"Do I know you?" he asked.
Only parts of me. The naughty parts.
"Maybe." I sure as hell hoped Sandra got what she wanted from this because I was never doing her any favors again. "Does that matter?"
"Not at all." He grinned, the devilish smile that had haunted my dreams ever since I'd kissed a stranger under the mistletoe and followed him back to what I thought was his office. I hadn't had a date since that damned party because I couldn't get him out of my head. His hands. His smell. His taste. I told myself it would be stupid to track down a guy who went south without even asking for a name, much less digits, but the truth was, I was ashamed of my behavior. I hadn't even told Sandra.
The object of my shameful lust leaned on his desk and crossed his arms. He'd rolled his shirtsleeves to reveal tan forearms corded lightly with muscle. "Who sent you?"
I set down my bag and took out my CD player. The song I planned to sing was cued up and ready to go.
Then I gritted my teeth--without showing it, of course--and untied my belt. My coat slid down my body. I struck what I hoped was a challenging pose that didn't reveal my inner turmoil. His eyes nearly bugged out. "I think you know who sent me."
Would he guess it was Sandra? Would this get her in trouble instead of him? I sort of hoped so, unless he deserved it.
He blinked. Exhaled. Smiled again. "I can't think of anybody who likes me this much."
Not even his secret office girlfriend? Had he been with the girlfriend the night of the party, the night he made me come so hard I nearly passed out? How insulting--to both of us! To women in general!
Sexy, two-timing bastard. I hated men like him. Atypical for a Taurus, but maybe he had Aries rising. Suddenly I had the urge to eke some personal revenge on Nathan Guillaume in addition to causing a ruckus at his place of employment.
I sauntered up to him. "Maybe I'm here because I'm the one who likes you."
)
