“I know I promised I wouldn’t try anything, but …” Damien trailed off, as he drew his lips across Niveah’s cheek, her ear and her neck “… I can’t control myself when I’m around you.”

Niveah didn’t know how much more of this she could take. It was just a matter of time before she was gasping for air and her legs gave way. Damien cupped her chin and kissed her so fully, so passionately, Niveah felt like she was spinning on a carousel. Her shoes fell off, her dress sailed down her hips and her fifty-dollar nylons lay in pieces on the floor.

Still kissing, they stumbled farther into the suite, knocking into end tables, couch legs and other furniture. Down to just her panties, her body throbbing with heat and desire, she dragged her fingernails up his chest, across his neck and over his head. Moving to an inaudible beat, Niveah rocked her hips against his crotch, causing Damien to release a savage groan. Niveah reached around, unzipped his pants and reached inside.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

I couldn’t have asked for a better family, and feel incredibly blessed to have the following people in my life: Jean-Claude, Aysiah, and Christian Yaye. My parents, Daniel and Gwendolyn Odidison. My siblings, Kenneth and Bettey Odidison. You all mean the world to me and I love you guys something fierce!!!

Special thanks to Delly Dyer for answering my questions about the advertising/marketing business. The information you provided was invaluable and helped to improve the novel.

Books by Pamela Yaye

Kimani Romance

Other People’s Business

The Trouble with Luv’

Her Kind of Man

Love TKO

Games of the Heart

Love on the Rocks

Pleasure for Two

Promises We Make

About the Author

PAMELA YAYE has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to actively pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her handsome husband, adorable daughter and precious son.

Dear Reader,

What could be more salacious than a sexy office romance featuring two headstrong characters vying for the same position? While writing this story about discovering love in the workplace, I quickly realized that Niveah Evans and Damien Hunter had much bigger problems than just being coworkers. Their love-hate relationship is tumultuous and passionate, and the more they try to resist each other, the hotter the fire burns!

Before they can ride off into the sunset together, Damien will have to convince Niveah that his feelings for her are real. It won’t be any easy task, but Damien won’t stop until they have their happy ending.

My next Kimani romance novel, Escape to Paradise (July 2011), is a story filled with secrets, betrayal and a hero so sensitive and romantic and alpha, he’ll make you swoon. To find out more about me and my novels, drop me a line at pamelayaye@aol.com or visit me at www.pamelayaye.com.

With love,

Pamela Yaye

Promises

We

Make

Pamela Yaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedicated to my son in heaven, Justice, and my children

here on earth, Aysiah and Christian. Mommy loves you

very much—more than words can ever truly express.

Chapter 1

“Is it just me or do all the men up in here look like broke-down versions of Boris Kodjoe?”

Niveah Evans laughed out loud at her best friend’s assessment of the male guests at the Ritz-Carlton’s annual New Year’s Eve bash. Tickets to the black tie event had set her back a hundred dollars, and as she glanced around the elaborately decorated ballroom, she wondered what all the hype was about. Champagne flowed from a gold fountain and the performers suspended from the ceiling were giving one hell of a show, but it was nothing Niveah hadn’t seen before. As a creative director for the largest advertising company in the U.S., it was her job to be up on the latest trends, and she’d seen the act six months earlier in a Paris nightclub.

“I can’t believe no one’s asked us to dance,” Roxi Gonzalez complained, wrinkling her nose as if she’d just gotten a whiff of an old shoe. “I wasted the entire morning getting plucked, waxed and shaved and no one in here gives a damn.”

Jeanette Miller released a deep, pitiful sigh. “This is turning out to be the worst New Year’s Eve on record. I should have stayed home and watched the ball drop in Times Square.”

“You’re right, this is pretty bad,” Niveah conceded, reaching for her mai tai, “but at least your boss isn’t bringing in some clown from head office to babysit you for the next few weeks. I single-handedly landed that Discreet Boutique account, and now Mr. Russo thinks I need help. How am I supposed to shine with another creative director breathing down my neck? I have half a mind to complain to—”

Her friends groaned.

“The next time you mention your job I’m out of here,” Roxi threatened, leveling a finger at her. “I came down here to have a good time, not listen to you bitch about work.”

Jeanette put down her wine flute. “Niveah, you know what your problem is? Your life has no balance. All you care about is impressing Mr. Russo and getting another raise.”

“What are you talking about? I travel—”

“For work,” Jeanette chirped.

“I entertain on a regular basis—”

“For work.”

“And I take the last Friday of every month off to recharge.”

“Yeah, but that’s because Mr. Russo forces you to!”

It was times like this that Niveah wished she hadn’t befriended Jeanette at the company picnic five years earlier. Within weeks of meeting, they were working out together, gossiping about their colleagues and planning the first of many Las Vegas shopping trips.

Intent on being heard, Jeanette raised her voice above the rock song playing. “Working sixty hours a week is prematurely aging you. I didn’t want to say anything because you just celebrated your birthday, but you’ve lost your youth, your shine, that healthy glow I always envied.”

“You’re so busy clawing your way up the corporate ladder you don’t realize that life is passing you by,” Roxi continued. “You’re working like a dog to forget what happened with—”

Niveah silenced her with a look. “Don’t even think about mentioning that jerk’s name. I’ve moved on, and I wish you guys would, too.”

“We will, as soon as you start living again.” Smiling sympathetically, Jeanette rested a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “You know what you need to do? Let your hair down. Live on the edge. Do something wild and spontaneous for once,” she admonished.

“Ever since you started dating Tavares you’ve been obsessed with hooking me up,” Niveah complained, running a hand through her naturally curly hair. She’d accomplished a lot in her thirty-four years, and contrary to what her girlfriends thought, she loved her life just the way it was. So what if she didn’t have a husband, kids and a three-story house in the suburbs? She was successful and financially stable and that’s all that mattered. “Quit badgering me, Jeanette. And for your information, I do tons of exciting things.”

Roxi raised her eyebrows. “Really? Like what?”

“She’s bluffing,” Jeanette accused. “Niveah will do anything to stay in her boring little world, including lying about having an active social life.”

“I have a lot of fun. Just last week I went rock climbing with some of the teens I mentor.”

Roxi guffawed. “If that’s what you call exciting, then you’re worse off than I thought!”

“Niveah, you’re never going to find true love if you keep hiding behind your attaché case,” Jeanette told her. “You need to take a page out of my book because once I quit stressing about work and started doing activities I enjoyed, I couldn’t keep the men off me. And now I have Tavares, and my life is complete.”

Roxi gave Jeanette a high five. “Me, too, girlfriend. It’s just a matter of time before Cedrick pops the question, and once he does, I’ll be all over the Saks Fifth Avenue bridal registry!”

“If you two are so blissfully in love,” Niveah challenged, “then why are you at this party?”

“Keeping your rusty butt company!”

Jeanette and Roxi roared with laughter.

“Before the night’s over, I’m going to find you someone to dance with. Someone like …” Jeanette’s gaze panned the crowd and after several seconds, she squealed. Bouncing up and down on her seat like an unruly toddler high on sugar, she clapped her hands and nodded her head. “Check out the hottie at the end of the bar. He’s a perfect ten!”

Niveah didn’t bother looking up from her drink. Jeanette’s idea of good-looking was a lanky gangbanger plastered in tattoos; but Niveah preferred studious, conservative types. Not a square, just someone with manners and class, who’d treat her with respect. But as her ex-fiancé had so aptly proven nine months ago, looks were deceiving.

“That man is beyond fine! I’d do him in a New York minute!”

Niveah’s ears perked up. If Roxi thought the stranger was fine, then he was. Despite being divorced twice, she was in the market for husband number three, and could spot a good-looking guy a block away.

Straightening in her seat, Niveah peered around the cluster of model-esque clones obscuring her view of the bar. Jeanette yanked her to the left, pointed an acrylic fingernail directly ahead, and yelled, “He’s the one in the dark designer suit.”

Niveah’s mouth fell open.

“I told you he was perfect.”

And he was. Words couldn’t describe how truly gorgeous the stranger was. Bald, buff brothers didn’t usually catch Niveah’s eye, but this man had it seriously going on. Immaculately groomed, with clear skin, and defined features, he had a one of a kind look that instantly made her wet. His gaze was hungry, almost predatory, and his sexy mouth was rimmed with a neat, trim goatee. The brother owned the room, and the hearts of all the females in attendance—including hers. Her body hummed, and suddenly the grand ballroom felt hotter than a furnace. An aura of mystery surrounded the stranger, making him even more appealing. Staring at him, so intently, was bound to make Niveah go cross-eyed, but she didn’t have the strength to look away. She was drawn to him, overtaken by a blinding sexual hunger she’d never known.

