Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) (4 page)

The smells drifting up were divine. A plate of carbs like this would have been a trigger for me at one point. Something I wouldn’t even want to look at, but that wasn’t who I was any more, so I picked up my fork and began to swirl the soft, cream-coated strands against a spoon.

“Where are you from?” Andre asked as he did the same with his meal.

“Originally from Cambridge but I moved down to London several years ago.”

“And what brought you here?”

“A PA job with better money and prospects. Plus, I’d always wanted to live in the big city. Bright lights and all that.”

“And great shopping, restaurants, and theater.”

“Yes, all of that, but what I actually really love is the vibe. London is beautiful whatever the season, whatever the weather. I enjoy the parks and the museums and people watching.”

“People watching?” He tipped his head as though wanting me to go on.

“I write poetry.” Why had I just said that? I never told people about that small but much loved hobby of mine.

“Poetry.” He nodded slowly and put a fork full of food into his mouth.

“Yes and people watching, sitting observing, it gives me inspiration. It’s easy to think everyone is the same, has the same ideas, values, hopes and aspirations. But listening and watching people when they’re going about their day to day business, it gives me ideas for my poems.”

“Like a snap shot of their lives?”

“Yes, that exactly.” I popped in a swirl of pasta and began to chew.

“I’d like to read your poems.”

Yeah, right
. I kind of smiled. I didn’t let anyone read my poems. I swallowed then had another sip of my wine. “And what do you do for fun, to relax.”

“To relax?”

“Yes, you must relax some of the time.”

“Well, no not really. Unless you count being asleep.”

“No hobbies?”

He shook his head. “The business has been my hobby for as many years as I can remember. I don’t have time for much else.”

“Wow.” I scooped up another piece of pasta. “What does your girlfriend think of that?” What the fuck…? Why had I said that? What was going on with my mouth? It was tipping out words that hadn’t come from my brain.

He half shrugged and set his blue gaze on me. “No time for a girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t have time for a wife either. She left me three years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

His smile dropped. “You must think me a very sad and boring man.”

“Not at all.” His wife left him. No girlfriend because he didn’t have the time. That
was
a bit sad. “Perhaps I should schedule dates into your diary.”

“And would you be keeper of the gate then? Vetting women for suitability?”

“Well…” A rise of heat crept up my cheeks. “I really don’t think that would be my place.”

He reached out and put his hand over mine. “I’m sorry. I’m teasing.”

My cheeks continued to burn. I knew they’d be red.

“And I shouldn’t do that to you, tease that is. I’m trying to keep you on board not scare you away.”

I looked at the way his big fingers had curled over my knuckles. His palm was warm and his shirt sleeve had fallen away to reveal a wrist coated in downy pale hairs and an expensive looking watch.

“I am on board,” I managed.

He moved his hand and picked up his fork again. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The conversation moved on to travel and my cheeks cooled. Andre had been all over the world with Wainwright and Bramon and seen places I’d dreamed of visiting. I adored his story about hiking on the Great Wall of China and then he made me laugh with a tale about getting lost in Bangkok on the floating market.

The restaurant emptied and as I finished the last mouthful of one of the best tiramisus I’d ever eaten, I realized it was late. “I should get going.”

He shoved at his sleeve and checked the time. “Yes, it’s heading toward eleven o’clock.” He signaled for the bill.

“Gosh, really.”

He smiled. “I guess we got carried away chatting about nothing and everything.”

I matched his smile. It was infectious, easy to respond to. “I enjoyed it. Thank you.”

The bill arrived and he quickly took it.

I opened my mouth, ready to offer to go halves.

“No thanks required,” he said quickly. “And this is on me. It’s the least I can do. You’ve been amazing getting to grips with everything. I couldn’t have hoped for better.”

A heavenly sensation of being appreciated washed through me. The wine had given me a light feeling and all was perfect. “Well, thank you very much.”

“Not required.” He winked and set a gold credit card on the bill.

Fuck. He winked at me.

