pressure. A circular rub. The garage floor had come too soon, and she’d been too chicken to stay. That night’s fantasy, however, had involved an empty elevator stuck between floors. It was only after encounters five and six that she migrated to a glass one at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She was pressed up against the glass while he did her hot and hard in front of the whole of Paris.

Yes, she was depraved, but perhaps that was the thrill of it. He was always polite, always gentle, and he stopped the moment the elevator did. But he made her feel like she was the hottest woman on the planet, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. She knew the shape of his body, the scent of his hair and the feel of his cock through a thousand encounters both real and imagined. And she couldn’t wait until it happened again.

And now, here was Karen asking for the details. “This last one was, um, the best,” she said, her face heating to crimson. “He stepped up behind me, pulled my hips back against his, and then …”

“Yes? What?”

Julie bit her lip. “His hand slid forward to, um, cup me. God, he has the best hands—big and strong.”

“Oh, my God! What did you do?”

Julie closed her eyes, unable to look at her friend in the face as she confessed this. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I just, well, enjoyed it.” But she’d thought about more. She’d thought about spreading her legs and giving in. She wanted to. She’d wanted to for weeks now, but she was too chicken. What if he told someone? What if he told a client? Of course, that wasn’t a problem now. There were no more clients—potential or otherwise. Meanwhile, she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her. God, it made her twist in hunger just thinking about it. It was a wonder she didn’t combust right here.

“Soo,” drawled Karen with a knowing look. “Sounds like you should enjoy things some more. Just do it, Julie. Let yourself go for once in your life. It’ll reset your qi.”

“Stop! I can’t just do someone in the elevator.”

“Of course you can. You got condoms?”

Julie nodded. She’d bought them weeks ago, and they’d been burning a hole in her purse ever since. She wanted to use them. It was insane, but she’d been thinking about it for two months now. She wanted to stop the elevator, hand him the condom and let herself do what she’d been fantasizing about.

“Meanwhile,” Karen said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve got to get home. Tomorrow’s lecture awaits.” Thankfully, Karen also taught at the Chicago School of Design. The collapse of their company would require a box of Kleenex and another of chocolates, but she wouldn’t be out on the street. Julie, on the other hand, would have to sell her laptop to pay for the bus ride home.

“Hey!” Karen cried as she playfully swiped at Julie’s leg with her portfolio. “Don’t stay here all night stewing. Go find Elevator Man. Or someone else.”

“Karen—”

“Seriously. Something will come up. Just have faith.”

Would it? Julie wondered. And if it did, did she still have the heart to pursue it? Instead of answering, she gave her friend a warm smile. “You’re the best,” she said. “I’m glad I picked you to go belly-up with.”

“Three more weeks,” Karen returned. “We’re not done until the rent expires in three weeks.” Then she was gone, heading out into the darkened expanse of the downtown office building.

Julie didn’t speak as their suite door clicked shut. She couldn’t. Her throat had clogged up and her eyes were watering. Three weeks or three years, it didn’t matter. She just didn’t think she had the heart to keep trying. Besides, she told herself sternly, she wanted to go home. She missed her family. What she couldn’t get past was that she’d be returning home a failure. A bankrupt failure.

It was on her twelfth birthday that she’d started talking about making it big in the big city. Her two younger brothers had laughed. Her sister, too, right after she’d said, “Julie always tells stories.” Even her mom had patted her head as if to say, isn’t she cute, dreaming the impossible dream. Only her father had taken her side. He’d told her then she could do anything she wanted, even move to Chicago and make her fortune.

It had taken fifteen years to make her dream a reality—or so she’d thought. But now she realized that her sister was right. Web Wit and Wonder was just another story that never came true. Pushing away that morose thought, she turned to her laptop and started typing. She stayed at her desk for hours more, searching for something, anything, to tide them over for another month. She didn’t find it. No jobs for an ad agency. Nothing even for a talented copywriter. She was out of options and out of money. It was time to go home.

Glancing at her clock, she was startled to see that it was nearly ten. Way too late for Elevator Man. She would have to count on her own fantasies for relief tonight. Just as well. She was feeling much too vulnerable right then. She didn’t even have a plant to go home to. Nothing but the ever-present certainty that she’d failed.

She closed up her laptop with a definitive click. She didn’t have a coat today despite the early fall cold snap. She’d chosen instead a wrap sweater top over dress pants. It was soft and warm, a gift from her younger sister for her birthday. Wearing it felt like being wrapped in cashmere love, though it was simple cotton. And except for Elevator Man, it was the only thing that had caressed her in a very long time. She must have known this morning that she’d need a hug by night.

Her thoughts were getting too morose. “Tomorrow, I can begin again,” she said out loud as a way to bolster her spirits. She stepped into the dark corridor, locking the office door behind her. The building was designed like a big rectangle around a central courtyard complete with trees and a water fountain. Way up high, the glass-paneled roof let in sunlight by day. Tonight, a big brilliant moon pierced the darkness. Only the robotics firm on the top floor had lights on. Robotics, apparently, weren’t affected by the sluggish economy, unlike small advertising firms.