“If I had a man like that at home, I’d never leave,” Roxi quipped, fanning her rosy cheeks. “I think I’ll just go over and say hello.”

Niveah cut her eyes at Roxi. “What about Cedrick?”

“What about him? Until he puts a ring on it, I’m keeping my options wide open.”

Jeanette gripped her girlfriend’s forearm, preventing her from rising from her seat. “Sit your big butt down. I picked him out for Niveah, not you.”

“Girl, please. Miss Thang can’t handle all that man. He’s six feet tall and over two hundred pounds. He’d probably snap her skinny body in two.” Cackling like a witch on a broom, she adjusted the neckline of her outfit. Roxi used every opportunity to show off her boobs, and her zipper-front dress served up an eyeful. “I on the other hand, specialize in turning out jocks, and that cutie’s exactly my type.”

Angry about being dissed, Niveah shot her soon-to-be exfriend a scathing look. “You think you know everything about me, Roxi, but you don’t. I’m every bit as daring as you are. If not more.” To prove it, she stopped a passing waiter, ordered a cognac, and instructed him to deliver it to the gentleman at the end of the bar.

“Very well, ma’am. Would you care to include a message?”

Niveah shielded her mouth with the back of her hand. She spoke only loud enough for the waiter to hear, and when he departed, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“So you sent him a drink. Big friggin’ deal. You’re as straitlaced as they come, and—”

“Wanna bet?”

Roxi smirked. “I’d love to.”

“Knock it off, you two,” Jeanette ordered. “You sound like a couple of kids having a pissing contest on the schoolyard.”

Roxi ignored her and addressed Niveah. “If I’m right about you being a Goody Two-Shoes, you’ll have to hand over your new Gucci handbag. You know, the one I watched you drop a thousand dollars on at the mall yesterday.”

“Okay, and I want your Oprah tickets.”

Her face crumpled like a piece of paper. “B-b-but they’re the tickets to her final show.”

“Those are the terms. Deal or no deal?”

“You’re on. That purse is going to look great with the dress I plan to wear to the show.” Flashing a superior grin, she leaned forward in her chair, and rested her elbows on the table. “Did I tell you guys that Oprah will be interviewing her all-time favorite guests on the finale?”

“Only a million times,” Jeanette grumbled.

“There are also rumors circulating that world-famous singers will be performing together. I can hardly wait! It’s going to be …”

Having heard this before, Niveah glanced absently around the ballroom. It was no surprise that her eyes strayed to the bar. Her mouth dried. He was staring right at her. Guests blew noisemakers, and boisterous laughter filled the room, but Niveah could still hear her deafening heartbeat. It was beating in double-time, throbbing painfully in her ears.

Wearing a broad, megawatt smile, the handsome stranger lifted his tumbler in the air, tilted his head toward her and downed his glass in one smooth swig.

“Go over there and introduce yourself,” Jeanette encouraged, brimming with excitement. “He’s definitely interested in you, girl.”

Roxi shook her head. “Miss Thang is too much of a lady to approach a guy. Attending a high siddity university made her all proper and whatnot. See, I believe in taking life by the horns, so if you’ll excuse me, that hottie at the bar is calling my name.”

“Then, you need to get a hearing aid, because he’s checking out Niveah, not you!” Jeanette laughed at her own joke. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, Roxi, but you can’t have every man you want.”

“Oh yes I can,” she snapped, twirling her index finger around in the air, “and besides, Niveah wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a brother like that.”

Niveah gripped the stem of her cocktail glass to keep from shoving Roxi off her chair. They’d had a love-hate relationship ever since Jeanette introduced them, and it was at times like this that Niveah wondered why they were even friends. “We’ll see about that.”

Niveah downed the rest of her mai tai, pushed back her chair and stood. Her legs wobbled as she walked across the sleek hardwood floor. I can do this. I’m smart and sexy and I have a lot to offer. Repeating the words she’d once heard on an afterschool special didn’t bolster her confidence. Niveah wished she had another drink, because as she approached the bar, she felt an intense bout of the nerves.

The stranger stood against the counter, holding his Blackberry, oblivious to her approach. As Niveah came up beside him, she tried to think of something clever to say. Anything besides the standard greeting. “I hope you’re enjoying your cognac,” she said, in her sultriest voice, “you strike me as the kind of man who likes a strong drink.”

Damien Hunter glanced up from his cell phone and his eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character. Standing before him in a slinky champagne-colored dress was a caramel-skinned goddess. A woman he felt an instant, undeniable connection to.

Examining her gave Damien great pleasure, so he did a slow, thorough appraisal. He took in every detail of her face, committing each exquisite feature to memory. Her blinding white teeth drew his attention to the delicate curve of her lips. To the pretty, full rosebuds he could already feel around his—

Damien purged his thoughts. He was putting the cart before the horse. Conversation first, mind-blowing sex after.

Resting his arms against the counter, he continued his assessment. Loose, luscious curls grazed her shoulders, brushing lightly against her arms. Her mouth looked sweet, her hips were fine and he was itching to stroke her long caramel brown legs. She looked wholesome, like the kind of woman who baked bread and enjoyed playing with children, but there was nothing innocent about her sultry smile. It was provocative, tinged with lust and full of suggestion. In his profession, he mixed with a lot of attractive women, but no one had ever captured his attention like this sister with the bedroom eyes. Play it cool, man, the voice inside his head cautioned. She’s just another crazy beautiful woman looking for a good time, and you’re just the man to give it to her. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

Niveah licked her lips. The sound of his voice, all deep and masculine, was enough to melt her panties right off. He oozed with confidence, pulsed with positive energy and smelled like expensive aftershave. “I’m Niveah. And you are?”

“Damien,” he said smoothly. “I appreciate you buying me a drink, but now it’s my turn to return the favor. What would you like?”

You, naked in my bed. The thought made a wave of giddiness sweep over her. Where had that come from? she wondered. Niveah hadn’t had sex in—hell, it had been so long she couldn’t remember. That’s why being in close proximity of this tall, dark and handsome man made her wet in all the right places. “Two cocktails are my limit, so I’ll just have a ginger ale.”

While he placed the order, Niveah checked out his profile. Jeanette was right about him being good-looking, but he was much, much more. On top of having a smooth-as-chocolate-pudding complexion, he had a straight nose, chiseled jaw and a chest that she was aching to lick, and stroke and caress. “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass he offered. Electricity passed between them when their fingers touched, and it took a moment for Niveah to recover. “Tell me about yourself, Damien.”

“I’m in town on business. What about you?”

Keeping up her end of the conversation was more difficult than riding a bicycle backward. Damien was a great conversationalist, who made her laugh, asked tons of questions and listened intently to her responses, but Niveah couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was all over the place, jumping from one illicit sexual thought to the next. It didn’t take her long to come to a decision: she was going to sleep with Damien, and when she heard the opening bar to her favorite R & B song, Niveah imagined herself kissing him all over.

“Care to dance?”

Niveah cast a glance at the overcrowded dance floor. “Yeah, but I don’t feel like getting trampled on.”

“Then we’ll dance right here.”

Singing the lyrics to the song, Niveah moved her shoulders and legs in time with the slow, erotic beat. R. Kelly was singing about being ready and so was she. Niveah liked the way he moved, loved how cool and self-assured he was.

Caught up in the moment, she abandoned herself to the music and allowed herself to be swept into his arms. It didn’t matter that they’d just met or that her girlfriends were watching; this felt right, fated, like the most natural thing in the world.

Needing to be closer to him, she curled her arms around his neck, swallowing the space that had been living between them. Niveah had never considered having a one-night stand before, but then again, she’d never met a man who looked fresh off the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad and whose voice tickled the area between her legs.

Damien drew her close. Close enough to feel her breasts. She felt soft, as delicate as a flower. Savoring the feel of her warmth, he inhaled her sweet flowery perfume. Slow dancing was the ultimate form of foreplay, and the more their bodies rubbed together, the more he wanted her. His confidence had taken a hit when his ex-girlfriend dumped him, but being approached by a woman who could win America’s Next Top Model was a huge ego boost. Niveah wasn’t shy about showing him what she liked, wasn’t afraid to take the lead. Holding his gaze, she covered his hands with her own, and dragged them down her hips and across her butt.

A hard-on grew in Damien’s pants. He was drowning, flailing, sinking faster than a fool in the ocean without a life jacket. One dance and he was a goner. Lost. Unable to keep a lid on his passion. What would happen when they kissed? Because it wasn’t a matter of if it would happen, but when it would happen.

