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Okay, I could do this. I knew how to act professional. All I had to do was take notes and draft some kind of complaint to the manufacturer. Mr. Hotly would sign it, and I could go back to arranging his schedule and reviewing the profit-and-loss account.

“What did QC say the problem was?” I asked. “Is it the seals? The fittings?”

Mr. Hotly ran a finger along the edge of the door. “A customer fucked his girlfriend against the wall, and it cracked. I need you to assist me in checking whether that was a one-off.”

What? I almost choked on my own tongue. “I-I’m sorry?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Lauren.” He closed the gap between us, heat rolling off him in waves. “The plastic does look flimsier than it should. How long have we been using this supplier?”

“Uh…uh… Supplier?”

“Of the showers, Lauren.”

My brain had turned to mush, along with the rest of me. Mr. Hotly was…what? Suggesting we have sex? Right here in the showroom? I opened my mouth to protest, but no sound came out, and the ache between my legs told me I didn’t hate the idea as much as I should have.

“This…this is inappropriate. You’re my boss, and…and…”

“Are you saying you don’t want my dick? All those hours you spent watching me in meetings, you weren’t fantasising about how it would feel to have me thrusting inside you, stroking that magic spot over and over until you screamed my name?”

“I…” I couldn’t lie; I’d done precisely that. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why? Are you worried the shareholders might disapprove?” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me tight against him, and when I felt that hardness, I knew I’d do anything he wanted. “I own the company, Lauren. I own you.”

“You own me? I’m not an object. Just because you pay my salary doesn’t mean I have to sleep with you.”

“No, you’ll sleep with me because you want to.”

His hand inched up my leg, those clever fingers worming their way under one of the tight pencil skirts I’d started wearing just for him. My thighs clenched, but I didn’t ask him to stop. He was right. He was right about everything. I’d dreamed of him kissing me, of him talking filth and screwing me into submission. We’d probably end up breaking an expensive piece of merchandise, but who cared?

When his lips met mine, I gave up on my weak protests. Our tongues duelled in a fire-fuelled clash, lust blazing through me like napalm. Liquid rocket fuel. There was nothing gentle about Mr. Hotly, but that only turned me on more. I didn’t have to think or second-guess or wonder if I was doing this right because he arranged me exactly the way he wanted me. And when he finally lifted me against the wall and lowered me slowly onto his steely shaft, all I could do was moan. Speaking was unnecessary. Our bodies did the talking. Even when the wall cracked, I didn’t say a word, just clung on as his hips pistoned faster, faster, and—

“Ma’am, is this yours?”

“Huh?”

A teenage boy thrust something in my direction, and without thinking, I held out a hand and took it.

“Uh, no, this isn’t…”

But it was too late. He’d vanished out the door, and I was left holding a stranger’s billfold, slim black leather, worn but not tatty. I flipped it open, and… Oh. He wasn’t called Mr. Hotly. Duh. No, his name was Cristian Garza. He had shorter hair in the picture on his gym membership card, and I wasn’t sure which style suited him better, but he still managed to look sexy in the passport-style photo, which was an achievement in itself. The billfold also contained three hundred bucks in cash, but nothing with an address.

“Hey, Lauren, do you want lunch?” Macie asked. She worked shifts as a barista around taking college classes, although she spent so much time serving customers at Café au LA that I wasn’t sure when she managed to sleep. Someday, she wanted to become a social worker.

“Can I get an avocado salad?”

Wait a minute, was all rocket fuel liquid? Or did it come in solid form as well? These details were important.

“Sure. Are you still avoiding cupcakes?”

“Unfortunately. That guy with the abs and the white T-shirt who was here a few minutes ago, is he a regular?”

“The dreamboat?” She made an exaggerated sad face. “I never saw him before. Why? Are you hoping to score a date? I thought you were seeing the app guy? Did you break up? I guess I’m not surprised after what he did to Tera, but I’m real sorry to hear that.”

What was she talking about? Who was Tera? I’d never heard Theo mention that name before, not once.

“The dreamboat dropped his billfold.” I held it up. “What did the app guy do to Tera?”

Macie was already backing away. “Sorry, sorry, forget I said anything. You’re happy together and that’s what matters, right?”

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