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Like the thoughts that flashed through my mind the second those innuendo-charged words left her mouth. Hell, those thoughts were already there all night.
Everything no gentleman should ever think about a woman who’s technically his employee.
Everything involving a dozen different naked positions in my office, straddled across my chair, banging her against the wall, the desk, the entire main floor of the company empty and dark, and solitary except for the sounds of panting, gasping, steaming bodies sliding together and her cries bounding off the textured ceilings—
Stop that.
Right the fuck now.
I draw a deep, slow breath.
Yeah, it’s been a while.
Guess I’m a little repressed.
Possibly a little too suggestible, if the tightness of my slacks is any indication.
Clearing my throat, I fidget with my shirt collar as I stop at the street corner across from the Space Needle, waiting for the light.
“We’re a few minutes early for our reservation,” I say. “Still, they should be able to seat us.”
Elle’s only answer is an amused murmur and a gentle squeeze of my forearm.
I wonder if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I wonder, too, why suddenly I can smell her light, sweet apple scent so much, turned crisper and clearer by the sharp chill night air.
I escort her across the street as the light changes, and inside I get to see her shining with awe as the elevator brings us up in a stomach-dropping rush that leaves Seattle spread out beyond the glass, a bowl of stars and tinsel-gold lights ripe for the plucking.
As a city native, she must have seen this many times, yet she leans toward the window with her eyes as wide as if this were her first time.
Charming.
I take her coat at our table and pull her chair out, then settle her in before claiming my own seat.
The lounge melds classy and casual, a mixed bag of business wear and casual. People stop here for drinks after work, on dates, relaxing with friends, meeting with business partners.
We fit right in with our “date night” outfits. It startles me how well we fit, period, with Elle perched comfortably in her chair and me resting my arms on the table and watching her, even if I can’t quite explain to myself why.
She’s not looking at me, though.
She’s soaking in the view as the Needle slowly rotates, giving us the entire sprawling expanse of this water-flanked city and the mountains beyond at night.
“All glitter and shadows,” she says softly. “When you see it like this, it makes you believe in secret things. Hidden, beautiful things just waiting to be found.”
“Spoken like a true artist.” I prop my chin up on my fist, studying the view. “Don’t you think they’d have been found by now if there were still secrets? People were here for at least four thousand years before this was ever Seattle.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She smiles with that wide-eyed enchantment that makes everything seem like a wonder. “Maybe there’s this tiny little pocket of space nobody’s ever found. A little hollow in the mountainside, buried under the snow, where there’s magic. Just waiting for someone to go on an adventure to find it.”
Damn her, she’s doing it again.
Making my lips inch up against my will.
“No wonder you loved Inky,” I say. “Wandering the world on his adventures, carrying letters and looking for secrets.”
“I want to go on an adventure like that one day. Backpacking the Himalayas. Wandering the mountaintops of Tibet or Peru. That kind of thing.”
“One day, you will.”
