The Garrisons: Parker, Brittany & Stephen: The CEO's Scandalous Affair
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“Yes, you,” he said, his face perilously close to hers.
“He would want nothing to do with me,” she insisted.
“Not when you’re doing your level best to hide your assets behind your shapeless suits. But the secret’s out now.” He brought his face closer to hers, and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “You are a beautiful, sexy woman, Anna.”
She closed her eyes as the compliment washed over her, more potent than if she’d thrown back her champagne and his.
“Thank you,” she said, searching for some way to divert the conversation to a less personal area. “So how do you know the Jefferies brothers are cutthroat and ruthless? I don’t recall any dealings with them since I’ve worked for you.”
“You sure know how to wreck a moment,” he said, a smile on his lips. “Those brothers have made it no secret that they want to give Garrison, Inc. a run for its money. And they are doing a good job,” he conceded, taking a swallow of champagne. “They’ve made some major inroads into the luxury hospitality and entertainment fields.”
“You don’t strike me as a man who worries about competition.”
“Of course I do. I worry about squashing it. And I worry about the fate and status of the Garrison brand, which, as you know, I’m responsible for.” A shadow crossed his expression. “At least I was until my father’s will was read.”
“What’s happening to the brand?” Anna relaxed a little, encouraged that the conversation had been steered away from the undercurrent of sexual tension that had been ricocheting off the Guildhall walls for the last few hours.
“We’re just taking hits in the media, and some investors I’d counted on have backed out from deals for no apparent reason. Properties I want have suddenly been sold to someone else.” He snorted softly. “Usually to someone named Jefferies.” After a moment, he added, “I seriously think there’s a leak in my company.”
A shiver danced down her spine. “A leak?”
“A spy. A mole. A… someone feeding inside information to competitors. To the Jefferieses.” He turned to her, his expression fierce. “I’m going to find out who it is and ruin them.”
White lights burst behind her eyes and it wasn’t stars or romance blinding her. It was the hard, cold smack of her past hitting her in the face.
“A spy?” She heard the shakiness in her voice.
“Don’t sound incredulous. It happens, you know.”
Oh, she knew. She knew firsthand. She knew so well it hurt. “I’ve read about things like that.” The only problem was that when she read about them, her name was in the articles.
Her name—not the man who’d committed the crime. Not Michael Montgomery, a man she’d thought she loved and trusted. A man who’d used her to get into the computer system of her boss, another CEO.
The night air suddenly seemed stifling and the back of her neck burned with perspiration. If Parker ever learned of her past, of the accusation—however wrong—that she’d let her lover access files from her boss’s computer, then she would be fired. Of that, there was no doubt.
Who would ever give her a chance to explain? Her old boss hadn’t. The media hadn’t. She’d just had to run.
“All it would take is one person who has knowledge of my deals to slip the information to one of the Jefferieses,” he continued, his voice suddenly sounding distant as blood thundered through her ears.
“Do you think… someone has?”
“I’m certain of it. Jordan and Emilio Jefferies weren’t going to come to this gala. They weren’t on the list. But then, wham. They show up and no one knew I was coming but a handful of Garrison employees.”
Including her. At his words, her stomach tightened, her fingertips tingled, her head spun. Only this time, her reaction had nothing to do with attraction, but everything to do with the fear of detection.
Of course, she was innocent. Totally and completely and wholly innocent, and the charges against her had been dropped. But the stain was still there.
Could a man who’d just admitted he was ruthless, cutthroat and competitive even see past that stain? Could he ever see beyond the fact that she had let one other corporate rival into the inner workings of another CEO’s desk… albeit unknowingly?
“It really bothers me,” he said, still staring into the night.
She had to get the subject changed, fast.
“In fact,” he continued, “I’m more determined than ever to find the leak.”
She had to get him off course.
“And with the change in my father’s—”
She reached up and pressed her lips to his cheek. He froze, then slowly turned toward her. “What are you doing, Miss Cross?”