She walked to the elevator bank and pressed a button. Her thoughts returned to Elevator Man, and she sternly reminded herself not to hope. At this hour, he had surely gone home already. That left her free to imagine all sorts of wildly erotic scenarios. The elevator took a long time coming, so she was able to fully steep herself in her fantasies. She pictured him behind her and all of Paris spread out before them. She imagined the thrust of his erection, the caress of his hands on her body. She was a wild woman, desired by a hot guy and completely free to enjoy her body. No work, no cares, just a man taking her to the ultimate sexual peak. God, it was heaven!

She was smiling as the metal doors parted, then she gasped in surprise. There, leaning back against the glass rear panel was Elevator Man. His usual coveralls were gone. Instead, he wore sneakers, dark jeans and a well worn cotton tee. The color was indigo fading to gray. Whatever image had once been there was now long gone, leaving little to distract her from the rippled shadows created by his sculpted torso. God, his forearms were nothing compared to the muscles across his chest.

Lifting her gaze a little higher, she saw his chiseled jaw, slightly darkened by five o’clock shadow. His eyes were at half mast as his nostrils flared. He was inhaling, his chest expanding as he clearly took in the scent of her. She’d started dabbing heavy amounts of sandalwood on her wrists ever since she’d noticed he took a deep breath whenever he was near her.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. He was lounging against the back panel watching her with a predatory expression. As if he’d been waiting for her. As if he’d known she was getting on the elevator right then and was daring her to step into his lair.

Karen’s words echoed in her mind. Just do it. Let yourself go for once in your life. Julie bit her lip. Could she? She had three weeks before she left Chicago for good. In three weeks, she would return to rural Nebraska and a wholly different life. Suddenly, three weeks felt like the perfect amount of time. Just enough time to revel in all her fantasies of the urban jungle. Three weeks to indulge however she wanted—passionately, frivolously, sexually—whatever she desired. Three weeks of time to be the wild woman she always pretended she was. After that, she would go home and start again.

All she had to do to begin was step through the door and let Elevator Man do whatever he wanted. Hell, she didn’t even need to wait for him. She could stop the elevator herself and let him know she was willing. That she’d wanted this for the last two months. Could she do it?

Yes. Tonight she was going to reset her qi because why the hell not? Tonight, she was going to do what she’d been fantasizing about for months.

With that thought in mind, she crossed the threshold. Then she did what she always did at the beginning of one of their encounters. She turned around to face the elevator doors, though her back prickled with awareness of him right behind her. She extended her hand and pushed the garage floor button.

The elevator hummed to life, the doors shutting slowly. But Julie didn’t let her hand drop away from the panel. Instead, her fingers hovered over the Stop button. Now, she told herself. Pull the Stop button now!

3

SAM FINN’S HEART—and dick—leaped forward, but he didn’t move off the elevator wall. He feared if he shifted at all, nothing would stop him from grabbing Miss Julie Thompson and dragging her back to his cave, so to speak. So he held himself still and gripped the railing until his hands hurt.

She had paused before strutting into the elevator, her pert chin lifted in challenge and her hips swaying slightly in anticipation. Was tonight the night? Finally? After months of foreplay, would he finally get up the nerve to push them to the next level?

Nearly two months ago, Sam had also stood at the back of an elevator while she sauntered in. Later, he learned what her name was. Later, he figured out that she was the owner and creative force behind Web Wit and Wonder. Later, he realized that she’d been in her “creative” mode, dressing and walking with a flair that he found especially sexy.

At the time, all he noticed was that she was a bright flash of yellow sundress, bouncy hair and strappy sandal attitude. All woman, very perky in all the best ways, and a night-and-day difference from the corporate stiffs he was about to face in his own boardroom. Then she had stuffed her delectable body close, he’d caught the exotic scent of sandalwood, and his dick had the normal, predictable reaction. He’d gotten a boner the size of the Sears Tower.

Nothing unusual there. Every male above the age of eleven had suffered through an embarrassing erection. But then she’d done the unthinkable. She’d pressed backward against him. Far from being shocked and repelled, she’d actually, swear to God, squeezed him. Well, that’s what his lower half believed. And then, while his brain was scrambling desperately to hold on to sanity, she had stepped away. Seconds later, she was off the elevator while he was harder than granite. He’d needed twenty minutes before he could face his employees.

It could have been an isolated incident, the kind of random thing that sometimes happened in a city the size of Chicago. It probably would have remained an isolated event if he weren’t owner of the office building in which they both worked.

But he did own the building and he had access to all sorts of interesting security devices. Nothing intrusive, but it took less than a minute to learn everything official about Miss Thompson and her ad agency. And given that this was a building outfitted with the latest and greatest technology of the time, he could easily tie its security feed to his own laptop. There was no surveillance within her office suite. That would be a breach of privacy. But in the hallway outside her door? Absolutely. He knew when she came and went from her office, he knew what she wore, and most importantly, when she would be heading for the elevator banks.

So the stalking began. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Had her caress been a product of his fevered imagination? Or would she welcome more? Could such a beautiful woman really want his touch? He had to know if he was imagining her response or if she was just into kinky, anonymous sex play.

It took nearly a week, but he’d managed to arrange to be in another packed elevator with her. His heart had been beating triple time, but after a week of fruitless speculation, he’d had to put the question to the test. He’d reached for the elevator button by way of her breast.