Was he flirting? Or was this just how Andre was? I didn’t know him well enough to judge it.

We stepped outside and I slipped my light summer jacket on.

Andre stuck out his hand and hailed a taxi.

I was expecting to get in it alone but he dropped down next to me on the back seat.

“I want to make sure you get home okay.” He shrugged. “Call me old fashioned.”

“But, isn’t it out of your way?” I hesitated. “I mean, where do you live?”

“Chelsea.”

Of course he did. One of the most exclusive addresses in London. “Well in that case, it
is
out of your way because I live—.”

“I know where you live, it was on your CV.”

“Oh, yes.”

“And I won’t rest easy unless I see you to your front door. It’s late and dark.”

Wow, he was a charmer
and
a gentleman. Apart from being a workaholic, did he have any flaws? “In that case, thank you.” Protesting seemed feeble, and besides, I enjoyed his company.

I fastened my seatbelt and sat back with a sigh.

Andre gave the name of my road to the driver.

“You okay?” he asked, resting back next to me as the car pulled away from the curb.

“Yes, fine. A bit sleepy and a lot full.”

He chuckled. “Nice way to end the evening.”

No, what would be nice would be to have Andre naked and in my bed, his warm body against mine and his lips trailing down my neck, lower, lower and lower still. I would like to be full of him. Surrendered to him and pleasure.

I supressed a shudder of desire and knotted my fingers together in my lap.

I glanced at his face and bit on my bottom lip.

He was staring straight at me, the headlights of the oncoming cars slipping over his features.

For a moment, our gazes connected. I wondered if he could read my lusty thoughts. If he could see the image I’d conjured in my mind of us with our limbs tangled and his hands exploring my body, stroking my curves, slipping between my legs.

“Stella…”

“Yes?” I was breathing fast. What was he going to say?

“I … I had a really lovely time this evening.”

“Me too.” And was it really so weird if we got down and dirty? Boss and secretary relationships worked all the time … right? I could invite him up for coffee, no harm done, then we could see where it went.

No, what was I thinking? Of course those relationships didn’t work. When it all went wrong it would be the end of my job and I had bills to pay. He’d be okay, he’d just call the agency to send another PA.

But damn, the guy was cute, and his mouth only inches from mine. If I leaned forward a fraction I could kiss him, find out his flavor and the texture of his lips.

He was looking at my mouth as though thinking the same thing.

My heart thudded. It felt almost like a dream to be sitting so close to such a gorgeous man. Except it wasn’t a dream. It was real…

Suddenly, a loud horn filled the taxi and the vehicle nose-dived to a halt.

Andre was shunted forward in his seat.

“Get out of the bloody way,” the driver yelled, waving his fist at a bus.

“Whoops,” I said, pressing my hand to my chest.

“That was a bit close for comfort.” Andre sat back and reached for his seatbelt.

“Sorry about that folks. God only knows where they get these bloody drivers from,” the driver said over his shoulder.

“No harm done,” Andre said. He turned to me. “You’re all right, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” I tapped my seatbelt.

“Good.”

I was all right except for the fact he was no longer looking at me as though he wanted to kiss me. If I could have gotten away with it, I too, would have shaken my fist at the bus driver for interrupting our moment.

Andre started to talk about a new project coming up with a famous sports company.

I nodded and tried to pay attention, but the truth was I just enjoyed listening to his voice.

All too soon, we pulled up outside my apartment block. The chug of the diesel engine was loud as I undid my seatbelt and did up the top button on my jacket.

“Stella.”

“Yes.”

“I…” He frowned slightly, the shadows licking over his face.

“What?” Did he want me to invite him up? Is that what I should be saying right now?

“I really am glad that you’ve joined Wainwright and Bramon and I hope you stay, even when things get … busy.”

“Me too and I’m sure I can handle it.”

He swallowed. “So, I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hesitated. An invitation forming on my lips.

But before I could say anything, he leaned forward and cupped my jawline in his palm.

He then pressed a soft kiss to my left cheek, his lips lingering on my skin and his stubble scratching slightly.

