One night only.

Just think of the possibilities...

The second she sees Mr. Oh-So-Delicious, Jennifer Hayes knows she needs one night of crazy. No names, no strings, no rules. Except that Jennifer’s naughty one-nighter is actually Marcus Wright—her new business partner! Now they’re mixing business with all kinds of pleasure. But when it comes to falling in love, her sexy Mr. Wright is either Mr. Wrong or the best mistake of her life...

RACHAEL STEWART adores conjuring up stories, from heartwarmingly romantic to wildly erotic. She’s been writing since she could put pen to paper—as the stacks of scrawled-on pages in her loft will attest to. A Welsh lass at heart, she now lives in Yorkshire, with her very own hero and three awesome kids, and if she’s not tapping out a story she’s wrapped up in one or enjoying the great outdoors. Reach her on Facebook, Twitter (@rach_b52) or at rachaelstewartauthor.com.

Mr One-Night Stand

Rachael Stewart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08687-5

MR ONE-NIGHT STAND

© 2019 Rachael Stewart

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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My first Mills & Boon has to go to my mum and dad, for instilling in me their passion for books from a very young age.

To my mother, for her wild ways, which certainly shaped my ability to produce work that tends towards the heated end of the spectrum, and to my father, for always believing in me.

My only regret is that my mother didn’t live long enough to see me welcomed into the world of Harlequin Mills & Boon—so, Dad, you need to celebrate enough for the two of you now, okay?

Love you both always. Thank you for making me, me.

xxx

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

PATIENCE—HE WASN’T known for it. Why should he be when he’d worked his entire life to ensure he got everything he wanted, when he wanted it?

Flicking his wrist, he checked the time. Eight twenty-five.

Where the hell were they?

If being late was a last-ditch attempt at angling for more money, then Tony Andrews was an even bigger fool than Marcus had had him pegged for.

He waved away the approaching waitress who was eyeing his empty glass. He’d already indulged in a whisky and filled his one-drink-while-on-business quota. He wasn’t fool enough to indulge in more. Although the girl’s perfect parting pout made clear that it wasn’t just a drink being offered.

Not tonight. He smiled back.

He might be considered an arrogant ass by many, but no one could accuse him of lacking in manners. Even his questionable childhood hadn’t beaten those out of him—much as his father might have tried.

It was hardly her fault he wasn’t up for it. She had appeal aplenty, if surgically enhanced assets and peroxide hair were your thing.

But tonight was about work.

And work was work.

Sex was sex.

Never should the two be mixed. Not if you wanted to stay focused and come out on top.

He watched as she weaved her way back through the intimate arrangement of tables, breaking his gaze to scan again the people occupying the circular floor space of the exclusive rooftop venue. Andrews had chosen it for convenience, it being located only two blocks down from his London HQ.

Very convenient for Andrews—not so sodding convenient for him. He rolled his shoulders and rechecked his watch.

What the hell was he doing?

He should’ve left ten minutes after the hour, not sat there like some obedient monkey.

But then, he wasn’t there simply to catch up with the man he was in the process of buying out. He was there to be introduced to Andrews’ business partner—soon-to-be his partner—Jennifer Hayes, before they signed on the dotted line.

Not that the introduction would make any difference; the deal was as good as done. But professional courtesy made him stay. That and the fact he was curious to meet her—the exec who’d turned a business into the largest successful start-up the industry had seen in years.

He was convinced Andrews hadn’t been responsible for it. It was a wonder the man could still see straight, with his mounting gambling debts and outside work attentions. And then there was the drink problem. No one had confirmed it, but Marcus was sure he had one. He knew the signs well enough, thanks to dear old Dad.

So, yes, he doubted Andrews had done a full day’s work in years—and that meant one thing: Miss Hayes was the one carrying the company; she was the one he was effectively buying into.

He’d read her profile, noticeably devoid of any pictures, and figured her to be late thirties, early forties. A woman with shrewd business acumen, a bearing that bordered on cold, and a definite force in the boardroom—all of which he’d respect her for. So long as they were on the same page.

It intrigued him that he hadn’t come across any pictures. Not even a professionally enhanced shot used to support all those public accolades. Maybe she didn’t go in for that kind of vanity. Or maybe Andrews did all that for her. He was certainly everywhere. Even the Forbes article he’d thrust into his hands at a charity auction last month, when he’d put forward his proposition, had highlighted the success of the business but featured Andrews alone, his greased back hair and cocky grin filling half the page.

The memory of that expression goaded Marcus further now as he waited and waited, fingers drumming on the tabletop, his patience hitting breaking point.

Seriously—enough was enough. The papers would be taken care of in less than twenty-four hours regardless. He might as well meet her then.

Tugging at the cuffs of his shirt, he made to stand up just as the cables of the glass elevator started to shift. New arrivals?

He settled back and waited for them to come into view.

It wasn’t Andrews. That was immediately obvious. The small, balding lift attendant was being dwarfed by a statuesque redhead who made even the impressive lift look small. He wasn’t the only one noticing either. Her hair was pulling every eye in the room. Its cascading waves ran down her back, glinting in the ambient light, impossible to ignore.

Its dramatic colour was a striking contrast to the black dress that clung to her curves before halting modestly at the knee. His gaze dropped lower still, to her exposed calves, to the subtle shimmer that teased with the possibility of stockings. And then came her shoes, her severe black stilettos...

Heat assaulted his groin.

Fuck me.

He wasn’t going anywhere. Not just yet. Andrews could have the extra time for free...

* * *

Jennifer glanced at her watch and cursed under her breath. Eight-thirty. She was late. She hated being late.

But then, what did Tony expect, calling her at the eleventh hour and asking that she meet him for drinks? The blasted guy should know better than most what kind of workload she had.

Hell, who was she kidding? He couldn’t give a shit what her to-do list looked like. Truth was, he was the cause of most of it. His increasing absence these last couple of weeks was pushing her to the brink and sending her stress levels through the roof. And yet here it came, that little voice in her head...