“What do you think I’m doing, Mr. Garrison?”
He broke into a slow, sexy smile. “What did you call me?”
She lifted her face in invitation, forming the words she knew would derail his train of thought. “Mr. Garrison.”
He closed his mouth over hers instantly, kissing her exactly the way he did everything… thoroughly, expertly, with masterful control and brilliant timing.
Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. Chills and heat warred over her skin as he glided his hands over her bare back, burrowing his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck.
She tilted her head, and he deepened the kiss, a tender moan vibrating his chest. He pulled her closer and murmured her name against her mouth.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he whispered in the kiss. “Now.”
Okay, she had definitely changed the direction of the conversation.
He stood, pulling her into him. “I want you,” he told her, confirming that with a full-body press that left no doubt he was aroused.
She melted into the kiss, torn by a secret delight that she’d caused that hard ridge against her stomach, and the secret horror that he’d find out why.
She inched back, catching her breath. “Parker… I…”
“Unless you’d rather talk business some more,” he said with a playful kiss on her nose.
“Not on your life,” she said. And, God knows, she meant it.
Four
When Anna sent a signal, she made it crystal clear.
Somehow, Parker knew that would happen. He knew if he bided his time, easing her slowly into a comfortable, sensual, intimate place, she would give him the go-ahead to take that kiss he’d been thinking about all night.
He’d been fighting arousal since she’d opened the door—hell, since he’d found her in the bathroom the other day. Every dance made him want to touch more; every time she laughed or asked a question, leaned gently against him or just sent him a subtle look of pure lust, his jaw slackened for some mouth-to-mouth contact with hers.
He thought he’d imagined the occasional admiring glance in the past, but tonight, Anna’s defenses were down. And her interest was up. Way up.
“The limo’s right over there,” he said, nudging her in that direction. “We don’t need to stay a minute more.”
A glimmer of uncertainty lit her eyes.
“Unless you want to,” he said, placing one finger on her chin to turn her face to him. He trailed that finger down her throat, into the dip between her collarbones, and then lower, barely touching, barely skimming her flesh.
Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted.
“It’s entirely up to you,” he added, dropping close to her ear to whisper the words and nibble her lobe.
She arched slightly with a quick breath. Then she closed her eyes and nodded so slightly, he almost missed it. With a firm hand on her back, he walked toward the waiting limo, and addressed the driver.
“We’ll go directly to the Ritz, John,” he said as he climbed in the car behind Anna. Although it might be fun to play in the limo while they tooled around London for an hour, he didn’t want her in a car. He wanted to get her back to the suite and directly in his bed.
He would, however, have to keep her warm on the way back.
Settling in next to her, he offered champagne, but she declined. He touched a button and filled the car with the soft strains of Andrea Bocelli’s new-millennium version of classical music and her eyes sparkled.
“I love this music.”
“You love music, I noticed.”
She smiled. “Broadway tunes are my favorite, actually.”
“West Side Story?”
Even in the dim light of the car, he could see her flush. “I’m sorry about that, again.”
“I’m not. Use the shower in there whenever you like. Leave the door open.” He curled an arm around her and feathered her hair with a kiss. “I liked the view.”
“But not the song.”
He laughed and moved his mouth to lightly kiss her cheek. “Your heart was into it, that’s all that matters to me.”
She turned to him, her face suddenly very serious, the laughter gone from her eyes. “My heart’s into everything that I do,” she assured him. “Even my work.”
“Good,” he murmured, inching closer to her mouth, not thinking too hard about the sincerity in her eyes. His mind was not on work at the moment. “I like that in a woman.”
He kissed her again, working to keep it light and easy, but hot and hard was winning the battle. He tunneled his fingers into her hair and found the comb that held it in place. In one twist of his wrist, her hair tumbled.
He finger-combed it, inhaling the sweet fragrance, gliding his tongue over her teeth. She leaned her head back against the seat so he could kiss the tender skin of her throat and nibble his way into the V of her dress.
