Fair Game (7 page)

When in doubt, stall for time by saying you’ll find out. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice, simply the one that came to mind. “I’ve just taken over the job, Lydia. Why don’t you let me have time to evaluate the situation and your performance?”

Lydia’s jaw dropped. “I’ve been picking up after your butt for two years.” Her lips slapped together when she realized she was talking to her boss. “That came out wrong.”

It sure did. Josie understood there would have to be a transition period. She wasn’t going to hold it against the girl right now. But damn, she needed a supervisor training course on how to handle this employee relations stuff. PDQ.

So okay, she needed to give a positive stroke here. But how, without making a promise or giving false hope? Lydia
had
always been a hard worker and efficient, just a teensy bit overemotional. “You’re right, Lydia, you have cleaned up after me and the guys, always going the extra mile.” A very good stroke, if she did say so herself.

Lydia sniffed, but looked a little more pleased. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have to check the salary charts with HR and see where you fit in there.” And
that
was totally noncommittal. Just the boss getting up to speed.

Lydia nodded. “Okay.” Then she stood. “I used to screen all Ernie’s calls. Do you need me to do that?”

“No.”

“The phone guy will be in later to change over your extension.”

So far, Josie had been forwarding her calls to Ernie’s phone. “Thanks.” She paused. Think positive strokes. “You’re very efficient. I really appreciate the help.”

Lydia blinked, assessed, as if she thought Josie was blowing smoke. In the end, she nodded, then flipped her hair over her shoulder and marched out the door.

The salary issue did bear more consideration. She needed to know how much everyone in the group made, just so she could head off the next person who walked in her door trying to manipulate her into giving them a raise.
She’d
certainly never talked salary info with anyone. But she wouldn’t put it past Ronson.

Hell, she hadn’t even talked to Connor about her own raise commensurate with the additional responsibilities of being manager. Was that stupid or what? She’d been thinking more about Ernie. And Kyle.

Kyle. She was supposed to meet him, but she hadn’t even thought about where or when. Or even what she’d do once they were together.

What did she
want
to do?

She rose and shut the door, getting a little rush of pleasure out of the act. She had an office. Cool. She tried not to think about Ernie.

Back at the desk, she stared at the phone without picking it up. She had a couple of guy friends she dated. Well, not
dated
. They were . . . buddies. Rick and Paul. She got horny, she called one of them. One of them got an itch, they called her. It was the safest sex without actually having a relationship, and she had no problem calling to say “Hey, do me.”

Calling Kyle made her hesitate. Kyle was different. Sure, he was mixing business and pleasure, but beyond that, she had a mess of indefinable emotions roiling around inside. Jeez, really, she needed to get laid. If she’d taken care of pleasure, she wouldn’t have to worry about mixing it with business.

“Will you get over it?” she whispered, flipping open the SMG file and calling his number.

He answered on the fourth ring, just before she would have gone to voice mail. “Hold a minute.” He rustled, and then there was a distant “Thanks, Kisa.”

So. Little Miss Snowflake had wandered into his office. She wondered how many times that had happened today. “What’s she wearing?” she asked when he came back.

He fell right in line, not even asking who the hell was on the phone. “Leather pants and a tank top.”

“Leather? At work?”

“We don’t have a strict dress code.”

But he’d worn a suit, even for the quarry tour. “Bra or no bra?” she went on.

“Bra. But it’s gotta be thin lace because I could still see her nipples.”

“Horn dog.”

He gave a half snort, half chuckle. “It wasn’t like I could help noticing.”

“You were probably focused like a laser beam.” It was all in fun. She liked teasing him. She wasn’t at all jealous of Little Miss Snowflake.

“I think you have a fixation on Kisa.” A dry note tinged his voice.

“I’m just noticing
your
fixation.” She liked that he played along with her teasing. “Did you show her your thong?”

He laughed. “No. I haven’t bent over once today. And I didn’t ask to see hers, either.”

Hmm. “So you’re wearing my thong? Honestly?” She didn’t believe him.

“Of course,” he shot back.