He’d tried to be subtle. If she started screaming, he could pretend he’d stumbled, it was an accident … He had an entire litany of excuses ready. He’d extended his hand, brushed across her breast and then pushed the button. And damn if on the way back, she didn’t “accidentally” fall forward enough that he was nearly cupping her.

He’d almost collapsed. He had nearly convinced himself that she would scream bloody murder. That he’d be facing a sexual harassment lawsuit. But when none of that happened, his mind had simply shut down with shock. That, unfortunately, gave free rein to his inner stalker.

He’d never gone for emotionless sex before. Never had an interest in casual hook-ups. His life was his robotics company, and his women had been relationships. He never guessed that he would spend two months trying to find a way to have sex with a stranger in an elevator.

But maybe that was the point. Maybe he was ready for sex without pretense. Forget a meeting of minds and life goals. Julie Thompson was a bright splash of color in his very gray, very robotic world. Why couldn’t he walk on the wild side for a while? As long as she was willing, he was game.

And best of all, he made sure he only connected with her when he was in his coveralls. He’d be damned if he let another woman have “sex with the billionaire.” He hadn’t thought there were that many money-hungry groupies in the world. Certainly not those who would go for a boring, nearsighted, robotics geek. But experience had taught him to be extra cautious about his identity. So, if Miss Julie Thompson wanted hot elevator sex, she was going to get it with a maintenance guy, not a CEO.

So the stalking began in earnest. He watched when she came and left her work. It helped that she was as much a workaholic as he was. Their hours matched up nicely. Morning elevator mash-ups allowed for discreet fondling. And at night, when he was all alone in his bed, he played out scenarios that appalled his rational brain.

But that was fantasy, and he was beyond tired of playing by himself. Tonight, she was here alone and he was more than ready to take it to the next level.

She had turned her back on him with a sexy wiggle to her hips. The scent of sandalwood hit him and his blood went straight south. If he were sticking to his usual pattern, this was when he would come up behind her and begin fondling. Her ass, her hips, her breasts—didn’t matter. She was fantastic all around. Curvy, athletic without being obsessive, and just the right height for him, especially when she wore heels.

But this wasn’t going to be a usual elevator encounter. It was late at night, they were the last ones in the building, and he had control of the elevator thanks to a new app he’d just installed on his phone.

The elevator started moving and he could see her body change. Her purse slid down her shoulder to land by her feet on the floor. Her shoulders opened up and her chin lifted slightly. And best of all, her hand hovered over the Stop button. Right there was the invitation he needed. She wanted more, just like he did. Was she going to do it? Was she going to pull the button?

Yes! She popped it out and a split second later, he initiated the app on his phone. Right on cue, the elevator jerked to a stop between floors, its security camera turning off at the same time. She gasped and stumbled, clearly surprised by the lurch. He caught her before she fell backward. His thighs braced her legs, and his arms went around her body, one over her right shoulder, the other curving around her lower ribs. She wore a soft sweater top that tied on one side. If he slid his hand across her belly, he could have her top undone with a flick of his wrist.

“Are you all right?” he said, his voice low.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, turning her head. They were nearly nose to nose. He could smell the herbal scent to her hair and even his bad eyes could see the dark rich black of her eyelashes. “I, um, must have missed and hit the wrong button.”

“Nah. We’ve been working on the elevators,” he lied. “It’s been acting wonky all day.”

“Oh,” she said softly, as she lifted her face to his.

“That’s too bad.”

Now was the time, he told himself, and without thinking twice, he simply went for it.

SHE’D DONE IT. She’d stopped the elevator and now she had to follow through. She was trembling, her belly shivering where his hand held her so solidly. And his eyes were the most wonderful color of brown. A rich, dark chocolate that tempted her to dive right in and lap up all the goodness that he alone could give her.

His mouth touched hers, all warm and seductive. He brushed his lips across hers, teased her with his tongue.

“We’re in no danger,” he said, his voice a deep shiver across her skin. “I think I can start it up again,” he continued. And while his mouth continued to tease hers, his hand skated over her belly and tugged at the tie of her top.

She gasped. Her lips felt incredibly sensitive, but nothing could top the knowledge that he was starting to undress her. Was she really going to do this? His kiss deepened, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as she opened to him. And she felt the tie of her sweater pull loose.

She broke the kiss. Not because she wanted it to end, but because she needed air.

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. She saw his question clear as day. Would she allow him to take it further? Did she want this? Karen’s “just go for it” words echoed in her mind.

Rather than answer, she stayed with the nonsensical chitchat. “I was working late. Big contract just fell through,” she said. Then she gasped as his hand worked between the loose folds of her top to touch her bare skin. His fingers were calloused, the texture as erotic as his slow slide across her belly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“So am I.” She was still half reclined in his arms, and the position was a bit awkward. So she straightened, and he supported her, taking the opportunity to slide his other hand down from her shoulder to slip underneath the back of her top.

“I could call someone, if you like,” he said, his voice a heated brush against her ear. He was giving her the opportunity to say no, to end things right now. But she didn’t, firmly shaking her head.

“There’s no need to bother anyone else.”

As she moved, his hand on her belly flowed with her, rubbing across her abdomen, making her muscles tremble. And all the while, his other hand continued to whisper up her back to the clasp of her bra. She closed her eyes, her body tightening and her breath shallow.