He has so much going on...he needs you...his fam ily needs you...

But, hell, her family needed her too—her mother and her sister. Not just financially, but physically, and he was stretching her so thin.

But you owe him. He doesn’t owe you. There’s the difference.

She let go of a slow breath, easing the tension out with it, and gave the lift attendant a polite smile of gratitude. He returned it to her chest and she sighed anew. Seriously?

Stepping past him, she adjusted the deep V in her wrap-around dress and cast her eyes over the softly lit room. Where are you, Tony?

His gregarious personality was enough to project a homing beacon, and the room was decidedly absent of it. Most people were split into couples or foursomes—all save for one man. Her breath caught, a peculiar awareness taking hold.

He sat at a table beside the glass wall. A great seat from which to enjoy the far-reaching cityscape below, although his eyes showed no interest in the vista. No, they were well and truly pinned on her, projecting an intensity that had her skin prickling with such thrill.

Hell, she wanted to stride straight over—the urge was almost making her do just that—but sense prevailed. Tony wanted to see her. Hopefully he could explain away his crazy behaviour, and put her mind at rest over the future.

Giving a small sigh, she headed for the bar. A drink—that was what she needed. Anything to take the edge off.

Slipping onto a bar stool, she crossed her legs and replaced her clutch with the leather-clad drinks menu.

‘Good evening, Miss Hayes, what can I get you?’

She looked up to find Darren, the head bartender, approaching with a smile, his hands busy drying off a glass. She returned his smile easily and scanned the list, honing in on a vodka martini and figuring that had to be strong enough.

He cocked an eyebrow when she made her request. ‘Shaken, not stirred, madame?’

His Scottish-accented Bond impression had her laughing, and the sound was alien to her ears. It had to be weeks—months, even—since she’d had a proper giggle. Maybe she was the one in need of a good shake, never mind the drink.

‘However you recommend it.’

‘You sure?’ He raised both brows. ‘It’s pretty strong.’

He knew her too well. She didn’t do spirits. A spritzer was her usual drink of choice. But a spritzer just wasn’t going to cut it. Not tonight. It wasn’t just Tony, it was her increasing concern over her mother too. She was getting worse and there was nothing Jennifer could do to stop it.

Her heart fluttered painfully and she pushed the thought aside. Not now.

‘Sounds perfect,’ she said, flipping open her clutch and retrieving her mobile to check if Tony had at least messaged. But she’d not even lit the screen before her eyes sidled away, drawn to the brooding silhouette not twelve feet away.

He was tall—she could tell that even with his body folded into the deep bucket seat. The ankle of one leg casually rested atop the knee of the other. The designer cut of his dark suit and tan leather shoes spoke of money, although whether he had any was an entirely different matter. She’d learned that quickly enough in the city. People only had to dress to impress and it attracted wealth like bees to honey.

But there was something in the broad set of his shoulders, accentuated as they were by his tailored jacket, and the confident air in his relaxed poise that had her certain he wasn’t all about the front.

And what a front...

Her eyes drifted upwards. The crisp white shirt sat smoothly over his torso, no hint of spread. Then they drifted higher, to the last fastened button of his open collar and the hint of dark hair curling there.

Her pulse skipped, her mouth watered and her eyes snapped back to her phone. Not now!

Seriously, what was wrong with her? Was she that desperate to get laid? That fed up with her trusty vibrator that her body was putting up a fight? Truth was, there was no time in her life for that complication. Mr Dildo didn’t talk back, didn’t require care and affection. He didn’t require time that she didn’t have.

Between her office and dashing back and forth between London and Yorkshire each weekend to be with her family she was all out of that.

But one night, though. Think of the possibilities...

Heat simmered low in her belly as she activated her phone screen. No notifications. She fired off a brief Where are you? message and placed the device back on the bar, her heightened awareness picking up on movement from the man’s direction. She watched him crook his finger to the blonde waitress hovering nearby and an inexplicable pull ripped through her.

Christ, he was reeling her in too.

She nibbled the inside of her lip, drinking in his rakishly long dark hair, the chiselled set to his jaw that softened delectably with his easy grin. And then there were his eyes—so compelling. She couldn’t make out the colour, but there was something about them, something deliciously sinful...

Her tummy contracted with a barrage of heat, and in that second she knew she wanted to leave with him. That she wanted one night of crazy. No names, no real talk, just wild, no-holds-barred sex.

Could she do it? Hell, would he?

It wasn’t in her nature, it wasn’t like her, but being ‘like her’ was hard fucking work and she needed this...needed him.

Mentally, she undressed him, button by button, stroke by stroke, her thighs clenching tight in their folded position.

‘One vodka martini.’

‘Huh?’ Her eyes snapped to the bar, to Darren placing a mat and glass before her.

‘Your drink.’ He smiled teasingly. ‘Distracted, much?’

‘Quite.’ And that was an understatement.

Warmth fed her cheeks as she took hold of the olive stick propped inside her glass and began to stir with it, her focus on the mini-whirlpool she created while she set her thoughts to chill.

Get the meeting with Tony out of the way first.

Raising her drink, she sampled it, a small hum of appreciation escaping her as the chilly temperature contrasted with the burn of alcohol in a strangely pleasing way. She took another sip and felt her shoulders start to ease, her posture soften.

Ah, Tony, maybe you’ve done me a favour, dragging me out.

She rolled her head on her shoulders, her eyes seeking him once more—Fuck. Their gazes collided, the invitation in his sending lust tearing through her.

To hell with Tony, and to hell with doing what was right all the time!

Just give him twenty minutes...

Gah—She forced her attention to her phone and issued him a text that said as much.

Five minutes later, fizzing over with the prolonged wait, she caved and beckoned Darren over.

There was no harm in putting things in motion.

‘You’re not ready for another?’

She grinned, high on the thrill. ‘Please...’

He chuckled. ‘Okay.’

