Simply Sexy (Simply 5)

“Morning, Emma. I take it you spent yesterday resting up from your Christmas bash?” He folded his hands behind his head, happy for the distraction.

“Oh yes. I soaked in a tub, pampered myself and read a good book. I’m feeling completely refreshed, thank you. How was your weekend?” She put her purse in her bottom desk drawer as if she’d been here all her life and sat down in her seat.

“I spent yesterday with Joe.” And Corinne, but he wasn’t in the mood to even think about that now. He was starting to have conflicted feelings toward Corinne, brought on by her constant attention to Joe and his needs.

“Corinne tells me his prognosis is good. I’m so glad.” Emma clasped her hands to her chest. “No man should have to spend such a long time in a hospital. I think we should throw him a welcome-back party when he’s ready.”

This from the woman whose column was on the line and didn’t know it. Colin groaned, needing a reprieve from guilt, pressure and his own thoughts.

“Delivery,” a male voice called, pushing through the doors and entering the offices.

Colin turned to see a man, arms loaded with seasonal flowers.

“I’m looking for a Rina Lowell?”

A low growl escaped Colin’s throat at the same time a knot settled in his stomach. Had she had a man in her apartment after all?

“Oh, how exciting. Right here,” Emma said, pointing to Rina’s desk. Once the flowers were placed on the blotter and the delivery man gone, Emma turned to Colin. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Oh dear.”

Before he could suggest peeking at the card and embarrass himself completely, Rina waltzed inside, a smile on her face, a flush on her cheeks and her hair tousled from the wind. He got a damn hard-on just looking at her.

“Morning, all.” She strode to her desk. “What’s this?”

“Flowers, of course,” Emma said.

Rina’s gaze darted Colin’s way for a brief second before she jerked her stare back to the bouquet. But he didn’t miss the hopeful glint in her eye and was able to relax. He stepped near her desk and leaned closer so only she could hear. “Sorry, babe. They aren’t from me.”

“I didn’t think they were.” She unwrapped the card and read silently, putting the small white envelope in her desk drawer when she was finished.

“So?” Emma asked. “Are you going to share the identity of your secret admirer?”

“They’re from Jake and Brianne. Congratulating me on my series starting.” Rina didn’t meet Emma’s gaze when answering, a sure sign something was wrong. But Emma didn’t pick up on it.

“That’s so sweet. Family’s wonderful. Speaking of relatives, I need to make a call and then get to work!” Emma swiveled in her chair, leaving Rina to get settled.

She moved the flowers to the side of the desk, dropped her purse into a drawer and began to unbutton her wool coat. Colin didn’t buy for one minute that her brother and his wife had sent those flowers, but she’d hid the identity of the sender more from Emma than him, which made no sense. He wondered about it for a minute, but when she slid her jacket off her shoulders, the world tilted and all rational thought fled.

Because beneath the oversize coat she wore a black blouse, saved from conservatism by a plunging neckline and a microminiskirt that emphasized her slender legs, which were covered only by sheer, nude-colored panty hose. At least he hoped they were panty hose, because if he caught a hint of a lace garter, he’d pass out on sight.

He strode over to her desk, grabbing her hand. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Coffee break,” he muttered, pulling her through the double doors to a stairwell. It wasn’t exactly prime office space, but it afforded the only means of privacy he could think of.

Not even the dank smell could dampen his desire or his need to get inside her, body and soul. Once alone, he backed her against the wall, propping one arm over her head. “Who really sent those flowers?” he asked, his baser male instincts coming through.

“You care?”

He rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. “I may have one hell of a way of showing it, but I do.”

“Stan Blecher sent the flowers,” she admitted.

“What the hell does the old man think he’s doing?”