Sinful Reunion (9 page)

Natalie's red hair cascaded wave after wave down her backside as she arched her body, her insides tightening as James' sturdy hands held her hips firmly in place during his final thrusts. She cried softly, wordlessly. Her lips parted open as bliss spread like instant warmth throughout her body. Her legs, bent at the knees as she straddled his hips, had gone limp and prickly as they pressed into the leather seat, but she didn't mind. She loved the sensation of being lost in the moment, transported out of her body into another plane of existence by sheer force of pleasure. The high lasted only moments but the muscle memory always reverberated long after, a physical reminder until the next climb to satisfying climax.

The hands on her hips moved with a certain gentleness to her shoulders, encouraging them and her back to straighten again. She barely had time to open her eyes before his mouth was on hers, their lips slick with moisture from their intertwining tongues. When she finally opened her eyes they were met with a set of all-too-familiar blue-green eyes made darker in the dim lighting of the backseat of the Town Car, beyond the view of passers-by in the company parking garage.

"This is the third lunch this week we've done this," she finally said through gusts of breath she was still trying to catch. "I think I'm burning more calories than I get the chance to eat."

"You should let me take you out then," James said as his fingers pressed into her backside, pulling her in closer. He kissed at her lips and then her neck, tasting of her exposed flesh. "We can discuss marketing strategy over steak."

"No!" Natalie protested, leaning just enough out of his grasp to look him square in the eye. "We agreed: no talking about work. It's bad enough I'm sleeping with a client, let alone one of our biggest." The subject had been something of a sore spot for Natalie from the moment she was promoted to Junior Vice President and realized the man she'd been sleeping with had just so happened to be Chief Creative Officer of Fitson Entertainment Groupe, a client whose billable hours made her salary look like chump change. Of course she had no idea when they first slept together, which made his admission that he
had
known about her work at Brighton New Media suspicious at best. She immediately worried that her sudden promotion had been due to nepotism, a thought that had made her blood boil. But she believed him when he said he had nothing whatsoever to do with her job; though that never stopped the nagging doubts from trickling in once in a while.

"Between not talking about work and not talking about the divorce-" Natalie physically bristled at the d-word "-we're running low on topics of discussion," he gently chastised. "Not that we've been getting in much conversation past the word 'hello' recently."

"I only get so long for lunch, James. Would you rather we meet in secret to talk about politics or the weather?"

"No, I'd rather we not meet in secret at all, Natalie. What I'd love is for you to come over to my place."

His
place
was a penthouse suite at the
Jacqueline
, an exquisite boutique hotel that successfully married old Hollywood glamour with next millennium technology. And of course the property was yet another jewel in the Fitson Entertainment Groupe crown. Natalie had tried - successfully at first - to convince James that living out of hotel rooms was not exactly homey, but he went back to living like a player in a perpetual game of Monopoly, claiming that every house he looked at wasn't the right fit. Natalie suspected that, despite his protests to the contrary, James had a difficult time sitting still and placing down some roots, a belief that she kept in mind whenever she felt her heart strings being tugged a little too hard by one Mr. James Fitzgerald.

She climbed up and off of him and unceremoniously pulled up her panties and slipped her shift dress over her head and shoulders. "I can't go to your hotel, James.
You're a client
. Besides, I'm usually exhausted by the time I get home, eat dinner, take my bra off..." She chuckled to herself at that last bit.

"Well stop having contortionist car sex in the middle of the afternoon and maybe you won't be so tired. And I'd be more than happy to take over bra removal duty from you." Still partially undressed he pulled her back into his lap and cradled her, his forearm balanced beneath her shoulders. "We could get out of the city this weekend. I don't own any hotels in Santa Barbara we could stay in to make you feel ethically challenged, but I do happen to know of a private beach where we can do whatever we want." He leaned in and kissed her gently on her lips. "For however long we want."

Natalie sighed, already regretting the words before she could speak them. "I can't. I have meetings stacked up on top of each other next week and I need the weekend to prepare."