Placing a fancy tray of bar snacks in front of her, he set about making her drink.

She eyed the food, her tummy growling. She’d missed dinner again. Taking up a few snacks, she savoured one before asking, ‘Do you know what Mr Distraction is drinking?’

He sent her a knowing look. ‘You wanting to send him one?’

‘Maybe...’ Playfully, she popped in another snack, chewing over it and relishing the instant hit of salt. ‘So, come on—do you know?’

He smiled as he worked, his eyes flicking briefly to the man in question. ‘He’s a J&B man.’

She licked her lips clean, her eyes flitting to Smoking Hot Guy, and then to his bottle of choice on the shelf. Hot Wealthy Guy... J&B... An image of the hottie in American Psycho flashed before her eyes and she swallowed, hard.

Okay, Okay...yes, you want a night of crazy, but maybe you should know something about him first.

‘What’s got you looking so serious?’ Darren asked, picking up on her shift in mood.

‘I was just wondering...’ Her voice trailed off as she considered the talented bartender. Darren knew everyone that came and went. ‘What do you know of him?’

‘Can’t tell you much.’ He strained the liquid into a fresh glass. ‘I’ve not seen him before, but there were some guys at the bar talking about him earlier. Recognised him from some article or other.’

Her ears pricked up. ‘An article?’

‘Yeah, you know the sort—one of those professional mags, I reckon.’ He popped an olive in the glass and placed it before her. ‘He’s a CEO in the technology field.’

She sucked on the inside of her lip, suppressing the surge of excitement. No CEO was going to turn out to be a nutcase.

‘Well, fancy that...’

‘You sure do.’

She grinned and plucked the olive from the glass, popping it between her lips as her eyes hit Smoking Hot Guy’s.

Damn sure I do!

CHAPTER TWO

IF HE HAD to watch her pop another olive in her mouth, her eyes alive with wicked suggestion... He circled the rim of his glass with his index finger, the move rhythmically in line with the heat coiling through him.

He really should’ve left when he’d got the bail-out text from Andrews. Instead he’d sent a brief acknowledgement wrapped up in a warning.

Be at the solicitor’s nine a.m. prompt for contract exchange or else.

And then he’d settled back.

He really should’ve been more annoyed too, but it was fascinating what the sight of a blazing-eyed redhead enjoying her fill at the bar could do. And he wasn’t just referring to the olives—there were the bar snacks too. Whatever they were, they had her licking her lips and her fingers with such teasing that between that and the olive-sucking his lower body couldn’t get a let-up.

And, Christ, those eyes—they pierced him from across the room. The warm lighting of the bar glinted off their depraved depths as they came back to him again and again, demanding his attention, drawing him in, giving him hope that she wasn’t waiting for someone else to appear.

She was chatting to the barman now, her perfectly poised body leaning in as they exchanged words, their easy flow of conversation suggesting she was probably a regular. The guy nodded to her and moved away, freeing her once more, and he sensed her attention returning to him. His breath halting, his hand paused over his glass. And then her mobile lit up and her eyes dropped to it. She gave a flicker of annoyance and then a smile. She tapped at it and placed it back on the bar.

Now her eyes came to him and, fuck, were they calling.

His gut clenched, his jaw tightened and the room disappeared. Something had changed.

‘For you, sir.’

Not now. Grudgingly, he looked to the voice and found the blonde waitress hovering, a tray with a lone drink resting upon her palm.

‘J&B.’ She took hold of the glass and bent to place it on the table. ‘From the lady at the bar.’

His gaze dropped to the glass and he smiled.

Hell, Andrews, you’ve actually done me a favour.

* * *

From her elevated vantage point upon the bar stool she watched him straighten and plant his feet, the move sending her heart into her throat.

Oh, yes, come for me...

He lifted his glass off the table and started towards her, his tall, imposing frame filling her vision, his eyes lighting up every nerve-ending in their path as they raked appreciatively over her.

She turned on her stool to face him, sipping at her drink as she waited until he was within earshot, and then she smiled. ‘It’s lovely of you to join me.’

He tilted his glass. ‘I wanted to thank you for the drink.’

Wow, that voice. She drew a breath as her body flared. It was deep, husky, rough...the perfect mix for a body that exuded power. And that accent—she couldn’t place it, but it was there, teasing her.

‘And I wanted to thank you for improving my outlook this evening.’

He rewarded her with that easy grin, his eyes sparking and pulling her in. They were the colour of chocolate, the dark and rich kind, and they were on fire, burning into her as he said, ‘You and me both.’

‘Is that so?’

‘You know so.’

‘I know no such thing.’

He gave a small chuckle and reached past her, placing his glass on the bar. She twisted into his arm on impulse, felt his scent invading her, the heady masculine cologne sending lust slamming into her core.

‘Perhaps I can convince you over another drink?’ He leant back against the bar-edge. ‘What can I get you?’

What could he get her?

She wanted to laugh as the word you rode on the tip of her tongue but instead she looked to Darren, ‘I’m already being taken care of.’

He followed her gaze. ‘Is that another vodka martini?’

‘It is.’ She smiled, her fingers toying with the empty stick still floating in her glass. ‘I think I’ve found a new favourite drink.’

His eyes travelled from her to the stick. ‘It’s quickly becoming one of mine too.’

She could take a guess at why. She would have said as much if he hadn’t spoken first.

‘So, what brings you here?’ He angled himself towards her, his forearm resting on the bar-top, his fingers coming to hover just above her knee. ‘Beautiful woman, no companion—it just doesn’t fit.’

Beautiful? She loved how that sounded coming from him, loved how close his fingertips were reaching. If she just uncrossed her legs they would brush against her, those long, capable fingers that were sure to possess such skill...

‘Business or pleasure?’ he probed.

Her eyes shot back to his, her thighs clenching anew. The way he said it—pleasure—it rolled off his tongue like a physical caress.

‘I was meeting someone...’ She was barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth.

