Corporate Cowboy (3 page)

Cole raised one brow. “You’re sure about that? Might be a little early to break in a new filly in the tack room.”

“I am.”

He nodded. “It’s clean. She was here on Monday. Probably just need a dusting by then.”

Gage figured as much. The woman was like clockwork. “Good.”

Chapter Three

I want to sleep in, especially since my eyes barely closed the entire night, due to Mr. Gage Parker’s face and words haunting my dreams, but sleeping in isn’t happening today. Restless, I glance at the digital clock—seven-forty-five and too early to get up—but I toss back the covers and throw my legs over the side. I stumble to the bathroom, take care of my most urgent needs, and look into the mirror.

“Gah!” Horrified at the bags under my eyes, I glance away. “I should work out and sweat. Lots. Get rid of the bloat.”

Or is it bloat? Maybe it’s just puffy eyes from lack of sleep.

Of course, it is.

Besides, going to the gym means going to the hotel. And going to the hotel means risking meeting up again with Mr. Parker.

I shiver. No way. Not today. I don’t want to deal with that until I go back to work on Monday. I have to figure out if I can keep my job and avoid Gage Parker, or…

I don’t want to think about it.

So, I crawl back into bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and flip the channels on the TV with the remote control. Maybe I can find a movie that will help me drift off to sleep again….

My cell phone vibrates on the nightstand. Odd. Who texts this early? I pick it up and read the message:

Good morning, Emma
.

I don’t recognize the number. It’s a Billings exchange and since I don’t know many people in Billings, I figure it is probably someone from work.

I type:
Good morning.
Who is this?

You’ll know soon enough. If you don’t already
.

No, I do not.
To quote my younger brother: What the hell?

I am looking forward to our meeting on Monday.

I gasp. Gage Parker? Oh. My. God.

Wrong number.

I push the power button on my phone and shove it under my pillow. Immediately I question if that was the right thing to do. He is my boss, after all, but that exchange frightened me a little—especially after the encounter we had yesterday afternoon.

What the hell
is right. This man already ruined my night’s sleep; he is
not
going to ruin my Saturday.

I had already decided to decline the job offer for the management position and planned to spend time online this weekend resuming my search for work back home in Charlotte. Time to face it. Life in Billings, Montana is not my cup of tea. Although I’m intrigued by the western lifestyle and mentality, it is so far removed from my laid-back southern upbringing—I’m not sure I can adjust.

Not to mention that Gage Parker frightens me more than a little.

Quite a lot, actually, and he frightens me in ways I’ve never considered before. He is sexually appealing, and I am extremely attracted to his gruff mannerisms, his direct and to-the-point demeanor. A far cry from the kinds of men I have dated in my past—southern gentlemen or country rednecks, take your pick. Both of which have egos to rival the other but are polar opposites in most ways.

Gage Parker, for all of the rough stock quality to him, is also a sexy, smooth and slick businessman. He knows what he wants and goes after it. And I find it intriguing, as well as sexually stimulating, that he appears to be coming after me.

A large part of me is relieved I’d made it out of his office last evening unscathed. To say I was taken aback was an understatement. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. On the other hand, another part is so
totally
curious about what having sex with Mr. Gage Parker might actually be like.

I know it will be different—dark and dangerous?

Recalling the image of him in the gym, staring at me in the mirror, gives me chills. Either way, I know I have to get out of Billings and back home where I belong.

And very soon. Gage Parker is bad news.

****

“I don’t date, Ms. Lavender, I fuck.”

“Oh.” My hands grip the arms of the wooden chair. I want to bolt. No man has ever approached me with those words. Not like this. What is happening? This is so…unprofessional!

“And your response?”

I stand. His predatory gaze falls from my face and travels to my hips, my…crotch. I hike my chin up and raise my voice in an attempt to jerk his gaze up to my face again. “I believe, sir, that corporate policy is against asking me for a fuck, as well as a date. I’ll see myself out.” I turn and start for the door.

His chair screeches behind me. “Ms. Lavender. Stop.”

I did. Abruptly. Crap. Why did I do that?

“Turn around.”

I whirl back, glaring at him. Who in the hell does he think he is? It’s like I have no control over my own actions. Whatever he says, I do it.

“You got the job, Ms. Lavender. Either I, or someone from my staff, will be in touch Monday morning to go over the details. Have a good weekend.”

I stand there, dumbfounded, my mouth opening and closing in disbelief. Job? What? I am so confused!

“You may go now, Ms. Lavender.”

I open my mouth to question him.

“Now, Ms. Lavender. Unless you would like for me to fuck you now.”

My legs are leaden. Glued to the floor. “Fuck me now?” Did those words come out of my mouth?

With a determined stroll, Gage Parker rounds his desk and takes step, after agonizing step, toward me. With each inch he comes nearer, my body heats up. My cheeks burn.

He stands square in front of me, looking down. His dark eyes pierce mine, my soul. My heart? The intensity of his stare hooks into some primal need inside me, curling around until it tickles and tugs at my most feminine parts—the parts that make me a woman.

My pussy aches to be touched. I want to tell him that. Should I? I don’t use words like that…but I want to. I want to tell him to take my pussy and shove his cock up inside me.

“Ms. Lavender. You really do know why you are here, don’t you?”

Slowly, I nod. “I’m here for you to fuck me. Sir.”

He grins, and something about the widening of his mouth makes me shiver with delight. Sensations never before felt zing lower into my belly and between my thighs. He stares, and I feel myself becoming moist between my legs

“Like it is your only purpose in life,” he says, and my knees buckle.