Desperate to taste her, he pressed his mouth against the curve of her neck. Encouraged by her deep moans, he greedily ran his hands up and down her back. Damien’s head snapped up as if it had a mind of its own. What am I doing? He wanted this woman in his bed—tonight—but groping her in front of a room full of strangers wasn’t the way to go. “I’m thirsty, you?”

“Parched,” she whispered, her eyes moving slowly over his lips. “I don’t live too far from here. Care to come back to my place for a nightcap?”

Damien held up a white key card. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come up to my room? Like I mentioned earlier, I’m in town on business and if you have no other plans, I’d love some company.” He added, “I don’t know anyone here, and hanging out with you would be a great way to kick off the year.”

To buy herself some time to consider his offer, Niveah took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Going upstairs with him was insane. Something she’d always promised herself she’d never do. At least at her house she could control the situation, but there was no telling what would happen once they were alone in his domain. But did she really want a perfect stranger—even a gorgeous one—in her personal space? Her doubts mingled with the butterflies pelting her stomach. Did it matter where they went? Niveah wanted to spend the night with Damien, wanted to experience the thrill of having a one-night stand, and as long as her friends knew where she was going to be, there was nothing to fear. “I’m going to go say goodbye to my girlfriends,” she told him. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes.”

He nodded, squeezed her arm, then turned and walked away. Niveah watched him, admiring his long, even strides and how fine he looked in his tailored suit. Desire surged through her. She was ending the year off on a bang, and as she crossed the room toward her table, she could see the stunned expressions on her girlfriends’ faces. Smiling like a beauty pageant winner, she lifted her chin and added more bounce to her step. For the first time ever, she was leaving a party with the hottest man in the room. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling.

“Welcome back, Dirty Diana!” Roxi joked.

Jeanette pointed at Niveah’s empty cocktail glass. “Blame it on the alcohol is right! Exactly how many mai tais did you have?”

“I’m not drunk. That’s not what this is about. We … we really connected.”

“I know, we saw. Saw his hands connect with your breast, your ass and—”

Niveah cut Roxi off. “I’m going up to Damien’s room,” she explained, collecting her things. “I just wanted you guys to know where I was going so you wouldn’t be worried.”

“Slow down, Miss Thang. Before you rush off, let me lay down the ground rules for you.”

“What ground rules?”

“For having a one-night stand,” Roxi explained, sticking out her right thumb. “Don’t share any personal information, use protection and the most important rule of all …”

Niveah was surprised to find herself hanging on to Roxi’s every word. “Okay, okay, I got it. If it’s not too late, I’ll give you guys a ring when I get home.”

“I don’t care what time you get in. Call me. I want to hear all the scandalous details!”

Niveah hugged her girlfriends, grabbed her purse and marched off.

“She’ll have second thoughts before she reaches the elevator.”

“You don’t think she’ll go through with it?” Jeanette asked, watching their friend depart.

Roxi snickered. “There’s no way in hell!”

Chapter 2

Damien studied his gold Concord watch. He’d been waiting in the lobby for fifteen minutes, but there was still no sign of Niveah. Where was she? Had she changed her mind? The curvy, fresh-faced beauty could have any man she wanted in the grand ballroom, and there was a very good chance she’d hooked up with someone else.

He raked a hand over his head, trying to decide what to do next. In an effort to regroup, Damien breathed in deeply through his nose. He considered returning to the party to scope out another playmate lookalike, but decided against it. The truth was, he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted the sister with the curly hair, caramel complexion, and smokin’ hot body.

To block out the images of Niveah flashing in his mind, Damien shut his eyes. It didn’t help. He saw them kissing, fondling, tearing at each other’s clothes. Just as he was about to hit the climax of his X-rated dream, he heard someone call his name. Damien turned in time to see Niveah sail through the ballroom doors.

Desire zipped up his spine.

Hotter than the lead girl in a rap music video, she stared right at him, oblivious to the googly-eyed expressions on the faces of the other men in the lobby. Damien had always been a sucker for a big butt and a smile, and the sister sauntering toward him had both. Her high heels gave her legs incredible definition, and he imagined himself running his hands up her smooth, toned calves. Sexy wasn’t how a woman looked or what she wore, it was her attitude; and he could tell by the way Niveah moved that she was in a sexy state of mind. Perfect. Maybe they could skip the useless chitchat, and get right down to business.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

On the outside, Damien was as calm as the Rock of Gibraltar, but when Niveah placed a hand on his forearm, he felt himself unraveling. It took everything he had not to crush his mouth against her pretty pink lips. “It’s no sweat. I used the time to check the messages on my cell.”

Niveah gestured to the grand ballroom. “They’re doing the electric slide in there and it was crazy getting through the crowd. I thought I was going to get swept away.”

“No worries, beautiful. You’re definitely worth the wait.”

Her smile widened. “You certainly have a way with words.”

“I’ve heard that a time or two before.”

“I bet you have.”

They shared a laugh.

Damien jabbed the elevator button and almost cheered when the doors immediately slid open. The sooner they got to his room, the sooner he could see her naked. Allowing her to go first, he examined her pear-shaped figure with wide eyes and a dry mouth. The clingy dress material swished over her hips, outlining her round, juicy butt. Damien hoped she was wearing a thong. That was his favorite piece of lingerie and just thinking about squeezing, and smacking her ass made his pulse hammer in his chest. “Are you hungry?’ he asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence. “I could order something up from room service if you’d like.”

“I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” The words seemed to burst out of her mouth, and for the first time since meeting her she seemed shy, scared. “I’ve dated some over the years, but I’ve never had … a one-night stand.”

Amused, he pressed the button for the twentieth floor. If he had a dime for every time a woman had fed him that line he could buy the car of his dreams—a black Rolls Royce Phantom.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of me. I’m not the kind of girl who …”

Why did women always do this? he wondered, concealing a grin. Did they think pretending they were actually good girls gone bad for the night would improve his opinion of them? The muscles in his jaw tightened. Right, like that was ever going to happen. If there was one thing he’d learned through traveling the globe, it was that women enjoyed sex. As much, if not more, than men did. And those with sexual hang-ups had been programmed by their parents and wellmeaning Sunday school teachers into believing only whores liked doing the nasty. But Damien was here to tell Niveah that it was okay to embrace her sexuality. She was a freak, a woman who loved casual sex, and there was nothing wrong with that. “Tonight’s about being in the moment, about being free without restrictions.”

“I think I made a mistake.” Niveah rubbed a hand along her forehead, then dragged it through her hair. “My friends were ganging up on me, and I let what they said get to me. I approached you at the bar to prove to them that I can be fun and spontaneous, but the truth is I’m not. I’m really sorry about all this, but I have to go back downstairs to the …”

Damien blinked, sure the cognac he’d downed earlier was blurring his vision. The sexy, flirtatious woman he’d met at the bar less than an hour ago was crumbling right before his eyes. And if he didn’t do something quick, their night of passionate lovemaking would be ruined. Realizing their evening was in jeopardy, Damien sprang to action. He stepped forward, pulled her to his chest and planted one on her. A kiss so fierce their bodies slammed together.

Niveah fought against him, trying to escape, but gave up the fight when he inclined his head toward her, deepening the kiss. Bolts of electricity shot between them. He’d initiated contact, but feeling her lips against his sent Damien stumbling back into the mirrored wall. Had he ever tasted a mouth so soft? So wickedly sweet and enticing?

Unsteady on his feet, he clutched her waist. They grunted and groaned, caressed and squeezed until it became unbearable. Damien stuck a hand up her dress, and cursed fashion designers for ever inventing such a tight, restrictive material. A little piece of fabric wasn’t going to prevent him from copping a feel, he decided, using his hands to yank down the sheer barrier.

Palming her butt cheeks, he ground his erection into her, loving how soft she felt against his body. Damien slid a hand inside her panties, and Niveah purred in his ear. He played in her hair, twirling curls around his index finger. Then he probed her core with his thumb. A thick, creamy moisture oozed onto his hand. Her clit was wet, slick—just the way he liked it. He hadn’t tasted her yet, hadn’t dipped his mouth inside the treasure between her legs, but he could already feel the righteous makings of a killer orgasm. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispered. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to sex you all night long?”

Her tortured moans filled the air.

Damien withdrew his hand from in between Niveah’s legs and frantically searched his pockets. They weren’t going to make it to his suite. Not when she was bucking against him like a wild woman on a runaway bull. He retrieved the condom just as the elevator doors slid open.