She tasted sweet and hot and smooth.
Unable to stop himself, he slid one hand from her nape, down the halter strap to the tender, precious curve of her breast, covering her easily. Instantly, her nipple pebbled against his palm, firing a blast of lava-hot blood through him, pulling groans of pleasure from both their throats.
“Parker.” She sighed, lifting herself just enough to let him know she enjoyed the touch.
“Glad we’re back on a first-name basis,” he teased, dragging his hand along the tight fit of her waist, over her hip and finding the slit that had called to him all night.
His hand hit flesh and her whole body shivered. He chuckled softly into another kiss. “Look what I found,” he whispered, tracing the tight thigh with one fingertip, inching higher to torture both of them.
Another moan of delight shuddered through her. He quieted that with a long, wet, hungry kiss, opening his hand to caress the taut muscle of her thigh. His fingers moved higher, over velvety skin, anxious just to touch her once. Just to feel how creamy she was. Expertly, he ran his thumb once over the silky nub of her panties, eliciting a soft gasp in their kiss.
“Maybe we should take the long way back,” he suggested, taking one more featherlight stroke over the damp silk between her legs.
Slowly, easily, she closed her fingers over his wrist and slid his hand away.
“Too fast?” he asked. “Too much? Too soon?”
The fire in her eyes said no to all of the above, but she nodded.
He took a deep breath and gave her a reassuring smile, placing his hand on a far less controversial spot on her waist. “I’ll wait.” He could. His body hummed with need, hard and relentless, but he would wait. “At least until we walk in the door.”
She smiled, then caught her lower lip under her two front teeth with a heartbreakingly unsure expression.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, cupping her jaw and lifting her face to meet his. “You’re not sure? Are you… I mean, you’ve done this before, right?”
“I had a serious boyfriend when I lived in Indiana.” Her whole expression changed with the admission.
He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to hear about this boyfriend, at least not at this particular moment. But she obviously wanted to tell him something.
“What happened?” he asked.
She lowered her head, gnawed on that lip again, thinking. “He hurt me. He…”
A natural male fury whipped through him. “He forced you?”
“No, no,” she said. “Nothing like that. He just… lied to me. He used me and I…” She sighed and turned to the window. “It cost me my job.”
Oh. Suddenly her hesitation was totally understandable. She must have worked for the guy, and this would feel like history repeating itself. And what could he say?
“And you’re worried that could happen again,” he said.
“Can you, in good conscience, promise me that if I sleep with you, it would never affect my job?”
He breathed slowly, studying her. “I can’t promise that, Anna.” As much as his hardened, aroused body wanted him to make all sorts of promises, he couldn’t actually make that one. Because it might change things in the office. That was life.
The limo slowed in front of the Ritz, and he gave her a moment to smooth her hair. When John opened the back door on her side, Parker watched her climb gracefully out of the car, the sexy red dress clinging to every curve he wanted to explore with his hands and mouth.
Nothing was going to happen to his career if they had sex and things didn’t work out. He was smart enough to know that. And so was she.
He cleared his throat and willed his arousal to subside as they made their way to the elevator. When the doors closed he turned to her.
“Anna,” he said, wrapping the hand that still held hers around her back. “You know what I want. But, it’s your call.” He resisted the urge to kiss her, but continued. “If that means we end up in bed together, well—” he smiled and touched her jaw with his other hand “—great. But…”
If it meant kissing her chastely good-night and keeping the best administrative assistant he ever had, that was great, too. Not as great, but Parker knew when to compromise and when to push.
The doors opened and he took her hand, leading her into the hushed hallway. He pulled out the room key and opened the massive double doors to the darkened suite, the only sound the steady thump of his heart while he waited for her decision.
He’d forgotten to leave a light on, and they stood in the shadows, inches apart. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left the limo and he knew the next word she said would seal their fate.
She turned to him and slid her arms around his shoulders, locking at his neck. He resisted a grin of victory, but lowered his head for the kiss he expected.