“I’ll fix the elevator as soon as you want,” he said as he thumbed the catch on her bra. That was his way of telling her they could stop at any time.

“Not yet,” she whispered, stunned by her own audacity. She had just said it. She had just told him that she wanted more from him. And sure enough, he took the invitation, moving both hands around her until he cupped her breasts.

God, yes! His hands were so large, he easily surrounded her, and his callouses provided just the right friction as they slid across her skin. She felt her back arch and her head drop back. His body pressed up against her, his heat warming her back. She leaned into him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. She wanted to touch him, to feel his muscular strength. Her hands were down by her sides, so she reached behind her to stroke his thighs. God, he felt good. His thighs were corded, powerful with almost no give.

“I’m Sam,” he said, his mouth against her ear.

Finally, she knew his name. “Julie,” she gasped, and the movement thrust her breasts deeper into his palms. He was kneading her flesh, rolling her nipples slowly between his fingers. She moaned softly, the sound rumbling through her body into his. He brushed his jaw across her temple.

“I love the way you smell,” he murmured. Then he shifted and nipped the curve of her ear. She shivered at the touch, surprised by the intensity of her reaction. Sex had never felt this way before, never this thrilling. Even more surprising was the way she reacted when he began to explore. It was as if her body had a whole new set of responses to his touch, and she was learning them at the same time he was.

When he squeezed her breasts, her breath eased and her skin heated. When he rolled her nipples, she moaned low and deep. But when he pinched them, especially when he accompanied that with a nip on her ear, she gasped and thrust backward against him. She didn’t control her reactions, didn’t know what was coming next. She just let herself feel while her body’s hunger grew and grew.

“You are so hot,” he said against her ear. She whimpered in response. One of his hands left her breast to brush down her belly. He paused with his fingers on the catch of her dress pants. “One look, and I can’t think of anything but this. You’ve been driving me insane for two months.”

Her breath shuttered to a stop, her mind making a desperate bid for sanity. He was going to open her pants, he was going to slide his fingers … Before she could finish the thought, he popped the button on her pants and slid down the zipper. She felt the rrrrr of the metal teeth as her trousers fell open and his fingers slid down over her thin panties.

She was so hot there and wet. And she couldn’t think beyond the pressure of his fingers and the desire to finally feel him inside her. This was just like her fantasies. Better even, because the heat between them was so much larger, so much more powerful than even she had dreamed.

Then he did it. He slid over her mons and thrust his finger between her folds. A second later he was pushing ever so slowly inside her. She felt surrounded by him, held in place and caressed in the most intimate ways.

He was supporting most of her weight as her body arched into his caress. He thrust deep, impaling her with precision, before slowly pulling out, the length of his finger rolling over her clit. Her legs trembled and weakened. She had nothing to hold on to. Her hands kept sliding over his thighs, but he was too large for her to grip with any strength. She felt suspended in pleasure, adrift in sensation as he pinched her nipple while thrusting back inside her.

Her muscles gripped him, and her breath came in short gasps. Her body shuddered, her mind too splintered from the sensations to do more than experience. He was toying with her nipple, lengthening, squeezing, even twisting. While below, his tempo began to increase.

Her belly began to tighten, and her heart was pounding in her ears. “Oh! Oh!” She was keening softly, her word more like a high gasp. He played her masterfully, bringing her to the edge then holding her off. God, she was so close! Just a little more, a little more, and yet she wanted it to last forever. And then she couldn’t stop. He thrust into her again and she met him, arching into his hand. And …

Yes!

4

JULIE FLOATED BACK FROM BLISS with a reluctant sigh. Which was rapidly followed by a burning flush of embarrassment. Was she really still standing? And had she really just let Elevator Man—Sam—finger her to orgasm?

His breathing was deep and even against her back. He was supporting her still, one hand on her hip, the other arm wrapped gently around her. God, he was so solid! She got the impression he could hold her like this all night if need be.

“Wow …” she began, unsure what to say. “What a great end to a sucky day.”

She felt his chuckle rumble through her spine. “Building maintenance is a service-oriented field.”

She laughed, really laughed at that. But there was only so much humor she could cling to before she became excruciatingly aware of her position. Shifting awkwardly, she reached down and pulled up her pants. He let her go, stepping back to a polite distance. She felt her face heat. Was there a polite distance after what they’d just done?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It, um, doesn’t have to end right now. We could go out for a drink. Have dinner—”

She abruptly spun around and pressed her fingers to his lips. “I can’t,” she said. “I mean …” What should she say? That she was leaving the state in three weeks? That there wasn’t time to build a relationship, so why start? “Oh, God, I’m horrible,” she murmured to herself.

He gently pulled her hand from his mouth. “Service-oriented industry, remember? Whatever you want is fine.”

“I doubt this was exactly what the janitor’s union had in mind,” she returned drily.

He let go of her hand to stroke her face. It was a soft caress with the pad of his thumb as he swept past her mouth up along her cheekbone. And damn if she didn’t lean into the caress because it was just so wonderful. She searched his expression, the warm chocolate of his eyes were completely open and non-judgmental.

“It doesn’t have to be dinner,” he said. “There’s coffee upstairs in the robotics lab. Or ice cream sundaes down the street.”

