Page 39 of Degrees of Control

Westwood eyed her over like a buyer at a slave auction. “Aren’t you a little young to be hustling? Not that I’m not intrigued.”

Charlie imagined dousing herself with kerosene and setting her body alight. “Nope, legal.”

He winked at her. “Good to know. Love the accent, by the way, always liked it down under.”

Urgh, who talked like that? And was it just her or had all the office drones around them fallen silent? Charlie cleared her throat. “Well, I’d like to find James and commence my sharking. Can you point me in the right direction?”

A wrinkle appeared between Westwood’s well-groomed eyebrows. She got the impression this wasn’t going the way he wanted. “Want a tour first, sweetheart? Show you around?”

Ordinarily she would have said yes just to be polite, but Charlie knew Westwood wasn’t offering a tour of his workplace, so much as a chance to parade the foreigner James was banging around the office for lols. “No thanks. Where’s James’ office?”

Westwood’s face contorted into a scowl. “Straight ahead and to the left.”

“Cheers.” Charlie tried to set out on her way but Joel blocked her path. “Before you go, can you say something Australian for me, Sweet Pea? ‘G’day’ or the shrimp line or something? I’m not picky.”

Someone behind Charlie giggled and she had to admit it was a good parting shot. Saying nothing made her look petty, complying made her look weak, and protesting made her look like a stick-in-the-mud. There was really one option. She gave Joel Westwood her biggest, sweetest smile. “I think I hear a dingo having sex with your mum.”

Several onlookers snickered and Charlie suspected that alone prevented Joel Westwood from yelling out“bitch”as she sidestepped him and began walking in the direction of James’ office. What a prize tool. Charlie passed a mysterious blonde who gave her a thin smile. “Hope you have a good lunch with James,” she said.

Something about her tone was off, but Charlie—her head full of things she wished she’d said to Joel Westwood—didn’t care. “I’m sure I will. I hope you have a good lunch. If you’re having lunch.”

The woman’s smile grew even thinner. “Thanks.”

As she approached James’ office—she knew it was his because his name was embossed on a brass plate on the door—Charlie’s hands began prickling with sweat. It was like she had sexual sonar and it knew the object of her desire was near. She couldn’t see him, all the blinds were drawn and for a moment she amused herself wondering what he was doing in there. Browsing the web for more black T-shirts? Push-ups? The idea of the rough and tumble man she knew tapping away at business reports seemed intrinsically wrong.

Finally she worked up the courage to knock quietly and heard him drawl, “Come in.”

She slid in through the smallest possible gap in the door and the sight of him reclining in his chair brought an entirely depressing thought to mind.

I will never sleep with anyone as hot as James Hunter ever again.

Westwood had looked stylish and well-groomed, but sitting there with his mussy blond hair and immaculate charcoal suit, James looked like royalty. Like a Disney prince gone rogue.

“Hey there,” he said, smirking like the arrogant prick he was.

Didn’t he know he was ruining her with that lazy, insolent smile, with his tight abs and broad chest and his stupid square-jawed face? Who would she want to date after this? Who would ever want to be compared to him? He opened his mouth, possibly to offer another pointless greeting, and Charlie threw herself on him. She kissed him in punishment for making her wait this long, for destroying her chances of being content with some middling nice guy. She kissed the arrogant look right off his face.

Soon she forgot everything except the feel of his lips against hers. His hands drew her forward and she eagerly clambered into his lap. They consumed each other, rocking slightly in his office chair until she hoped that by “lunch” James meant “a covet fuck against my desk.” Her sexual sonar was going haywire, a compass needle far too close to a magnet. Finally, James pulled away, leaving her wet and grasping.

“I should get you out of here before the rumors start flying,” he muttered into her neck.

“They already might be. Let’s just do it.”

But James was already putting her on her feet and straightening his tie. Charlie had the mad urge to stomp her foot on the floor in protest. She resisted it as she watched James adjust himself and willed herself not to stare at his crotch.

“I made us a reservation at Clementine. You ever been there?”

“Uh, no?”

“You’ll like it. It’s just up the street, we’ll walk there.”

Once again he led her out of a room by the hand, but unlike Sophia’s party, this felt much, much weirder.

At least he’s not pretending I’m a courier or something. My lips are so swollen everyone’s going to know we were kissing.

Mercifully, all the office drones kept their eyes down as they passed and Westwood and mystery blonde were nowhere to be seen. Within seconds, she and James were exiting the lift, striding past the bored-looking receptionist and out onto the street. James steered her in the direction of the restaurant. “Find the place all right?”

“It was fine, had a run in with that Westwood guy, but that’s it.”

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