Hypnotic Seduction (The Seduction Series) (4 page)

He turned his gaze to the outer office and studied her through the open door while she leaned back to proofread what she’d typed, twirling a light brown tendril that had escaped from her prissy braid. Every time he was close to her, his hand itched to yank the clasp from her glossy hair to see what she looked like with it fluffed around her face.

Her complexion was far too flawless for a woman much past her twenties, so she had to be a lot younger than her starchy librarian wardrobe suggested. Her creamy skin reminded him of moonlight—pale and almost luminescent. And the way she constantly chewed on her lip made her disapproving little pout swell until she looked downright pornographic. Seeing her mouth get all puffy sent his imagination to places it definitely didn’t belong.

Bryce’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s with all the plants?”

“Hannah’s contribution. She insists they’ll reduce my stress level.” In truth, his office did feel a lot more peaceful with them.

“She sounds like a kook.”

“You think so?” Jordan pushed the large tin that magically refilled itself every Monday across his desk to his friend. “Have one of the kook’s cookies.”

Bryce selected a buttery walnut ball coated in powdered sugar. He bit into it and moaned, “
Mmmm
....wack-case or not, keep her.”

“I intend to. Otherwise, I’ll have to go back to living on vending machine food.”

Ever since Hannah discovered Jordan rarely stopped working at noon to eat, she’d returned from lunch each day with a container of soup and a salad platter for him.

Bryce chuckled and reached for another cookie. “I hear Pulaski is pissed about the end run you did around Human Resources when you hired her.”

“Stanley’s lucky I didn’t fire him for discrimination instead of giving him a written reprimand.”

His friend raised a dark eyebrow. “You have to admit, JC, after your date announced at the Christmas party that you’re a dynamo in bed—”

“That still doesn’t excuse him.”

“Don’t jump down my throat. I didn’t draw that cartoon.”

“Well, I’d love to know who did. Some employee has way too much free time and a lousy grasp of artistic perspective and proportion.”

Despite that he was no porn star, the caricature in the mock e-mail ad depicted Jordan with the horns of a satyr, the body of a Greek god, and the pecker of a Triple Crown winner.

“I don’t think it was your
proportion
that inspired that e-mail,” Bryce said.

No doubt. Jordan’s long-lasting erections had been the very thing that had caused problems for him in college, too. The phony advertisement for Calder’s new Love Machine—inspired by his date, April, after she’d boasted about his size and performance to over a dozen women in the
ladies
room—had stirred up way too many memories he had no desire to revisit. The ad’s fake marketing copy had promoted him as having the vigor of an insatiable sex robot and promised female consumers an all-night screw. An overstatement of his stamina if he ever heard one.

His friend laughed. “I’ve even heard rumors that you’ve secretly developed a new male potency drug that will outperform any erectile dysfunction drug on the market.”

“Of course guys like to think I have chemical help. Otherwise they’d have to wonder what they’re doing wrong in the bedroom.” The cartoon had certainly made him look foolish. However, he would really become a laughingstock if anyone discovered his so-called
stamina
was due to a
psycho-sexual
disorder, or that he would give his right nut to overcome his guilt. “If I ever find the artist who drew that cartoon, I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp, right before I fire him.”

“I don’t know what your problem is.” Bryce snorted. “Most guys would kill to have your rep in bed. Maybe in a previous life you were a gigolo.”

At times, he felt like one.

“Other guys don’t have most of the board of directors buying into Renee’s harassment propaganda. They think I’m bedding every female who walks into my office.” The only board members who hadn’t swallowed the rumors were two female directors who’d already failed in their own attempts to seduce him. “Why the hell would anyone believe I’m some Love Machine rather than recognize April’s claims for what they were—drunken exaggeration?”

“Because, at heart, they’re all perverts who wish they had as many women chasing them as you—”

“Damn it!” Jordan pounded his desk. “If you knew how few of my dates I actually sleep with—”

“Hey, don’t blow a gasket. I know you’re no man-whore. I’m just saying maybe that cartoon led Stan to think he could score a few points with you by sending you a parade of centerfolds as temps.”

“The only point Stanley H. Pulaski’s going to get is the one on the tip of my shoe when I kick his bony ass toward the unemployment office. When I asked why he hadn’t considered Hannah for me, the weasel admitted he gave her the brush-off because he didn’t think she was my type.”