‘Was?’

‘They cancelled.’ She lifted her empty stick and nibbled at its end, needing to do something—anything to keep herself busy. ‘What about you?’

He eyed the stick, a pulse working steadily in his jaw as he took up his drink once more. ‘Business.’

She could hear it then, in that one simple word, an edge to his voice. A barely contained need that matched her own.

Her attack on the stick ceased, and her breath was shallow as she struggled to say, ‘Are you finished for the evening?’

‘Never even started,’ he said, that same husky edge to his voice teasing beneath her panties. ‘Lucky for me, they cancelled too.’

‘Lucky?’

He nodded, his lips quirking over his drink as he took a sip.

‘And why’s that?’ she said, dropping the stick to caress away the strain building in her throat.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Maybe—but I’d like to hear you say it.’

He placed his drink on the bar, his eyes coming back to her, ever closer. ‘Do you always get your way?’

‘Most of the time.’

‘Why is it I can believe that?’

He reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, his delicate touch sending an excited ripple through her, and then he trailed it down, the ripples multiplying exponentially.

‘What makes you say that?’ she asked, barely audible.

He studied her, his eyes dropping to her lips, their depths flashing darkly as she swept her tongue out to ease their sudden dryness.

‘I get the impression you can be quite persuasive.’

She knew what she wanted to say, knew it was brash, knew it was out of character, but... ‘Does that mean I can persuade you into an evening of pleasure?’

His brow flickered, the only show of surprise at her proposition, and then he grinned: a slow, heart-stopping smile that unveiled a dimple in his right cheek, the boyish feature at odds with the virile masculinity emanating from the rest of him.

‘Is that what you’re offering me?’

‘Would you accept if it was?’

He leant closer still, his breath teasing at the delicate channel of her ear. ‘Why don’t you try me?’

Heat flooded her breasts, her belly, her blood, and the world around her evaporated as she twisted into him, her lips instinctively seeking his...

‘Your drink.’

What?

Her disorientated gaze swept to the bar, to Darren sliding her drink before her.

Oh, God!

‘Thank you,’ she blurted, hurrying to mask the swamping disappointment. But he spotted it anyway, his smile apologetic as he picked up her empty glass and moved away.

‘How about we take this conversation to my table?’ came the appealing proposition from alongside her.

She brushed her fingertips across her lips, now thrumming with their near encounter, and flicked her eyes back to his. ‘I’d love to.’

* * *

He’d had to work hard to stop himself from saying place instead of table. And still he wondered—would she have said I’d love to in that soft, balmy tone if he had?

She gazed up at him with those green come-to-bed eyes and he wished he’d found out.

‘After you,’ he said, gesturing to her.

He made to pick up their drinks and then stilled, his concentration broken by the sight of her slipping from the stool.

Between the uncrossing of those seriously long legs and the cleavage he was working hard not to drown in he found himself rooted. Her height impressed him once again as she met his eyeline, her scent wafting up to him.

Not that he had any idea what herb or flower was involved in the making of it. But he liked it. A lot.

‘Don’t forget the drinks,’ she threw over her shoulder with a provocative smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief, desire, amusement... He hadn’t a clue.

It was taking his all to keep the conversation flowing and his own desire in check. Trying to read every fleeting expression that crossed her face and not jump to the conclusion that she was on the same desire-driven wave as he was nigh on impossible.

Grabbing the drinks, he followed her to the table, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips, the fall of her hair as it brushed along the gentle flare of her bum.

What it would be like to have that same hair flung across his bedspread? Or wrapped around his fist as he drove himself into her—? Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

And there she went again, staring up at him as if he was seconds away from being devoured.

Now, perched on the end of the low-slung seat that had remained vacant at his table, her head came cock-high and heat rushed to his groin in greeting.

Adding to his pain, she crossed her legs, the action forcing her dress to ride high and reveal the top of a stocking, he was sure, before she righted it.

Too late. The damage was done. And she knew it. She’d watched the entire thing play out in his face. And, hell, he wasn’t even convinced the low lighting was enough to conceal the bulge down there.

He held out her drink. ‘For you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, her delicate feline fingers slipping over his own to take it from him.

The contact was soft and brief, but total dynamite to his over-active imagination as the image of her taking hold of something else ransacked his mind.

He watched as she lifted the glass to her glossy full mouth and tilted it, the clear liquid flowing into her as the olive bobbed at the base of the drink. And then she closed her lips and swallowed, her tongue emerging subtly to take away the remnants. The sight was sweet perfection to behold, utter torture to his straining cock.

‘Are you going to sit?’ she said up to him, her raised expression making it clear she had caught him staring, good and proper.

Did he care?

Did he fuck!

‘Apologies,’ he said, dipping his head in mock regret, his grin telling her he wasn’t sorry at all. ‘I confess to getting lost in the sight of you.’

It was corny, it was overly smooth, but again he didn’t care. It was the truth.

He placed his drink on the table and took his own seat, feeling her eyes upon him the whole time. The nature of her thoughts penetrated the air.

‘A penny for them?’

Her smile widened. ‘Something tells me a man like you should know well enough that you never ask a woman that question.’

He gave an easy laugh, staving off the heat raging below his waist. ‘What if I said there’s something about you that makes me want to ask that question regardless?’

She set her glass down and pressed her elbow into the arm of her chair, leaning in towards him.

‘Then I would tell you...’ she began, her voice low and husky, each word spun out as her fingers took up a slow caress over the exposed valley of her chest. ‘In that case I would divulge exactly what I’m thinking.’

He would have—could have—dragged her away from the bar that very second. The way her eyes beckoned him, the way her wandering hands lured him, the blood surging to his cock—it was all getting too much and he hadn’t so much as touched her.

And, fuck, did he want to.

The need ravaged him. He wanted to taste every last bit of her, stroke her until she begged for him to complete her, fill her body until she could do nothing but scream his name.

