The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (26 page)

“So, are you up for having lunch together?” he walks to my desk, the wonderful smell of him hitting me in the breeze of his movement.

I’m up for having
you
for lunch.
The man smells good enough to eat. He should be illegal.

“Hungry?” he adds with a sly smirk. He’s reading my mind again. How does he do that?

“I am,” I smile, “ . . . let’s go.” Grabbing my purse under the desk, I take his hand. “See you after lunch, Emily.”

I follow his lead, which appears to be in the wrong direction, “The elevators are back that way,” I remind him, motioning over my shoulder. “Where are you taking me?” I’m suddenly giddy with elation.

“To the boardroom. I hope pizza is okay? I took the liberty of asking Judy down in reception to order one when I arrived, and Thomas was good enough to offer the use of the empty room.”

“Oh. How very thoughtful, and presumptuous of you. Do you always get what you want?”

“No, not always,” he flashes his dazzling smile. “I do, however, know how to go after it.”

Oh do you ever.
The images of my first three meetings with Alex flash through my mind—all of the doubts I had about his motives. He wanted something. He wanted
me.
And though I still can’t fathom why, I can’t deny how much I want him in return.

Pulling out a chair for me, he gestures for me to sit before taking a seat beside me.
Such a gentleman,
I glance at his image on the wall, smiling at the slogan’s accuracy.

Following my gaze, he chuckles, “I’ve made the boardroom wall, go figure.”

“Oh please. Your humility is as charming as you are,
Alexander the Great,
” I touch his knee lovingly, his eyebrow suggesting he’s amused by his new moniker. “I’ve given you a nickname,” I wink, reading his image caption, “‘Gentleman are GREAT.’
I can’t imagine a better-suited candidate.”

He stares into my eyes, a sweet shyness behind his gaze. I could melt right here in my seat.

Curling his lips up into that fuck-me grin, he reaches for my leg under the table, his fingers finding their way to the inside of my thigh, gliding upwards under my skirt. “I recall your request for a less gentlemanly side to my personality. My alter ego?”

I lose my breath at his exploring touch on my goose-pimpled flesh, so very close to my throbbing wetness, his heated gaze burning down my core.
There’s your alter ego, Alex Tate
—the one that knows what he wants and goes after it. The one that could make me do just about anything, anytime, anywhere.

At a sudden light knock on the open boardroom door, I nearly jump out of my skin.

Alex remains composed in place, his hand holding its shielded position under my skirt as he calmly lifts his head to greet the visitor.

My gaze is locked on his face. I’m frozen in fear of who is standing behind me witnessing the heated under-the-table touch, unable to pull my eyes away from the mesmerizing man that’s doing the touching.

“Pizza delivery, Mr. Tate,” the woman’s voice betrays her somewhat nervous stance.

Breaking my gaze, I turn to see her equally nervous smile. Recognizing the curly-haired brunette from the main floor reception, I realize that I didn’t get a chance to meet her this morning when Thomas greeted me. I also recognize the increasingly familiar dazed trance the poor woman is under at the hands of Alexander Tate.

“Thank you, Judy,” Alex replies, slowly and teasingly pulling his hand from my inner thigh. My gaze darts back to his at the tantalizing retreat, and I take in the wicked flicker in his eyes.

Pushing his chair back to stand, he makes his way towards Judy at the open door. “It’s wonderful of you to deliver it to me, thank you again, for going above and beyond my request.”

“Oh,” she replies, blushing, though bravely never faltering from his heartthrob face. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Tate. I advised the delivery boy to keep the change, as you requested. Here you are,” she offers, as he takes the pizza box and drinks with a thankful smile, the slight brush of his touch in the movement capturing the poor woman in a fleeting stargazed moment.

An awkward silence ensues with Alex unmoving, holding our lunch, his gentlemanly gesture to wait for her exit.

I witness the glaze lift from her stare before she finally returns with her nervous smile. “Yes, well, I will leave you to it. Enjoy,” she backs up slowly towards the door, closing it behind her at Alex’s repeated gratitude and wave.

“Smells delicious,” I smile, watching as he lifts the lid, the steam escaping in a cloud of aroma.

“It does. One of my indulgences, I’m afraid,” he passes me a slice with a napkin.

“Oh?” I attempt to take a bite gracefully, a little unnerved as to my sudden delicate table manners in front of Alex. Having never felt it any other time, I can only assume it’s my nagging desire to actually eat
him,
right here in this glass room where all can see. It’s clearly affecting my composure.

“Yes. Sadly I can’t just eat whatever I want during production. They like to keep me in top form.”

“You certainly are in top form,” I note aloud, mid-chew no less, feeling my cheeks flush at my drooling reference to his incredible body.

“Are you blushing, Miss Ryan?”

“Not at all,” I recover quickly. “I’m merely pointing out that you take very good care of yourself.”

“I’m flattered you think so.” Grinning, his eyes fill with teasing desire as he takes another bite, watching me in silence.

His intense gaze is testing my will to continue my charade of restraint. I would jump his bones if it weren’t for that damn glass wall.
“This room is like a fishbowl,” I blurt as though I wasn’t just having the conversation alone in my head.

“My life is like living in a fishbowl,” he replies, cleaning his hands with a napkin. “I’ll take a room with a single glass wall to be alone with you anytime.” Simpering, his hand returns to its former place at my inner thigh. “You were going to tell me about my alter ego.”

“Alex,” I plead breathlessly, immediately attempting to halt his sensual grazing with my hand, my focus blurring between his intense gaze and the glass wall.