“I’m leaving,” she abruptly confessed. “The state. In three weeks. I don’t want to lie to you—”

He kissed her. It was swift, it was deep, and it was thrilling. His hands delved into her hair to cradle her head, his tongue thrust into her mouth. She arched into his attack, trying to tease him with her tongue, and loving that he took control. He was powerful, her Elevator Man, and she reveled in it.

Within seconds, she was as hot as she’d been before the elevator doors had dinged open. Good God, she was insatiable! “This is nuts,” she said against his mouth.

“I know,” he agreed, as he obviously forced himself to slow down. A moment later, they were looking at each other, their mouths apart, but everything else entwined.

“The thing is,” she said, struggling to put words to the feelings colliding within her, “I’ve been working so hard for a really long time. Not only at my business, but before that, just to make it to Chicago to start.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he began, but she shook her head.

“I need to. You need to understand. It’s been going badly for a while now. We’ve fought hard, but it didn’t work. We’re going to have to close.”

She saw sympathy warm his eyes. “That’s why you’re leaving,” he said.

She nodded. “But then, wham, there’s you two months ago. No talking. No work. Just desire. And suddenly I feel good, you know? I’m not thinking about work or bankruptcy or anything. Just you and me.”

“Bodies without pressure.” He released a rueful laugh. “I understand. Believe me, I get it.”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” she said. “I just want to feel good for a while. Like I’m on top of the world.”

He let one of his hands slide down. Within a moment, he was gripping her hips, pulling her gently forward to press against him. God, he was just as hot and hard as she’d remembered. As she’d lived and breathed in her fantasies for two months now.

“I’m okay with feeling good,” he said. “No connections, no relationship. In fact, that’s exactly what I want right now.”

She took a deep breath, amazed at her own boldness. “I have condoms in my purse.”

“I’ve got some, too,” he said. Then he slowly touched her chin, tilting her face up toward him. “I’ve got a clean bill of health, and in case you’re wondering, I’ve never done this before either.”

Relief flooded through her. He could be lying, but she didn’t think so. “I’m clean, too.” She didn’t say more. Just looked into his eyes while her heart beat faster and faster. She saw his nostrils flare and felt his body tighten as he slid his hand into her hair to cup the back of her head. She didn’t think it was possible, but he suddenly felt bigger to her, stronger, more demanding. It was exactly what she wanted from him and she willingly gave herself over to it.

Their kiss was explosive. He thrust his tongue into her, exploring every inch of her mouth. She surrendered to him, opening herself up as never before. With other men, she was always thinking. What did that kiss mean? What did she want? Where was their relationship going—did he fit into her life plans?

But there was no thinking this time. She knew there was no future between them. And with that worry gone, her mind surrendered to the joy of the experience. Sam’s kiss was all about pleasure, and she wanted to live every moment.

They toyed with each other for a while, their tongues tangling, their mouths fused together. Before long, Julie found herself impatient to touch him. She pulled at his T-shirt, trying to work her hands beneath the soft cotton. He let her, and her fingers soon slid across the rippling planes of his abs. And while she was glorying in the exquisite feel of his body, he gently backed her against the wall.

She hit the paneling with a soft thud, made all the better because he was pushing between her thighs, his penis rubbing her just how she liked it. Then he kissed down her neck, and opened her sweater again. Her nipples were tight, her skin so sensitive to the slightest brush of his thumbs or lave of his tongue.

He teased her left breast with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth where he nipped at it. She bucked at the incredible sensation and was startled to find that he’d already undone her pants. The fabric was drooping off her hips, and she pushed them the rest of the way down. Now that the rules were established, she was not going to hold back. She wanted him inside her. So she lifted his face, her breath too short to say much.

“Condom,” she gasped out.

He grinned and hooked his hands behind her thighs. As he straightened up, he lifted her as well. Not far, just enough to perch her bottom on the railing as he wrapped her legs around his hips. Perfect! She got to watch the play of muscles across his chest as he twisted slightly to pull a foil packet out of his back pocket. A moment later, he’d popped the button on his fly and his erection sprang free.

He was big, just like she knew he would be. And while he fumbled with shaking hands to open the foil, she was able to touch him. She measured the length of him, stroked the velvet head, even rolled her thumb across the bead of moisture and wondered what it would be like to taste him.

She didn’t get the chance. He touched her wrist, stopping her motion. “You wanted pleasure,” he rasped. “That’s going to shorten it for both of us.”

She nodded and let her hand drop away, enjoying the sight of him suiting up. And again, she marveled at how easy this was. Her blood was humming, her heart was beating so fast, and a gorgeous man was moments away from fulfilling a fantasy she’d dreamed a thousand times. It didn’t matter what had gone on earlier in the day. Failing business or not, this moment was perfect. Absolutely perfect. She smiled and was startled to find him looking at her, his eyes a dark chocolate mystery.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she answered. “That’s the whole point.”

He seemed to take that at face value as he slowly leaned in to kiss her again. She met him halfway, enjoying the feel of his lips, the play of his tongue against hers and the way his hand slid down her belly to the cotton of her panties. Then she broke the kiss, gasping at the shock of sensation as his thumb rolled over the fabric to stroke her clit.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said.