Niveah surfaced from her haze. It was a miracle she was still standing. Voices carried down the hall, reminding her that she was still at the Ritz-Carlton, and not back in her bedroom playing out a hot, torrid fantasy. Since she didn’t want to kick off the year flashing perfect strangers in a hotel she frequented for business, she straightened her dress, and yanked up her stockings. How the hell did my stilettos come off? she wondered, stuffing her feet back into her red Fendi shoes. Probably somewhere between Damien palming my breasts, and fingering my clit, she surmised, still feeling the after affects of her mini-orgasm.

Niveah almost lost her balance when Damien seized her hand. “This way,” he said, making a sharp left turn. “My suite is at the end of the hall.”

A green light flashed when Damien slid his key card into the slot above the door. Opening it with one hand, he gently urged her inside with the other. Niveah almost stumbled over her feet. This was actually going to happen; she was about to have her first one-night stand. Doubts attacked her like invisible assailants hiding in the dark. Her mind was screaming, No, don’t do it!, but her body was screaming, Yes! Yes! Yes! What the hell was she supposed to do?

Warmed by Damien’s good-natured smile, she shoved her fears aside and stepped farther into the suite. The air smelled like men’s aftershave, and the light from the moon spilling in through the balcony created a peaceful, tranquil mood.

Damien came up behind her, so close that she could feel his erection through her dress. Goose bumps broke out across her arm. He—Niveah gulped—couldn’t be that long, could he? He gripped her shoulders, then buried his face into her hair. Damien placed kisses along the slope of her neck, and her head fell flat against his chest. Using his hands, he tweaked her nipples and massaged her clit simultaneously.

A fire brewed in Niveah’s stomach, causing her to moan. The ache between her legs grew to a full-blown throb. Then her heart got into the mix, skipping, thumping, rattling. Niveah never knew it could be like this. Never knew that she could want someone this much.

It started with a surge in her chest, then uncontrollable shaking and shortness of breath. Before she could ward against the onslaught, several fast, hard climaxes gripped her. Pleasure exploded behind Niveah’s eyes. Damien was going to kill her. Right here in the middle of his luxurious executive suite. Her desire for him couldn’t be contained, and she was quickly losing control. Screaming, grunting, begging Damien for more.

Time slipped away. Stretched into passion-filled seconds and minutes.

Niveah didn’t know how much more of this she could take. It was just a matter of time before she was gasping for air and her legs gave way. Moaning in sweet agony, she arched her back, fully prepared to ride out another looming orgasm. Damien cupped her chin, and kissed her so fully, so passionately, Niveah felt as if she was spinning on a carousel. Her shoes fell off, her dress sailed down her hips, and her fifty-dollar nylons lay in pieces on the floor.

Still kissing, they stumbled farther into the suite, knocking into end tables, couch legs and other furniture. Down to just her panties, her body throbbing with heat and desire, she dragged her fingernails up his chest, across his neck, and over his head. Moving to an inaudible beat, Niveah rocked her hips against his shaft. Grinding her backside into his crotch caused Damien to release a savage groan. Wanting to give as much as she’d received, Niveah reached around, unzipped his pants and massaged his erection. Touching him confirmed it. The brother was hung. Like Mandingo. Long, thick and righteously built.

Damien swiveled his tongue around her nipples, licked between her breasts and trailed his mouth down her spine. Niveah sucked in a breath, sure she was about to black out. The more aggressive Damien was, the more turned-on she was. Everything about him was erotically charged and exciting. He had great hands, hands a masseur would kill for, and he knew how she liked to be touched. Damien kissed like he was making love to her mouth, thrilled her every time he nuzzled his face against the curve of her ear, and whispered dirty commands in that deep, throaty tone. His voice, like his smile and gaze, made her weak.

Is this for real, or am I dreaming? Niveah wondered, feeling light-headed and free.

Undressing faster than a superhero in a telephone booth, Damien ripped open a gold packet, protected himself with the Magnum condom, and bent Niveah over the closest chair. “Spread your legs. Spread them nice and wide for me.”

Niveah did as she was told, and was rewarded with a kiss on her shoulder. Damien pulled her hair, great big handfuls, as he positioned himself between her legs. He piqued her pleasure when he caressed her butt, tenderly, lovingly. His stroke felt great on her neck, back and thighs.

“You feel like heaven,” he praised, gliding his hands up her hips to her breasts. This woman—not the Mona Lisa—was the finest work of art he’d ever seen, but when Damien told Niveah she was gorgeous, she laughed. “You don’t believe me?” Damien cupped her chin. The heat of his gaze torched her flesh, made her feel as if she was on display. “Since you don’t believe me, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

Slowly, he slid his penis along her clit. Back and forth until she cried out. Begged. Pleaded. Cursed. Demanded he slip inside her. When he finally did, she released a torrent of screams. Niveah pressed her face into a cushion to muffle her moans. This wasn’t like her. Only porn stars groaned and grunted during sex. That’s what they were paid for. To play it up for the cameras. But the more Damien swiveled his lips, the louder, more intense her groans became.

Feet firmly planted on the ground, she held on to the arms of the padded chair and rocked her hips against his groin. Damien swelled inside her. At least three inches. He hit all of her hot spots, and created body-quivering sensations that brought tears to her eyes. With his hands and his words, he took her to new heights and deeper depths.

Her breathing picked up.

Her moans intensified.

The room spun faster, and faster.

Colors—vivid pinks and whites and red—exploded behind Niveah’s eyes, causing her to choke back a deep, racking sob.

“Damn!” Damien pulled out, then turned her to face him. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Niveah shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me. I just …” Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes to the floor. “It just felt so good that … that it made me a little emotional. That’s all.”

“We’ll stop. The last thing I wanted to do was cause you pain or make tonight all about me. I lost control and I feel like an ass for …”

Niveah wanted to scream. Why wasn’t he listening to her? Couldn’t he tell how incredible he was making her feel? To end his rant, she placed a finger against his lips, cutting him off. “This night is far from over. I plan to finish what you started, even if it takes all night.”

Full of energy and determination, she circled his nipple with her tongue, licking, teasing, stroking. She wanted to ravage him, prove to herself that she was a good lover, that the accusations her ex-fiancé had leveled at her the night of their breakup were unfounded. To show him that she was in charge, that the tables had turned and that she was running the show, Niveah grabbed his butt and gave it an extra hard squeeze. Her breathing was shallow, and her body was burning up, but Niveah wanted more. A lot more kissing, teasing and licking.

“Are you sure about this, Niveah?” Concern touched his features, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. “I don’t want you to have any regrets. Not one.”

Niveah lifted his hand, seized his index finger and eased it inside her. She felt naughty, dangerous and in complete control. It was a feeling she could easily get high off. A deep sigh fell from between Niveah’s lips as Damien’s fingers probed her core, and when she finally spoke her voice was several octaves lower. “You feel how wet I am? You did this to me, Damien, and the only regret I have is not approaching you sooner.”

“I didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Easily, he lifted her up off the floor. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he swooped down, and feasted on her lips. Niveah folded her arms around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his slim, muscular torso. Feeling sexier than a Maxim swimsuit model, she nipped at his earlobe, then eagerly sucked it into her mouth.

On the king-size bed they laughed and played, lost in their exhilarating private world. They were in perfect sync, moving naturally together, as graceful as a pair of ballroom dancers. An hour in, and countless orgasms later, Niveah was begging Damien to climax. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

“I’m nowhere near being ready,” he announced, thrusting his hips, plunging deeper still. “You feel so damn good, I may never come …”

“We’ll see about that.” Niveah flicked her tongue against his ear, and he cooed. Propping up her elbows, she loosened her legs from around his waist, and rotated her hips in tight, fast circles.

Damien swore.

To achieve the intended outcome, Niveah added her mouth to the equation. Placing kisses on his neck, his erect, chocolate-brown nipples and all over his chest. Realizing she’d weakened her prey, she went in for the kill. In one swift movement, Niveah had Damien flat on his back. His eyes widened in surprise, causing Niveah to giggle. Keeping her head up, her back straight, she lowered herself onto his lap and released a deep, satisfying groan.

Squeezing her pelvic muscles held Damien firmly in place, and before she could put any of those childhood horseback riding lessons to good use, he gripped her hips, gave a powerful, thrust and collapsed onto the mound of pillows beneath him. “Damn, baby, that was incredible.”

Niveah licked the dryness from her lips. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“If I knew you were such an animal in bed, I would have updated my will!” he teased, pulling her to his chest.

Niveah tensed. Her friends said cuddling was against the rules, so she was surprised when Damien spread the blanket over them and wrapped his arms around her. Shouldn’t I be dressed and on my way out the door? Isn’t this how these things usually worked?