Mr. Parker catches me up and carries me to the desk. Before I can protest or squeal with delight, he bends me over it and flips my skirt up over my ass. With one flick, my panties are at my ankles and the palm of his large hand is smoothing over my right cheek, thumbing my crack.

A shudder of desire races through me.

“You do know what you are doing here, correct Ms. Lavender?”

I look back into his face, then drop my gaze and watch him slowly lower his zipper.

“Ms. Lavender?”

I nod. “Fuck me, Mr. Parker. I need to be fucked.”

The hand on my ass smacks me. Hard! I shriek a little and hear him groan behind me. His belt buckle jiggles as it hits the floor and the tension inside of me builds to a pop when he….

I bolt straight up in my bed. Sound. From where?

Oh. House phone. Ringing.
What?

Breathless, I grab it off the stand. “Hello?”

“Ms. Lavender, do you have any idea how long it took me to find your landline phone number?”

My brain is mush. Dream. “What?”

“Your landline. Emma, when you work in management, you are at my disposal 24/7. Do you understand?”

I huff out a breath. “Yes. Yes.”
Did he call me Emma?

“Turn your damn cell phone on. Now.”

Then he hangs up. Exhausted and confused, I plop back on my pillows.
What the hell had just happened here?

Phone. I lean up on an elbow and fish for it under my pillows, and then turn on the power. I check the time and realize I’ve slept over two hours—and that twenty-nine text messages came in within those two hours, all of them from Gage Parker.

Plus, three voice mails.

Again, I flip over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The dream comes crashing down, and my entire body jerks.

His hand on my ass. Telling him to fuck me. My breathing is coming hard and furious. I suddenly want to play with myself until I come. Hard.

“Crickets. What am I getting myself in to?”

The phone rings in my hand.

“Crap.” It is him. I answer it. “Yes, Mr. Parker.”

“Read your text messages and listen to your voice mails. We have a staff meeting at eight o’clock in the morning in my office. Be prepared.”

He clicks off again. I shake my head, still in a tizzy.

****

I dress as conservatively as possible, given the wardrobe I brought with me from Charlotte. But no matter, I’ll be heading back home soon. What I have on today is actually perfect.

A white blouse, buttoned up. No cleavage. A dark, navy jacket and slacks. Matching pumps, conservative heels.

I pull my hair into a low ponytail and ditch the contacts, jewelry, and makeup for the day. As I pull into a parking space at the hotel, I check my reflection in the rearview mirror and straighten my horn-rimmed glasses.

Okay.

What did he expect for a Sunday morning? This is not a workday for me. He’s not getting the benefit of any extra effort.

Besides, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Right?

I pull my bag off the seat, lock the car and move toward the hotel lobby, head held high. I am going into this meeting with only my limited knowledge of the company, the contents of a few text messages and voice mails, one week’s work under my belt, and pure instinct.

This will be interesting.

Why in the world I bother, I don’t know. Perhaps if things go south, it will be the perfect time to give my resignation and get out of here.

The doors to the lobby swish open, and I head for the elevator behind the front desk. I notice a few guests milling about, getting coffee, looking for a newspaper, perhaps. I glance at the desk and notice James and a girl named Connie staffing it. He whispers something to her, and they both watch me walk past. His eyes follow me all the way to the elevator. I can feel it.

I push the button for the twenty-second floor and twist back to look at him full-on.

He sneers.

I shrug and stick out my tongue.

The elevator dings and opens behind me, and I watch James’s gaze widen and then narrow. I step inside without a backward glance and turn to face the doors. “Go tattle on me for
that
, James from New York,” I mumble.

Looking up, I watch the numbers rise. Four. Five. What will I find at the top? Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Am I ready for this?
Fifteen.

The elevator rattles to a stop. I stare at the number.

“Hello, Emma.”

I whirl. “Wh—What are you doing here?” My hand flies to my thumping heart.

Gage Parker steps out of the shadows of the deep elevator and smiles. He is dressed casually today, denim jeans and boots, a western-cut pale blue shirt, topped with a black leather sports jacket. I catch my breath. My backside hits the door behind me.

“I work here, as do you. Remember, Emma?”

Emma.
When
did
it change from Ms. Lavender to Emma?

“Of course. I thought the elevator was empty.”

He chuckles. “Obviously. Do you routinely stick your tongue out at colleagues or only at James from New York? I’ve noticed you two seem to share a distaste for each other.” He moves closer. His briefcase is in his right hand. Work, I suppose.

“That was childish,” I return, “And regrettable, although he deserves it.”

“I enjoyed it, actually. Your tongue intrigues me.” He leans in. The scent of his aftershave lures me. “Would you do it again? For me? Only this time, make it a little more seductive.”

I hold his gaze. “Don’t you think we should be checking on what is holding this elevator up? We have a meeting to get to.”

“All of the important people are here, Emma.”

“I think you are highly inappropriate, Mr. Parker.” I put my hands up to push him back a little. “Please scoot—”

The briefcase drops. He catches my hands. “Emma. Relax.”

Slowly, he pushes back and lifts my hands over my head, crowding me up against the elevator door. He reaches for my glasses and slips them into his jacket pocket. A sudden contradictory feeling as if I should not be letting him touch me, let alone put me in this compromising position, coupled with the curious sexual thrill snaking up my body… His stare penetrates not only my eyes, but also something deeper. I swallow. “Mr. Parker…”

“Gage. Unless I tell you to call me Sir.”

I close my eyes and exhale. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, and you are scaring me. I’m not sure whether I should scream or—”