Talking Dirty with the CEO (3 page)

Even here, sitting in her apartment by herself, she blushed.

Naughtygirl25: Maybe.

Another pause.

Studman500: Tell me what you’re doing right now. Lounging on the sheepskin rug?

Oh boy, she’d love to do more dirty talk with him, but she was on a mission now. An important mission. One that had nothing to do with killing zombies for a change.

Before she could lose her nerve, Christie opened a private message and typed quickly:

Naughtygirl25: Do you want to meet? For a date?

God, the guy probably thought she was a complete and utter freak. She’d only talked to him for the equivalent of ten minutes before the game had started and then in the chat room by themselves. But they’d had…something in those moments, hadn’t they?

Studman500: A date? IRL?

In real life.

Naughtygirl25
:
Yes.

Christie stared at her screen until it blurred, her heart thumping, caught on the fine edge between disappointment and relief that he’d say no.

Then his reply came up:

Studman500: As a rule, I don’t date women I meet in chat rooms. But I’ll make a special exception for you. Especially if you bring the sheepskin rug.

He was into it. He really was. Oh bloody hell.

Christie reached for her wine bottle and poured herself another large glass to calm the sudden, spiraling doubt. Perhaps this was sleazy. Perhaps he was a serial killer. Perhaps he was a sweaty, pimply teenage boy. Or, worse, eighty-five and into little girls.

But it didn’t feel sleazy. The gut feeling she got from Studman500 was anything but.

And Marisa would be there as her wing-woman. In retrospect that had been a great move. There was no risk involved.

Christie took a deep breath and typed:

Naughtygirl25
:
Okay. Where and when to meet?

His reply came back without hesitation.

Studman500: Tomorrow night. At Blue. 7 p.m.

Blue was a bar in the Viaduct Basin on Auckland’s harbor, the restaurant district. It was popular, crowded, and just the kind of place that Christie hated. Crap.

Studman500: Oh, and wear the Ugg boots.

Christie groaned.

Naughtygirl25: IN the pub? I don’t think so. I’ll wear…a sheep brooch. How does that sound?

Studman500: Bizarre. But distinctive. See you there, Naughtygirl
.

Christie sat back from the computer, her heart thumping.

Had she really done it?

Had she, the geeky girl who hated dating, really set up an Internet date? With a total stranger?

Oh yes, she bloody well had.

Christie raised her glass toward the computer screen and drained the rest of her wine. “In your face, Mum.”

Chapter Two

Joseph stared at the drink the bartender had pushed in his direction. “Not another one?”

“’Fraid so.”

“From the same person?”

“No. This one is from the group over there.” The bartender indicated a booth full of scantily dressed young women with too much makeup and too much hair spray.

They saw him looking and there was much nudging and whispering before they all lifted their glasses to him in a silent toast. One woman blew him a kiss.

Great. This was the third drink someone had bought him in the space of an hour. Had they recognized him? No, it was unlikely. Despite being the owner of one of New Zealand’s most successful technology companies, he kept himself out of the spotlight. Media attention was tedious and there had been the odd occasion where he’d zoned out right in the middle of an interview, which hadn’t been a good look. Since then, he’d left all of that hoopla to his spokesperson.

Besides, there was also the fact that he hadn’t bothered to shave today—too many late nights working on the E-Slate release. Nothing like a five o’clock shadow to add a bit of anonymity.

Joseph raised his glass in their direction in a gesture of thanks. But put it down again without tasting whatever it was they’d bought him. He hadn’t come here to drink—alcohol tended to make him too edgy and he was feeling edgy enough already. No, he’d come here to meet Naughtygirl25.

It wasn’t normally his thing. Not at all. But, dammit, he just hadn’t been able to say no. There had been something about her unexpected request for a date that had intrigued him. And he hadn’t been so intrigued by a woman in a long time.

Usually he wasn’t that bothered. A bit of flirtation, a bit of fun between the sheets…that’s all he needed. And that’s all the women he chose needed, too. He didn’t want anything else from them, though sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have more than just a couple of nights here and there. To be in a relationship with someone. But the thought was always an uncomfortable one. Commitment wasn’t ever going to be something he was capable of, no matter how attractive the idea was to him.

Irritated with the track his mind seemed bent on, Joseph shifted against the bar, scanning the place, surreptitiously looking at women’s chests and checking for sheep brooches. He was happy not knowing what she’d look like, the anticipation of finding out coiling inside him, tight as a spring. Of course he hoped there’d be chemistry—he’d be up for adventures on sheepskin rugs if she wanted—but if she didn’t do it for him, then he would enjoy having a drink with her in any case. She’d been witty and fun online, and that counted for something.

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. Pulling it out, he glanced down at the screen. A reminder about Jude’s exhibition opening tonight stared back at him.

