The CEO's Little Surprise (8 page)

Maybe she'd failed thus far to get him to admit anything incriminating because she really needed to get him naked first. Naked and sated.

“I dug up some paper archives from Harper's research over the past few years that have names of the employees attached to each stage of the development. Can we at least pretend to do some work tonight?” she asked as the compelling force of his smile nearly drew her into his space, magnetically, like she'd transformed into a pile of metal pins straining toward him.

“Sure. If that's what turns you on, I'm game.”

“Be at my place at seven.” Her turf, her rules. And there was no way she'd let him get to her like he'd done last night. Ruthless detachment was the only way. “I'll bring the files and you bring the drinks since you're such a big baby about wine. I have until tomorrow to report progress back to the other executives. So we definitely have to do
some
work.”

Hopefully she'd discover she did her best work between the sheets.

He grinned and saluted. “Wear something sexy and I'll read every one of those files word for word.”

She'd removed all the proprietary information from the files and her employee's names were posted on the company website, so she had no qualms about sharing that information with him. With enough incentive, he might slip up and clue her in that he recognized one of the names. “It's a deal.”

She just had to be very careful to ensure the only slipping going on was on his side.

Eight

L
ater that night, Gage picked up a bottle of cachaça, some limes and a bag of brown sugar, just in case Cass didn't have any on hand. Caipirinhas were a far sight more tolerable than margaritas, and women usually loved the way he made them. Plus the drink was about 85 percent alcohol, which gave a nice buzz but, because cachaça was distilled from sugarcane, the next morning didn't come with a busting headache.

On his way to Cass's house, Gage dropped Arwen off at a doggie daycare. With that heartbreaking task out of the way, he drove to Cass's house. She was worth a furious vizsla and the probability of an additional fee upon pickup after Arwen drove everyone at the daycare to the brink of insanity.

Cass opened the door, barefoot and clad in shorts that showed a mile of leg, thank the good Lord, and a fitted T-shirt that most women couldn't have done justice. On Cass, it was legendary. She'd twisted her hair up in a messy waterfall of a hairdo that was somehow more suggestive than the chopsticks.

His mouth went dry.

“Hey,” she said, opening the door wider, which lifted the hem of her T-shirt just a flash, revealing a slice of bare stomach. “Hope casual is okay. I thought low-key might help us get some work accomplished tonight.”

Yeah, no. She needed a better mirror if she thought that what she had on was supposed to provide some kind of Gage repellant. Her toes were hot pink, for crying out loud, which drew his attention to her bare feet again and again.

“Oh, good,” he said when he could speak. “I was worried I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you.
Whew.
”

He mimed wiping his brow in relief and she shot him a sunny smile that heightened the flame inside his gut.

She motioned him inside and called over her shoulder. “Should we start on the paperwork first, then? Maybe later we can have a drink and relax.”

Seriously?

“That was sarcasm,” he said bluntly as he blew over the threshold, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

She whirled, clearly startled by the sudden noise, and smacked into his chest. Right where he wanted her. He set down his bag of goodies—caipirinhas had totally lost his interest.

“If you wanted me to keep my hands off you,” he growled, hauling her into his arms. “A better plan would have been to move to Timbuktu.”

He hustled her backward, against the wall, and shoved a thigh between her legs. Hard and high. She gasped, a throaty sound that crawled inside him and lit the fuse of a row of fireworks residing in his groin, threatening to explode without notice.

“In case you're not clear on this,” he continued, nipping at her ear as he leaned in. The full body contact sang through him. “I want you.
Now.
Not later.”

Her nipples pebbled against his chest as he rolled his hips to fit more snuggly against hers. Those shorts were made of much thinner fabric than he'd guessed and her heat engulfed his steel-hard lower half. Lust licked through his blood like a wildfire.

He needed her hot and pliant immediately, before he lost it. There was no way she would get the opportunity to leave him hanging like she had last night. Oh, he'd enjoyed every second of making her come against that post, moonlight spilling over her gorgeous body, while they were both fully dressed. It had ranked as one of the hottest experiences of his life. But tonight he deserved a turn, too.

He ached to reacquaint himself with her body, the way she tasted, the way she would respond to his touch. That T-shirt, soft under his fingers, promised delights underneath it and he was game to discover them.

No one was around and they had all night. He planned to make the most of it.

