Up Close and Personal (11 page)

Unlike the previous time she made that remark, I can’t make a joke out of it. “So it is. Go on. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

She rustles away. With the soft click of the door, I know she’s gone. I rake my hand through my hair. I’m being a bastard, I know. But I can’t let her know how much last night meant to me. She rocked my world. I’ve never had anyone as sweet, as trusting as her. But I can’t pursue her. She’s my employee and I can’t violate that trust again. And the best way to do it is to put this distance between us. So she won’t get hurt.

We manage to rub through the next few days without being alone in the same room. I see her only at breakfast and dinner, where Moseley and a maid are present. Rather than meet in person, I email her the instructions for my trip to Hong Kong and Anton sends her the details. My company jet will fly us to San Francisco where we will overnight. The next morning we’ll leave for Hong Kong. All the hotel arrangements have been made. I have a place in San Francisco. One designed to my needs. In Hong Kong, we will stay at a hotel. The negotiations will last five days. If an agreement is reached between Sterling Industries and the company we’re negotiating with, my VP of Finance will remain behind to iron out the details and I will return to Virginia. I really can’t be away longer than that. Not with the shareholders’ meeting only ten days away.

Unfortunately, my valet won’t accompany us. He’s afraid to fly. My clothing will be packed in a way I’ll have no trouble matching garments. But Cait will need to make sure I’m dressed correctly. Which means she’ll have to come to my room in the morning before the meetings start. By email, she assures me she won’t have a problem with that or with making sure the meeting has everything I need.

The night before the trip I call her into my office to go over everything once more. To my surprise, she has everything organized. Our passports, my laptop and hers. A binder filled with the details of our trip. The documents are in my laptop where they can be read aloud if need be.

“Thank you, Ms. Bennett. Everything is as it should be.”

The trip on the company plane is sheer torture. I finally figured out where her scent comes from. It’s her blasted shampoo, not her soap, and it makes me hard the entire flight. After two hours in the air, I can no longer stand to breathe her in, so like a coward I escape to the back of the plane where I won’t be disturbed. Unfortunately, my body refuses to cooperate. The damn thing aches for her.

When we arrive in San Francisco, our separation continues. Really, it’s the best thing for both of us. Servants have been hired to wait on us and provide our meals. While I take my dinner in the dining room, she eats in her room. In the morning, we eat breakfast silently, only bothering to exchange pleasantries. As soon as we’re done we’re off to the airport. With a temperature in the mid fifties, the Hong Kong weather is mild compared to the frozen tundra we left behind in D.C.

The following morning is the big test. With clothing being a challenge. I unzip the bag that contains my suit, the shirt, and matching shoes. But I can’t find the tie. So when Cait comes into my suite to make sure I’m dressed properly, I ask her to search for it. “It should be red.”

“Red?”

“It’s considered good luck.”

She goes digging amongst my things and soon finds a whole passel of ties. She hands one to me. I tie it around my neck, but suddenly I’m all thumbs. “You’ll have to do it. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Soap.”

I laugh. “Not that. Clothes.”

“A black suit, white blouse, black heels.”

“And your hair?”

“Tied back and gathered in a knot at the nape.”

And suddenly, I can’t stand this distance between us. Cupping her cheek, I rub my thumb across her lip. “I miss you.”

“D-don’t. You’ll smear my lipstick.”

I pull her into me, kiss her. Everything about her feels right. The way she fits in my arms, her fragrant breath, her whimpers.

After a minute, she steps back. “The m-meeting starts in twenty minutes. We should go.”

“Very well.”

We’re not the first ones there. Our hosts are. After a round of introductions, we exchange small gifts as is their custom. We lay out our offer—we will purchase and distribute their goods in America as long as they make them to our specifications. The negotiations go well this first day. I’m hopeful we can make a deal. While lunch is brought in midday, our hosts suggest dinner at a local restaurant, followed by bar hopping and karaoke late into the night. Cait accompanies me the first night, but our hosts are so solicitous of my impaired vision she has little to do. And of course, Brandon, my VP of Finance is there to make sure I don’t land in someone’s lap.

The same schedule follows the second and the third day. By the fourth I’m worn out. After dinner, I make an excuse and head back to the hotel. Back to Caitlyn.

Chapter 14

______________

Caitlyn

“CAN I SPEND THE NIGHT?” Sterling, at my door, leaning against the wall for support. He reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke. With his tousled hair and bunched-up jacket, he looks like he’s been dragged through a bush. Backwards.

“Err.”

“Please. I can’t take it anymore. The bar hopping, the karaoke. I don’t know how they do that half the night and show up fresh at the meeting next morning.” He scrubs his face, flashes me his most brilliant smile. “I told them I needed to spend time with you. Hope you don’t mind.”

“You told them what?”

He flashes me his mischievous, little-boy smile. “They think you’re my girlfriend.”

“I’m not.” Nothing like stating the obvious.

“Well, you know that, and I know that, but”—he hitches a thumb down the hall—“they don’t. They think you’re hot, by the way.”

“They do?” How can that be? Every day, I’ve dressed in conservative business suits with no cleavage in sight.

“Yeah, something about your smile, and the way you grant my every wish during the meetings.”

I fold my arms against my chest, tap my foot. “What do you mean I grant your every wish at the meetings?”

“You know what I need before I ask for it, and when I do, you jump and get it for me. They like that in a woman.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s
so
sexist.”

“It’s the way it is, sweetheart.” His dimple pops out. “What are you wearing?”

Why, oh why, does he always have to know that? “Bunny slippers and a sleep t-shirt.”