“Prove it,” she said just as quickly.

“I’m ready, willing, and able to meet anywhere you want.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably sneak into the bathroom before you leave work and put it on to try to fool me.”

“I would never lie to you.”

“Men always lie.” It was just a matter of degree and how bad the fallout would be.

“Do I detect a note of cynicism there?”

“Just reality. A little lie is not always a bad thing.” Connor probably told Faith white lies about nonessential things. It saved Faith’s feelings and was perfectly acceptable.

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime.”

“There is no story.” Just her asshole professor in college. She’d put that whole episode completely behind her. Months later she realized she hadn’t been in love with Ian at all. She’d been bowled over by him. Of all the students he mentored, she was
special
amongst them. She’d
meant
something. He knew she could do
extraordinary
things. Yeah, and after he’d screwed her over, he’d moved on to screw another
special
, gullible little cream puff in his next class. Whatever.

“Josie, did I lose you?”

Thank God for bad cell connections. “Yeah,” she lied, “you cut out for a few seconds.” Damn. All the teasing spark had melted right out of her. She should have kept her mouth shut and her thoughts toned down. This whole thing was a bad idea. It could blow up in her face, get her fired.

“Where shall we meet so I can prove I’m wearing the thong?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking—”

“Don’t think. You need to know. You need the comeuppance after yesterday.”

God. She needed something to take her mind off Ernie, Ronson, Lydia. She could remain in control. “All right, where?”

“Your place.”

“Forget it.” Not that she wasn’t capable of kicking him out when she was ready for him to leave, but . . . well, just but. “And don’t say your place, either.”

“Then I’m open to your suggestion.”

It had to be somewhere he could strip completely to give her the full effect. So not a car where all he’d be able to do was unzip his pants. She wanted maximum visual impact. There was always a hotel room, but then she’d be tempted to do other things. She needed privacy as well as protection from the big bad wolf. Where, oh where?

A dressing room. Yeah. What could happen in a dressing room other than making him prove he’d followed her instructions? There was this little lingerie shop her mother was fond of in Stanford Shopping Center. Josie didn’t buy, but she’d tagged along. Once, she’d seen a man and woman enter the dressing room together. The saleslady hadn’t said a word, as if it were done all the time. In fact, the guy kept coming out and choosing different things for his girlfriend to try on.

“I’ve got the perfect place.” She told him how to get there and exactly where to meet her. In drive time, it was probably equidistant between his work and hers. All right, slightly more favorable to her, but it was such a good idea.

She’d pretend she was trying stuff on herself and make Kyle strip down to his, no,
her
skivvies.

 

 

 

THE small lingerie shop was tucked away in a barely noticeable tributary in the Stanford Mall. Kyle was fifteen minutes early, the evening commute traffic out of the city having been astonishingly light. August could be like that, with lots of people on family vacation before school started. Come Labor Day, the roads would be hell again.

A tasteful display filled the front window, black fishnet stockings draped over a white velvet pillow, a gold Mardi Gras mask, sequins glittering in the spot lighting, a silver satin . . . What did they call that thing, a bustier? Or maybe a corset? Holy hell. Was that a riding crop peeking out from beneath it?

Maybe this wasn’t just a lingerie shop. What did Josie have planned for him? His heart picked up the pace as he contemplated just how kinky she could be and exactly how she planned to verify he was wearing her scrap of clothing.

He’d put them on this morning, feeling idiotic. She’d wanted to one-up him, push his masculine limits. She’d lost control yesterday, and she wanted it back any way she could get it. Despite knowing her only a handful of days, he’d figured that out. In an odd way, being cognizant of that gave him the upper hand. She thought she was leading, when actually she’d turned control over to him. She couldn’t offend his masculinity at this point by virtue of the fact that she was playing along with him. Each new adventure entangled her more.

Then there were the panties themselves. Her scent was all over them, all over him. Closing his eyes, he felt her hand on him, heard her voice once again in his ear. The satin cupping his cock kept her image on the edge of his consciousness all day. The vibrator between her spread legs, the total concentration on her face as she came, the throaty, sexy cry that fell from her lips. He wanted her in the green satin again, and this time, he’d be the one to make her come.

