Show and Tell (9 page)

Read Show and Tell Online

Authors: Jasmine Haynes

Tags: #Romance, #Erotica, #Fiction

BOOK: Show and Tell
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“They aren’t preliminary numbers. They’re close to final.” They had to go through audit, and these days all bets were off on what could change, but in Scott’s mind, they were solid.
 
 
Rudd’s lips twitched, and he drew in a deep breath of air. “You realize our jobs are on the line with numbers like that.”
 
 
Rudd’s very well could be. His decision making in the two years since he’d become CEO had, in a word, sucked.
 
 
Leaning both fists on the desk, Rudd homed in, his chin jutting. “You’ve got to find something, Scott. In my opinion, we’re way over-reserved. ”
 
 
“The reserves analysis proved out.” There wasn’t much room for pickup there considering last year’s disastrous product release. “We haven’t paid the piper on the Millennium 4 yet.”
 
 
“The M4 is done.” Rudd knocked the desk. “Get rid of the reserve. Do whatever you have to, I want some improvement.”
 
 
Scott rose. He didn’t use his height to intimidate, but he’d make damn sure Rudd understood he wasn’t compromising his own ethics to shore up a shitty bottom line. At six four, he towered over his boss’s five ten with a very good view of the top of the egg. “There isn’t anything that’s going to get this year out of the hole.”
 
 
Rudd narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you find a way.”
 
 
“Or what?” Scott murmured. The man was an ass.
 
 
“Or heads will roll.”
 
 
And the first one would be the egghead.
 
 
“OH my God.” Trinity must have whispered that aloud at least four times since she hung up.
 
 
Her nipples were tender, sensitive nubs. They ached so
good
. She could see why men paid beaucoup bucks for phone sex.
 
 
Over the years, she’d had five lovers, including Harper, yet none of them had ever made her feel like this. Scott wasn’t even in the room, yet he’d left her boneless, satisfied, languorous, and sleepy, all rolled into one delicious package. He’d told her to come on the count of ten, and she’d actually held off until he gave her the word. If he’d told her to stop in the middle and began his count all over again, she still would have waited until he’d granted her permission.
 
 
Why had it gotten her so excited?
 
 
Because . . . well, heck, it was fun. Sex had never been just plain old fun, especially with someone who actually seemed to care about her orgasm. And he wasn’t even getting any since he was sitting in his office. He hadn’t interjected his own fantasies, he’d simply directed hers. It had all been about
her
. On second thought, it seemed a bit selfish, but she could swear he’d enjoyed it as much as she had, so where was the harm in that? It had been good for
both
of them.
 
 
Trinity climbed the stairs. It was after nine, and she hadn’t even dressed yet. Not that she had much to do today. She’d done most of her running around yesterday. She could even call Scott again, right now, or later. If she wanted to. She was in total control of the next move.
 
 
In the guest room, which was now
her
room, she tapped a key on her computer and the screen came to life. Logging on, she brought up her Internet e-mail. To avoid getting a bunch of spam to her real address, she always kept an anonymous e-mail account for shopping online.
 
 
Typing in Scott’s address—okay, yes, she’d memorized it off his card—she gave him a one-line message. “Thank you.”
 
 
Thank you for the orgasm and thank you for setting her free.
 
 
When she’d finished drying off after her shower, she checked. Nothing. Mild disappointment circled in her belly.
 
 
She moisturized and lotioned, put on her makeup, and blow-dried her hair, then checked. Still nothing. Okay, the disappointment was a tad more than mild—it had moved from her belly to her chest.
 
 
She chose the peach Evan-Picone and color-matched Manolo Blahniks.
 
 
Her screen bleeped. Her heart gave a little kick.
 
 
“That, my dear, was incredibly hot.” The address was different, a personal account instead of work, but it was Scott. And his words made her pulse do a little happy dance.
 
 
She couldn’t resist typing back. “And you have an incredibly hot voice.” She chewed her lip a second. “Okay, I promise not to call you every day begging to hear it again.”
 
 
He came back in less than a minute. “You can call me any time you want.”
 
 
Ooh.
She typed quickly. “I might do that.” Then she signed out with no good-bye. The key to power was to leave when
you
were ready. Besides, she had this overwhelming need to continuing flirting with him all day long.
 
 
Of course, when she got back from a quick errand, she was back in e-mail before she’d even removed her Manolos.
 
 
And there he was. Her heart beat faster as she read.
 
 
“I went to the gym for a good long workout, forty-five minutes of StairMaster to sweat you out. Needless to say, all I did was play back the whole conversation in my head. Damn. You are naughty and fun.”
 
 
It was oh-so-thrilling that he was some bigwig executive eating out of her hand. For anyone watching him, he had to look all circumspect when he was talking on the phone with her, yet she brought out the bad boy in him. Trinity loved the power trip. “I hope you weren’t able to sweat me out that easily.”
 
 
He must have had his e-mail open right there on his screen at work because he came back in what seemed like seconds. “You definitely are a rare breed. Open, sexual, and very tempting. I haven’t gotten nearly enough of you yet.”
 