I held my breath, the feel of his body so close to mine, the heat radiating from him. It all did crazy things to my hormones. Fuck, if just a peck on the cheek felt like this what would it be like if we…?

He pulled back and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Andre.” I drew my hands into fists. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, pull him in for another kiss, on my mouth this time. But I didn’t. I sat there frozen as he looked at me, still holding my cheek.

“That’ll be fifteen quid,” the driver said, flicking on the white light at the front of the vehicle.

“I’m going on from here.” Andre dropped his hand though continued to keep his attention on my face.

“Sure thing, mate.”

I sat forward and opened the door. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

I got out of the car and hunted for my key. The cab pulled away and I resisted the urge to stare after it longingly. It was just as well Andre had the good sense not to take things further. A few glasses of wine and dinner with a handsome man had clearly released my libido and it was clambering for attention.

God only knows what would have happened between me and my boss had I invited him up.

Chapter Three

I took the elevator to the fifth level and let myself into my home. I leaned back against the locked front door. My skin tingled and my head swam with images of Andre. The sound of his voice lingered in my ears. I felt as though I’d had an injection of lust into my bloodstream and it was making my breasts ache and my pussy tremble.

My apartment was dark and quiet. I pressed my hand to my chest, cupping my breast over my light jacket. Oh God, if only I’d felt him do that. If only he were here now, kissing me wildly, ripping off my clothes, preparing to get carnal up against the door.

Quickly, I removed my jacket, I dropped that and my purse to the floor with a quiet thud. I groaned as need washed through me. I should have made that invite.

I gripped the hem of my skirt and yanked it up so it rucked around my waist like a belt. Would he have done that? Would he have been fast and crazed with desire? Did Andre have unsated desires tonight too?

Slipping my fingers beneath the waistband of my knickers, I cupped my mound.

“Oh fuck.” I wished my hand were bigger, like Andre’s, so I could really imagine what it would be like if he were here, finishing our evening with a passion-infused encounter.

I shut my eyes and pressed my head against the door. How I longed for a big, hard, hot body against mine. I widened my stance, sought out my damp entrance and pushed my index and middle fingers inside. My knees gave way a little as the heel of my palm caught on my clit. I locked my legs and pressed harder against my needy nub.

What I wouldn’t give to have him here, now, doing this.

With my free hand I squeezed my breast harder through my clothing, not caring about creases on my top.

My mind buzzed with wine and longing. My pulse beat loud in my ears. I knew what I was doing was indulgent and spontaneous but it was also sexy and oh, so necessary.

I continued to work my pussy. The first tendrils of a climax building and swarming in my pelvis. Cool air washed over my thighs, and the soft scent of my arousal breezed upward.

“Andre,” I gasped, pinching my breast to the point of pain. “Yes…”

I pictured his face hovering over mine. Imagined it was his hand on my breast and his cock in my cunt. I was nearly there. I knew just how to hit my spot and in this horny mood, I only needed another few seconds.

“Oh, God, yes…” I gasped and thought of him coming with me. The sounds he’d make, the grunts and pants, the words that would spill from his beautiful mouth in the throes of passion. What would it be like?

“Andre.” I balanced on the edge of bliss, my body held hostage to the incredible release about to spill from my pussy. I held my breath, willed my spine to stay upright, then allowed pleasure to consume me as I pictured him over me.

I shoved my hand through my hair, tugged the roots. The white-hot sensation of my orgasm shot over my skin, through my bones and juddered out of me in several powerful spasms.

I dragged in air, worked my pussy until the last pulse of ecstasy squeezed my fingers.

I opened my eyes to the darkness. Saw the shadow of the door to my lounge and the golden glow that would be drifting through the window from the streetlamps below.

“Jesus,” I muttered, taking my hand from my knickers.

A sudden vision of what I must have looked like, masturbating so furiously, still clothed, the second I’d had privacy, flashed through my mind.

What the hell would Andre think of that?