And yet she couldn’t. They had shared a lot in a few electrifying glances, but they hadn’t so much as covered the basics of My name is...

They should at least get that covered. ‘Perhaps we should start with introductions?’

She laughed. ‘Introductions?’

‘Yes,’ he said, surprised at her reaction. ‘You know—me Tarzan, you Jane, before we get carried away with this—’ he waved a hand between them ‘—undercurrent.’

‘Undercurrent?’ she repeated, her eyes dancing over the word, her fingers still doing their crazy damn tour of her body. ‘You know, I think you’ve summed it up perfectly.’

His eyes followed her fingers, his control teetering as he succumbed to the pull of her caress.

‘So?’ he pressed, his brain only half on the attempted introduction.

‘So...?’ she mimicked teasingly, the action both maddening and arousing. And then she dropped her hand to take hold of the stick floating in her drink and all thought of conversation disintegrated, obliterated by the sight of the inoffensive little green ball slowly being stirred around.

It was coming—he knew it—and the power of that sight, up close and with every alluring detail to feast upon, had his knuckles turning white.

‘Who needs names in this day and age?’ She lifted the olive out of her drink and tapped the stick against the rim of the glass to rid it of excess vodka. ‘Don’t you think there’s something to be said for leaving a little mystery?’

She looked at him on the last word, the stick pausing to rest against the glass edge. ‘It’s not like I’m here looking for a meaningful relationship.’

He wanted to say something smooth, but she had him stoked to silence. The perfect package was at his disposal—sexy sophistication brandishing a fuck-and-leave policy. He didn’t do relationships—they were for the weak and the needy. And, hell, if you weren’t weak at the off, you soon would be when it fell apart or, in the case of his dad, got ripped away. Then it would ruin you.

He lifted his glass and took a careful sip, swallowing down the unwelcome memories and throwing his focus onto the attractive bundle before him. ‘You and me both.’

‘Well, then, wouldn’t you rather...’ she leaned across the table and brought the olive to her lower lip, her cleavage forming an alluring backdrop ‘...we just got the hell out of here and had some fun?’

She parted her luscious pink mouth and popped the olive inside, her lips closing around the stick as her eyes held his with deliberate tease. Then slowly, painfully slowly, she pulled it out, her lips rolling outwards as they held the olive inside, stripping the stick bare.

‘I make that three olives now.’ His voice rasped, his mouth drying up at the inviting slickness of her lips.

She considered him, her throat moving captivatingly as she devoured the green ball. ‘Three—really?’ She smiled playfully, dropping the stick into her glass with a ting. ‘You’re very observant.’

‘When something’s worth observing I’d say I am.’

‘Is that what I am? Worth observing?’

‘You with that drink—definitely.’ His voice was tight with the effort of holding back, and his lack of control was so alien he knew he was in trouble. But right now he didn’t care. ‘In fact, if I was a religious man, I’d say the devil invented drinks such as those.’

‘The devil?’ Her brow furrowed and she nibbled thoughtfully at her lip, the innocent gesture smashing the last of his restraint. ‘Because of the corrupting alco—?’

‘No,’ he interjected, pushing himself out of his seat and striding to stand before her.

She looked up at him questioningly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He knew he’d surprised her but, he couldn’t wait any longer. To hell with where they were.

Reaching for her hand, he took hold of it and tugged her to her feet, the force sending her unresisting body right up against his own, her eyes flashing as they lighted on his mouth so close to her own.

‘Because they make me forget all decency and do this...’ He cupped her chin and roughly took her mouth in his, his tongue taking no prisoners in its desperation to sink inside.

An explosion of sensations went off at once. She tasted like heaven, like the olive, the vodka, the traces of gloss across her lips... And then she sighed, the soft, feminine sound escaping her lips as she gave way to his invasion and he lost himself in her. Her hands snaked through his hair, her tongue seeking out his own, twisting and flicking, tasting and probing...

His surroundings disappeared as every sense focused on her: her kiss, her smell, the feel of her breasts pushed up against him, the little sounds she was making, the desperate buck of his cock as it pressed into her lower belly.

There was a movement behind him, the brush of a chair and a muttered ‘Excuse me.’ It filtered through his brain, through the haze.

‘Get a room,’ a voice said.

His internal voice or a real person? He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

But he should care...

He should!

Reality came crashing down—he needed them out of there. Now.

Forcing himself to slow down, he tried to part their mouths, their faces. He was rewarded with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. A playful protest that felt anything but...

‘Spoilsport,’ she complained, and her pout was to die for.

He took a steadying breath. ‘You’re cheeky, sweetheart.’

One hand still cupping her face, he freed his other hand to rub it across his own, trying to get himself composed. He should be more unnerved by his lack of self-control—but fuck did he want to run with it regardless. Something told him that letting go would be worth it. That she would be worth it.

He scanned the bar. No one seemed to be looking their way. But that wasn’t to say they hadn’t been seconds before. That voice had sounded real enough.

‘We were having fun,’ she said, drawing him back, her eyes wide and alluring.

‘We were having fun.’ He repeated her words. ‘But I think we could have more fun elsewhere. I can have my driver here in five?’

Her eyes flittered and his chest tightened. Was she going to refuse him?

‘Driver, you say?’

‘Yes.’ He moulded his free hand into her back, pressing her against him, against the hard swell of his cock. Don’t deny me. ‘I promise he will see you home safely...after...’

He continued to caress her lip with the pad of his thumb, loving how her tongue would dart out sporadically to moisten the path for his touch.

‘In that case you’d best call him,’ she said softly, her hand coming up to take hold of his fingers and pressing a chaste kiss to their tips. ‘I’ll go and settle up.’

And just like that she was on it, stepping out of his hold and taking up her bag from the table, heading for the bar. He watched her go, his eyes hooked on the sweet sway of her body, he blindly retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. He dropped his gaze just long enough to dial his driver and, efficient as ever, he answered in two rings.

‘I need you outside in five,’ he said into the phone.