Shit. He’d forgotten. As usual, he’d been so focused on one thing he’d forgotten everything else. The reminders were supposed to help, but often he forgot to check them or dismissed them without thinking. God, he hated that part of himself sometimes, especially when he let people down. Important people like his sister.

Cursing, he glanced at the time. Jude’s photography exhibition would probably go on until late so perhaps he could go there after he’d finished his date with Naughtygirl. Hell, maybe he could even bring her with him if they got on well enough.

Quickly Joseph sent his sister a text.

I’ll be late. Sorry. Got caught up. Usual story. Okay to bring a date?

Jude would understand. She was used to the ADHD playing havoc with his memory.

A moment later, a text came back.

Sure. No worries. Who’s the date? Actually, no, don’t tell me. She’ll be gone by morning anyway.

Joseph snorted. Judith tended to be snarky about his transient love life.

After flicking off a sarcastic reply, Joseph put the phone back in his pocket. Then he picked up his half-empty bottle of beer and took another scan around the bar.

Where the hell was Naughtygirl25? He was getting antsy, the familiar, impatient tension building inside him. When he felt like this, he’d often spend an hour on the treadmill or get on with some work. But he couldn’t do that now. Instead he began recounting in his head every single thing he’d done that day, a trick he’d learned as a teenager to help himself relax and concentrate.

It was as he was going over the minutiae of the afternoon’s third product launch meeting that he spotted an interesting-looking woman—very tall, very skinny, with a quantity of chestnut hair swept up on top of her head. Sexy, though. Very sexy. He was a leg man all the way, and her legs, left bare by the extremely short black dress she wore, were spectacular. Though it wasn’t just about her legs. There was something unusual about her. Unlike all the other women in the bar, she appeared to be the only one who obviously did not want to be here. In fact, her whole manner projected intense discomfort, as if she were marching to face a firing squad. Beside her stood another woman, blond and curvy, who kept leaning over and whispering in her ear. The interesting brunette had a hand planted over her heart, a growing, almost mutinous look on her face. As if her friend were telling her things she didn’t want to hear.

Joseph watched them, interest piqued. As if sensing his gaze, the brunette looked in his direction. Her pale face was delicate, pointed, with thickly fringed dark eyes the color of green agates. Not beautiful, but not plain, either. Striking somehow. His interest sharpened, attention focusing on her in the way it always did when he spotted something or someone intriguing.

Her eyes widened when they met his and color flooded her skin, flushing her face bright red. Then she turned hurriedly away and was out the door before he could move.

But not before he’d caught a glimpse of the silver brooch pinned to her black dress. A brooch in the shape of leaping lamb.

Naughtygirl25. And she’d bloody well run out on him.

…

Christie came to a teetering halt outside the packed bar, her heart galloping like a racehorse at Ascot. Her lungs felt tight, the air thin and lacking in oxygen.

Man, talk about a WTF moment. What the hell had gotten into her? First she’d been standing there, freaking out about meeting Studman500 and trying to ignore Marisa telling her to get her hand off the silly lamb brooch she had pinned to her chest so everyone could see it. Then she’d noticed the guy at the bar. The incredibly hot guy. And he’d been staring at her as if she were the only person in the room. Such absolute and complete attention. His gaze refracted heat like sun through a magnifying glass and something inside her had burst into flames, filling her with a strange panic. Then before she could stop herself, she’d fled. Idiot. She was an idiot.

She took a couple of steps along the sidewalk, high, unfamiliar heels making her stumble.

Okay, so the pub had been her own personal version of hell, with all the beautiful people talking and laughing and carrying on. And okay, so she’d felt like an imposter wearing the ridiculous dress and stupid shoes Marisa had insisted on for the date. But did one look from one hot guy really warrant running away like a coward? No, it did not.

Christie took a slow breath, trying to calm herself.

She hadn’t had that weird panicky feeling for years. Not since she’d been a teenager forced into going to her mother’s hideous society parties. The ones where she stood out like a shaggy pony in a stable full of Thoroughbreds.

Leaning against the wall to try to take the pressure off her feet, Christie attempted to figure out yet again what on earth had possessed her to say yes to Ben’s dating article. Yes, he’d promised he’d give her the Ashton Technology E-Slate product launch to cover, which certainly beat having to do yet another review about yet another wireless mouse. But surely even that wasn’t worth this humiliation?

“You’re not wearing Ugg boots,” a male voice said from behind her. A voice like dark, brushed velvet.

All the remaining air escaped her lungs and she gave a gasp, whirling round.

A man stood on the sidewalk not far from her. Tall—taller even than she was—perhaps over six-three, with the broad, powerful shoulders and the lean hips of an Olympic swimmer. She was staring and she couldn’t help it. He had black hair, a bit disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and the five o’clock shadow that covered his classical cheekbones and strong, angular jaw gave him a faintly disreputable look. And those eyes… God, the same eyes that had been looking at her back in the bar. So blue. So dark. The color of the sky on the cusp between twilight and full night.