“Thank you for the most amazing party I’ve ever been to.” She rose on her toes, kissed his cheek and backed away. “Good night, Parker.”
He could barely see her disappear into her room, but in the silence, he heard the lock turn. He stood in the dark for a few minutes, tapping the card key against his palm. The card key that she obviously didn’t realize was a master and could open her bedroom door.
Smothering a soft sigh, he shook his head, the disappointment finally making it down to the lower half of his body to deliver the bad news.
The lady said no.
He shimmied out of the tuxedo jacket, threw it over a delicate French provincial chair and strode to the bar, flipping over a brandy snifter and filling it with a solid slug of the good stuff. With one hand, he loosened his bow tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of the tux shirt.
He took the drink to the balcony that ran the length of the salon, folding into a comfortable chair and inhaling the sounds and scents of an active avenue two stories below.
Didn’t this beat all? He was in London, in his favorite suite, with a smoldering hot woman undressing in the next room… and he would be going to bed alone.
Why hadn’t he thought this through when he’d issued the impulsive invitation? Because he’d been seeing legs in heels and hearing off-key songs in his head, that was why.
Drinking a little deeper than the heavy brandy called for, his throat burned. Hell, everything burned. He wanted her. He really wanted her.
But she wanted…
Now there was an unanswered question. What did Anna want? A promotion? A boyfriend? A husband? A good time?
She really didn’t talk about herself so much. She asked a lot of questions about his business; made herself basically indispensable; got him hot, bothered and distracted… but what was her deal? For a minute, he was a little annoyed at himself for not asking.
Then he narrowed his eyes until the city-lit sky blurred and he let the most unsettling thought settle right down on him.
What if Anna wanted . . . information?
The leak at Garrison had started about three or four months ago, right when she’d moved into the desk outside his office. She’d been promoted from HR, where, according to his department manager, she’d been an exemplary, if low-profile, employee.
But, still.
Ice hardened in the very veins that had been molten just minutes earlier.
Was Anna the spy?
Evidence, however circumstantial, started flashing like frozen images of proof in his head. She knew about every deal that had fallen through in the last two months. Of course she did; she had total access to his office. She’d even showered in there! How often had she been in there alone?
The only people who knew he was coming to London were the charter-jet people, maybe someone in his travel department… and Anna. And, in the elevator, she’d acted as if she’d never even heard of Jordan Jefferies, which seemed impossible in their business.
The impact of the revelation catapulted him to his feet, and he bounded back into the salon as the facts popped into his head and fell into place.
She knew the names of competitors. She constantly steered the conversation toward work. She always seemed so interested in the business, and even a little bit nervous around him.
Even on the plane yesterday, she’d dragged him back to open files, forcing him to go over every minor element of every major deal, and then, what had she done when they’d gotten to London? E-mailed it all. She’d said she was sending his e-mail for him, but was someone getting copied on that correspondence? Someone named Jefferies?
Oh, man. He almost cracked the crystal in his hand as he reviewed the events of the last hour. As soon as he’d talked about the spy, the minute he’d focused in on the mole in his operation, what had she done?
Classic, by-the-book, take-no-prisoners sexual distraction. Right up to the hotel room, she’d had him panting, pawing and as far away from thoughts of spies as he could be.
What did she take him for? He slammed the snifter so hard on the bar that brandy sloshed over the side and, in one move, he scooped up the master card key he’d left there.
What do you think I’m doing, Mr. Garrison?
He could still hear her seductive voice, feel the pressure of her kiss, the soft breath of a… traitor.
Jamming the card key into the lock on her bedroom door, his heart kicked against his ribs. And he froze. What if he was wrong?
Without making a noise, he turned the knob and opened the door. In the shadows, he saw her shape in the bed, the sheet almost covering her, but for one achingly long, sexy leg draped over it. He heard her sigh and shudder.
Already asleep… or faking it?
“Anna.” His voice was sharp, demanding.
She jerked up, pulling the sheet over whatever she wore. “What do you want?”