He ignores my unconvincing protest, swiftly pulling my chair closer, pivoting it on its wheels to angle me towards him. The shift allowing him better access to relish me double-handed.

I gasp at the sudden sensually forceful pulling and pushing massage. His hands work their way along my skin, caressing my inner and outer thighs, around to my ass and back again. Teasingly brushing the lace edging of my panties with each return of his fingers between my legs.

“This fishbowl makes you nervous?” his voice is husky with desire. “You don’t want anyone to see what I’m doing to you? What I want to do to you?”

“Alex . . . ” I place my hand atop his through the material of my skirt, pleading, to no avail.

He leans towards me, sealing his lips over mine, his tongue erotically teasing briefly before pulling away to brush his lips along my jaw. “No one can see, Aby,” he whispers. Sitting back, his eyes fill with mischievous desire, his hands gripping my thighs a little more firmly. “Not under the table, at least.”

I can’t speak. I want nothing more than to beg him to take me right here on the boardroom table. And he knows it. He’s teasing me.

His lips quirk into a devilish grin as though he’s onto my sudden revelation.

“You know damn well about your
alter ego.
And you bring it out here, now, just to tease me. Shame on you,” I castigate him playfully. The sudden realization that I won’t be
taken
on the show-for-all table is a mixture of relief and disappointment.

“My teasing doesn’t lessen my absolute want,” he leans in to kiss my neck, taking my hand in his. “Oh what you do to me . . . ” he whispers, placing my hand on his
very
clear desire, its bulge evident beneath my palm.

The feel of his glorious erection through his khakis is thrilling, though it merely exaggerates our wanton fate here in the fish bowl.
Damn,
what I would do to him
—
what I would let him do to me—if it weren’t for that glass wall. I’m incredibly turned on, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Time for a little payback, Mr. Tate.
“Oh, look at the time,” I stand to tidy our lunch remains. “I have to get back to work. Wouldn’t want to make a bad first day impression. Ready to go? Grab the water bottles for me please.”
Walking towards the door, I turn back to question his continued position at the table, “Aren’t you coming? What’s wrong Alex, can’t stand?”

“Touché,” he smiles. “Come here,” his husky voice returns in his order.

Playfully dutiful, I walk to his side, replacing the pizza box on the table as I smile down at him.

Swiveling his chair to face me, he grabs my waist as he stands, pulling me roughly against him. “I may not be fit to walk out of this room just yet, but I can certainly use my predicament to tease
you
a little longer.”

I lightheartedly push against his chest as if to squirm out of his grip, knowing full well that I don’t want to. The feel of his hardness against me is delicious. It’s intoxicating.
He
’s intoxicating. And that smile . . . his fun-loving grin at our little game playing is even more exhilarating.

“Did you really think I could get through the day thinking about you dressed like this?” he grabs my thigh, his hand working its way up my ass. “I’ll be waiting, and looking very much forward to continuing this later.” Kissing my cheek, he releases me with a gentle smile, turning away from the glass wall before adjusting his pants.

I giggle at his attempt to disguise his
predicament.
I love that I was the cause of it.

AS THE ELEVATOR doors open to its empty cab, Alex pulls me inside for a lingering kiss. I don’t want him to leave.

“Thank you for lunch,” I smile. “I’ll see you at five-thirty?”

“I will be ready and waiting,” he returns a smoldering grin.

I step back into the hallway with a wave, staring at him until the elevator doors close on cue.
Could I be any more into this man?
I question myself, I walking back to my desk, a full-on smile from cheek to cheek at the replay of our boardroom lunch,
and
games. I pray no one saw us.
Damn fish bowl.

Reaching my desk, I realize Emily must have gone to lunch while we were in the boardroom. Thomas isn’t in his office either.
Good, maybe they left the building for lunch, hopefully along with everyone else—
the thought relieves some of my pent-up nerves.

Sitting down to get back to work, I peruse my unfinished notes absentmindedly.

Take a look over the railing, you know you want to . . . Have one last look at that ass
—my inner dreamer eggs me on. I cave to the persuasion, standing to take a peek. With the building’s front doors in view from my position, I don’t see Alex. Maneuvering to get a better view, I make my way around the desk to get closer to the metal railing, scanning the reception below.

I must have missed him.
Shoot,
I pout, scanning aimlessly, finally spotting him in the corner by the elevators. Standing just inside the hallway, he’s talking to someone, though I can’t quite see who it is.

Wait . . .
Is that a woman’s hand on his chest?
Who’s touching him?
Like a CIA spy, I dart around the desks to get a better vantage point.

It’s Helena Adelaide. All fingers and hands, touchy Helena Adelaide.

Stunningly beautiful Helena Adelaide
—my inner actress bites.

“SO, EXACTLY HOW is your relationship with Helena Adelaide difficult to explain?”

Alex pauses momentarily to look up at me, his eyebrow raised at my interruption of our heated embrace. “I thought we agreed to discuss this a little later—possibly
much
later, after our ‘welcome home from your first day of work’ fun. I’ve missed you all day . . . ” he mumbles, continuing his lustful devouring of my décolletage, his fingers busy with the buttons of my top.

“You had me at lunch,” I remind him through my heated breaths as he discards my blouse on the bed.

“Oh, I
wanted
to have you at lunch. I’ve been looking forward to this all afternoon,” he grabs at my ass through my skirt, his lips never leaving my heated flesh through his garbled want.