James held her close and took in the features of her face, from her eyes to her lips and back again. She noted that the intensity that often accompanied his face was back, making his handsome features wooden and stern.

"Are things between us okay? Are you trying in your own way to not spend time with me?"

Natalie gave him an
are-you-kidding-me
look. "You were literally just inside me and you're wondering if I'm trying
not
to spend time with you?" He grimaced involuntarily, either at her words or his own, and she let her face relax, her voice soften. "I haven't figured out yet how to get to know someone that I could get fired for dating."

"So quit your job." He said it so easily, so naturally as if it was normal in the current economy to just up and quit a job that finally paid decently and offered some upward mobility.
Only a rich person
, she thought as she internally rolled her eyes.

"Not an option," she stated unequivocally.

"Why not?" he shrugged. "Come work for me. You can do exactly the same job you're doing now and not have to hide the fact that we're having incredibly outstanding sex every possible moment."

He wasn't lying about the sex part. Or about how
incredibly outstanding
it was. Natalie wrapped her arms around his neck and stared him directly in the eyes. "Do you remember how pissed I was when I thought it was nepotism that got me my promotion? Working for you would be taking that to several next levels of nepotistic favor."

"Ah." He finally seemed to get it.

"Not to mention the fact that your business partner is your sister-in-law. It's awkward enough in our current situation."

James stroked his fingers along the silky strands of Natalie's volumized, just-fucked hair. "Don't worry about Audra. She's a professional through and through."

Natalie smiled through a tight line in her lips. "That doesn't change the fact that she's the sister of the wife whose husband I'm currently having incredibly outstanding sex with."

"So is that it then?" he asked. "I'll just randomly call you at work under the pretense of lunch, have sex inside the car in a parking garage and wait until one of us has a free weekend so we can go somewhere I don't own property and no one we know will find us and you won't have to worry about losing your job?"

"We'll figure it out, James." She kissed him chastely on the lips. "It's only been a couple of months." She kissed him again, lingering but keeping their contact light. Neither one of them needed much in the way of foreplay to get naked again, but she couldn't just blow off work. No matter how good the sex was.

The intrusive vibrating of a phone brought them back into the present. James groaned and reached for the device to check the screen, his eyes scrutinizing the display as if they were looking at something unpleasant.

"I have to take this," he grumbled as he shifted in his seat, the movement encouraging Natalie to get off his lap. She slinked back into her own seat and reached down for her bag as James answered the call. She only heard bits of his side of the conversation, and he was talking so low it was difficult to hear anything at all. Natalie focused instead on touching up her lipstick and gently pressing an oil-absorbing sheet onto her cheeks, chin and forehead. She tapped the home button of her phone to check the time and found several notifications waiting on the screen, a text from Quinn the newest of the bunch.

"We can discuss that later," James spoke to whomever was on the other side of the phone call, breaking Natalie's attention away from her phone. He looked tense. But then again he usually did.

Put back together again in something she hoped passed as appropriate, Natalie closed the clasp on her purse and relaxed back into the leather seat of the Town Car. Was she making things difficult for them both? For their relationship? She didn't want to think that she was just a rebound from a failed marriage; that he was actually trying to make something with her that he no longer had with his wife, if he ever had it at all. But Natalie wanted to be careful.

It had been seven months since that fateful night at The Golden Palm when she was Candidate Four and he was Gentleman Twelve, buying her for an evening of her time. They had a connection despite the unusual circumstances, and she knew he regretted the five months that came after that night together when they thought they'd never see each other again just as much as she did. Meeting by chance in Las Vegas -- at his own hotel no less -- was a sign, she knew that for certain. James lived in a completely different world, in a totally different lifestyle. Ordinarily they would have never crossed paths. But cross paths they did, and Natalie couldn't deny she loved being in his orbit. She didn't want that to end.

Still, proceeding with caution seemed like the smartest thing to do. They were still getting to know one another and there was no guarantee in the world that he wouldn't come to find he had nothing in common with her and simply move on to someone else. Or she could find something about him she was incompatible with and decide they were better as friends or maybe just strangers. She would allow herself to live in the now, to appreciate what they had in the moment and not think ahead to the future in any way. That, she knew, would protect her.

