Elle's Seduction (3 page)

***

“Fred Bearden’s a complete buffoon,” Darren said as he slammed his computer bag onto the table.

Maxwell nodded. They’d wasted a whole day trying to get a meeting with Fred and to begin the first part of their assessment. Time and again they’d been thwarted. He’d finally called Zackary, and though there was an appointment set for first thing in the morning, nearly a whole day was now gone. A gentle knock on the door broke into Darren’s rant about Fred, reminding Maxwell that the day wasn’t a complete waste.

“Sorry to interrupt. I have a few more folders for you.” That throaty drawl from those sexy lips grabbed him by the balls the minute she started talking and didn’t let him go. His poor body was on a roller coaster of sensation every time she popped in or out of their conference room.

Elle Norton had definitely been worth the trip into the office today.

After their brief introduction this morning, Darren had gotten immediately on track, but Maxwell hadn’t been so fortunate. He was oddly distracted by everything she did. Even now Darren was trying to catch his attention but Maxwell was in a trance. All he could do was watch as she moved around the room, bending over to grab coffee cups and pick up sugar packets.

Darren rolled his eyes and moved to close the door. “Elle, sweetheart, put down the cups.”

Elle fussed over another sugar packet, her eyes meeting Maxwell’s, as she left Darren unanswered.

Maxwell allowed himself a second to enjoy the flush of her cheeks and the sight of those breasts pushing at the edge of her blouse. He wasn’t going to have Darren do his work for him. With his voice intentionally low, he leaned forward. “Elle, please leave the cups. We’ll handle them.”

Elle blinked, slow and sensually, as she held his gaze. Positioned as she was, he could imagine her stripped and pulled tight, face down on the table. A sizzle of awareness shot straight through him as the heavy lids of her eyes lowered for a brief second. She fought a losing battle if she thought she could fight Darren.

“Mr. Stranton, Sir?”

Complete supplication, even her body language spoke to him. Maxwell eyed Darren. Yes, there was a hint of something there. He wondered just how much. “Elle, leave the cups.”

Confusion clouded her face as she looked at what she held in her hands and then at Maxwell. Straightening up, she stood tall, breasts jutting out, those damn Styrofoam cups still in her hands, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “Would you like something else to drink? Coffee, tea...”

Darren smirked from his end of the table and Maxwell knew what he was thinking. Thank goodness Elle didn’t realize the subtext. God, her innocence was an aphrodisiac. But those damn southern manners were so ingrained he couldn’t tell if she was naturally submissive or just polite. That morning he’d been sure, but over the course of the day, her ingrained southern manners had softened his certainty.

Maxwell watched her for several seconds, letting her feel his eyes on her. Tension filled the air and he smiled at her change in breathing and darkening of her eyes.

Darren moved up beside her.

Elle’s head bowed, just a slight tilt. Her nipples puckered under her silk blouse. Satisfaction raced through him.

“Sit down, Elle.”

Elle fidgeted with the cups and sugars. Finally, she put them back down on the table and sat. Maxwell was pleased. The little mouse didn’t hide even as she’d submitted to Darren’s command. She looked him straight in the eye, the war within herself clear. Across the table, Darren moved his satchel and leaned his hip against the table within reach of Elle.

Maxwell tried to put her at ease. No reason to scare her off so quickly. They’d just begun. Keep it light and on track. “How long have you worked for Fred?”

Elle cleared her throat. “Three years.”

“Has he ever made a move on you?”

Her eyes widened and the color drained from her face. “Me? No. Never!”

Darren raised an eyebrow at her response. Obviously, this woman had no idea how tempting she was. Maxwell wondered for a moment just how innocent and
naïve
she really was. Surely, she wasn’t a—

“Virgin?”

Damn Darren for his British crassness! Elle certainly reacted to it though. That flush was back and fire flashed in her eyes. Oh, good God, if she looked like that in a stuffy board room, how she would look chained to his bed, that fire and those damn dimples winking at him.

“Excuse me, but I don’t think that’s an appropriate question. What is this about? Is Fred in trouble?”

“Settle down.” Maxwell lowered his voice and spoke calmly. Leave it to Darren to uncover the most delicious parts of a woman. He’d have to keep everyone on business or things would go downhill if he wasn’t careful. “We’re here to look over the last six months of work. There are some oddities in the financials. Of course Fred is under scrutiny, as is everyone else that works here.”

Elle thought that over, worrying her lower lip, naked of the gloss and sheen she’d worn earlier. That pink little tongue of hers must have licked it all off. “What do you need from me?”