They gazed at each other and the ocean of desire in her eyes twisted through him. She was inside him already and he welcomed her with a sense of awe. How had she made him feel this way before they'd scarcely gotten started?

“I want you,” he repeated hoarsely, but the phrase scarcely encompassed the sheer need he was trying to describe, as if he depended on her for his next breath. “And not because you're wearing a sexy outfit. Because you have a brain. Because you challenge me. Because I like being around you. Because—”

“If you're going to kiss me, shut up and do it.”

“That might be the sexiest thing you've ever said.”

Because it suited him, he tilted her head back and took her mouth with his, open and wet, pleasing them both with the force of his tongue. She tasted of fire and woman and he wanted more. So he went deeper, coaxing her to meet him with increased passion. No holding back. No ice goddess, not tonight.

Apparently of the same mind, she moaned and shifted against his thigh, her fingers working at his waistband. She pulled his shirt free and spread her palms across his back. Oh, yeah.
Heaven.
He'd captured his very own angel. Her touch raced down his spine and dipped into his pants, resting on his butt. She shoved, grinding his erection against her.

Nothing
angelic about that.

Sensation exploded. In his body. In his head. She was taking over, taking her own pleasure, and he was hard-pressed to find an argument against it. Bolder now, she rubbed against his shaft, nearly finishing him off. He clawed back the release through will alone.

With her barriers down, she was hotter than he'd imagined. Duly noted.

With a groan, he fumbled with the hem of her shirt and finally, his fingers closed around it. Gone. Next? Bra. Also gone.

Her gorgeous breasts fell into his palms, heavy and hot. She was made for him, filling his hands perfectly. Locking his lips onto one erect nipple, he swirled his tongue around it as he worked the rest of her clothes into a heap, desperate to have her flesh against his. His pulse beat in his throat as she stripped him in kind, then urged him on with her hands against his thighs.

“Wait, darling,” he murmured, and in moments, he'd sheathed himself with a condom.

Boosting her up against the wall, he slid into her heat and pinned her in place, reveling in the perfection of her tightness.
Yes.
Exactly where he belonged. Inside her.

She wrapped her legs around him and thrust her hips, drawing him deeper. And deeper still. She gasped out tiny moans of pleasure that drove him wild.

He needed to touch her...but he couldn't let go or she'd fall. From this angle, the sensation was unbelievable. Then she widened her hips, changing the pressure and his moans mingled with hers.

This wasn't the Cass he recalled. This woman was on fire, taking what she wanted, giving unconditionally. Finding his pleasure center easily and drawing him higher and higher, against his will. He'd planned to savor. To reclaim.

But this Cass, who was every inch his equal, was claiming him, wholly.

He couldn't hold back one second longer, but somehow managed to get a thumb between their bodies, stimulating her the way she'd always preferred and that set her off. At last. The ripples of her climax closed around him a moment before his answering climax exploded.

Sweet, blessed release. He shut his eyes and drove home one last time, drawing out the pleasure for them both. When he could feel his legs again, he swung her around and slid to the ground, still holding her in his lap. He tilted his head against hers, both of them breathless, chests heaving from exertion.

That had been...something else. Nothing like it had been before. It had been hot and erotic and the stuff of X-rated fantasies. She'd always been amazing but they'd never gotten so caught up that they couldn't make it to the bed. They were still in her foyer. He'd meant to be gentler, less frenzied. He'd envisioned a slow, sweet reintroduction to each other, but who could complain about a fast, unbelievably intense reintroduction?

Thankfully, they'd gotten that out of their systems.

“Maybe now we can concentrate,” he muttered. But he didn't think so.

* * *

Cass ended up ordering pizza from the place around the corner. After the hallway gymnastics, her bones had melted away entirely and she couldn't stand long enough to cook. Gage had been amazing. Strong, tender, hot, sweet. Far more so than she'd expected or remembered.

True to his word, he got down to business and they read files while drinking a pitcher of the limey, sugary concoction he'd put together. It was delicious. But not as delicious as Gage. Or the conversation they fell into as they were reading. It was like old times—and her insides, which were not all that solid in the first place, mushed under the dual onslaught of sexy man and alcohol.

Names. She needed to focus on these names. She steeled her spine, hardened her heart and ignored all the sizzling sidelong glances he shot her way.

