Page 20 of Legal Seduction
“All out?”
“The fancy dinner, the seduction...”
He was responsible for the fancy dinner, but the seduction had been more her than him. He shrugged. “What can I say?”
Stone sighed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” he murmured as he stood up and headed toward the door.
Simon got up and followed him out. He hoped he knew what the hell he was doing, too. The first thing he did was head to Bette’s office. But it was dark and empty. As he turned around in the doorway, Miguel waved him over to the reception desk in the lobby and informed him. “She called in sick.”
Yeah, right...
She wasn’t sick. She was scared, scared that he was going to find out what she was up to. And she was damn right to be scared because he was more determined than ever to get the truth out of Bette Monroe.
Unfortunately—after last night—that wasn’t all he wanted from her.
* * *
Bette twirled in front of the oval mirror in her walk-in closet. She admired the flow of the green silk negligee against her body, but she couldn’t look at her face. She was too disgusted with herself.
About last night...
About sleeping with Simon Kramer. What had she been thinking? Sure, she’d spent the past two years wondering what it would be like. But it would have been safer to just keep wondering.
Because being with him...
That had been a lot more powerful than she’d ever imagined it could be. The man was incredible. His body, the way he’d touched her, the way he’d moved inside her.
She shivered. But she wasn’t really cold. Heat suffused her body, as it had every time she’d thought of the night before, of what she and Simon Kramer had done in his office, on his couch.
How many other women had he taken against the supple black leather? She hadn’t thought about that in the incredible heat of the moment. But she’d been thinking about it ever since...
Not that she wanted to be anything special to him. She didn’t want to beanythingto him. She didn’t even want to see him again.
That was partially why she’d called in sick, which was another reason she couldn’t look at her face in the mirror. She was disgusted with herself for lying and for being a coward. She was tougher than that; if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have made it on her own all these years in New York.
Maybe it was better that she didn’t go into the office because then she wouldn’t have to endure the humiliation of being walked out with her box of belongings. And she had no doubt that Simon would walk her to the door. He had no use for her anymore, not after last night.
Her doorbell rang, and she tensed. Who could that be? Hardly anyone had her new address yet. She still hadn’t unpacked all her boxes, which was another reason she’d decided not to go into the office today. She had too much to do. But the box of lingerie samples had distracted her, and she’d found herself trying on some of the things. She’d wanted inspiration for more designs but all she could think about was Simon and last night.
The doorbell rang again, insistently, as if someone had her or his finger pressed against it. How had the visitor even gotten past the doorman? This wasn’t like her old building in Queens that had a broken lock on the door to the lobby, so there had been absolutely no security but for her overprotective neighbors and the two roommates with whom she’d shared the two-bedroom apartment.
Thank goodness for them.
Maybe she hadn’t survived entirely on her own in the city. But this building, in the Garment District, was supposed to have high security, at least that was what the property manager had claimed. So maybe it was a new neighbor introducing her or himself, which would be nice since no one had been particularly friendly or warm yet.
At least she had one friend in the building, the one who’d recommended the place to her. But Muriel was out of town on a photo shoot. If Bette hadn’t had to work out these two weeks, she could have gone with her.
Damn Simon Kramer and his employment contract. No matter that Bette was doing better financially than she ever had, she still couldn’t afford a lawsuit that she was certain to lose.
She grabbed a long fleece robe from a hook on the closet wall before heading through her bedroom, with the sheets tangled on the unmade bed, to the living room. The sun shone through the tall windows in the brick walls, casting a warm glow on the dark-stained hardwood floor. She loved this place. But she wasn’t entirely convinced it was as safe as the property manager and Muriel had claimed.
How had someone found out where she lived? Unless Muriel had sent congratulatory flowers for Bette quitting Street Legal. Or had Simon sent the kiss-off flowers he’d sent to every other lover he’d tired of?
But Simon didn’t know where she lived.
To be safe, Bette paused before opening the door. She rose up on tiptoe and peered through the peephole. And her breath caught in her lungs as fear filled her.
No...