“Do a woman in an elevator?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “This.” He brought his other hand up to the edge of her panties. She watched in surprise as his forearms bunched and the elastic snapped. A second later her underwear was in shreds and he tossed it aside. Julie bit back a gasp while a silent thrill shot down her spine. So, okay the clothing had been old and probably easy to tear, but it didn’t matter. The sight of his muscular arms ripping away her clothing sent her libido into overdrive.

“You are so hot,” she murmured.

“I was just about to say the same thing,” he said. This time, nothing barred him from stroking his thumb over her clit.

Her legs tightened and her back arched. And soon, oh God, please let it be soon, she was going to feel more than just his fingers. She was so enthralled with the idea that she began to move against his thumb, rhythmically circling around his hand.

“There’s so many things I could do to you right now,” he murmured.

Yes! She thought. Anything. Everything!

“Three weeks,” he said in an almost conversational tone. “No dates. No relationship.”

“Yes,” she said. Those were her terms.

He nodded as he shifted his hips, positioning himself. “I’m good with that,” he said. Then he finally, wonderfully, thrust deep inside her.

She groaned in delight as he filled her. She was impaled, held pinned—and half lifted—on his cock, and it was perfect. In fact, she had to lift her knees up along his hips to accommodate him. Never had she felt more thoroughly possessed.

Then he began to thrust. Powerful, deep, masterful penetrations. The rhythm was slow at first, but strong enough to feel all the way to her spine. She gasped at every slide. She arched her back, letting him go deeper, wanting to feel as if he completely filled her body.

And then the pace increased.

Her belly tightened. Her orgasm burst through. She came in a wave of pleasure. And still he thrust into her, pushing her even higher. Harder. Stronger.

Then, suddenly, he slammed forward as he convulsed inside her. Shudders wracked his body, adding to her pleasure. She gripped him tight, wanting to feel every pulse of his orgasm.

Oh, God! Yes!

SAM SLUMPED TO THE SIDE with a groan. He didn’t so much intend to move as simply not fall over. How had this miracle happened to him? he wondered vaguely. No ties. No awkward relationship issues. Just the hottest sex ever. For three more weeks. Thank you, God!

Julie was stirring by his side. He opened his eyes to see her stretch languidly as she slid off the handrail and stood. She was still wearing her black heels, and wasn’t that the greatest sight ever? Then she smiled at him, her eyes all vague and misty, and he rapidly changed his mind. That was the most gorgeous sight ever.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured.

She dimpled prettily at him. “I feel like I just swam in a lake after a long, long drought.”

“I feel like I drowned in that lake,” he countered.

She arched a brow and the expression was mischievous. “Well, perhaps I can give you a little CPR.”

He released a laugh which was really more of a gulp for air. “Give me a minute. I’m pretty sure that the dead will rise again.”

“I think.” she said as she stroked her hand across his chest, “… that I’ll wear a dress tomorrow. Something with a swirling, flowing skirt. And really high red heels.”

“It’s alive!” he cried. And yes, the thought of Julie in a flirty dress with red stilettos had him fully resurrected.

She laughed as she glanced down at him. There was coy flirtation in her gaze, but he also caught a flash of anxiety. Then she turned away to pull up her pants.

Worried, he straightened up from the wall. “Julie …” he began, trying to think of something to ease the awkwardness. “I know this is unusual for both of us, but that doesn’t have to make it weird.”

“I know,” she agreed. “And it was great. Really, really great.”

“Yeah,” he echoed. But then he didn’t know what to say and she flushed and looked away. He went back to putting himself to rights, while she readjusted her sweater. Within a moment, she had everything tucked, hooked and tied back in place. Except for the slightly flyaway lift to her hair, she looked every inch the business professional. If it weren’t for her torn panties on the floor, he might wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.

She must have seen him glance at the plain cotton. “Oh,” she gasped as she reached down.

“I got it,” he said. And he did. He grabbed them before her, balling them tight then stuffing them into a pocket. He didn’t allow himself to think about how depraved that was, grabbing and keeping her torn underwear. “So,” he murmured. “You’re leaving in three weeks.”

“That’s when my lease here is up,” she said.

He swallowed, a tightness forming in his belly. It might have been anticipation, but he didn’t really think so. Three weeks didn’t seem like long enough. He’d built up seven weeks’ worth of fantasies about this amazing woman. But that was all the time she had. She was leaving the state.

“Right,” he said, though inside he begrudged the very idea. “A dress tomorrow.”

“And red heels.”

He arched a brow and attempted a wink. “I can work with that.”

She winked back. It was a quick movement, almost unnoticed because she was turning away from him. But he saw it and he liked it. A woman who winked. And then she pushed the Stop button back in. Except, of course, the elevator didn’t move. His phone was in control of the lift.

She pulled the button out again, then pushed it back. Nothing happened. “So,” she said, “how do I start the elevator back up?”

“Hold on.” He’d been scanning the area for his phone, finally sighting it on the floor next to the first glass panel. He picked it up and thumbed it to life. A few taps later, the elevator hummed into motion.

“And here I thought it was the Stop button,” she said, her voice laced with humor.

“You have no idea how hard that was to arrange,” he returned.