‘Sure thing, Mr Wright. Where we heading?’

‘Home.’

He cut the call and thrust his hand through his hair. He didn’t take women home. He went to a hotel, or their place. That way he could leave when he was good and ready. Certainly before morning. But the thought of sharing this woman with an audience a second more, or navigating the whole reservation thing... He didn’t have the patience. Or the inclination.

But to take her home—what the hell was he playing at?

CHAPTER THREE

JENNIFER TOOK HER time heading to the bar, sensing his heated gaze upon her and wanting to give him a worthy show. Her posture was smooth and assured, her hips moving with teasing provocation, her hair swinging subtly with each step.

On the outside she screamed control, but on the inside... She was on fire for him. The blood pumping through her system was heated beyond comprehension.

She wanted them alone. Now. But racing to the bar was hardly going to scream sex appeal and the very idea brought a laugh to her lips.

‘Good night?’ Darren said, not missing her little eruption.

‘The best,’ she said, placing her clutch on the bar and sliding onto a stool.

‘Glad to hear it.’ He gave her a knowing grin but left it there, his professionalism overriding as he asked, ‘So what can I get you?’

‘Both bills, please.’

‘Sure.’ He raised a cocktail shaker to the side of his head and started rattling it with gusto. ‘Give me one min.’

‘No problem.’

She propped her elbows on the bar, her head resting on her hands as she watched him work. She likened herself to the contents of the metal contraption being so expertly worked in his hands—shaken and about to be devoured. She smiled blissfully, the idea suiting her just fine.

It amused her that he’d wanted her name. It was a sweet gesture—too sweet. She didn’t want sweet. Sweet only led to complications—the kind that brought feelings, even relationships. And there was no place in her life for any of that. Her career came first. Her career and her family. She had no time for more. Not yet.

No matter how hot, how sexy, how interesting...

She twirled her hair around one finger. No, she needed him to be all about the sex—definitely just the sex. Someone like him would be too dangerous, too much of a distraction, to have around for long.

But as for the here and now... A little shiver ran through her as she conjured up those eyes, that smile, the dimple.

She glanced over her shoulder. He was on his phone but he was watching her, just as she’d known he would be, the carnal blaze of his eyes heating her from across the room.

‘Here you go.’

Darren’s voice pulled her back to the bar and his outstretched hand, containing a silver tray with two bills. She slipped her card on top, trusting him implicitly to have it right. ‘Just pop it on there.’

‘No problem.’

His eyes flicked behind her as he moved to the till and she realised her impromptu date had moved. She could sense his approach radiating down her back, her fine hairs prickling in anticipation beneath the delicate fabric of her dress, and she strung the sensation out, waiting for Darren to return her card and wish her goodnight before she turned.

‘I hope you don’t mind...’ she said, looking up, and her words went the way of her brain, combusting on the pull of his eyes, that smile, that dimple...

He raised a bemused brow. ‘Mind...?’

She smiled through the desire. ‘I settled your tab too.’

He looked surprised. ‘You did?’

‘I did.’ His reaction amused her. ‘Do you always look this surprised when a woman pays her own way?’

‘I can’t say I’m used to it.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, welcome to the modern world.’

He laughed, the sound husky and amplifying her already spiking libido.

‘Point made,’ he said, placing his hand in the small of her back and stirring up a truckload of nerves. ‘Shall we go?’

She grinned up at him. ‘Unless you want this modern woman to throw you over her shoulder and carry you out, I suggest we do just that.’

His laugh deepened and the desire to kiss him, to feel that excited resonance against her mouth had her on fire.

Soon, Jennifer!

She forced her legs to work and they headed to the lift, noticing that this time the attendant chose to avoid looking at her all together. What a nice change.

Even nicer still, the hand on her back started to wander, his fingers moving to caress rather than hold, his heat penetrating the thin veil of her dress and making her tremble.

He bent his head, his mouth hovering close to her ear, ‘Are you cold?’

She fixed her gaze straight ahead, fear that she would set upon him and give the attendant an eyeful making the glass doors suddenly riveting. ‘No.’

But two can play at that game, she told herself, sidestepping in front of him, just enough so that she could conceal her hand as it made contact with the front of his thigh.

He gave a sharp intake of breath, his thigh tensing beneath her splayed fingers and making her smile in satisfaction. Payback!

He was a delight to explore. The strong rigidity of muscle flexed as she stroked upwards, circling from his outer thigh to the inner—

His hand shot to her arm, his fingers gently gripping her in what she assumed to be a silent message to behave.

No chance.

As the lift descended she teased and coaxed until his hold eased enough for her to reach her target—his very tip. Lightly she brushed up and over. He hissed against her ear and her belly coiled with exquisite heat.

She traced around him, revelling in his growing reaction, coveting his size, his girth, his length...

She filled her hand and squeezed. He bucked within her palm, a cough erupting from his throat, and her smile grew as the lift came to a gentle stop.

Before them the doors opened, and she released him with a playful tap, stepping forward to exit with the attendant. He followed close behind.

The private hallway was deserted. Sounds of the busy city reached them from outside, but the windowless entranceway blocked it all from view.

‘Have a good evening,’ the attendant said, stepping back inside the lift and pressing the button.

She watched the doors close and the lift start its ascent, waiting for the attendant’s eyes to be out of sight so she could—

Whoa!

Startled, she found herself being spun into him, her eyes and mind barely registering his hold before he was propelling her back against the cold marble wall, his lips coming down to crush her own. He pinned one hand to the wall above her head; his other running up and down her side in brutal exploration.

Heat exploded within her, the ache between her legs flaring with such force she wanted to cry out as she kissed him back, her hands thrusting through his hair, her tongue delving into him, fighting with his own as she desperately sought more.

But he tore his mouth away, pressing his forehead against hers, his ragged breaths sweeping down her front. ‘You are a tease.’

‘You started it.’

