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Nevertheless, he owed her an apology. He’d stepped over the line. Who knew what she might now be thinking? She might have gotten it into her head that the kiss had meant more than what it was—just a bit of excess lust and emotion spilling over between them.
Turning back to his desk, he tapped the intercom.
“Yes, Mr. Lord?” Marion promptly replied through the speaker.
“Please have Jessica Cooper come to my office, assuming she’s available.”
“Now? You have a senior partners’ meeting in twenty minutes.”
“Now, please.”
He was staring at the Wall Street Journal, having read the same paragraph of a front-page article several times without retaining a word, when there was a light knock at his half-open door.
“Come in.” He looked up, his heart squeezing in his chest.
Jess entered, looking like her usual work-a-day self, in a high-collared blouse and below-the-knee skirt, sensible pumps on her feet, small diamond studs in her ears. She held a pad of paper and a pen in her hands, every bit the eager associate. Her hair was pulled back into a barrette at the nape of her neck, though one single curl had escaped its confines, and hung down in a way he found incredibly sexy. Her mouth was lifted in a half smile, a question in those lovely green eyes.
“It’s nice to see you again, Jessica,” he said formally, aware Marion could probably hear them through the open door. “There’s a small issue with Pete Lansing’s credit agreement that needs addressing. Please close the door and have a seat.”
Jess sat in front of the desk and crossed her legs primly at the ankles, pen and pad poised as if for dictation. In spite of himself, the starkly contrasting image of her kneeling naked before him, her lips closing over his cock, leaped into his mind’s eye.
If he owned her—truly owned her, 24/7—he might order her to go into his private bathroom, remove her panties, lift her skirt and bend over the sink. He’d come up from behind, open his suit trousers and, without saying a word, plunge his cock into that hot, wet cunt. He’d place his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. He’d watch her in the mirror as he fucked her.
Goddamn it, Lord, he swore to himself, glad there was a desk between them so she couldn’t see the sudden bulge in his pants. Cut it out. Just say what you’ve got to say.
He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I wanted to apologize, Jess.”
She looked startled. “I’m sorry, what?” she said, clearly confused. “Is there a problem with the Lansing account I wasn’t aware of? I didn’t work directly on the credit agreement with the bank but—”
“No, it’s not that,” he interrupted with a sheepish grin. “That was for my secretary’s ears. You know what a hotbed of gossip this place can be. I wanted to cut that off at the pass.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning back in her chair, still looking confused.
“It’s about what happened at the club,” he continued. “Which reminds me.” He reached under the desk for his briefcase. Flipping the top open, he took out the plastic bag containing the shoes she’d abandoned in her haste to get away from him. “You forgot these.”
He handed the bag across the desk. Jess took it and peeked inside, her cheeks pinkening as she did so. “Thank you,” she said, managing a small smile.
“You’re welcome.” Cameron blew out a breath, determined to get out what he had to say before he lost his nerve. “That kiss,” he blurted. “It never should have happened. I apologize for putting you in that position.”
Her hand had fluttered up to her mouth as he spoke, her fingers moving over her lips as if she, too, still felt the sear of that one perfect kiss. “You…apologize?” she asked, frowning.
“Yes,” he affirmed. “It was completely outside the confines of a pleasure sub’s duties. It was totally my fault. I was out of line. It never should have happened, and I assure you, it won’t happen again.”
She blinked several times and then looked down at her lap. She hadn’t overtly accepted his apology, but at least he’d made it. They sat in awkward silence for several long moments.
Going forward, while he still reserved the right to scene with her—she was, after all, a pleasure sub, there to serve—he would be sure to keep things strictly separate both in his mind and in fact. No more mixed messages. No more colliding worlds.
It was going to be hard. Certainly harder than he’d anticipated when he’d extended her invitation to the Masters Club. At least for the moment, while he was caught in the grip of this silly and surely temporary infatuation, it might be better to give her a wider berth, especially at work. The last thing he needed was to slip up in some way, and give the office gossip mill more grist. Nor would that be fair to Jess, who had as much right to privacy about her personal life as he did.