I giggled, pressed my fragrant fingers to my lips and pushed away from the door. I felt wanton, ravished by myself. It was a good feeling.

Would he have enjoyed the show? Or would he have been shocked? Perhaps he was an in-the-dark-beneath-the-duvet-missionary-position-only type of guy.

As I walked, I shucked off my skirt and blouse, then kicked my heels aside, enjoying the freedom of only wearing my underwear. A flutter of movement in the corner caught my attention. “Lullabelle.”

My fluffy cream and tan cat sauntered toward me, tail pointing straight up.

“How are you doing?” I asked, scooping her into my arms and enjoying the feel of her fur against my skin. “Had a good day?”

She replied with a meow and I kissed the top of her head. I’d had her for eight years and she was one of my best friends. “Do you want some supper? I’m sorry I’m so late home.”

Another meow.

I headed into the kitchen. It was compact but perfectly proportioned and painted a pale pink. I’d gone chintzy with flowery patterns on nearly everything. Maybe one day I’d have a country cottage kitchen or something big, modern and sleek, but until then, this was perfectly fine.

After flicking on the light and putting Lullabelle on the floor, I set about dishing up some of her favorite gourmet cat food. She coiled her body around my legs, rubbing her face against my flesh in an adoring way.

She rushed for the bowl as soon as I placed it on her little rose patterned mat.

“There you go.” I stroked her, head to tail, poured a glass of water, and then wandered into my bedroom.

For a moment, I stared at the empty bed set in the shadows. I’d really had enough of being single. What had just happened proved that. I wanted a special person in my life—a sexy, charming man who had values and principles and was above all, a gentleman.

Just like Andre.

I took a sip of my drink. I had to rehydrate otherwise I’d wake with a headache after those two big glasses of wine.

Maybe I could get another job, then I could date Andre and we wouldn’t be colleagues, he wouldn’t be my boss. That would remove the complication, wouldn’t it? Trouble was, I’d been looking for this job for a while, and I’d been lucky to get the PA position at Wainwright and Bramon with so little competition.

No, leaving my job, at least not so early on and voluntarily, wasn’t an option.

I’d just have to think of another solution, or, what was probably the best option, stop having filthy fantasies about my employer and getting myself off while gasping his name.

That would be the sensible thing to do.

But when had I ever been sensible when it came to matters of the heart, or more importantly, matters of the erotic variety?

****

Andre was late into the office the next morning. He’d had a meeting on the other side of town and I was glad for the time to down a couple cups of coffee. It also meant I got on with typing up a pile of letters he’d dictated the day before.

“Hey Stella, how are you?”

I looked up at Jenny, the young woman who’d shown me to Andre’s office when I’d come for my interview. She was in charge of accounts. “I’m good thanks, you?”

“Well, I’ve had an argument with my boyfriend, but apart from that.” She shrugged and smiled sweetly.

“Oh…” I paused. “I hope you work it out with him.”

“I’m sure I will, once he’s calmed down. He’s so hot-tempered.” She nodded at Andre’s office door. “Is he back yet?”

“No, but he shouldn’t be long now.”

“I’ll wait in there for him then.” She took a step toward his office.

“Actually, he’s got a conference call when he gets back, he’s only just going to make it at this rate. Can I leave him a message?” I kept my voice light and easy, the conference call wasn’t imminent but still he had a pile of things on his desk that needed urgent attention.

She frowned. “Well in that case, yes, can you give him these figures? They just need his approval and a signature.”

“Of course. Leave it with me and I’ll have it back to you by the end of the day.”

“Perfect.” She smiled and walked away.

A sense of satisfaction went through me as I went back to my typing. The staff would soon change their ways. I just had to be firm.

Half an hour later, Andre walked up to my desk. He held a briefcase and a damp umbrella.

My heart picked up as I studied the sprinkle of sparkling raindrops on his shoulders. “Is it raining?” Damn, what a stupid question.

“Yes, pouring.” He rolled his eyes. “Is everything going all right here?”

“Fine. I’ve got a few things to go through with you when you have a minute.”