She yanked him back to her. He obeyed for a split second, his tongue flicking teasingly into her mouth, and then he was breaking away to travel down her neck, his teeth nipping and grazing with dizzying effect.

‘God, yes!’ she cried, head arching back, hands invading his jacket as she strove to feel every bit of him. The hard muscles of his chest twitched and flexed as she explored—smoothing, clawing, pulling at his shirt.

The hand at her side reached the hem of her dress and he shoved it upwards, his fingers gripping the underside of her thigh as he lifted it, forcing her to wrap her leg around him.

He raised his head to gaze down at her, his hand tracing the band of her stocking, tension working in his jaw. ‘You’re dangerous.’

‘You like?’ she said, trying to focus through the haze.

‘Love.’

He twanged the suspender and she gave a heated shrug, shoving a hand through his hair. ‘It’s a power thing.’

He growled, the sound animalistic, lighter fuel to her raging heat as his mouth reclaimed hers and both hands took hold of her thighs to lift her entirely against him. The cool air swept over her damp panties, followed sharply by his rock-hard cock, its trouser-clad presence driving against her. She bucked with delight, her mouth breaking free to let go a frenzied moan.

‘I’m losing my mind,’ he said into her collarbone, feasting on her skin as he thrust her upwards, bringing the valley of her chest to his face, his hot breath and slick tongue creating an insane combination that had her breasts pleading for him.

But suddenly he froze.

‘Shit.’

She looked down at him, her body writhing, her lungs struggling for air. And then she felt it—the phone in his jacket vibrating into her thigh.

‘It’ll be my driver,’ he said, his voice gravel-like and rumbling through her.

‘Of course,’ she breathed, fighting for control over the insane rush and thriving off it all the same.

Shaky, she lowered her legs and he helped her, waiting until she was safely on her feet before shrugging his jacket into place and fishing out his mobile.

He stepped back, tapping at the screen and raising it to his ear, his other hand trying to put some order back into his hair. The sight made her smile. She’d done that to him. He’d let her. They’d both lost all control and the realisation was exhilarating.

She worked to straighten out her clothing, her hair, her racing body. All the while telling herself she should be grateful for the interruption, that indecent exposure wouldn’t go down well for either of them.

But the thrill of it. Of him. In public—here and now... It appealed too much.

‘On our way.’ He spoke into his phone and then cut it off, slipping it back into his pocket and turning that sexy, fuck-me-now smile on her as he offered his arm. ‘You good to go?’

She nodded and hooked her arm in his. ‘Let’s be quick about it.’

He gave a laugh and together they strode down the hallway and out of the building.

Directly outside, on the congested street, squeezed into a parking space she could scarcely believe it fitted into, sat a pristine black limo, its driver waiting at its rear. He straightened as he set eyes on them, and she knew for certain that this was the driver he had spoken to.

If any doubt had remained over what Darren had told her then it would’ve been wiped out now. Yes, he was definitely CEO material. A very successful CEO at that. She was considered successful herself, but even she didn’t possess the wealth that brought with it this kind of service. Or maybe she did...she just didn’t get to see any of it...

‘Evening, Mr Wright,’ the driver said as they approached, his eyes dropping briefly to her as he gave a respectful dip of his head.

Wright?

She smiled up at him. The name fitted him well—he certainly felt like her Mr Right.

But then he could be called Mr Tickle and she’d probably think it just fine right about now.

‘Colin,’ her Mr Wright said, ‘this is Miss...’ He faltered and looked down at her.

She realised he was at a loss, thanks to her enforced air of mystery, and gave a laugh. It all seemed rather ridiculous now. As if they needed any mystery to add to the fire already searing between them!

‘Miss Hayes,’ she said, beaming at his driver. ‘But, honestly, you can just call me Jennifer.’

His arm froze in hers and his eyes narrowed, a look she couldn’t identify sweeping across his face. Something about it panicked her. But then it was gone, his eyes were calming, and he looked back to his driver.

Had she imagined it?

It was dark...the street lighting wasn’t great...

‘This is Miss Hayes,’ he said.

Hadn’t she just told him that?

‘And she needs a lift home.’

What the fuck?

‘Home?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

Just then the heavens opened—great big dollops of water raining down on them just as she would have said more. They hunched forward against the onslaught as the driver swung open the rear door and told them to get in. He would get the address from them when they were safely inside.

Pulling her with him, he forced her to fold into the back seat of the car. Her brain was rambling, trying to come up with a reason—any reason that didn’t imply an end to the evening’s affairs.

He wouldn’t have the audacity to lead her on and then... No, it wasn’t possible. He must be suggesting they both go to her place. But that wasn’t happening. That was her domain.

She waited for him to close the door before she sidled up to him, her fingers toying with the top button of his shirt as she hooked her head beneath his chin.

‘It’s a nice idea to go to mine, but if it’s all the same I’d much rather go to yours.’

He didn’t say anything and she gazed up at him. He was staring at a point over her head, and the taut lines of his face sent the hairs prickling at the back of her neck.

‘Is something wrong?’

His eyes flicked to her and away again. ‘I’m not sure this is a good idea.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ she said, her hand stilling, her eyes falling to his mouth and the grim line now forming there.

She hadn’t imagined his need. It had mirrored her own. If he was having a last-minute change of heart out of respect for her feelings, and all that sentimental crap, then she would see to it that he forgot it.

She let her hand trace down his front and felt his body turn rigid.

Outside, traffic sped past, delaying the driver’s attempt to round the vehicle and get inside. She had time...

Lifting her head, she used her nose to brush the hair from behind his ear. The scent of his dampened hair product was fresh and masculine, tantalising her as she pressed a kiss to his skin, her tongue flicking out to taste. His jaw clenched and his arm at her back tightened, neither gripping her to him nor moving away.

‘I want you,’ she whispered into his ear, and his breath hitched.

