The Bedroom Business

Emily was an excellent secretary. An excellent associate. He had no intention of losing her and he would, if he let his gonads get in the way.

He draped his coat over a chair, splashed cold water over his face.

Okay. So he’d done something stupid but the damage wasn’t irreversible. He knew the reason things had gotten out of hand, in the elevator.

It was the shock of seeing that white lace.

“Hey,” he said softly, to his reflection in the mirror over the sink, “who expects to see Mary Poppins wearing white?”

Not him. Definitely, not him.

He took a towel from the stack neatly piled on the marble countertop, dried his hands and face, then tossed it aside.

That was all of it. The unexpected glimpse of lace. And, yeah, that cloud of silken curls. And all right, the surprising roundness, the feel of her breasts. The smell of her skin. The taste of her mouth. The way she’d responded to him, all that heat and fire...

“Dammit, McBride!”

Was he crazy? He was supposed to be reminding himself of how foolish it would be to take things even a step further; instead, he was turning himself on.

Okay. That was it. What had happened tonight was the start and finish of his relationship with Emily.

She’d be disappointed.

He knew she would be, Jake thought, and sighed. After what had happened just now, Emily had to figure this night would end with him in her bed. He’d have to reason with her, make her see that even though he’d like that, too, it was out of the question. It would only make for trouble. She’d just have to understand.

There was no sense letting her think that things could pro­gress between them.

Jake nodded at his reflection. “She’ll have to understand,” he murmured.

She would. Emily was an intelligent woman. She’d listen to reason, put this behind her and get on with business.

Jake let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then he slung his coat over his arm and went outside, into the corridor. Emily wasn’t there. He frowned, glanced at his watch, tapped his foot.

The door to the ladies room swung open.

“Emily,” he said briskly...

It wasn’t Emily. It was Crystal. When she saw Jake, she smiled.

“Hi, handsome. Waiting for me?”

“Uh, not exactly. Did you happen to see Emily Taylor in there?”

“Who? Oh, you mean that dowdy little... Your secre­tary?” Crystal batted her lashes. “Nope.” She moved closer, her head tilted, her smile brilliant. Too brilliant, everything about her. The sprayed-to-stay hair, the bright red mouth, the endless eyelashes. “Is it really important? To find her, I mean?”

“Yes,” Jake said, “it is.”

Crystal’s face fell but he didn’t notice. Of course it was important, he thought, as he made his way through the crowded corridor. He had to find Emily so he could tell her that what had happened—what had almost happened—was a mistake.

On the other hand, he didn’t have to tell her tonight. It might be best to let her down easy. Yeah, that was it. Take her home, see her in, maybe just kiss her again a few times, so she wouldn’t be as upset when he said­

“Jake?”

Jake cocked his head. “Emily?”

“Jake. I’m over here.”

Over where? There. Inside the jammed main room, he could just make out a hand waving in his direction.

“Excuse me,” Jake said, and started towards that hand.

Emily, in the thick of the party? It amazed him, that she’d worked up enough courage to move ahead on her own. Well, that was an improvement. Getting her out among people had been a good idea. If only he could convince her to let him put his plan into motion. Introduce her to guys. Get her to go out on dates. It would be the right thing for her, especially if she harbored any silly ideas about him, now that they’d had that insane business in the elevator...

“Jake? Jake, here I am.”

Jake almost skidded to a stop. “Emily?”

It was Emily, all right, but an Emily he’d never seen be­fore. Her coat and jacket were gone. She’d taken all those loose curls and piled them high on her head, though several fell sexily around her face. Her blouse was closed but only as far down as the button that had started all the trouble because he could see that hint of white lace emphasizing the sweet curve of flesh rising above it.

Jake stared.

What had happened to her skirt? What had she done to it? A little while ago, it had hung somewhere between her calves and ankles. Now it hung just above her knees. It wasn’t shapeless anymore, either; she’d cinched something around her waist. A belt. The belt from her coat? Yes, that had to be it. The belt, hugging her waist, holding up the skirt...