Sweat clung to her skin, and matted clumps of hair were stuck to her shoulders, but Damien was smiling at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His grip was fierce, protective, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The hotel suite smelled like sex, and a hot stifling air that made Niveah feel as if she was trapped inside an oven.

“I don’t want to get up, but if I don’t get something to drink I’m going to die of dehydration,” he joked, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.” Swathing the bed sheet across her chest, she carefully tucked it under her arms, and braced her body against the headboard. “Better yet, make mine a double!”

Damien chuckled as he switched on the bedside lamp. “We should order up some room service. I’m starving, and I bet you are, too.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled. “I can’t. I have to get going.”

“Why, do you have someone waiting for you at home?” Damien picked up the phone, but his gaze remained locked on her face. “Things happened so fast, I forgot to ask if you had a man.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here with you,” she told him, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Then stay and have dinner with me.”

Niveah opened her mouth to decline, but when he smiled at her, she caved. “If you’re sure you don’t mind me staying a little while longer, I’d love a bite to eat. I’m not picky when it comes to food, anything will be fine.”

“I’d like to order an extra-large deep-dish pizza with everything on it, and the twenty-piece buffalo wings,” he said, into the phone. “Bill it to my suite, and ask the concierge to leave the cart outside the door. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

Damien ended the call, took two sodas out of the fridge and handed one to her. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I’m curious to why a woman like you is still on the market.”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same thing about you.”

“Are you trying to dodge the question?” He wore a serious expression, but Niveah could see the makings of a smile on his lips. “Are you between lovers or playing the field like me?”

“None of the above. I’m married to my work, and I don’t have time to date. I was engaged last year, but it didn’t work out. We … we wanted different things.” Niveah glanced out the window. It had been a year since Stewart left her for another woman—someone younger, and more adventurous in bed—but every time she thought about their breakup, she felt a pang in her chest. He wasn’t ever coming back so why was she thinking about him? “What do you think of Tampa? It’s nothing like the Big Apple, but I bet you’re loving the weather.”

“What makes you think I’m from the East Coast?”

Niveah laughed. “No offense, but you could be the poster child for NYC. The cocky, bad-boy swagger instantly gave you away, and if that’s not enough, you have an accent, too.”

“All right, you got me,” he admitted, drowning the rest of his soda and grabbing another one. “I grew up in the Bronx. And you’re right about the weather. Every time I come down here for business, I think about relocating permanently!”

They laughed.

“I’ll be right back.” Damien got up off the bed, and strode out of the bedroom. Niveah watched him leave, marveling at his utterly perfect body. Resisting the urge to scream into her pillow, she smoothed a hand over her cheeks and ran a hand through her wild, unruly hair, knowing she could give the winner of the Atlanta Hair Show a run for their money.

Spotting the remote, she picked it up from off the nightstand, and pointed it at the black entertainment unit. Why am I still sitting here watching TV? This is the perfect opportunity for me to break free. Niveah tried to get off the bed, but her limbs were asleep.

Hearing a door slam, she strained her eyes toward the foyer. The scent of mozzarella cheese hit her nose and Niveah licked her lips. Twice. All thoughts of leaving evaporated into thin air when Damien walked into the bedroom and placed the box of pizza on the nightstand.

“Dig in, beautiful. You’ve worked up quite an appetite tonight.”

Niveah dove right in, helping herself to a large, gooey slice, but she couldn’t help thinking the whole scene was a little strange. She was sitting in bed eating pizza and buffalo wings with her one-night stand.

“Cool, Robin Thicke is about to perform. That dude’s got amazing chops!”

“I’m impressed. Most men would never admit to being a fan.”

“I never said I thought the guy was cute. I said he could sing. Nothing wrong with that.”

Niveah bit into her pizza. It was hot and loaded—just the way she liked it, and if Damien didn’t hurry up and start eating, there’d be none left. “Everyone has their weakness, and mine is definitely junk food,” she said, chewing slowly. “Oh, and coffee. I drink five, sometimes six cups a day. It all depends on how bad things are going at the office.”

“You must have a very demanding career.”

“It’s not my job that’s going to kill me, it’s my lazy, dimwitted employees!” Shaking her head, she wiped the oil off her hands with a napkin. “If they did everything they were assigned to do, I wouldn’t be so stressed out, but I’m always having to correct their mistakes and it’s exhausting. I swear, one of these days I’m going to replace every last one of them!”

Damien chuckled. “It sounds like you need a little TLC.”

“You have no idea.”

His hands traveled up her thigh, and Niveah purred in anticipation, knowing exactly where they were going next. Higher, higher, higher dammit!

“Why don’t you let me show you what you’ve been missing?” he whispered, pulling her down on top of him and running his hands over her butt. “By the time I’m done tapping this ass, you won’t have a care in the world.”

Chapter 3

“Here’s the rundown of your morning,” Doris Murphy began, opening her black portfolio notebook. “You have a staff meeting at nine o’clock, coffee with the marketing department an hour later and lunch with Vladimir Butkovsky at noon.”

Niveah consulted her agenda. “I’m expecting to hear from Mrs. Garrett-Reed today. If she calls while I’m in the morning meeting, come and get me. Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Evans. Is there anything else? If not, I’ll return to my desk and finish typing up your notes from last night’s brainstorming session.”

Spotting a male figure striding by her office, Niveah leaned sideways in her chair, and peered around her receptionist’s full-figured frame. “Have you seen the new guy?”

“Mr. Hunter just arrived with Mr. Russo. Apparently, the two had breakfast this morning.”

Niveah didn’t like the sound of that. It was bad enough her boss had hand-picked this clown to work on her project, but discovering they were socializing off the clock was upsetting. She’d have to keep a close eye on this Hunter character. Her first crack at him would be at the morning staff meeting, and Niveah had every intention of showing him who was really in charge of the project. First she’d make him her new best friend, and then she’d pull the rug out from underneath him. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

“Confirm my twelve-thirty reservations at Casa Barcelona, and give me a buzz when the rest of the team files into the conference room.”

Niveah waited until her executive assistant closed the door before signing into her computer and reading the day’s emails. Knowing she would be interrupted in the next ten minutes, she decided against working on her latest project. Instead, she picked up the file marked “Specifics” that Doris had brought her, and began reading.

Crossing her legs, she settled into her seat and read the document cover sheet. Excitement surged through her. This was the project she’d been waiting for her whole career. A multi-million-dollar campaign that would garner enormous press. Landing this account would not only impress the higher-ups at head office, it would improve her chances of being named vice president when Mr. Whitmore retired in the fall. The position meant long, insane hours, but also a huge pay increase. Enough money to buy her parents a lavish new home in a gated community.

Niveah thought about what she had to do. Her job was simple. Create a unique ad campaign for Discreet Boutiques and knock her colleagues out of the running for the top position. If she nailed next month’s presentation, she’d be one step closer to landing her dream job. Becoming creative director six years ago had been a major accomplishment, but being named as the company’s first female vice president would make headlines around the world. And Niveah wasn’t above outwitting the competition to make it happen, either. That’s why she was going to march into the conference room at nine o’clock sharp, and charm the socks off the clown from head office.

Niveah had perused the file a few days earlier, but she wanted to ensure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Mrs. Garrett-Reed was a force to be reckoned with, and when she met the self-made woman last month, they hit it off immediately. With sales in the millions, Discreet Boutique was one of the most lucrative companies in the world, and launching a menswear line next winter was sure to triple profits.

As Niveah read from her notes, she recalled her hourlong conversation with Mrs. Garrett-Reed the previous week. Not only was she impressed by the keenness of the businesswoman’s mind, but she’d been blown away by her knowledge of marketing and advertising.

“Our new menswear line was created with today’s businessman in mind. Someone athletic, charismatic and successful who can finagle millions from clients, play golf with more finesse than a PGA champion and make women of all ages go gaga.”

A picture of Damien sprawled flat on his back flashed in Niveah’s head. It had been seventy-two hours since her one night stand, and she’d thought of nothing else since. Niveah had a staff meeting to prep for, but she couldn’t seem to get the brown-eyed New Yorker with the killer swag out of her mind. Sex with Damien had been hot, erotic and everything she’d been looking for. Was he still staying at the Ritz-Carlton? Or had he returned home already?

Shaking off the thought, she returned her attention to the file. It didn’t matter. They’d had their fun and that was that. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Why was she replaying every moment of their night together? Niveah hated to admit it, but he’d loved her in a way no one else had before. Not even Stewart—and they’d dated for three years.