Her musical laugh was the last thing he heard before the doors dinged open on the garage floor. She stepped out. He would have followed but she stopped him.

“No need,” she said, pointing to her beat-up Camry. “I’m right over there.”

She didn’t want him following her. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, but he still thumbed the app on his phone. The elevator froze open.

“I’ll just wait here to make sure you get into your car okay.” He shrugged. “I want to be your only stalker tonight.”

She nodded again, and he saw relief in her expression. “Thanks.”

Then she turned away and crossed to her car. He watched her the whole way, waiting until her car pulled out of its spot and drove down the ramp.

Three weeks. There was a lot he could do in that time. But only if he got busy right now.

5

JULIE PIROUETTED IN HER apartment. There was almost no room between her bed and the walls, but she did it nonetheless, loving the feel of her skirt swirling out from her legs. In truth, this was a spring dress meant for being flirty and fun. Bold white-and-red flowers covered the light cotton material. It was definitely not intended as a work outfit in the fall. But she paired it with a severe red jacket—which made it warm enough—and do-me red pumps which made it perfect for her promise to Sam.

She stopped her spin, and her skirt twisted back down around her legs. It took only a moment for the fabric to settle, but it took her mind a lot longer.

Was she really doing this? Was she really going to have hot office sex without thought to a relationship? To the man?

Yes! Or rather … maybe. After all, she did know something about Sam, even if she was trying to pretend that he was anonymous Elevator Man. Beside the obvious physical attributes—tall, strong, pecs of steel and extremely nimble fingers—she knew he was thoughtful enough to bring condoms and make sure she got to her car okay. She knew he was employed at a regular job, and that he had the sexiest smile—half challenge, half predator. When they’d met in the elevator—not just last night, but for the last seven weeks—he’d been there looking for her.

It wasn’t PC. From one light, she could think of it as creepy. Except that she had invited him to stalk her. She had wiggled against him, let him touch her breasts, and then shared a great deal more long before last night’s events. And boy was last night an event! God, she’d never orgasmed so intensely or so long in her life!

And then there was that other moment. It was bizarre, but she couldn’t forget when he’d looked at her face, touched her cheek and said, “You’re so beautiful.” It sounded like a line, but it hadn’t felt like one. His eyes had been wide, as if he were looking at her for the first time, and there had been surprise and awe in his voice. Awe. For her!

If only she had the time to get to know him better, to find out if they could have more than just hot times in the hallway. But the minute she thought that, she mentally shied away. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. In fact, she wanted the polar opposite. She wanted a distraction from her life, from the fact that her glorious foray into big-city advertising had ended in inglorious defeat. Web Wit and Wonder had failed. All that was left was to gather up her broken dreams and go home.

Under those circumstances, who wouldn’t want a wild, meaningless fling in the elevator? Especially if it resulted in orgasms that went on forever! But she couldn’t forget that it was only a distraction. That as fun as it was to wear do-me heels and a flirty skirt, she still had to cancel her accounts, close up the office and pack up her things.

Her eyes teared at that thought. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at her cell phone. She had to call her parents. She had to tell them she was coming back home and ask if she could sleep in her old bedroom. She had to confess to all and sundry that little Julie with the big dreams was really only suited for writing hardware store ads and sale announcements for the quilting society.

Her step was a lot less jaunty as she left her tiny apartment. By the time she had made it to her Camry, though, she was thinking of other ways to drum up business. Was there more marketing work somewhere? Their company was web based, specializing in internet advertising. But maybe there some print work to do. Maybe someone would hire them for newspaper advertising. By the time she pulled into her spot in the garage, she had to sit for ten minutes jotting down a list of places to check and things to do. If it weren’t for the click of her heels on the garage floor, she might even have forgotten Sam.

She glanced at her watch. She was behind her usual schedule because of the extra time she’d taken to dress. The elevator doors swooped open, and she quickly scanned the interior. He wasn’t there. Just three men in business suits and one jeans-clad engineer from the robotics company. The sight of his faded denim and loose tee made her flash on Sam’s attire last night and she smiled. Then she was surprised as the engineer gasped and colored all the way up to his ears.

Oops. Apparently, thinking sexy thoughts had made her into a walking sex kitten. She consciously toned it down, turned a blank face to the closing elevator doors, and tried to think about her to-do list. If nothing else, that would sober her right up.

But she couldn’t do it. Instead, her mind wandered over what she and Sam had done in this very elevator. Weirdly, she didn’t linger on the waves of ecstasy, but on the moments leading up to orgasm. There was power in his voice. Or maybe the better word was self-assurance. As if he daily commanded people to do things, and they automatically obeyed. She certainly had. Sure he’d made jokes about being in the service industry, and he certainly dressed the part of building maintenance, but truthfully, the job didn’t fit the feel of the man.

Sam had a strength about him, a confidence in his ability to arrange the world to his choosing. She responded to that power in him. She liked that he was masterful and that he had chosen to master her.

The elevator doors slid open and she had to walk down the long hallway to her office suite. The place was well lit, the security cameras hung discreetly high. It was one of the reasons she’d picked this building. The security was first-rate but still unobtrusive. So unobtrusive, in fact, that she usually forgot all about the cameras.

