Page 26 of Foreplay with the Boss

“Almost like I’m your boss,” he said, a canary-eating grin curving his lips.

I rolled my eyes, then turned and gave myself a mental shake. When I noticed him hovering near my desk, like he thought otherwise I might flee, I didn’t bother trying to be demure about gathering my belongings. I bent to get my purse, aiming that ass he demanded to get on the train his way. If he wanted to play dirty, well I could play dirty.

The harsh swearword sent a swirl of victory through me. Good thing most everyone else had already gone home for the day because he hadn’t even been a little quiet.

It was only when we were steps away from the elevator that I thought he might use our ride down as payback, and the spot between my thighs ached just thinking about him pressing me up against a corner.

But then the last hold-out—one of the design interns—rushed over. He launched into a spiel about how much he enjoyed working here, effectively keeping Jameson occupied during the ride down.

I shot him a smug look, and he gave me one that promised he’d still find a time to pay me back.

On our walk to the train, his hand returned to my back, and I didn’t fight it. I liked the comfort and the security too much, and I was too exhausted to continue fighting every single move he made. If I fought the little things, I’d never have the strength to say no when he started in with his tempting counterpoints of why we should give in to our attraction.

The train ride was pretty uneventful. We went over the reports and noted which accounts looked like they needed some extra work to get the numbers up.

As my stop neared, I started to gather my stuff.

“I can’t in good conscience let you go home to an empty wine cabinet,” Jameson said, placing a hand on my knee.

“Right. I’m sure it’s your conscience telling you to bring me home, where we could drink a bottle of wine and be alone.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Guilty. But, since you’re opposed to going home with me, I was going to suggest this nice little wine bar at the next stop. I’ll even put you in a cab afterward if you’re too scared to ride alone with me in my car for ten whole minutes.”

The challenge glittered in his clear blue eyes like he knew I’d want to argue that I was absolutely not scared to be alone with him. I was more scared of what I’d do if I was, but I wasn’t telling him that, either.

The train slowed with a squeal of brakes.

“Come on, Kat. Let me at least buy you a drink. We’ll toast to a successful week of working together and unwind a little.”

“You think you can just pull out the silver-tongued devil and I’ll agree?”

His hand circled my thigh and the warmth from his skin seeped into mine. “Call me anything you like, sweetheart, but you’re having that drink with me.”

Save your energy for the big fights, remember? Plus, this was wine we were talking about, and I could really use some unwind time. And, well, if I didn’t bolt toward the now-open door, I wouldn’t make it before the door shut again. “Fine. One drink.”

“Two.”

I sighed, nice and loud, so he’d know he was impossible. Then I lifted my phone like it was a recorder. “Tips from boss: go out drinking on a Monday night.”

His low laugh echoed through my chest. “I’ll give you better tips than that.”

Several minutes later, he pushed to his feet, and with a smirk, said, “This is where we get off.” When I narrowed my eyes at him, he added, “What? I meant for the wine bar. Damn, get your mind out of the gutter, Kat. We work together.”

With a shake of my head, I stood and started toward the aisle, and the train really hit the brakes this time. I reached out for the bar, trying to find something to cling to.

My back bumped into Jameson’s firm front, and he wound an arm around my waist to steady me.

“I always seem to forget how hard the train brakes,” I said, feeling embarrassing heat climbing my neck as a different kind of heat pooled low in my stomach.

Jameson’s five-o’clock shadow scruff brushed my cheek as his low voice invaded my head. “Suddenly I’m a fan.”

I might’ve accidentally sunk deeper into the embrace. Just for a second or two.

Three at the most.

Then I sorted through the haze, found my resolve, and clutched it like a lifeline.

I was pretty sure Jameson’s grip on me was tighter, though.

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