 
His words turned her mushy inside. To him, she was special. Open and sexual. Trinity had never thought herself capable of that before. He’d opened up a whole new world to her. She
would
call again. Once or twice. Oh, hell, face it, the e-mails and phone calls were fun and flirty, and concentrating on
that
drowned out the echo of Harper’s harpy in the master bathroom shower.
 
 
“I need to call you
something
. Give me a name, any name.”
 
 
Scott lounged in his leather desk chair, the phone glued to his ear, his office door closed for the second time on Wednesday. They’d had their first call yesterday, and she’d stepped up to twice today. The woman was insatiable. He loved it. He’d never thought he’d be into phone sex, but he couldn’t get enough of her. Hell, what he really wanted was to see her again, but he was biding his time until he had her as hooked as he was.
 
 
“I’m whoever you want me to be.” She hummed lightly through the connection. He felt it in his cock. “Maybe a girlfriend’s name, one that got away, a girl you still think about?”
 
 
“No one like that.” He’d dated in high school and college, but the relationships had always ended fairly amicably. Then he met Katy in his senior year. Katy was the only one that got away, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to call his mystery lady by his ex-wife’s name. “I think I’ll call you Jezebel.”
 
 
“Jezebel? Wasn’t she a prostitute.”
 
 
“No.” He wasn’t actually sure. “She wrapped every man she met around her gorgeous little finger.”
 
 
“Ooh, I like that.”
 
 
He loved the way she said
ooh
.
 
 
“Start my countdown again, Scott,” she whispered.
 
 
And he did. Yeah, his Jezebel had him hook, line, and sinker. He was madly in lust with a woman he didn’t even know.
 
 
COULD a woman have
too
many orgasms? By Friday, Trinity lost count. Her breasts had grown from all the hormones.
 
 
She hoped it wasn’t all the ice cream she’d eaten.
 
 
“My daughter’s coming home from college this weekend,” Scott said while she was drifting in orgasmic aftermath.
 
 
“Your daughter?” She didn’t mean to let it slip out of her mouth, but it did.
 
 
“Yeah, Lexa. She’s my youngest. She’s a sophomore at—”
 
 
“Wait.” She held up her hand as if he could see her. “Don’t tell me.” She didn’t want to know about his daughter. Jeez, a daughter in college. She’d figured he was in his midforties, but a college-age kid made Trinity feel young. And so not together. She was thirty and
just
getting her first job.
 
 
She blew out a breath. “New rule. We don’t get personal.”
 
 
“We’re having sex on the phone. That’s personal.” A slight edge ran through his voice.
 
 
“Yes, well.” She bit her lip. Next week she started work. “I can’t call so much after this.” She thought up a good lie. “I was on vacation this week, and I’m back to work on Monday.”
 
 
“Call my cell in the evenings, then.”
 
 
“But you’d know my number.”
 
 
“You can block it.”
 
 
“I like calling you at the office.” The whole bigwig thing.
 
 
“But at home, I can come with you.”
 
 
He was pushing. She was losing control. “No. We can only talk when you’re at work. If you want to stay late so I can call, that’s fine. But those are the rules.” That felt better. Setting rules gave her a sense of control.
 
 
“So you’re not going to call me this weekend?”
 
 
“You’ll have your daughter with you.” A reasonable explanation. “Monday. I’ll call when I get home. Hopefully you can stay late at work.” Said as if it didn’t matter one way or the other.
 
 
Scott laughed. “You really are a Jezebel, aren’t you?”
 
 
This time he hung up first.
 
 
Was he angry? God, even allowing the question in her mind was frightening, as if she were letting her former self, the woman who
lived
to please a man, sneak back inside her. She couldn’t let that happen.
 
 
“YOU look pretty chipper, Dad.” Lexa chewed on a carrot stick as he put the artichokes on to boil. She’d driven up from San Luis Obispo, arriving late last night. They’d spent Saturday morning running errands, then hanging out around the house. “Got a new hottie?” she added before another carrot crunch.
 
 
Scott’s heart gave an odd jump. Lexa had had a much harder time with the divorce than Brooke. A couple of years older, Brooke had been going into her junior year at college, and though she’d been sad, it hadn’t affected her in the same way. Then suddenly, Lexa, after spending last summer bouncing between his place and Katy’s, had gone back to school with a new attitude. She’d started treating him like her buddy, looking for dates, pointing out “hotties” when they went to the movies or out to dinner.
 
 
But no freaking way was he telling Lexa about Jezebel.
 
 
“I’m just glad to have you for the weekend, honey.”
 
 
She popped him on the arm. “You’re a fibber.” Dumping the bottle of spaghetti sauce into a pot, she set it on the glass-top stove. “Seriously, Dad, Brooke and I want you to find a woman.”
 
 
She caught him off guard once again. She would always be his little girl, and there was something about her picking out women for him that felt . . . queasy. Yet she thought of herself as grown-up, no matter how much he’d always see her as his baby, and she was doing her best to have him treat her as an adult.
 
 
Still, some things were going too far even for him.

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