His waning resolve urged her on. She nuzzled him as her hand slid down his front, over his torso, the buckle of his belt, his zipper, to his left thigh, where she knew the length of his cock lay. She felt it swell obediently into her palm as a curse ripped from his throat.

Victorious, she used her teeth on his lobe. ‘See...you want this too.’

She gripped him hard and he inhaled sharply, a hiss forming through his teeth.

She traced the edge of his ear with her tongue as her hand started to move over him, around him. ‘Just tell me you don’t and I’ll stop.’

‘Jennifer...’ He groaned her name as he pressed back into his seat, his lower body riding upwards to increase the pressure of her hand.

‘That’s it, baby,’ she cooed. ‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ he rasped, and she felt her carnal prowess take a bow, the power going straight to her head, liquid heat pooling between her legs.

The front door yanked open—shit!

They both sat bolt upright, like a pair of teenagers caught in the act, faces flushed, eyes wide.

The driver clambered in and glanced over his shoulder, his expression one of pure professionalism, as though they hadn’t a hair out of place...or several—

‘Where to, sir?’

‘Home.’

The driver’s brows lifted. ‘Your home, sir?’

‘That’s what I said.’

Then he hit a button that had the privacy glass sliding up.

Was that stuff really private?

She was about to ask when he took hold of her hips and swung her over his lap, the speed of the move sending a surprised gasp from her lips that swiftly turned to a moan as she found herself over the very hardness of him, her knees straddling him, her dress thrust up to her hips. He raked a hand through her hair and yanked her mouth down to his own, his tongue pillaging, his hands rough upon her thigh and her hair.

Hooking her hands around his neck, she clung to him, desperate to keep their mouths connected while her body started to ride his clothed hardness in mindless abandon.

Vaguely she was aware of his hands shifting, his fingers hooking beneath the dress at her shoulders and shoving it down, imprisoning her arms to her sides.

He broke away, forcing her back so that he could look at her.

Her breasts bloomed under his burning gaze, her nipples straining beneath the light padding of her bra. He brought his hands up to her shoulders, his touch now gentle and prolonged as he slid them beneath the straps, taking them down to meet the ruched fabric of her dress before returning to smooth over her shoulders and down her front.

She bit back a whimper of anticipation as he met with her bra and then he slipped his hands inside, his heated palms brushing fleetingly against her taut and swollen peaks before they dipped to cup her, the brief contact an erotic torture as they begged for more.

‘So beautiful...’ he said softly, his hands weighing her in his palms as his thumbs stroked upwards, their pads meeting with her pleading buds and rolling over them.

Pleasure shot through her, and she threw her head back as a moan tore from her throat.

‘You like that?’

‘Yes!’ she cried. The heavenly combination of his hands on her body and his hardness at her clit had her rocking wildly, and she could feel the tell-tale tension mounting.

‘I need to see you.’

With those gruff words he took hold of the band of her bra and tugged hard, forcing her breasts to spill out. He groaned, his head coming forward as he closed his mouth around one stiff peak, sucking it back into the cavern of his mouth, teasing it and then releasing it to let his teeth nip, his tongue lap. He did the same with the other, one hand coming up to join in the attention, his fingers pinching and rolling, his palm groping.

Outside, a car horn sounded as another torrential wave of rain pounded at the roof. The worldly sounds were a reminder of where they were, but it only served to take her higher, every bit of her becoming a tense powerhouse about to crack.

‘I’m gonna come...’ she moaned. ‘I can’t take... I can’t...’

His answer was to nip harder, to drive her hips against him, to encourage her further, higher than she could ever remember being with any man. And then she was crying out. Her body was going into spasm as wave after wave consumed her. She heard him groan as he buried his head in her chest, holding her against him, taking each rock of her body until she was spent.

With cheeks flushed, she made herself straighten, conscious of time passing. ‘How long do we have?’

‘About twenty minutes.’

He traced a hand down her back and she shuddered at his lustful gaze. ‘Perfect.’

‘Is that so...?’

She made an affirmative noise as she bowed to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose, his lips, across his jawbone... Reaching his neck, she flicked her tongue out and revelled in the salty essence of him, knowing he was overheating at her hands.

‘And why would that be?’

His voice cracked on the last word as she cupped him, her fingers testing the rigid length of him. She was desperate to expose him to her hands, her gaze, her mouth...

‘It’s time enough for me to return the favour,’ she said, placing her hands on his thighs and slipping from his lap, coming to nestle on her knees between his feet on the floor.

The car took a bend and she steadied herself using his legs, her fingers biting into his flesh.

‘Easy,’ he said, taking hold of her arm and using his free hand to gain purchase on the trim of the car.

She smiled up at him. Christ, he was so hot.

She wanted to imprint the sight of him in her mind, all dishevelled and feverish. The feeling of excitement at having him at her mercy, the heat of his grip on her bare arm, the cool air of the car keeping her exposed nipples pert and alert. Her clit had barely recovered and the throb was back with a vengeance.

She dropped her eyes to his belt, to his zipper, the fastening taut as his hardness pressed against it. Her mouth salivated as she smoothed her hands along his thighs until they reached the object of her fascination.

‘You are truly beautiful,’ he said, the hand at her arm dropping to cup her breast, his fingers and thumb caressing her sensitised skin.

The knowledge that he was enjoying the sight of her semi-nakedness was just as thrilling as his touch. She bit her lip against the resurging tension. It was his turn.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she fed the leather of his belt through the loops. The metal from its buckle jangled as she parted it, the sound oddly thrilling, making her fingers quiver as she undid his button. Then, taking hold of his zip tab, she paused to look at him from beneath her lashes.

‘You can tell me to stop, if you want?’

She was purposely teasing him, needing to have the memory of his earlier hesitation forgotten, obliterated by his total surrender.

And she had it.

He looked to her with almost pained ferocity, his expression dark and erotically charged as he thrust one hand into her hair. ‘Fuck, no.’

She gave him a wicked grin, his impassioned response going to her head as she slid the zipper down. ‘That’s better.’

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