The CEO, the Puppy and Me

It was true. She’d always thought she’d had the best mother in the entire world. And then she and her siblings had read their mother’s journal. Those cherished memories grew tarnished. Sometimes she wished they’d just burned her journal and let the fire consume her mother’s secret. And other times, she was excited about the future and meeting this mystery man who was her biological father.

“But you have to remember,” Gia said, “my mother lied to me my entire life. So she wasn’t perfect.”

Ric reached out and took her hand in his. He gave it a squeeze. “No one is perfect. But your mother loved you.”

“I’m sure your mother loves you too.”

He shook his head. “I was always a bother—a mistake.”

This time Gia squeezed his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Looks like both of our mothers let us down.”

“I guess.”

“At least you had your uncle. Was he always there for you?”

“He was. I took his quietness for aloofness, but thanks to you finding all those papers he’d saved from my youth, I realize that I misjudged him. And for that I’m really sorry. I remember one time he threw me a surprise birthday party. It wasn’t really my thing, but he made sure all of my classmates were there—”

As Ric regaled her with stories of his childhood, she felt the walls between them coming down. Beneath his cool, business exterior there was a really warm, passionate man. And she was utterly falling for him—falling for his deep soothing voice; falling for the gentle rumble of his laugh; falling for him.

“I really should get back to work,” Ric said.

That was her cue to release his hand even though it felt so natural to have his fingers laced with hers. And it was time to sit upright, instead of letting her shoulder lean into his. It was with great reluctance that she did those things. Once they were no longer touching, she missed the warmth of his touch—the coziness they’d shared.

She turned to him to say how much this time had meant to her at the same moment he turned to her. Their faces were so close. If she were just to lean forward ever so slightly, her lips would press to his. And what would be the problem with that? After all they’d shared this evening, a kiss was the perfect way to end it. Or would it just be the beginning?

Without thinking of the consequences, Gia leaned forward. Her lips pressed to his. He didn’t move at first, as though unsure what to do about this new situation. Gia was more than willing to show him what she had in mind.

He continued to sit perfectly still. Was he shocked by her actions? How was that possible? She was certain plenty of women had thrown themselves at him. Not that she was throwing herself at him.

She was—she thought for a moment—sampling him. Her lips moved over his smooth ones. Definitely sampling—like he was the finest, most decadent tiramisu dessert. And she loved desserts!

Then there was a groan—or was it a moan? Had the sound come from him? Or her? But then it didn’t matter because he’d reached out to her, stroking her cheek. He met her kiss for kiss. She was getting lost in the moment.

Why exactly had she waited all this time? Kissing Ric was something that should be done often—as in twice in the morning, at least three times at lunch and definitely all evening long.

His tongue touched her lips, seeking access. She opened herself up to him, anxious to take this to the next level. She couldn’t get enough of him. He was so addictive.

As his tongue probed and stroked her, a moan swelled in the back of her throat. No kiss had ever been quite like this one—

Buzz. Buzz.

No. No. No. Just ignore it. I

t’ll stop.

Not the kissing. Definitely not the kissing. She never wanted it to end. Apparently Ric felt the same way as he reached out and pulled her closer—her soft curves aligning with his hard planes. At some unknown point Gin had discreetly disappeared, leaving the couch all theirs. Mmm...

Buzz. Buzz.

It was Ric who pulled back. “You should get that. It might be important.”

“Me? Isn’t it your phone?”

They both reached for their phones on their respective end tables. Ric was right. It was her phone. And it was the contractor.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s work.”

Ric nodded in understanding. While she pressed the phone to her ear, Ric returned to his desk and started running his fingers over the keyboard once more.