Allowing her mind to wander, she recalled how they’d made love again after eating dinner in bed. Unlike the first time they’d made love, he’d tenderly and gently stroked her. Cupping her face in his hands, sprinkling kisses on her cheeks, whispering words of praise in her ear. He’d loved her up all night long, and she still had the sore muscles to prove it.

Niveah shook her head. It was still hard to believe that she’d had sex with a perfect stranger. Part of her was angry at herself for not getting his phone number. She would have loved hooking up again, loved spending a second or even third night with him. But deep down she knew that would have been a huge mistake. Now was not the time to indulge in a seedy affair. She had a job to do, and it was imperative that she stay focused. Besides, Damien was hardly the relationship type. He was the kind of guy who promised to call at the end of a great date but didn’t, who dated three women at the same time and lived for the thrill of the chase. No, she was definitely better off alone.

“The staff meeting is about to start.” Her assistant’s voice came through the intercom loud and clear. “Mr. Russo just walked in the conference room with the new guy, and everyone’s clamoring for his attention.”

Prepared to meet the enemy, she stood, buttoned her blazer and checked her appearance in the full-length mirror behind the door. Her Chanel power suit was a chic, loose-fitting design and her Gucci eyeglasses gave her a mature, intelligent air. To complete her all-business look, she’d skipped the makeup, pulled her hair back in a no-nonsense bun and passed on accessories.

In the mirror, Niveah practiced a tight, toothless smile. Perfect. She looked serious, almost deadly—like the kind of person you didn’t mess with. A grin surfaced, quickly overwhelming the corners of her mouth. No one was going to push her around, especially not some hotshot from back east who Mr. Russo had hand-picked to be the next VP.

On the walk over to the conference room, Niveah went over her game plan. Befriending this Hunter guy was definitely the way to go. She’d play nice, work with him closely, then knock his feet out from under him. Guilt pricked her conscience, but she brushed all second thoughts aside. The advertising world was a ruthless, cutthroat business. To succeed at Access Media and Entertainment a girl had to play dirty, and that was exactly what Niveah intended to do.

Inside the conference room, her colleagues mingled at the breakfast table, grabbing coffees, chatting and munching on pastries and fruit. Starving, but too nervous to eat, she scoured the room for her boss. He was standing over by the window. Beside him was a much shorter man with sunken cheeks and sandy brown hair. Bingo. Mr. Hunter in the flesh. Deciding this was the perfect opportunity to introduce herself, she strode over.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Niveah greeted. “It’s another gorgeous day in Tampa, isn’t it?”

Damien frowned. That voice. That scent. He shook off the thought that sprang in his mind. No way. It couldn’t be her. He’d been thinking about his sexy one-night stand for the last seventy-two hours, and if he didn’t stop daydreaming, Mr. Russo would show him to the door. Damien refused to let that happen. After twelve years in the business, he was ready for the big leagues. Blowing this opportunity would earn him a one-way ticket back to New York, and since he had no intention of returning to the cold, corrupt city, it was time to get his head in the game.

Tearing his gaze away from the window, he turned, prepared to meet the woman who was talking amicably to his assistant.

“This is Damien Hunter,” Mr. Russo said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Damien, I’d like you to meet, Niveah Evans. Like you, she’s one of our brightest and most talented …”

Damien stopped breathing.

Then, his whole body turned ice-cold.

It was her.

The woman he’d had hot, passionate sex with three nights earlier. The same woman who’d swiped his platinum watch and tiptoed out of his suite while he was in the shower. Damien’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Suddenly, he didn’t know up from down, right from left, or something as rudimentary as his first and last names.

“Over the next eight weeks,” his boss continued, oblivious to his physical distress, “the two of you will be heading up the Discreet Boutique menswear campaign, and I don’t have to tell either one of you that there’s a lot riding on this.”

Ride me, baby. Faster! Faster! Faster! She’d increased her pace, rocking her hips expertly, powerfully, with more zeal than a veteran pole dancer.

Damien snapped his eyes shut, deleting the image from his mind. He ordered himself to get a grip. To return to the present and quit reliving the past. What happened with this Niveah chick was a one-time deal, and if he wanted to be the next vice president of Access Media and Entertainment, he had to obliterate all thoughts of last Saturday from his mind.

The atmosphere was charged with tension, and Damien had the strange feeling that he was being watched. A glance over his shoulder confirmed it. Several women were staring at him. Had Niveah told her colleagues about the night they spent together? Did they know he’d gone down on her repeatedly? Damien stamped out the thought. Before this morning, she didn’t know who he was. Or did she? Fear burned in his lungs. What if … what if their hooking up hadn’t been a chance meeting? What if it had all been a setup? A scheme to blackmail him? It was a real and frightening possibility. In his twelve-year advertising career he’d seen it all. Powerful, accomplished men brought down by scandals. Even when the rumors turned out to be false, their careers were damaged irrevocably.

His features hardened and it hurt to smile. Not that he had reason to. He’d given Niveah the best sex of her life, and now she was playing him. Acting like he was a nobody. A scrub. A bugaboo. But what did he expect from a thief? Damien didn’t know why he was surprised. This was the nature of women. To lie, steal and cheat. They were sharks, every last one of them. Isn’t that what he’d learned from a long list of ex-girlfriends?

“I look forward to working with you, Mr. Hunter.”

Without missing a beat, he nodded and extended his hand. “Likewise, Ms. Evans.”

He searched her face for a sign of recognition, for acknowledgement, for something that indicated she knew who he was. Nothing. Not a blush, not a smile, not even a blink. Isn’t this a bitch, he thought, glaring at her. She’s pulling a Bill Clinton. Pretending we didn’t have sex all night long. Well, I’ll show her!

“If you’re not busy this afternoon, I’d like to sit down with you and discuss the—”

Damien spoke over her. “There are a few people in the production department that I’d like to have a word with first,” he lied smoothly. “Again, it was nice meeting you.”

Moving on, he introduced himself to everyone in attendance, shaking hands and making note of those he’d be working with on the Discreet Boutique menswear campaign. Damien was just starting to relax when he heard Mr. Russo call his name. “Damien,” he boomed, beckoning him with a large, beefy hand. “Come over here. I’d like you to say a few words.”

Damien coughed. For him, public speaking was as natural as breathing, but he suddenly felt out of his element. Feeling as inept as a nine-year-old delivering the opening address at the G8 Summit, he advanced slowly toward his boss.

Underneath Damien’s suit jacket, sweat soaked through his white designer dress shirt. And it didn’t help that Niveah’s eyes were all over him. Her gaze, filled with loathing and disgust, burned a basketball-size hole in his forehead. To remove the bitter taste in his mouth, he snatched a plastic cup off the refreshment table and downed the orange juice in one gulp.

“I know you’ve all had the pleasure of meeting the newest member of our team, but I’d like to formally introduce everyone to Damien Hunter. In the last decade, he’s crafted some of our most memorable ads, and I’m excited to have such a creative talent on board with us.”

“Thanks for the warm welcome, Mr. Russo. I’ll keep this brief, because I know you’re all anxious to get back to work, right?”

Polite laughter and smiles rose across the room.

“Like all of you in here, I strive to be the best in my field.” To ensure he was heard above the hum of the coffee machine, he raised his voice. “Forty years ago, the founders of this great company set out with a dream. A dream to set the advertising industry on its heels with their unique ads, slogans and media spots. I’m thrilled to be working with such a creative, go-getting bunch, and I’m confident that with hard work, commitment, and collaborative input, we’ll have a successful year filled with more profits and promotions.”

Fervent applause followed.

Damien snuck a look at Niveah and wished he hadn’t. She was inspecting her French manicure, a bored, uninterested expression on her face. He felt the urge to kick her chair, or give her shoulders a good hard shake. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d dropped to her knees, grabbed his package and given him the best oral sex of his life.

Niveah raised her head. There was a warning look in her eyes, and he read the message clearly: say a word and you’re a dead man. For now he’d play her game, but this was far from over. Disgust clogged his nostrils as he watched her. Niveah Evans was one hell of an actress. Drama students should take pointers from her, he decided, sliding a hand into his pocket. Recalling how she’d screamed and cursed as she climaxed, made him grin. The creative director might be able to fool their colleagues, but he knew the real Niveah Evans. The sultry, bad-ass chick who was a freak between the sheets.

Damien examined her. Remembering how she’d purred when he’d sucked her nipples into his mouth made it impossible for him to stare at anything but her chest. He dragged his gaze back up her face, only to have it dip back down to her cleavage seconds later. Worldly wise, there wasn’t much that got past him, and one glance at Niveah, sitting all prim and proper in her padded chair, told him she was a fraud. A fake. A woman with more faces than Lady Gaga. Why else would she look like a sex kitten on New Year’s Eve and a sexually repressed librarian three days later? Niveah was trying to pull the wool over his eyes, but he wasn’t having it. Before the end of the work day, he was going to get to the bottom of things—and retrieve his watch—because no one tricked him and got away with it.