This was about sex and work. Only. After all, he'd practically dared her to prove she could separate business and pleasure. No emotions necessary for that.

She had Gage read the names out loud and as he did, she offered her impression of the person, their work ethic, any workplace drama she knew of. As she talked, she watched Gage carefully for any flicker of recognition. Nothing. Either he was very good at keeping his cards close to the vest or the leak's name wasn't on this list.

Of course, deep inside she recognized the possibility that he wasn't involved. The longer they spent in each other's company, the more she'd started to hope that he wasn't. Because if his interest in the formula was innocent, then it changed everything between them.

And she wanted that. Oh, how she wanted things to be different, with the possibility of throwing their agendas out the window and just connecting as man and woman.

It was madness. Gage could not be trusted under any circumstances and obviously sex had only confused things, not clarified them. She kicked him out before she started imagining things that were impossible, like asking him to stay and hold her all night.

He left without arguing, which dug under her skin and sat there irritating her for no apparent reason. Why? He'd done what she asked—what more could she want? Gage did not belong in her bed. That was reserved for men who wanted to stick around and he wasn't the type. A few days and then
gone
.

She knew that. But that didn't stop all the needy dreams during the long night where he curled around her in bed and stroked her hair and told her everything was going to be okay, that he was here for her and she didn't have to be strong with him. That he understood her and cared about her.

Clearly a dream—Gage Branson wasn't marriage material and she didn't need a man who whispered pretty lies in her ear about the state of things. There was no guarantee even one blessed thing in her life would turn out okay. The investigative work she'd done on her own time hadn't amounted to much and Gage hadn't given up any information either, which meant she was still at square one.

Around 5:00 a.m. she crawled from the big, lonely bed and tried to rinse Gage off her body and soul with a hot shower. It was Friday. Reckoning day. Trinity had scheduled a meeting with the four executives to hear Cass's progress report on the leak. It was shaping up to be a short meeting because she had nothing to report.

It took twice as long as normal to do her makeup, partly due to her shaking hands and partly due to the necessity of taking extra care to present her best “I've got this” face to the world. Then, she dressed carefully in a black suit with a knee-length skirt and red silk shell. The look radiated power and control and she needed both today.

By nine, the other ladies filed in to take their customary seats around the conference table. Cass had been in her chair for fifteen minutes, going over nonexistent notes, and calming her nerves. It should have been the other way around. Lots of progress, cool as a cucumber.

There was a distinct possibility she might throw up.

New fine lines around Harper's eyes spoke to the heightened level of stress on Fyra's chief science officer. She'd been clocking long hours in anticipation of presenting Formula-47 for FDA approval, perhaps in vain if Cass didn't get with the program. Trinity tapped one foot, impatient and ready to draw blood the moment someone presented their jugular.
Someone
was about to be Cass, she had a feeling. Eyes on her legal pad, Alex wore a slight frown, as if this boardroom was the last place she wanted to be and Cass had interrupted the CFO's more important agenda items for the day.

“Thanks for taking time from your busy Friday to hear my progress report,” Cass began smoothly and squared her tablet, trying to get her emotions under control. She'd failed to do her job and her partners needed to know it, no matter how hard it was to admit she didn't have it all together.

If only she'd gotten some sleep last night, her emotions wouldn't be riding so close to the surface. If only she'd checked her mushy heart at the door when Gage came over, she could have gone all night with him and maybe extracted something useful. Instead, she'd kicked him out because she couldn't control anything, let alone herself.

“I'll cut to the chase,” Cass said and met the gaze of each of her partners in turn. “I haven't found anything yet.”

The three women's expressions ranged from disbelief to anger.

Alex spoke first. “What do you mean, you haven't found anything yet? You've had all week.” She sank down in her chair an inch, as if Cass's news had physically added weight to her shoulders, which increased the general despair in the room. “This is awful. We should have involved the authorities from the beginning.”

“We couldn't have,” Cass reminded her. She cleared the catch from her throat. They'd had this discussion on Monday when the trade magazine had hit the industry and again on Tuesday in their board meeting. “Mike said the article was too vague, remember? We don't have any recourse but to investigate ourselves.”

“Which has failed miserably.” Alex crossed her arms and stared at Cass. “We trusted you with this. We could have all been working on it but you said you'd handle it. What, exactly, did you do all week?”