“There you go.” Bryce chuckled. “He was probably calling 1-900-HOT-BABE to recruit applicants for you.”

Jordan leaned his elbows on his desk. “If I’m supposedly such a super-stud, why would anyone believe I’d need to resort to hitting on my employees?”

Bryce spread his hands. “When a guy takes a different woman to every function he attends, people wonder. Especially if the guy is CEO of one of the largest manufacturers of contraceptive products.” He drew his eyebrows together and flashed a wry smile. “Or isn’t that why you’re known as The Condom King?”

“Very funny.” Jordan fished a rubber band from his desk drawer and shot it at his friend’s chest. “Add a stanza about marriage and children to that
song,
and you can sing back-up harmony for my grandfather.”

“It’s spring. That tune’s always number one on his hit parade this time of year.”

“Yeah, but since he retired, it’s become his theme song.” Jordan released a disgusted sputter and nodded toward Bryce. “And you’re a fine one to talk about me being a player,
Mr. Never-date-the-same-woman-more-than-a-month
. No one’s accusing you of playing hide the sausage with your secretary.”

Some employees had even begun to speculate as to whether Bryce’s serial dating might be a cover-up for being gay, which Jordan knew was ludicrous. His pal had simply descended from a long line of womanizers.

“I’m also not heir to the Calder fortune,” Bryce reminded him.

“Tell me about it.” Jordan’s friend had no idea what a burden being Edward’s heir could be. Sometimes he wished he could just be an ordinary, average Joe.

Jordan turned his chair and gazed at the expansive view—a hundred and fifty green acres surrounding the seven buildings and four parking lots scattered about the New Jersey corporate campus. He spied his grandfather lounging on his usual bench in the garden at the entrance to the building and shook his head. “He always sits right where he knows I can see him.”

Bryce rose and peered out the tinted glass. “Cut the old guy some slack. After working his whole life, it must be hard to suddenly have nothing to do all day.”

“He’s trying to make me feel guilty about his lack of great-grandchildren to play with.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, it was. Edward was his only family. Jordan’s mother had walked out when he was eleven, and then at fifteen, he’d lost his dad to a car accident, after which, his grandmother had died. His and Edward’s mutual grief, along with their daily working relationship, had forged a bond stronger than the average
guy
shared with his grandfather.

He would love to give the old geezer half a dozen grandbabies to entertain him in his golden years. But marriage? That was out of the question. Jordan had already dealt with enough loss and rejection for three lifetimes.

He turned his seat back toward his desk and lowered his voice. “I’m a little worried about Gramps. I think he’s got a thing for Hannah.”

“What?” Bryce’s head snapped up. “No, way.”

“Yup. He comes in to see her practically every day and keeps bringing her little gifts. He’s taken her out to lunch twice already. Then yesterday he asked if I’d considered increasing our advertising for
Sildenafil
to help promote our entire generic drug line.”

Rolling his eyes, Bryce sank back into his chair. “He’ll need a lot more than ED drugs to keep up with a woman her age.”

“Yeah, like a heart transplant.”

“Do you think she’s—
you know
....
”
Bryce pumped his arm.

“Banging him?” Jordan snorted. “Nah. She treats him like a sweet old man who reminds her of her granddad. I’m just afraid he’s reading more into all her attention.”

“So what if he does? He’s entitled to a few fantasies at his age. Hell, she’s old-fashioned enough for him. Maybe he can actually convince her to give him a whirl.”

Which was exactly what worried Jordan.

“I say more power to him.” Bryce narrowed his eyes. “Or are you afraid he’ll want to make her your step-grandma?”

Wouldn’t that be great? If Edward became involved with Hannah, it would make Jordan’s own preoccupation with her seem that much sicker. Although, his obsession was actually his grandfather’s fault. All of Edward’s talk about women’s mystique had started Jordan wondering what his assistant might be hiding under those shapeless, puritanical outfits she wrapped herself in. Perhaps lingerie as hot as her
take-me-now
heels?

He had no business speculating what kind of underwear she wore—especially since Edward was probably wondering as well. Only a pervert would fantasize about the same woman his grandfather wanted to knock knees with. And judging from the few inches of calf Hannah’s skirts revealed
,
Jordan suspected her knees were just as sexy as her feet.