He heard the tremor in her voice. Was that because she knew he’d figured out her game?
“Please, Parker, I’m sorry if I took things too far.”
Disgust roiled through him. Did she really think he’d come in here and force her into having sex?
The sheet fell from her trembling hands, the moonlight revealing that she wore something tiny and strappy, like a tank T-shirt. Something easily lifted and removed.
Against everything he called control, his body responded. He was, after all, a man.
But not a stupid man. There was nothing to be gained by accusing her like this. He may have just leaped to one wild conclusion.
Swallowing hard, he gripped the doorknob. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
In the dim light, he could see that she very much doubted that was the truth. “I’m fine.” She brushed a hair off her face. “Are you?”
The fact that she asked hit him somewhere deep, somewhere he’d rather not be hit by a woman he no longer trusted.
“Yeah. Good night.” He closed the door and stared at it for a long minute.
He was probably right, and she was the spy. And if she was, then two could play this game. Now that he knew who his spy was, it was just a matter of feeding her misinformation. And if she really wanted to do her job for the Jefferies brothers well, she would probably have to get close to the CEO of Garrison, Inc.
Very close.
Parker Garrison may have been played for a fool by her this evening. But it wouldn’t happen again. Next time, he’d get everything he wanted. Everything.
And he wanted Anna. If he could crush Jordan and Emilio Jefferies in the process, all the better. But he could never let her know that he’d figured her out. In fact, the first thing he needed to do was let her wonder where she stood.
Anna Cross would find out the hard way not to play chess with a master.
Somehow, Anna made it through to Monday morning, but the magic of Saturday night seemed as far away as London when she tucked her handbag into her desk drawer and turned on the computer for the day.
“I didn’t expect to see you here today.” The receptionist appeared from the tiny galley kitchen that the Garrison executives shared, an empty coffeepot in hand.
“Of course I’m here,” Anna said.
“Thought you might make a week of it across the pond.” Sheila added a British accent to the last three words, and tempered the tease with a wink. “There were a few early calls this morning. The editor from Luxury Travel magazine called about the layout he’s doing.”
“Okay,” Anna said, jotting a note. “Anything else?”
“The secretary at the charter-jet company called this morning to make sure Mr. Garrison and Ms. Cross had a pleasurable trip.” Her voice was rich with implication and accusation. “So. Did you?”
“You can let them know that it was fine, thank you.”
“You’re holding out on me.” Sheila laughed lightly. “Come on, spill the beans. Is he as demanding in bed as he is in the office?”
Anna managed a very disgusted glare, even though the memory of the moment he’d walked into her bedroom was still vivid. He could have demanded, and she might not have fought him. But he hadn’t. And she’d barely slept once he’d backed out of the door, leaving her absolutely aching for more.
“Sorry to disappoint, Sheila. It was all business.” Unfortunately. Fortunately. Oh, God, she was so confused.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” She beckoned Anna with the coffeepot and a very sympathetic smile. “Come here while I brew the mud. You look like you could use a friend.”
Was it that obvious? Parker’s distant coolness on the flight home had been a double-edged sword. It cut her because he was so icy, but it relieved her to know she could go back to work and a few steamy kisses had caused no real harm.
Obviously, he’d had a chance to think over the recriminations of an office affair and had decided she was too good an assistant to lose.
Or maybe he didn’t want her.
The thought made her stomach squeeze with a sense of disappointment she had no right to feel. But he’d left her so confused. He’d hardly said six words to her on the flight, and three were See you tomorrow.
“Ever get involved with your boss before, Anna?” Sheila’s question yanked her back to the present.
“No,” she answered honestly. The boss’s biggest rival, yes. And hadn’t that turned out great? “It would be beyond dumb,” she added.
Sheila rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I used to be a Playmate, did you know that?”
The entire company knew Sheila had worked as a bunny at the now-defunct Miami Beach Playboy Club. “I’ve heard that.”
“Got all tight with one of the managers in the operation.”