“Dammit, Jeanette! Quit laughing, this is serious!”

“I can’t help it,” she admitted, still tittering, “This sounds like an episode of Desperate Housewives, and you know how much I love that show!”

More giggles flowed over the phone line.

Niveah leaned against the tiled wall and crossed an arm under her chest. Sneaking off to the bathroom in the middle of the staff meeting to call Jeanette was risky, but she couldn’t handle being in the conference room a second longer. Not with her hands and legs shaking furiously. Shocked didn’t begin to describe how she felt when her boss introduced her to Damien Hunter. Ashamed and mortified were more suitable words, but she wasn’t about to tell her best friend that. Besides, Jeanette was too busy busting a gut to realize the severity of the situation. “I can’t believe this is happening. This is my worst nightmare come true, and you’re cracking up like you’re watching a Chris Rock HBO special.”

“Girl, I’m sorry, but this is just too rich!” Her tone was filled with awe. “Okay, let me make sure I got this straight. Your one-night stand—the guy you had, and I quote, ‘the most amazing sex of your life with’—is the clown from the East Coast office? The man Mr. Russo expects you to work with on that big Discreet Boutique account?”

Niveah cringed. Again.

“I could kick myself for calling in sick today. I would have given anything to see the look on your face when that Damien guy came into the conference room.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”

“I bet. You’ve gotten yourself into one hell of a jam, and I’m dying to know what you’re going to do next.”

“Nail the Discreet Boutique campaign, that’s what.”

“No, not about work, about this Damien guy. Are you going to approach him, or pretend your rumble in the jungle didn’t happen?”

“Can you stop saying that?” Niveah snapped. “It’s not funny.”

“You were the one who said the sex was wild and primitive, like two animals mating in the jungle,” she said innocently. “Now back to my original question, are you going to talk to—”

“Why would I do that? We had our fun, and now it’s time to move on. I have a campaign to finish, and a presentation to prep for. I don’t have time to worry about some man I …” had hot, steamy sex with. The words rose in her thoughts, but she said, “I’ve already forgotten about.”

“I wouldn’t be able to work with someone I’ve had sex with, but if anyone can do it, you can. Your employees don’t call you ‘the Heart of Darkness’ for nothing.”

The bathroom door swung open, and two women from the human resources department sauntered inside. “Hello, Ms. Evans,” they greeted.

Niveah nodded, then whispered into the phone. “We’ll talk later.”

“Sure thing. Try not to worry. Everything will be fine.”

Doubtful of that being true, she ended the call, switched off her cell phone and slid it into her jacket pocket. Determined to make a hasty getaway, Niveah reached for the door handle.

“What do you think of the new guy?”

Niveah glanced over her shoulder, realized the brunette was speaking to her, and plastered a smile on her face. Each company had at least one employee who lived for gossip, but Access Media and Entertainment had been cursed with two, and since she didn’t want to be the next casualty on the rumormill, she decided to be nice to the Olsen twin lookalikes. “I only spoke to him briefly, but he seemed okay. Why?”

“The female employees are placing bets on who will nail him first. Essence Jackson, over in the finance department, is leading the pack.”

What was with the women betting all of a sudden? Snippets of her conversation with Roxi on New Year’s filled her mind. A cold shiver crawled up her back, and a scowl tightened the corners of her lips. Her friend was to blame for the trouble she was in. If Roxi hadn’t goaded her into having a one-night stand, she wouldn’t be hiding out in the women’s washroom now. Okay, so Roxi hadn’t had put a revolver to her head and forced her to have sex with Damien, but Niveah needed someone to blame and big-mouth Roxi was it.

“Damien Hunter puts the f in fine, and if I wasn’t happily married, I’d be all over him.”

I hear you, girlfriend, I hear you.

The shorter woman stopped preening in the mirror, a contemplative expression on her oval-shaped face. “I don’t know what it is, but every time he looks at me I get knots in my stomach and I break out in goose bumps. It’s the strangest thing.”

Tell me something I don’t know, Niveah thought, remembering the first time she’d seen Damien at the Ritz-Carlton bar. Six feet tall, dreamy eyes, shrouded with muscles. He was confident, persuasive and smoking hot. What more could a woman want? And then there was that dark, penetrating gaze of his. The sexual energy between them was crushing, the single most devastating thing she’d ever experienced. His voice had had a calm, soporific effect on her, and before she knew what she was doing, they were headed upstairs to his executive suite. There, he’d further broken down her defenses, making her believe with every kiss that it had never been like this for him.

“A bunch of us thought it would be fun to take Damien out for drinks after work,” she continued, turning back to the mirror. “If you don’t have other plans, you’re more than welcome to join us. We’re meeting at the bar up the block around five.”

Curious, Niveah asked who was going.

“Everyone,” they answered in unison. “Since there’ll be over twenty of us, I went ahead and made reservations for one of their back corner rooms. That way we can talk and mingle, and drink our martinis in peace.”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m afraid I can’t join you. I’m working late tonight.”

“I told you she wouldn’t come,” grumbled the shorter woman to her friend. “She doesn’t believe in fraternizing with her subordinates, remember?”

Anxious for the conversation to end, Niveah yanked open the bathroom door. She hurried out into the hall, and ran smack dab into her wickedly handsome one-night stand.

Chapter 4

“You, in my office, now.”

Niveah’s apology died on her lips. Where the hell did Damien get off yelling at her? She was the most successful creative buyer at Access Media and Entertainment, not some flunky in the mailroom sorting envelopes. Instead of saying sorry, Niveah asked Damien if he was out of his damn mind. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not your subordinate, I’m your equal. And don’t you ever forget it. I deserve to be treated with respect and—”

“Not here.” The sharpness of his tone put an end to her rant. “Follow me.”

Without as much as a nod, he strode past her. The thought of being alone with Damien petrified her, but when he turned the corner, Niveah had no choice but to follow. She watched him open the door to his left and frowned. Curious as to why he wanted them to talk in the storage room, she hurried to catch up.

As she entered, her feet slowed, and her eyes widened. Where was she when they’d transformed the dark, dingy space into something Martha Stewart would be proud of? The room smelled like freshly squeezed lemons and there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. The old photo copiers, broken office furniture and recycling bins were gone. Now the room was filled with sunlight, comfy couches and an enormous L-shaped desk decorated with sports memorabilia.

“I never realized this room had so much space. It’s twice the size of mine,” she said, admiring the rich, sleek decor. She wanted to ask who the people were in the framed photographs on the wall, but decided against it. After all, they weren’t friends and this wasn’t a social call. “I see you’ve made yourself right at home.”

“I plan to be here for awhile.” Damien took off his jacket, inspected it, and dropped it behind his chair. “You spilled coffee on my suit. I’ll send you the bill for my dry cleaning tomorrow.”

Niveah rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What did you want to talk to me about? I’m very busy, and I don’t have time for idle chitchat.”

He gestured for her to close the door, but when she didn’t, he strode past her and slammed it. Damien liked the view from where he was standing so much, he decided against returning to his desk. Niveah had a sexy ass, great legs and a perfect set of boobs, so why was she dressed like a Hutterite woman? Did she think that downplaying her looks would help her clients take her more seriously? Before he could censor his thoughts, the question running through his mind burst out of his lips. “What’s with the outfit?”

Niveah pivoted around on her heels. “Excuse me?”

“It’s drab, dark and shapeless,” he said, his gaze sliding down her hips. “It looks like something the hosts of that TLC makeover show would dump in the trash.”

Now she was good and mad. Her chest was heaving, her hands were clenched and when he stepped forward, she thought of kicking him in the shin.

Damien took another step.

There was no space between them now. If she sneezed he’d be covered in germs. The thought made a laugh bubble in her throat. It would serve Damien right for dissing her expensive suit. “Just because I have to work with you, doesn’t mean I have to like you. Stay away from me and I’ll be sure to do the same.”

“Did you forget that I was summoned here to infuse life and creativity into your afflicted department?” He spoke in a conciliatory tone, but his righteous smile spoke of his pride. Damien Hunter thought he was “the man,” and according to her misguided boss, he was. “There’s no getting rid of me, Ms. Evans. I have a job to do and I’m going to do it. You feel me?”