“Maybe he’s decided, since you won’t procreate for him, he’ll try begetting an heir for you himself.” Bryce chuckled.

“Then he can stop pressuring me to get married,” Jordan muttered. “Gramps has spent a lot of years alone. If he can nail a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, I should be happy for him. I just don’t want him to get hurt.” He spun his Mont Blanc pen between his fingers like a baton. “In any case, I can’t tell you how nice it is to come to the office without worrying if my secretary will have her clothes on.”

Bryce glanced over his shoulder at Hannah. “Hiring her will definitely ward off any future doubts from the board about you sexually harassing your employees.”

Jordan let his gaze follow his friend’s to the outer office where the lights reflected off Hannah’s hair, inspiring the mental image of her waves spread out over his pillow.

It was a good thing Bryce couldn’t eavesdrop on the impure thoughts his prissy assistant inspired. In seconds flat, his buddy would have Jordan locked in a padded room, wearing a straightjacket.

~*~

He was doing it again. Hannah had lost count of the times she’d glanced up from her work in the last two weeks and caught Jordan frowning at her through his open door. The deep fissure in his forehead made the Grand Canyon seem like a drainage ditch.

It didn’t make sense. At moments like this, he looked as if he regretted hiring her. Then, every evening, he thanked her and rhapsodized about what a tremendous help she’d been.

He’d made it crystal clear during her interview that he didn’t want her mooning over him. Except his constant praise and appreciation made it hard to resist—especially when it came from that James Bond face slapped on a Ryan Reynolds body. She didn’t have a prayer of avoiding another stint on unemployment unless she kept her hunk-resistance set to
Defcon
1.

“Hey.” Callie Harper strolled into Hannah’s office. “Are you ready?”

“Sure.” The afternoon after Hannah started working for Jordan, he’d asked Bryce Kendall’s pretty blonde assistant to show Hannah around and answer any questions she had.

Callie was three inches taller, two years younger, and five pounds lighter than Hannah. And she had the metabolism of a great white shark. In other words, she was the kind of woman one would expect to hate—except her bubbly personality made it impossible not to love her. They’d hit it right off and had been eating lunch together ever since.

“I’m not in the mood for the cafeteria. How do you feel about Chinese food?”

Ever since the night Hannah discovered Kevin was fooling around on her, she’d become nauseated by the idea of eating any kind of Asian cuisine. All at once, she had an overwhelming craving for pork lo
mein
. “Are you kidding?” She patted her rear end. “I owe my left butt-cheek to egg rolls and dumplings.”

“Great. That’s a sure sign we’re going to become very close.” Callie grinned at her. “As you’ve probably noticed by now, I’m big on following life’s road signs.”

She’d noticed all right. Her new friend was an eternal optimist and looked for coincidences in everything. “Just let me tell Jordan I’m leaving.” Hannah grabbed her purse and stepped partway into his office.

“The way she dresses,” Bryce said, chuckling, “no one would ever believe you’d come on to her.”

“That’s part of what convinced me to hire her.” Glancing up, Jordan spotted her standing inside the door, and a guilty pink flush spread up from his collar. “Do you need something, Hannah?”

Her appetite evaporated with the clenching of her stomach. “No, Sir,” she whispered. “I simply wanted to tell you and Mr. Kendall that Callie and I are going out for Chinese, so we may be a few minutes late getting back.”

“Okay. Take your time. Oh, and skip bringing me lunch today.” He rubbed his stomach and smiled. “I ate too many of your cookies this morning.”

If she hadn’t put so much time and expense into baking them, she’d tell the big jerk to shove those cookies where the sun didn’t shine. Except, then he’d know she’d overheard their less-than-flattering remarks.

Hannah dashed out of Jordan’s office and through the carved doors to the elevator.

Callie hurried after her. “What’s the matter? You look as if you’re about to cry.”

Half of her felt like it, while the other half wanted to stomp right back and bloody Jordan’s movie star face. Hannah held out the calf-length skirt on her silk turquoise shirt-dress, and a volcano of fury erupted inside her. “Those two clowns are poking fun at my wardrobe.”