"Okay I'll see you then. Bye." He tapped the screen to end the call and stuffed the phone into his pants pocket, button and zipping the two open sides together to make himself presentable once again.

"Why don't you come over? To my apartment, I mean," she asked as she turned in her seat to face him. "It's not a five-star accommodation but if it'd make you feel more at home I can provide you with complimentary turn down service."

James visibly relaxed and smiled at her. "Depends. What kind of amenities do you offer, Miss Harlow?"

"The kind that polite girls like me don't say out loud."

His smile spread across his face until it reached his eyes. "Then show me."

Natalie was mid-chew on a mouthful of salad when her assistant, Shane, knocked resolutely on her office door.

"I brought you coffee," he said cheerfully, making the coffee cup dance in his grasp as he passed the threshold and headed towards her desk.

Natalie eyed him suspiciously, knowing better than to just accept a free coffee without any strings. "You've added something to my schedule last minute, haven't you?"

"Maybe." He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he nodded. "Yes," he relented. Natalie took the coffee and sipped from it generously as Shane took a seat opposite her desk. He crossed his legs and very flamboyantly flipped his head until the longest lock of his highlighted hair danced off his forehead and landed with a soft bounce on the top of his head. "Evil Jenifer-with-one-N from Graham Martin's office sent out emails to the veeps and other higher ups while you were out at lunch. Word around the cubes is there's going to be a shakeup."

The 'cubes', or cubicles, were Shane's domain. There wasn't an ounce of office gossip he didn't know about first, which both amused and terrified Natalie. So far she'd done a pretty good job of hiding her unethical affair with one of Brighton Media's biggest clients. Shane liked to gossip, but never with malicious intent. She never once had the suspicion that he knew about what she was really doing on her lunch breaks. In fact she suspected that he believed she wasn't capable of doing anything that might be considered indiscreet.

"A shakeup? Restructuring? Chapter eleven? What?" she asked, leaning forward into the conversation in just as conspiratorially a fashion as her young assistant.

"Nothing scandalous. I think." He paused and looked as though he was questioning even himself. "The Secretary of Evil was rather vague about it."

Natalie glanced behind Shane to the interior windows of her office to make sure the woman herself - Jenifer, Graham Martin's secretary, and indeed an onerous woman - or anyone else with ears wasn't passing by the office to hear Shane's less than kind, if not completely untrue, words.

"So when is the meeting?"

"Little less than an hour from now so you should have time to finish your lunch."

Natalie smiled and double-checked through her calendar to see the newly scheduled meeting for herself. When she looked back at Shane a moment he was still staring at her and the half-eaten salad sitting in front of her on the desk. "Thank you for the coffee, by the way."

"You're welcome. You've been eating out a lot lately. I haven't seen you eating out of a recycled birthday or Christmas bag for at least a week."

Natalie smiled politely and tried not to let her mind wander to recent memories of straddling James in the back seat of his car. "There's been so much prep work to do for next week that I've sort of been forgetting to pack a lunch. Or buy groceries, now that I think about it." She had been ordering a lot of takeout for dinner lately, now that she really thought about it.

"Well I don't know where you get your salad from but you should keep going. You're glowing!"

She chuckled and felt her cheeks flush with heat. She had to change the subject. "Anything else added to the schedule last minute?"

"Not really. I'll let you know if I hear anything about this supposed shakeup!" And with a final swing of his hair Shane was out of her office and back in his own cubicle, gaily chatting away with Hunter from Human Resources.

A ping from Natalie's phone caught her attention, and when she picked up the device she saw a few messages from Quinn.

'Quinn: Want to get lunch?'

'Quinn: Why do you always look so refreshed after lunch?'

'Quinn: You're not going to Kate Sommerville without me, are you?'

'Quinn: Your dress is inside out.'

