Naughty, Naughty Prince Charming (Charming 1)

Zoe rolled her eyes and looked at Lucy. “Talk about him?” she said with irritation. “What an ego. Let’s just hope he lives up to it in bed.”

Lucy let her hands hit her legs and walked toward Zoe. “How can you be so flippant about sex?”

“Why do you have to be so damn serious all the time?”

Lucy didn’t know what came over her. Suddenly, her mouth opened and nastiness just came out. “I have bills to pay and a mother to take care of. All of us can’t live the good life and never have to sweat over a dollar. One day you’re going to get a wake-up call. You can’t live for the moment and not have regrets later.”

Zoe opened her mouth and shut it again. Then, after a moment, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Why?” Lucy asked. “Because it’s the truth you don’t want to hear?”

A low sound of frustration came from Zoe’s lips. “Just fuck him and get it over with. I don’t like what this is doing to you.”

“I don’t want to ‘fuck’ him.”

“Oh yeah,” Zoe said. “Then, who am I talking about? If you didn’t want him you wouldn’t instantly have known I was talking about him. I could have meant Chris.”

“I knew you meant Logan.”

“That’s my point,” Zoe said. “Fuck him and get it over with.”

Starting toward the door, Lucy felt both angry and hurt. Zoe shouldn’t be telling her to “fuck” her boss. Didn’t Zoe know what that would do to her career? A good friend would know and understand.

Lucy made it all the way to the elevator before regret started to ball in her gut. By the time she reached the street, she was half in tears. Thirty minutes later, she stood in her apartment and punched the answering machine button.

Zoe’s voice sounded. “I love you like a sister, Lucy. I wouldn’t steer you wrong. This guy has been under your skin for a year. Give some thought to working him out of your system so you can move on. Oh, and call me tomorrow and apologize. You owe me one.”

Click.

“Damn it, Zoe,” Lucy whispered into the emptiness around her.

“Why don’t you understand? I can’t just sleep with Logan. I…I can’t.”

* * * * *

Lucy arrived to work the next morning to find an envelope on her chair. Inside she found a single sheet of shiny pink paper and a hotel key card. Her heart lurched. She glanced at her door, knowing it was shut, but needing the reassurance of a second glance.

She sank into her chair, heart beating a million miles an hour, and read.

At night I lay awake thinking of your soft skin, wishing you were naked beneath me. I can feel you in my dreams. Can you feel me? During the day you drive me to distraction filling my thoughts with secret desires. Surrender your fantasies to me.

Discover our own little secret world, our secret place no one else shares.

Meet me tonight.

The Manhattan Hotel

Nine o’clock—Room 2012

By the time she finished reading, Lucy’s hand was shaking, and her insides trembling. The note wasn’t signed, but then it didn’t have to be.

Lucy knew who had sent it.

Dropping her elbows to the desk she let her head fall into her hands. Oh God, what was she going to do? She couldn’t sleep with her boss.

She couldn’t.

Could she?

She wanted him. So much so that desire burned like a low flame ready to flare into an inferno. Her eyes drifted shut, her thoughts racing with images of their bodies entwined, of his mouth on hers, on her skin. He was like a drug. She couldn’t help but consider the temptation he represented.

Temptation. The word danced in her mind. He was that and so much more. A knock sounded on her door. She jumped and then shoved the note in her top drawer.

Swallowing hard, she forced her words, “Come in.”

When Greg appeared in her office, Lucy wanted to crawl under the desk. His well-fitted blue pin-striped suit, with a blue shirt and matching tie, seemed to decorate the arrogance that clung to him like a second skin.

“It’s first thing in the morning. We’re supposed to talk about our ideas.”

She really didn’t need this right now. “Right. Can we talk on the way to the coffeepot?”

“Better yet,” he said, walking toward her, and grabbing the back of a chair. “Why don’t we walk to the coffee shop on the corner and have a strategy session.”

He’d shut the door when he entered. Of course, it had been shut when he arrived, but it still felt uncomfortable. Maybe, because she knew his intentions were anything but respectable. And she wasn’t going for coffee with him. Not now. Not ever.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lucy said with a firm rejection intended in her tone. “I’m new. I doubt that would look good.”