Maxwell held back his response and tried to draw his gaze away from the fantasy he was creating around those plump lips and wicked tongue of hers. She’d unwittingly just offered him exactly what he wanted— an opening. Too bad business had to remain business. If he was going to seduce her and break her, he had to get this issue with Fred out of the way as soon as possible.

Luckily, Darren had no such qualms and picked up the conversation before Maxwell made the first move. “Right now, if you can just help gather the invoices and expenses for the last six months. We’ll also need to schedule appointments. You know, that sort of thing.”

To Maxwell’s chagrin the passion and fire that had sparked in those green eyes dimmed and her business face came back into play. This was what he needed; Elle, the professional. Calm, cool and efficient. Not the fiery woman tempting him with those glimpses of innocence and heat.

Elle nodded. “Sure. No problem. Please, just let me know what you need.”

Darren flashed that wicked glance that Maxwell knew so well. Little did Elle know but she’d just sealed her fate. The question was, which one of them would break her?

Before Maxwell could pull himself from his thoughts, Elle left, taking the cups and trash with her.

“Damn, Maxwell. Tell me she didn’t just take the cups and trash?”

Fuck, maybe she wasn’t as submissive as they thought. This might be the worst idea they’d ever had, but Maxwell wasn’t giving up. “Southern hospitality only goes so far. We’ll know.”

Darren’s eyes narrowed with too much insight for Maxwell’s comfort. “Will we, old man?”

Maxwell returned his look and shrugged. “I can’t leave it alone. She’s different.”

“Don’t let your dick make the decision. She’s too innocent. One misstep and we’ll break her, and I won’t have that on my conscience.”

Maxwell looked at his friend and really thought about what he was asking. They’d been lovers once, long ago. Darren had thought to seduce him and they’d ended up friends. Together they’d dominated and broken more submissives than he could count. But Darren was wary—the usual confidence missing.

Maybe Maxwell was seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe Darren was right. Maybe Elle was the one woman he couldn’t have.

***

The lights up and down Lebanon Park glittered on the wet pavement as Elle sprinted up the steps to her apartment building. Thunder rumbled in the distance while she shook her umbrella and shouldered her way through the heavy main door.

Built in the 40’s, the building didn’t have much to recommend it —central air being unfortunately absent—but it did have an elevator, which Elle ignored. As exhausted as she usually was at 6:30 when she dragged herself home it wouldn’t stop her from taking the stairs. She had enough padding on her thighs that six flights of stairs were about as far as she was going for exercise. And everyone should exercise every day.

The sound of children’s laughter and the smell of kimchi and shrimp wafted from Mrs. Lin’s door at the base of the stairs. Her family reminded Elle of a better time. A time when her mother and father were healthy and they were a whole family. Happy.

Those days were long gone. A car accident and cancer had seen to that
,
and there was no sense wallowing in it. Besides, Garfield would be waiting and she couldn’t show up at her doorstep crying. Garfield would be beside himself.

She shifted her purse on her hip before trudging up the six flights of stairs. As she walked, allowing the different smells and sounds to move around her and comfort her. She’d lived in the building four years now. It was a far cry from the warm little country house they’d lived in before her mother’s death. Horses and wheat fields as far as the eye could see. What she remembered the most were the very long lazy nights, staring up at the stars, while her favorite horse nickered in the field.

She’d wished on so many falling stars that her mother started saving quarters. Every time Elle would wish on a star, her mother would put a quarter in a jar. It only ever amounted to six dollars and twenty-five cents but those twenty-five wishes were embedded in her memory. She still had the jar. Her mother had never asked about her wishes. She’d just smiled and nodded, absolutely certain that those wishes were going to come true. Elle wondered where her own confidence was.

Pushing those thoughts away, she passed Miss Sutter’s door and took the last flight of stairs. The sixth floor was quiet. The occasional sound of a dish clanking or an oven door shutting was all that broke up the silence.

With a louder than normal
clomp
,
clomp
, Elle walked past Garfield’s door and shoved her key into her own lock. Before her door had swung opened, apartment door six hundred and four opened.

“There you are!” An elderly man with fuzzy, gray hair and hunched back glared at her.

Short, with a small paunch for a gut, Garfield rented his apartment, but he might as well have owned the whole place. Nothing happened in the building that he didn’t know about. When Mrs. Sutter’s cat died, he’d collected money for a burial. When old Doc down in three hundred and five had to move to a retirement home, he’d personally visited every day until the sweet man died in his sleep a year later.

And one thing Garfield kept utmost in his mind was keeping an eye on Elle. Most evenings she welcomed the old man’s quiet presence. Tonight she didn’t have the heart to tell him how exhausted she was. Instead she met him halfway and hugged him. “How are you Garfield?”

