Lock You Down (Rivers Brothers 2)

There were two rooms leading off the common area. Only one had a door. Which likely made it the bathroom.

The other was an open doorway into a room that didn't match the rest of the building, as it was painted a stark white.

Music hummed from somewhere inside, a song that I was vaguely familiar with that likely topped the charts in the nineties.

Moving closer, I got a better view of the room, with its long white table under the windows, compulsively neat with one large bowl full of fresh fruit, and one marble-colored cutting board with a black knife resting on it.

Moving closer still, I saw all the way in. I saw the desk toward the far left--marble colored, but I had my bet on not actual marble, with a simple cream cushioned chair. There was another long table behind the desk, home to a neatly stacked file holder, a printer, and a small radio where her iPod was hooked in.

The woman herself stood there as well, her back toward me, so I couldn't get a better look at her face. Her body that I had rightly called long and lean, had a slight flare of hip and high ass clad in high-waist pants that were a golden brown color. Her white tee was tucked in it. Her feet were bare, pink-nailed toes on full display.

One glance told me her heels were tucked under her desk. I could hardly blame her for that. They looked like archaic torture devices, all propped up on toothpick-thin, sky-scraping heels.

To the right of the door was a captain's chair the style of days-gone-by in a cream and green miniature leaf pattern. A tablet in a shatter-proof case was sitting a bit barely on the arm, and a small blanket in a hunter green color was folded on the seat. Directly in front of that, there was what looked like a treadmill on the ground. Just the tread, though. No sides, no top with the display on it.

Just a tread.

I'd seen an advertisement for them once, and had clicked it. They set you back nearly a grand.

But, I had to admit, it looked a fuckuva lot better than a full treadmill jammed into an office.

Turning back, I raised my hand, knuckles rapping softly on the doorframe, drawing her attention away from whatever was in her hand.

When she put it down, I could see it was a picture. A large one framed in white, with her, the man from her Facebook picture, and a woman with dark skin and bright honey eyes, all of them beaming at the camera.

"Oh... you," she said when she finally saw it was me and not one of her employees standing there.

"Yeah, me," I agreed, giving her a nod, leaning back into the doorframe, so I didn't come off as intimidating. Well, any more intimidating than I already was, cornering a woman in her office when she was alone.

"I guess I should have expected you."

"Especially when you don't bother to lock the door," I agreed, trying not to notice the way her shirt neckline dipped low, showing the barest hint of cleavage, a bar-shaped golden pendant hanging between.

She seemed to be a woman of understatements. There were no rings on her fingers, no watch, no bracelets, not even any makeup. Aside from the necklace, the only other adornments on her were a pair of gold stud earrings in the shape of little Xs on her earlobes.

I found I liked that.

While I couldn't claim to have much of a preference when it came to women in eye or hair color, or even body shape, I did tend to be more drawn to women with minimal makeup and only a small amount of jewelry.

"My employees are on their way in."

I couldn't tell if she was stating a fact, or if she was issuing a warning: Don't try to hurt me because you are not going to get away with it.

"It's late."

"It's ten a.m.," she corrected. "You can hardly call that late."

"Why would you come in early, and let your employees come in after ten?"

"I read some studies that said people are more productive after ten a.m. I guess it gives them time to sleep in and wake up naturally. Or be able to take their time with their morning routines."

"But you?"

"Oh, I am up with the sun. Or before. Just how I am built. I get all my working out and such done before eight, so there is no reason for me not to come in and get started."

"You should keep the door locked when you're in here alone."

"Clearly," she agreed, giving me a small smirk. "Would you like to have a seat?" she asked, motioning toward the chair on the other side of her desk.

It looked hard and uncomfortable compared to hers and the one in the corner. But my hip was still throbbing and I figured sitting might help, so I pushed off the wall and made my way over.