A shiver went through her.

“E-e-excuse me?” she squeaked, her stupid stutter bleeding through.

His gaze dropped to the lamb leaping up her shoulder. “Naughtygirl25, I presume?”

No. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be Studman500. Online dates did not turn out to be men who looked this dark, dangerous, and seriously sexy. Like a pirate or the kind of bad boy your mother warned you about. Oh no they did not.

“Studman?”

“In the flesh.” He grinned and her heart slammed to a halt inside her chest.

Oh God. Why did
he
have to be her naughty, wicked Studman?

“Uh…I…I…” she managed before her tongue froze and stuck to the roof of her mouth in a way it hadn’t for years and years.

Studman raised one winged brow, hands pushed into the pockets of the black jeans that sat low on his lean hips. There was an air of barely leashed energy about him, like that of a restless lion about to pounce. It was attractive. Thrilling. “Is there a problem?”

Yeah, there was a problem. And it was standing right in front of her. “N-no.”

“But you are Naughtygirl25, right?”

She wanted to say of course she wasn’t. Which was weird because there wasn’t any reason to. Not that she could anyway with the damn brooch on her shoulder, glinting in the streetlight.

Christie tried to get her tongue working again. “Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I must admit, you’re not quite what I expected.” His gaze began to travel down her figure, assessing her, pausing on her legs before rising back to her face again. “But that’s a good thing.”

A good thing? Something lingered in his eyes, a flame that burned hot. Intent.

She went still, her heart thundering. No guy had ever looked at her like that before. Like she was something delicious he wanted to eat.

“Oh,” she said stupidly. “Why?”

His mouth curved in a slow, sexy smile. “Because I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous.”

Christie gaped at him. Gorgeous? Had he perhaps inhaled something before meeting her? Something illegal? Guys liked her because she was a gamer. Because she didn’t zone out when they started playing their favorite
Minecraft
YouTube clips or talked about the number of frags in their
Halo
games.

“What? I’m being inappropriate again?”

Speak, idiot!

“Uh…n-no. I just…just…” She stopped, flushing.

“You just?” he prompted.

“N-nothing.”

His smile deepened. “So do I get to find out why you took one look at me and ran out?”

Ah. Yes, her frightened-rabbit exit. She shifted on her feet, heels giving a dangerous wobble. “I…it was just…I had to leave.” Lame. So lame.

He waited for her to elaborate and when she didn’t, prompted, “Leave for….?”

“Uh, urgent…um…women’s problems.” Oh dear God. Had she really just said that? Was she insane?

But Studman or whoever he was only laughed, the sound of it making her feel good. In the same way licking melted chocolate from a spoon made her feel good. Hot and sweet, and very, very naughty.

“Urgent women’s problems, huh? And here I was thinking it was because you didn’t find me attractive enough.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

His lazy sensual smile went straight to her head like a glass of expensive champagne. “Perhaps. But chemistry is a tricky thing.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yeah, chemistry. We had it online but I wasn’t sure we’d have it in real life.”

“A-and do we?”

His gaze traveled down over the stretchy black dress again before returning to her face, making something way down inside her feel hot and restless and needy. “Oh yeah,” he murmured. “I think we do. Don’t you?”

He seemed to want an answer from her, but the look in his eyes had made her brain decide to take a vacation and she had no idea what to say.

Naughtygirl would know.

The thought hit her like an electric shock.

Yes. Naughtygirl
would
know. And this was kind of like being online, wasn’t it? He didn’t know who she was and she didn’t know who he was. There were no expectations. No pressures. She could be whoever she wanted to be. Even Naughtygirl25, who took her clothes off and lay on sheepskin rugs with gorgeous, disreputable strangers who called themselves Studman.

Christie swallowed. Then gathered her courage. “Y-yes. I think we do have c-chemistry.”

Way to go with the stutter. Great start.

Both brows drew together this time. “You don’t sound very sure.”

Just pretend you’re typing this into the computer. That he’s not standing right in front of you, blinding you with his hotness.

She lifted her chin. “Well, of course I’m sure. They don’t call me Naughtygirl for nothing, you know.”

“Is that a fact? You were pretty naughty online.” The flame in his gaze burned hotter. “How about in real life?”

Oh wow. Something was crackling in the air between them, a tension that left her breathless.

Was this the chemistry he was talking about? Because if it was…damn.

Christie took an uncertain step toward him. “Oh, I have been known to get pretty naughty there, too.”

He smiled. “Would admitting that I do, in fact, have etchings you can come up and see be too much?”

“Etchings are never too much.”

“In that case, would you like to come up and look at mine?”

“Only if you have a sheepskin rug and Neil Diamond.”

“I don’t. But I can make a mean Bloody Mary.”

“I have a confession. I don’t really like tomato juice.”