Taking a deep breath didn’t help Niveah relax. Neither did counting to ten. Or twenty. Damien was doing his damndest to piss her off and it was working. The man hadn’t even been at Access Media and Entertainment for an hour, but she already hated his guts. Why did I sleep with him? she thought, overcome with regret. Guys like Damien Hunter were as common as an enchilada in Mexico, but she’d been too blinded by lust to realize it. “Let’s call a truce. You stay on your side of the office and I’ll stay on mine.”

Aggressive women were a turn-on, and as Niveah advanced forward, he felt the impulse to kiss her. But when Damien remembered how their night ended on New Year’s Eve, his interest waned. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, leaning against the door to prevent her escape. “We have some unfinished business to discuss. Once you answer my questions to my satisfaction, I’ll be more than happy to let you go on your way.”

Niveah stared at him, wondering why she’d ever found him attractive.

“Did you know who I was when you approached me at the hotel bar on Saturday night?” Damien continued before she had a chance to respond. “Think long and hard about your answer, because I have a knack for detecting bullshit.”

His question didn’t merit a response, but Niveah forced herself to answer. The sooner she got out of his office, the better. “If I had known you were the clown from the East Coast office I was being forced to work with, I wouldn’t have wasted my best stuff on you.”

Clown? Is that what everyone around the office referred to him as? “Don’t flatter yourself, honey.” He saw her eyes widen and couldn’t resist adding, “I’ve had much better lovers.”

A flush crept up Niveah’s neck and over her cheeks.

“And while we’re on the subject of our one-night stand, how much money did you get for my watch? Five, six grand?”

“Your watch? What makes you think I have that ugly knockoff?”

“Knockoff! Are you kidding me?” His strident tone drowned out the telephone ringing on his desk. “I don’t wear cheap stuff. I only buy the best.”

“I don’t have your precious watch, so why don’t you go ask one of the floozies who frequent your ‘suite of love.’ You know, those much better lovers you mentioned earlier.”

Her tone, like her words, was filled with acrimony, and it took all of his self-control to keep from cursing. Damien was glad he didn’t do relationships, because this saucy, pain in the ass woman was the type to drive him straight to the madhouse. Like his older sister, Niveah brought out the worst in him, and after five minutes in her presence he needed a stiff drink. “I never had anyone else in my room, so that leaves you as the culprit.”

Damien promised himself he wasn’t going to bring it up, wasn’t going to think about it anymore, but the question burning in his mind slipped from between his lips before he could catch it. “Why did you creep out when I was in the shower?” He indulged in a sly, devilish grin. “Did things get too hot for you?”

“Quite the contrary.” A smirk lit up her eyes. “I was, um, how do I put this nicely? I wasn’t quite satisfied when you were done, so I went home to finish the job.”

Her eyes sliced across his face, but it was her words that cut him deep. She’d faked her orgasms? The truth was more stunning than a blow to the head, and for a moment Damien was speechless. He needed time to absorb her words, to think things over, but unfortunately Niveah wasn’t through with him yet.

“And one other thing.…”

Proud she had reclaimed the upper hand, she launched a second, more explosive assault. “I’ve been with this company for ten years and I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’m damn good at what I do, and no arrogant hotshot from New York is going to steal the VP position from me. I deserve this promotion, not you. But if you think you can compete with me, bring it on.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Most definitely.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, Ms. Evans. I’ll trample all over you.”

“You’re funny, Damien.” Her smile was sweet, but her tone was ice. “When I’m named vice president in June, I think I just might let you keep your job. And this adorable little office.”

Her mission accomplished, she strode past him and out the door with her head held high.

Damien’s eyebrows shot up. This was the woman he was expected to work with on the Discreet Boutique ad campaign? Did someone have it out for him, or what! He felt drained, beaten down, as if he’d just had his ass kicked by a man twice his size. And it was all because of Niveah. A sister who looked like an angel but had a heart of stone.

It was a challenge, but Damien tried to look on the bright side. At least she’d answered some of his questions. Their meeting on New Year’s Eve had been a stroke of luck, not some elaborate scheme to blackmail him. But there was still the matter of her stealing his watch—and faking her orgasms. Was Niveah telling the truth or just trying to stick it to him?

His thoughts returned to the night in question. Damien could still hear her moans, still feel her thighs locked around his waist, still smell the scent of their fervent lovemaking. His desire for her was overwhelming, and for the first time in his life he’d put the needs of his lover above his own. To please her, he’d honored all of her requests. He’d stroked her vulva, kissed her clitoris, eagerly licked the rim of the swollen lips between her legs. Then, when she couldn’t stand it anymore, he’d flipped her onto her stomach and plunged inside her with all his might.

“Faked an orgasm my ass,” he grumbled, striding over to his desk and plopping onto his chair. He’d been with a lot of women in his life, but he’d never seen a woman lose control like that in bed. He didn’t profess to be a stud between the sheets, but he refused to believe he hadn’t pleased Niveah. Not when she’d been clawing his back, screaming his name, and begging for more. The sister was obviously emotionally unstable, and if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay the hell away from her.

To keep his mind off his argument with Niveah, Damien organized his office and finished unpacking the boxes he’d lugged in from his car hours earlier. The rest of the day flew by, and if one of the guys from the finance department hadn’t stopped by to invite him for after-work drinks, he would have worked past quitting time.

The first thing Damien did when he walked into the upscale martini bar was scope out the lounge area for Niveah. She was nowhere to be found. He felt a pang of disappointment, but quickly stamped it out. Niveah Evans was the enemy, and he’d be wise to always remember that.

“Damien!”

“Hey, man, what’s up!”

“Welcome to the team!”

Damien chuckled when he spotted his colleagues at one of the corner tables. As he strode through the bar, he retrieved his cell phone from his coat pocket. He had one message. Worried something might be wrong at home, he quickly punched in his password. He plugged his left ear with his index finger and turned away from the loud, gaily chattering patrons at the bar.

A woman with a pleasant voice identified herself as the assistant manager at the Ritz-Carlton hotel. “Earlier today, someone in the cleaning crew found your watch in suite 1284. We apologize for any distress this may have caused you, but it’s available for pickup at the front desk of our downtown location. Mr. Hunter, if you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call me here at the hotel.”

Damien deleted the message and shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. Damn. He’d accused Niveah of stealing his watch, but it had been back in his hotel suite all along. “A fine mess I’ve created this time,” he grumbled, expelling a breath.

The right thing to do was to apologize, but Damien would rather eat a bowl of crickets than say “sorry” to the snotty creative director. Since Niveah hadn’t apologized for skipping out on him on New Year’s Eve, he wouldn’t apologize for calling her a thief. An eye for an eye, right?

As he reached the table where his coworkers were sitting, a full-figured brunette wearing more makeup than a circus clown surged to her feet. “Mr. Hunter, take a load off. I saved you a seat right here beside me.”

Reluctantly, he sat down in the vacant chair.

“How was your first day of work? Getting a feel for the place yet?” she asked, staring at him intently. “I can show you around tomorrow during my coffee break, if you’d like.”

“No, thanks. If you’ve seen one photocopier, you’ve seen them all!”

The woman erupted in fake over-the-top giggles.

“Sir, what can I get you?”

Damien gave the waitress his order and listened with half an ear as his colleagues talked about their jobs, families and plans for the weekend. A popular country song came on, and the table quickly emptied, leaving Damien alone with one of the guys he’d met during lunch.

“Where’s boss lady tonight? I expected her to be here, hanging out with the team.”

“Niveah would never be caught dead in a place like this. This bar, like all of us, is beneath her.” The computer specialist scrubbed at his pockmarked cheek. “But you’ll see for yourself what a piece of work she is.”

“She isn’t that bad, is she?”

“Butter wouldn’t melt in that woman’s mouth,” he snarled, a bitter expression on his tanned face. “What she needs is a good lay. If she had someone to rock her world on a regular basis, she wouldn’t be such a raging bit—”

Damien gripped his arm. “Don’t.”

The fury in his tone must have shone through, because fear flashed in the man’s eyes. “Sorry, you’re right. That’s no way to talk about a member of our team.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.” Damien didn’t like Niveah, and he suspected that everything the computer specialist said was true, but he hated hearing such a smart, successful woman being disrespected—even one he couldn’t stand. “What’s her story? Do you know much about her life outside of the office?”

“The office is her life. Niveah works evenings, weekends and has been known to come in on holidays, too.” He paused to drink his beer. “She was engaged to a hotshot entertainment lawyer last year, but he broke things off just weeks before the wedding. No one knows for sure what happened, but there are rumors circulating that he had a chick on the side. Lucky bastard!”

The man chuckled, but Damien didn’t.

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