“Lyle!” he shouts.
Lyle. I look him over and smile. It feels good to know who he is. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but it feels as though meeting him here tonight is the reason I’m here. I wonder how I’ll feel about it in the morning.
Then I decide that it doesn’t matter; right now, I’m with Lyle, and dancing with him makes me feel good. I’m happy and having fun; there’s a prospect of things getting better tomorrow and the thrumming music makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine. That’s all that’s really important at this moment.
“Are you here with anyone?” I ask.
“Nah!” he says. “You?”
“Nope!” I say cheerfully.
So, for whatever reason, we both came here alone. I push closer to Lyle, my hips brushing against his. The contact sends sparks of electricity through me, making me shiver. It’s hard not to imagine how this would feel if we weren’t separated by the thin barrier of our clothes. I can feel the way his muscles flex as he dances, and we’re pressed so tightly together that I can feel his quickly growing interest.
Fuck, this feels good. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life than I do Lyle right now. I’ve always been so focused on my career and proving myself to my father that I never made time for myself to really look at others. A small voice in my mind tells me that this might be the alcohol talking and that I might end up regretting throwing myself at the first attractive stranger I saw, but I ignore it.
Regrets or no regrets…none of it matters. Lyle is in front of me, moving with me and touching me, and that contact drives all other thoughts from my mind. I want him to keep touching me. I want to pull him away and ravish him until there are no other thoughts in his head but me.
Lyle ducks his head down. Our lips are almost touching, his breath tingling against mine. It’s so intoxicating that my eyes flutter before I surge forward and kiss him hungrily, needing to taste him.
He kisses back with equal fervor and I find myself pulled flush against him, my breasts pressed against his strong chest. I don’t care who can see us. I just want this. I’m aching so badly for Lyle that it’s almost painful to pull away from the kiss, gasping for air. I’m gratified to see the same naked lust in Lyle’s eyes; he wants me just as much as I want him.
And neither of us can wait any longer.
“Want to get out of here?” he asks, his voice low and rough. “I know a place nearby.”
I should go home. My father wants to speak to me about something important in the morning, and I need to be presentable for that. Staying up all night with a stranger is not the way to show how responsible I am.
But there is nothing in the world that could make me deny Lyle right now.
“Sounds great,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Two
Lyle
On my way to Grande in the back of a taxi, I close my eyes briefly, trying to control my raging headache.
I’ve only just left work. Part of me just wants to run away from it all and forget about all the problems I’m leaving behind, but I know I can’t do that. Energy Plus Co. is a legacy that my parents left behind two years ago after they passed away in a car crash. Whether or not I was ready to have the responsibility of the company foisted on my shoulders didn’t matter; it’s mine now, whether I like it or not.
And, honestly, I’m normally okay with everything. I enjoy the day-to-day running of the company and interacting with my employees. I like discussing new ideas. When I was a teenager, I never would have expected that I’d be running a billion-dollar company by the time I was thirty-four, but I’m happy doing it.
Yes, everything will be fine…if it wasn’t for Alan Simmons.
I press my forehead against the cool window, scowling. That man is going to be the fucking death of me, I swear. It isn’t my fault that my company is larger and more popular than his. Having two technology-based companies in the one city was always going to cause drama when one inevitably won out over the other.
I’m thinking about the contract that’s currently on my desk. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to fight against someone when it just means losing out. In fact, just three days ago, I started a proposal with Alan; if we work together, we could further both our prospects. I’ve been interested for some time, in branching into the field of cell phones, a device that everyone uses. If Energy Plus Co. and T
ech Square Inc. combine their resources, we should be able to make a device that tops anything else in the current market.
I have a feeling, though, that it’s not going to happen. Alan Simmons is stubborn to a fault; it was hard enough for my parents to work with him, and he at least respected them. As for me, he just looks down on me as a young interloper who doesn’t deserve to be where I am.
When I first took over the company two years ago, I might have agreed with him. But I’ve worked damn hard since then. I’ve more than earned my place by now.
My people are already prepared to have to work on this project alone, at least, but I still believe we’d get further with the help of Tech Square Inc., and I really had hoped that Alan would have seen the benefits of a strategic alliance between us. It’s frustrating to know, however, that no matter what I propose, nothing will be good enough for him.
I think back to the last message I got of the day, before I left work. It had been from Alan, picked up on voicemail because most of my staff had gone home. I’d checked the phone before I left out of habit.
“Tomorrow, I will send a representative to speak to you regarding this proposal,” Alan had said, his dry voice giving nothing away. “I hope we will be able to reach a profitable outcome.”