Images of Brock’s hard cock straining against his clothing flash through my mind, and I shake my head to clear them.
“That’s good to hear,” Dean says. “I just wanted to check. Brock’s a good guy and one of my oldest buddies . . . but I know what he’s like. I didn’t think I had to worry about him macking on my little sister, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine, Dean, stop acting like an old lady.” I pause. “But . . . what do you mean ‘you know what he’s like?’ Anything I should know?”
Dean sighs, takes a breath. “He’s always been a good-looking guy. Always known it too. He’s had more girlfriends over the years than I can count. I just didn’t want you being another notch on the bedpost, so to speak.”
My heart sinks. Is that really all I would be to Brock?
I don’t want to believe it. I’d like to think I know him better than that, that he’s a better man than that, but . . . could it be true?
Dean knows Brock better than I do, and he would never lie to me.
“Thanks for the warning, Dean. I really don’t think you have anything to worry about, though. We’re just coworkers, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”
I decide not to mention the secret fiancée stuff, because it’s far too much to explain away at this time of night.
“Glad to hear it,” he says, sounding relieved. “You get some sleep, you high-powered businesswoman you. I’ll call you again soon.”
I hang up, get undressed, and run a bath.
I am tired—bone-tired, when I really stop to think. It’s been a sixteen-hour day with champagne at the start and wine at the end. I’m surprised I’m still awake.
I slip into the warm suds and sigh, trying not to think about anything. I just want to relax and forget that everything outside this bath exists. It’s not that easy, of course.
Thoughts about Brock invade my mind.
Despite what Dean’s just told me, I don’t think Brock simply wants me as a quick lay. There’s something between us, something deeper. We mesh really well together, and I enjoy his company.
But that doesn’t mean we have to sleep together.
I make the decision to steer clear of him as much as that’s possible when he’s my boss, just for a few days. Let things cool down a little, let him know that we can’t do what we were so close to doing tonight.
I’ve just managed to get my life back on track after the horrible break-up with Pete. The last thing I need now is more complications, more drama.
I can’t jeopardize my new job and my new life by having an ill-advised fling with my boss—God, how much of a cliché would I be?
Brock’s my boss and nothing more.
Well, he’s also my fake fiancée, I guess. But hopefully, we can get that whole mess sorted out sooner rather than later.
I lay back in the bath and let out a deep sigh. Life is never simple, is it?
Brock
We’ve been back at the office for a few days now after the New York trip, and I get the distinct impression that Nina is ignoring me. Well, maybe not ignoring me but avoiding me if at all possible. It’s really bugging me.
I’m supposed to be chairing a meeting right now, but I’m not fully here. I can’t help but keep glancing at Nina, who’s sitting opposite from me, dutifully taking notes.
Despite getting that major deal done in New York, there’s always more work, always something new on the horizon.
“. . . so we’ll need to make sure we adhere to this two-week deadline,” someone is saying. I’m so bored I don’t even look up to see who.
Nina’s wearing a relatively low-cut top today—definitely still office-appropriate, but I can just catch a peek of the swell of her breasts underneath, and my eyes keep getting drawn to it. Only a few nights ago, I had my hands on those smooth, creamy, soft tits, my fingers caressing her pink, hardened . . .
She’s off-limits. She made that quite clear to you in New York. Stop. It ain’t happening.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear my head.
I feel like a teenager again, not able to focus, hormones flooding through me. Normally, I never let women get to me, but for some reason, Nina has wriggled her way under my skin, and I can’t shake her loose.
I want her. I want her bad.
It was a terrible idea to kiss her on the trip—for so many reasons.
I should have known better, been better. She’s my subordinate at work. She’s younger than me. She’s just coming out of what looks to have been a horrible relationship, and she’s my friend’s little sister, for fuck’s sake. What on earth was I thinking?