But she looked at them now with new eyes. Was Sam using them to watch her? Was he sitting in his coveralls, his large hand wrapped around a coffee mug, while he followed her on some monitor? The very idea gave her a little thrill.

She glanced up and down the hallway. At the moment, there was no one here. Very well then. He had left her high and dry in the elevator this morning, perhaps she’d get a little revenge. She walked until she was in perfect alignment with the camera nearest her office door. Then she “accidentally” dropped her purse.

She took her time leaning down to pick it up. She bent from the waist, keeping her legs straight and her butt high. The camera would have an excellent view of her bottom, long legs and do-me pumps. And then, when she picked up her purse, she let the edge of it catch the fabric of her skirt. As she lifted up the bag, her skirt went with it.

She waited a moment, straightening equally slowly as she pretended to root in her purse. Inch by inch, her full thigh was exposed to the camera. It went all the way up to the edge of her thigh-high hose and the red lace garter that matched her do-me heels. Then she pretended to discover her mistake. A shift and a wiggle later, and her skirt fluttered back down in place. Show over. Except for one thing.

She twisted to look directly up at the camera and winked. Then she strutted—yes, strutted—her way into her office. Sure, she had a mountain of details to mow through. Sure, she had a daunting pile of bills and a tiny pile of possibilities. But for this moment in time, she felt silly sexy. Who knew flashing a security camera could be so much fun?

SAM STARED AT THE MONITOR, his morning coffee forgotten amidst the press of his sudden, rock-hard erection. He’d meant to just glance at the monitors. He’d meant to drink his coffee, wait for Julie to get to work and then prepare his notes for this morning’s meeting. Nothing earth shattering.

He hadn’t counted on her doing a bend and wiggle right in front of the camera. How had she known he’d be watching for her? He’d been doing so for weeks. She’d never before given any indication that she even knew the camera was there.

Well, she had now! And he had the boner to prove it. He pressed the button to rewind the recording. He shouldn’t torture himself, but he couldn’t stop. In superspeed, she backed up out of her office, retrieved, then dropped her purse, then backed into the elevator. Another button push and she was moving forward again, this time in slow motion.

Step. Step. Pause. A glance at the camera. Right there was when she’d figured him out. And then … the show.

Oh, God, she was even more glorious in slow motion. And what was that on her creamy thigh? He froze the image and zoomed in. Red lace. His mouth went dry and his hands clenched with the need to touch her. He was going to drag that lace down her leg with his teeth!

“Welcome to the depressing Thursday report,” Roger said as he sauntered into the lab.

Sam slammed his hand down on his keyboard, instantly shifting the screens to CNN. He’d tied his personal bank of computers to the security system after his very first elevator encounter with Julie. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be caught peeping by his CFO. His Everest-sized hard-on was a little more difficult to hide, but he swiveled in his chair and pulled in tight to his desk. Let the paper-strewn monstrosity cover his own monstrosity.

Pasting on a fake bleary-eyed look, he peered over his coffee mug at his best friend. “You really ought to find a better way to greet your boss this early in the morning.”

Roger was undeterred. Dressed in a gray suit, red power tie and Italian leather shoes, he grabbed a lab stool and hauled it over. But he didn’t sit. Instead, he snagged a rag and wiped off the metal spinning disk before gingerly setting his briefcase down on it.

“I’ve got reports, more reports, and then just for fun, some paperwork for you to sign,” he said as he pulled out thick packets of stapled papers. “All of them say one thing: I do not like this economy.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t think you’re alone in that.”

“We’ve got to do something about it.”

“The whole economy?”

“Just our little slice of it.” Roger pulled a black pen out of his pocket and passed it to Sam. “Sign here and here and here.”

Sam frowned and reached up to the huge, lighted, magnifying glass that swung above his desk. It was meant for people to use when doing detailed circuit board work, but Sam needed it for more than just that.

“Why don’t you get glasses like a normal person?” Roger asked.

Sam started scanning through the pages. “I have contacts.”

“That need reading glasses instead of that huge monstrosity.”

“This is bigger. Can’t lose this or sit on it,” he responded as he flipped a page in the contract, doing his best to concentrate as he read.

“You’re a multimillionaire,” Roger groused. “You should get stylish lenses that make you appear sophisticated and—”

“Geriatric.”

“Better than a doofus.”

Sam didn’t answer. He had a rare eye condition that left him visually impaired. Fortunately, technology and medicine had advanced enough that he could read a monitor and see distance objects with the aid of hard contact lenses that reshaped his eyeballs and magically filled in the ripples in his cornea. Close-up work, however, required a shift in magnification or a different pair of lenses. That was one of the reasons why he’d first started working on circuit boards so long ago. Everyone needed to use a lighted magnifying glass to do that, so he hadn’t felt handicapped.

Right now, he had on his distance lenses so he could watch Julie on the monitor. That meant he needed help to read the contract. Instead of reading glasses that made him feel like an old man, he chose to use the massive wall-mounted contraption that made him look like an engineer.

Sam sighed and scrawled his signature on the appropriate lines, then leaned back in his chair. He had to get his mind off of Julie and back onto his company. “So, do you really have Thursday-morning depression to report? More than a general I-hate-this-economy?”

Roger swooped up the signed contract and popped it into his briefcase. “Sadly, yes. We’re not selling enough robots.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.