He wandered inside, half expecting to find an assortment of canes, whips, and chains lining the walls.

Not so. Artful lighting enhanced an eclectic assortment of female frippery. Lace, satin, silk, bras, panties, thongs, stockings, corsets, every texture imaginable in all the colors of the rainbow. Lush blue carpet cushioned his footsteps, instrumental mood music played low, and the light scent of vanilla perfumed the air.

“May I help you?” The clerk smiled. With hair an attractive shade of gray and laugh lines at her eyes and mouth, Kyle didn’t think she’d been the one to put the riding crop in the window.

He pointed toward the front of the shop. “I’m interested in the silver garment in the display.”

“Oh, the bustier. They’re right over here.” She bade him follow her with a wave of her hand.

The bustier closed with a row of hooks and eyes down the front and was held together by laces along the back. The satin glimmered. It would push Josie’s pert breasts high, show them off to advantage.

He figured his hands could damn near span her waist so he chose the smallest size. She was tall but lithe. “And the stockings in the window?”

The saleslady opened a drawer in a grouping of three five-foot bureaus lining the wall. “How tall is your lady friend?”

He tapped his hand to his nose. “About here.”

She perused a chart on the package, then drew another pair from the drawer. “I think this will be appropriate. But if not, you can exchange them.”

He wouldn’t have to. He’d get Josie to model them when she arrived.

The shop’s door opened, and a bell tinkled. He hadn’t noticed the sound when he entered, nor did he have to turn now to know it was her. He recognized her scent. Sweet, flowers. And hot, aroused woman. She’d been fantasizing on the drive over.

He felt the cool slide of her fingers lacing with his. “Hi, honey.”

Her breath on his neck trickled along his nerve endings. “Yeah, baby, I was picking out some things for you to try on.”

Her eyes widened at the endearment, then sparkled, and her mouth curved with more than a hint of laughter. Unaccountably, that near smile made him hot. Her lipstick was pink, her cheeks and eyes dusted with makeup, and she had on another of her pant-suits like she’d worn at their first meeting. The tailoring fit her curves, yet the lines were almost manly, as if she was trying to hide that she was a woman working a man’s job.

She would look all woman in the silver satin. He glanced at the saleslady. “I think we need some black panties to match the stockings.” Then he glanced down at Josie. “Or do you want to skip the panties, baby?”

“Oh no,” she said, her lips again flirting with that almost smile, “we definitely need panties.” She pointed to the rack he stood by. “I want those.”

She held one up by the hanger for him to see.

Nothing more than a triangle of sheer black fabric, silky to his touch; the thong looked as if it were held together by string. What was the point in wearing it at all?

Except to drive a man mad.

“Our dressing rooms are in the back.” Their clerk led the way, then pushed aside a long curtain disguising a surprisingly large dressing area. She turned to Josie. “When trying on the panties, please do be sure to keep your own in place.”

“Of course,” Josie said, then grabbed Kyle’s hand. “Come on, honey, I want to model them for you.”

She wanted him to go in there with her? Kyle glanced at the saleslady. She simply smiled. “Call out and let me know if you need another size.”

The mirrored walls reflected them all as the woman hung the bustier and thong on two of several hooks and laid the stockings on a small glass table next to a gold padded chair. Then she closed the curtain behind them.

Kyle moved to the chair.

“Not so fast, buddy boy.” In the mirror’s reflection, Josie jutted one hip, and arched a brow. “I sit.” She lowered her voice. “You strip.”

So that was her plan. He wondered how far the salesclerk had gone. Before he let Josie sit, he crowded up against her back, letting her feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his cock. He liked the picture in the mirror, how petite she seemed in front of him, the smile playing on her lips. He breathed her in, parting the hair at her nape to reveal the creamy, sexy skin beneath. He wanted, needed a taste. Holding her still, he licked her right there, then blew warm air.