Natalie blanched at the newest text and immediately stood to look for the seams of her shift dress. The navy blue color made it difficult to see even underneath the bright incandescent lighting. She made a beeline for the nearest restroom and locked herself in a toilet stall, removing the dress and flipping it outside-in before shimmying back into the garment. When she opened the stall door Quinn was waiting for her, leaning against a sink as though she were a model posing in Vogue magazine. No one but Quinn could show up to work in a black leather tee shirt and rose print silk capris and still look professional.

"You must have had a fun lunch," she quipped.

"I left my apartment in such a hurry this morning I must have temporarily forgotten how to dress." She couldn't knowingly lie and look her friend in the face so she instead busied herself with washing and drying her hands.

"That.
Or
your lunch date failed to notice you'd put your dress back on inside-out." Quinn's smile was devilish and playful, two qualities Natalie had grown to love about her friend. If not for Quinn introducing Natalie to the world of secret clubs where gentlemen bid on candidates she would have never met James. And she was more than a little happy that Quinn and James had never previously crossed paths. "How is James by the way?"

Natalie's eyes widened and she immediately checked around in the adjacent stalls to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "Quinn!"

"What? There are literally millions of men named James. Honestly Natalie don't be so paranoid. I'm the only one who knows what's going on with you two."

Natalie thought of Shane and his impressive ability to know everything, most of it seemingly before it ever even happened. "He's fine," she relented once she was positive they were the only two present.

"Just fine?"

"Well, okay
that part
is always amazing. But otherwise, fine. Although we're both getting a bit tired of the cloak and dagger routine."

"So just quit your job already." Quinn swatted her hand through the air as though the concept of quitting a job to spend more time being a professional girlfriend was totally natural. "There are other jobs out there. Jobs where you don't have to hide who you're sleeping with."

"Jobs where I could work directly for the man I'm sleeping with..." Natalie trailed off, remembering James' ridiculous offer to have her come work for him. As if that was an idea she'd even so much as entertain the notion of.

She checked her cell phone for the time and excused herself from Quinn, promising details over drinks after work. One stop by her office to pick up a pen and notepad and she was on her way to the surprise 'restructuring' meeting.

"That was what the last minute meeting was for? New hires?" Quinn scoffed at the boring details of the hour long meeting that included video conferences with two employees from the San Francisco office who would be joining the Los Angeles office the following week.

Natalie stirred the olive around her half-empty martini glass. "Technically they're transfers. They were a bit overstaffed up there and since we've had so many new clients come in they decided to bring in the help internally instead of hiring from the outside."

"Anyone we know?" Quinn asked before sipping from her standard order: a glass of champagne.

"Ivy Whitcomb, a junior VP like me. And Joe Gallo, a project manager I think. Not a junior VP but apparently has a great rapport with all of his accounts."

"Joe Gallo?" Quinn asked, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "I met him at last year's company event."

"Oh yeah? What's he like?" Natalie casually asked.

Quinn licked her lips and smiled at some unspoken thought or memory. "Like a tree any woman would climb in a heartbeat."

Natalie nearly spit out her drink. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Quinn side-eyed her. "You know, for someone who spends her lunch hours getting nooners you are kind of-" Quinn's hand swished in the air as though she were trying to churn the word she was looking for into existence. "Virginal," she settled.

Natalie shrugged. "At least I'm having nooners," she said with a wink.

By the time Natalie made it home from the bar the sky was dark and the Santa Anas were blowing a chilly air across her cheeks. She set her purse and phone down by the console at the front door and slipped her shoes off, immediately relishing the feel of plush carpeting beneath her tired feet and toes.

One glance inside the refrigerator reminded her she hadn't gone to the grocery store in... She couldn’t even remember how long. All she had were eggs, coffee creamer and a takeout container she could not remember the contents of.

'What I'd love is for you to come over to my place.'

Natalie sighed and glanced up at the time display on the microwave. It wasn't that late. She was starving. And he'd been taking up space in the back of her mind since leaving his car that afternoon.

We'll make it work.

Ignoring her aching feet, she slipped back into her shoes, picked up her phone and her purse, and walked out the door.