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The day was definitely not off to a good start.
Jake stomped back to his desk and sat down in his chair.
Flow could the day begin well, without a proper cup of coffee? Without the presence of his executive assistant? Without having a memory of an evening that should have been, to say the least, memorable?
“Damned right, it should have been,” he mumbled. Crystal was beautiful. Beautiful? She was spectacular. Yards of blond hair. Silky skin. A lush-looking mouth, a body that should have graced a centerfold. Oh, yes. Spectacular was the word. On a scale of one to ten, she was a twelve.
And what had he done? He’d taken her to supper, then home. He’d taken her to her home, and left her at her door with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a sort of promise he’d phone sometime soon.
Jake groaned, propped his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.
In other words, the evening had been a disaster, and who was to blame for that? Not Crystal. Not him.
“Emily,” Jake said, lifting his head and glaring at the door. Emily, that was who.
She’d ruined his evening, ruined his night, because he’d ended up so ticked off that he’d spent most of it tossing and turning instead of sleeping. She’d put him into a foul mood, and for what reason? All he’d tried to do was look after her. He’d taken her to a party, offered some helpful advice and had she appreciated it?
“No,” he said, answering his own question.
In a city like this, most women would surely give anything for a man’s concern. But his testy executive assistant hadn’t just disregarded his advice, she’d tossed it in his face. She’d gone out on the town with a man who was wrong for her and now it was the next morning, and she was late.
Jake looked at the open door between the inner and outer office, then at his watch again.
Did she think he’d tolerate lateness, now that he’d promoted her and given her a raise? Maybe she thought that fooling around in the elevator had really meant something. It hadn’t. She’d simply caught him by surprise with the lace thing. So what? Some men got turned on by high heels, some by silk. He just happened to like lace.
Not that he’d ever known it, until last night. Lace was, well, it was lace. Sexy, sure, but no more so than, well, than silk. Or satin. It was only that the lace had been so unexpected. Cotton, was what he’d have figured, if he’d figured anything at all.., although even cotton would have done it, against Emily’s soft, sweetly-scented skin. Against that smoothly curved breast that he’d barely tasted...
The outer door swung open. Emily stepped into the office, covered from head to ankle in her usual layers of shapeless wool. But she wasn’t shapeless. She was delicately curved, lushly female. He knew that, now.
Did Thad Jennett, that smarmy excuse for a human being, know it, too? Had Jennett kissed that sweet mouth, that delicate flesh? Had he stripped away Emily’s coat, her jacket, her blouse...
“You’re late,” Jake snarled, and shot to his feet.
Emily shut the door, looked calmly at the clock on her desk, then at him. “And a cheerful good morning to you, too, Mr. McBride.”
“There’s nothing good about it.” He folded his arms. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, aren’t you going to explain why you’re late?”
Emily went to her desk, put down her purse, pulled off her gloves and scarf, unbuttoned her coat. Carefully, she tucked her scarf and gloves into the pockets of the coat, hung the coat in the closet, then sat down and pulled off her boots. No heavy socks, Jake noticed. Just a quick, tantalizing flash of nylon-covered leg.
“I am not late. In fact,” she said, with a nod at the clock, “I’m early.” She smoothed down her skirt, pulled out her chair and sat. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I’m not due in until nine.”
Jake’s scowl deepened. The skirt was nubby wool, at least a hundred sizes too big, and hadn’t he asked her to wear something else for tonight’s cocktail party?
“I have forgotten nothing,” he said coolly. “And I’d suggest you not forget that you have an obligation here.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She didn’t beg anything. He could tell, from the way she spoke, from the way she was looking at him. What had happened to business demeanor? Was this what came of a meaningless few fumbles in an elevator, or was it what happened after a meal with Thad Jennett?
“I asked you to wear something appropriate for this evening.”
“This evening?”
“Yes. The party at Internet Resources. A business commitment which I see you’ve already forgotten.”
