Page 8 of Under His Touch

The driver takes me to the front entrance, and before I can reach for the handle to let myself out, he’s right there, opening the door for me. It feels a little odd to a girl who’s used to taking care of herself.

“Thank you,” I say. Wait, do I tip him? Cripes, I’m a little out of my element here. I reach for my purse, but he gives me a nod and waves his hand toward the doorman, who seems to be waiting for me.

“The concierge will take you from here,” he says.

“Thank you. I didn’t get your name?”

His head rears back, just slightly, like my interest in him has taken him by a surprise. Perhaps the women Alec normally has chauffeured to his apartment don’t bother chitchatting with the help.

“Phillip Andrews,” he says.

“It was nice to meet you, Phillip,” I say.

He takes my hand in his and closes both of his palms over it. “The pleasure was all mine, Megan.”

He lets me go, and I walk up the marble stairs leading to the massive front entrance. “Hi, I’m Megan Williams,” I say when I reach the middle-aged man, with a big toothy smile. I hold my hand out, and he shakes it. “I’m here to see Alec Carson, and Phillip said you’d be taking me from here.”

“That’s right, Miss Williams, please come in.”

“Call me Megan, and you are?”

“I’m Derek,” he says, and pulls open the big glass door.

“Nice to meet you, Derek.”

“You, too,” he says with a nod. “Alec has been expecting you. I trust your drive was pleasant.”

“Very,” I say, and follow him into the spacious lobby tastefully decorated with glass and chrome that gives the place a welcoming, airy feel. We step onto the waiting elevator, and he puts a key in, and presses the top floor.

“Beautiful night,” I say to Derek.

“Spring is here,” he says, tugging at the lapels on his black jacket. “My favorite time of year.”

“I’m a fall girl,” I say. “Sweaters, lattes, falling leaves.”

“Tourists,” he laments, and we both laugh as the elevator opens on the top floor. “Here we are.” He waves his hand and I glance out to find Alec outside his suite waiting for me.

Leaning against the doorjamb, feet crossed at the ankle, he’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a comfy-looking blue T-shirt that brings out the color of his eyes. A dressed-up Alec is one thing, but this comfortable, laid-back version has my stupid ovaries doing the macarena. He has the sex appeal of a hot fudge brownie delight with a cherry on top, and here I am wishing I had a big spoon.

“Megan,” he says, his deep octave throbbing through me and settling at the needy juncture between my legs. “No problems getting here?”

“None whatsoever. Phillip was very nice, and so was Derek.”

I turn to see Derek off and give him a little finger wave. He nods before the doors ping shut, locking the world out, and Alec and me in.

“Phillip and Derek,” he says. “You know their names?”

I face Alec, and once again I’m blasted with a bolt of lust I wish I didn’t feel. “Yes,” I mumble.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, his gaze leaving my face, to take in my T-shirt and yoga pants. In turn, I examine him. “You’re not in a suit.”

He arches one dark brow, and that’s when I notice his hair has been cut. Long or short, he’s as handsome as ever. “And you’re very observant.”

“Did I catch you showering, sleeping or having sex?” I ask.

His grin is so goddamn sexy I reach out and place my hand on the wall to maintain a vertical position. “Well, we might as well be comfortable while going through the forms. I dressed for comfort,” I say, and wave my hand over my clothes.

He glances the length of me again and makes a sound. For a brief second I think it might be a moan, but I have to be mistaken. Right? I stash that thought to examine it later as he pushes off the frame and waves his hand to the open door behind him. “Are we doing this in the hall, or do you want to come in?”

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