“It suits you. Those pajamas. So, can I stay? I’ll sleep on the couch. It should open into a bed.”

“No. You can’t. You have your own room.”

“It’s miles away.” The sulk is not a good look for him.

“It’s two floors up.”

“It’s too big.” Trying to stand, he sways instead and ends up knocking his head against the wall. “Ouch.”

My lip curls up with disapproval. “You’re drunk.”

He holds up a couple of fingers. “I had two beers, that’s all. Please, let me stay.”

I whoosh out a breath. What harm would it do to let him stay? He’ll probably pass out on the couch as soon as he falls into it. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the sofa bed.”

Looking affronted, he jerks up straight. “I said I would.”

Yeah, he did. Opening the door wide, I invite him into my room. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” He swaggers in like he owns the place. “Where’s the bathroom?”

God, I hope he doesn’t have to puke. “Follow me.” I grab his hand and lead him in that direction. When we get there, I press his hand against everything he should need. “Towels are here. Tub is here. Toilet is here.”

“I should take a shower, huh?” His brow wrinkles like that hadn’t occurred to him.

“Yeah, you should.”

“Join me.” His smolder is a thing of beauty, but I’m not falling for it.

“I already bathed. You hungry?”

“No. I already ate.” He removes his jacket and hands it to me, his shirt follows. When his hands go to his belt, the memory of the night he couldn’t remove it jets through my brain. We’re not going through that again. Nudging back his hand, I snap it loose. “Slacks, please.”

He kicks off his Oxfords, pulls down his zipper and slides off his pants. When he goes for his boxers, I yell. “Wait.”

“You don’t want to see?” He gives me a wicked smile while swaying on his feet. Two beers my ass. Unless I miss my guess, he’s had a lot more than that.

“Nope. I’m going to step outside the room. When I do, you will take off your drawers and hand them to me.”

“Very well.”

After he does what he’s told, I put everything in a laundry bag and hang it outside my door. Everything will be returned, dry cleaned or laundered by morning. But before I do, I empty his pockets—wallet, key card, condoms. If he was hoping to get lucky with me, he’s got another think coming. I lay everything on the coffee table next to the couch. After I grab some pillows from my bed and an extra blanket from the closet, I make up his bed.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom with towels wrapped around his neck and waist and smelling like my shampoo and body wash. “Now I smell just like you.” He grins.

I bite my lip to fight off a smile. “The couch’s all ready for you.”

“Great.” Without once bumping into anything, he skirts the coffee table and drops on the couch. The furniture in his room must be laid out the same way as mine.

Once he slides under the blanket, he extends his hand. “Join me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

He blinks, yawns. “Come on. I won’t bite. I just want to talk.”

Figuring he’ll fall asleep within a minute, I sit on the side of the sofa bed, a foot away from him.

With his hands folded behind his neck, he leans back into the pillows. “What were you doing before I arrived?”

Crooking one leg on the bed, I turn to face him.“Reading.”

He makes a face. “Not the valuation book?”

“No. A mystery on my e-reader.”

“Which one?”

I mention a recent bestselling book. “The Body in the Bronze Coffin.”

“The butler did it.”

“Aaarghhh.” I smack him with a sofa cushion. “Blabbermouth.”

He yanks it from me, tosses it across the room. “Oh, wait. No. It was the maid.” His crooked smile makes me melt.

“You don’t know, do you?” I ask.

“No idea.”

“Why did you say it then?”

“To get you riled up.” He pulls on my arm, and I tumble across him. Before I know it, he’s straddling my knees on each side of his groin. He’s hard and long beneath me. Finding my mouth, he kisses me, suckles me, nibbles my lips.

It occurs to me his moves are not those of a man who’s had too much to drink, but the sharp actions of a sober man. “You’re not drunk!”

His lips quirk. “I told you I’d only had two beers.” He grabs my ass and pins me to his groin. And then, taking advantage of my momentary confusion, he rolls his hard-on against my clit.

A streak of heat cuts off my breath. When my legs go wobbly, I clasp his shoulders to keep from falling against his chest. “But you stumbled and you bumped your head.” I wheeze out breathless.

But the devil is not finished teasing me. His brow arches and he smirks. “It was all an act.”

“Why?” I can barely keep still when he keeps up the repetitive motion beneath me.

“If you’d known I was sober, you wouldn’t have invited me in.”

“You’re despicable.” I’m pissed he fooled me so easily even while below he’s making me burn.

“No. I’m hard and horny. For you.” His hand finds its way beneath the hem of my sleep shirt. It takes him no time to discover I’m naked below.

When his thumb finds my hot button, I bite down on my lip to keep from begging for more. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” He curls his hand around my nape. Pulling me down to him, he nibbles the corner of my mouth, suckles my lower lip. He smells minty fresh, of toothpaste and mouthwash. He probably used my toothbrush, the fiend.

“Because you’re my boss.”

He stops what he’s doing and stares at me. “Something easily taken care of. You’re fired.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll write you a check for one year’s wages and your bonus.”

To say I’m insulted is an understatement. “You’d pay me $125,000 so you can have sex with me?”

“Money well spent.”

“You bastard.” Breathing hard, I push away, try to scramble off him, but he won’t let me go. “I’m not Minouette. I don’t get paid to service you.” I swallow hard. “If it’s a hooker you want, I’m sure the hotel can find you one. Just call down to the concierge.” I struggle some more with the same lack of results.

He cups my face and kisses me softly. “I don’t want a hooker, sweet girl. I want you.”

I love what he’s doing. Love the way he makes me feel. But it doesn’t change anything. “We can’t do this, Sterling. I work for you.” I choke out in a strangled voice.