“I have a minute now.”

“Sure?”

“For you, anything.” He tipped his head and smiled.

It was the same soft smile he’d used in the restaurant the night before and any resolve I’d had about nothing ever happening between us had a great big chunk chopped out of it. “Well I’m afraid it’s nothing exciting, just bits and pieces to approve and sign. Oh, and Bill Trent called, from Ciren. He said he wants to move up a level and have another meeting.”

“He did?” Andre raised his eyebrows. “That’s great news. I’ll call him back this afternoon.”

“Are you doing much with Ciren?” I’d heard of them. They were a big travel agency that were entirely internet based but taking the holidaying masses by storm.

“Not at the moment but that sounds very promising.” He dropped his umbrella in a stand by his office door and headed in, shucking out of his jacket as he did so.

I stood, scooped up the files I needed to show him, and followed.

As I shut the door, a huge clap of thunder rolled overhead.

“I just made it back in time,” Andre said, hanging his coat up and nodding at the dark clouds that had turned the sky black.

“Yes.” A huge flash of lightning filled the room then another rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the walls. “Bloody hell.” I clasped my hand to my chest.

He turned to me. “You don’t like storms?”

“They’re not my favorite thing in the world.” I swallowed.

He stepped up to me. “You’re safe in here.”

The dull light in the room cast shadows on his cheeks and I stared into his eyes. I remembered how I’d masturbated the evening before, thinking of him, wanting him, his name on my lips.

I still wanted him.

He glanced at the door.

“Last night,” he said quietly. “I wished…”

“What?”

He pressed his lips together and took the files from my hand. He stepped away and set them on the table.

I admired the way he moved with simple grace for such a tall man.

“What did you wish?” I asked.

He looked out of the window, his back to me.

I sensed there was more, much more. What couldn’t he say but had started to? Did he wish he’d taken me to bed? Did he wish he hadn’t taken me to dinner? Perhaps he’d decided our evening together hadn’t been professional…

That thought hit me like a punch to the guts. Damn. He regretted it. He wished he hadn’t spent time with me in a non-professional way.

“I understand,” I said, stepping up to the desk and placing Jenny’s figures on top of the pile. “That you want to keep it purely professional between us.”

“What do you mean?” He turned to me.

“No more dinners out. I understand. For the record that’s all it was, dinner out.” I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant while inside I wanted to scream.

“For the record?” He moved closer.

I turned to face him. He was so close I backed up. My ass hit the desk.

“No more dinners out?” he said, scowling.

There was another dazzling flash and roar of thunder, it was so loud the window rattled. I started slightly and gasped in a breath

“Stella.” His pupils were wide, his chest only inches from mine. “Is that what you want? To only see me at work?”

Damn, I could fall into those eyes as easily as I could fall into bed with him. “I don’t know what the right answer is here.” I shook my head.

He caught my cheek in his palm, the way he had in the cab the night before. “When I went home last night…” He tilted his chin slightly. “You were all I could think about.”

“I was?”

“And I kept wondering what you must make of me. A divorcee, workaholic, no interesting hobbies to converse about.”

“I think you’re very interesting.” And he’d be even more interesting naked.

“That’s kind of you to say.” He swept his thumb over my cheek. “But you’re the first person who’s made me look at myself that way since…”

“Your wife?”

“Yes, and maybe I should … change, start dating again.”

“Yes. That would be good.” He was still holding my face, the heat from his hand warming my skin. “Everyone should have someone special in their life.”

“I agree.” He paused. “But the thing is…”

“What?”

“I want to date
you
.”

“You do?”

“Can’t you feel it? Between us? There’s something…”

“Andre.” I paused as the storm raged, another drum of thunder banged overhead. I didn’t jump this time. I was too distracted by the gorgeous man looming before me. “But…?”

“You’re my personal assistant and we’ve only just met … but…” He leaned closer.

I could see every whisker of stubble, each individual eyelash. And his scent, the outdoors, rain, musk, man, everything I’d been missing in my life.