“I was wondering when you’d get back, Elle. I got us something special tonight.”

Elle smiled at the goofy expression on his face. He was incredible. “What is it tonight Garfield? Roasted lamb? Carmel glazed squash? Oh—Oh...don’t tell me! Almond crusted truffle pork chops.”

“Alas. No, my fair lady.” From behind his back he pulled two frozen dinner trays. “I have beef a la king and chicken enchilada. I hear this is the best chef of them all.”

Elle laughed at the Slim Cuisines. He ate them for every meal always saying, “My Charlotte cooked almost every meal we ever had while she was alive. God help me, she almost killed me with her cooking. I loved her too much to tell her just how bad her food was. I swore if I ever had to live a day alone, I’d never eat home cooking again. The way I see it, I’m living up to a promise.”

Elle knew if she didn’t sit with him, he’d simply go back into his apartment, switch on the TV, and forget to eat; the frozen meals forgotten on the counter to be thrown out in the morning.

“Garfield, that looks amazing. Let me drop this stuff off and I’ll be right over.”

The door to her shabby apartment opened, and Garfield showed himself in, ignoring her order and sitting down in her father’s favorite leather chair. As she dropped her bags and slid off her new red high heels. “Whoo hoo, Elle, I knew there was something a bit different about you tonight. You look amazing. All gussied up.”

Elle shrugged and moved into the kitchen to grab two cans of pop. “The boss wants me to show these guys around at work.”

“Uh huh, from the look of that outfit, they must be important.”

“Yeah.” Elle stretched her calves and arching her back. Her neck popped and her joints loosened. “Oh, God, that feels good.” Finally able to breath, she grabbed the pop and walked into the family room to deliver Garfield a drink in her stocking feet. “I think Fred wanted me to seduce the guys.”

Most men would have been shocked. Garfield grabbed the pop and smiled a knowing smile. “Yeah, Fred would do that.”

Elle snagged the meals and handed Garfield the remote. “No
Big Brother
or
Survivor
.”

“But Elle—?”

“No. They’re taking money away from hard working thespians. Besides I can’t stand seeing those scrawny women fighting over food and each other’s boyfriend of the moment. Ugh.”

At the stove, she pulled the meals out of the boxes and set the stove for 375.

Family Feud
came on from the living room. “You know they’re putting on
Pirates of Penzance
at the community theater. You should go.”

Elle smiled as tears formed in her eyes. She wiped them dry and cleared her throat. “Can’t, I’m going to be too busy at work.”

His gruff mumble was the only response as she stood staring at the stove.

Acting on stage had been her dream for so long. She missed the green and red lights—so bright and hot, she’d have to fight the urge to scratch at the oil make-up.

Another person, another time, another place. She could envision it all with the heavy weight of the strange clothes settling on her shoulders and the smell of fresh paint on stretched canvas. She could be anyone, transported by the scenery and the lines —the drama.

The years since that horrible night when her mother died; her dreams had faded with time too. She couldn’t get those years back but she only needed to save a bit more, nab that promotion, and her dream to move to California to act would come true.

She didn’t have the heart to tell Garfield just how soon that move would be. Their nightly evening meals would have to end, and she’d have to leave him all alone.

Back in the family room, she setup the TV trays in front of the two lonely chairs. Garfield slept soundly, his head lolling to the side. Poor guy, he’d worn himself out—probably visiting with Miss Stutter.

She sighed as she looked around the nearly empty flat. Two framed posters of
My Fair Lady
and
Camelot
hung on the dismal off-white walls– —gifts from her mother. The tan carpet—more brown with dirt and age than with any real color– —added a dismalness to the setting.

She’d done all she could with the small apartment when her dad and her had moved in. Back then, she’d been so worried about her father’s health that she hadn’t paid much attention to anything surrounding them. But now, she saw it as it was—old, run-down, and sad. Yes, despite the excitement of today and the promise in Maxwell’s eyes, it was time to move on. She had to keep her eye on the ball, not on the two sexy men who gobbled her up with their gazes. Even now she was trying to forget Maxwell’s grey eyes and that Darren’s English accent.

She definitely didn’t need to think of Maxwell and Darren in the same thought. Just the idea put goosebumps on her skin and made her nipples tighten. She snagged the remote from Garfield’s sleeping form and curled into a ball, clenching her thighs tight while reining in her thoughts.

Maybe she needed
Survivor
tonight. Anything to get her mind off of her wicked thoughts of those two muscular males and the feelings they’d stirred inside of her.