Engaging the Boss (Heirs of Damon) (18 page)

She
giggled again. “Let’s give it another half-hour, and then we’ll call it quits,
even if we have no results.”

Jonathan
wasn’t far enough gone in thinking about sex to not be able to pull back, and
in another minute he was in full work-mode again.

Sarah
was not as single-minded. She could think about work with part of her head and
also think about how much she adored this man, who was now her partner rather
than her boss.

Which
is exactly what she did for the next twenty-nine minutes.

***

The next day they flew
to Santorini, and Andrew met them at the airport to drive them to Oia, to his
and Laurel’s inn.

Andrew
had called Jonathan several times in the three months since the wedding, until
even Jonathan couldn’t deny that he genuinely wanted to connect with his
cousin. So they’d agreed to take a long weekend for a vacation and come down to
the inn to visit.

Sarah
was excited. She’d never been on a romantic vacation with a man in her life.
She’d also never been to the Greek islands. Or anywhere in Greece. Or anywhere,
really, except the States and Iceland and England for the Damon wedding.

She’d
spent most of her life working—just like Jonathan. It wasn’t like either of
them would suddenly become people of leisure, but still…it was nice to do
something for fun every now and then.

She
felt a wave of satisfaction as they pulled up in front of the charming,
white-washed inn because Jonathan and Andrew were both laughing at a joke
Andrew had just made.

Three
months ago, Jonathan hadn’t been close to any of his family. But maybe that
could change too.

As
they got out of the car, they were greeted by three huge German Shepherds, who
ran over and wriggled wildly until Andrew knelt down to pet them. Grinning, he
introduced them to Theo, Circe, and Persephone, obviously proud when they all
sat obediently and lifted their paws to shake.

Laurel
and an elderly Greek couple had dinner ready, and they ate out on a terrace in
the light of a blazing sunset. Even Jonathan seemed relaxed and at ease,
telling Andrew and Laurel about their work and asking about the work they’d
done on the inn and about Harrison and Marietta, who were living in England now
since Harrison worked closely with Cyrus Damon in business.

“What
about Ben?” Sarah asked, during a pause in conversation. “Has anyone heard from
him?”

“Not
a word,” Andrew said, his face sobering slightly. “I’ve tried to call him a
couple of times, but he never picks up.”

“Maybe
you should get a prepaid phone so he wouldn’t recognize the number,” Sarah
suggested.

“He’d
just hang up, I think. Harrison said he’s emailed a few times, and Ben replied
once saying he just wants to be left alone.” Andrew sighed. “He’s not even
using his real name. He doesn’t want to be a Damon. At all.”

“That’s
too bad,” Sarah said, feeling strangely sad. It wasn’t like everyone had to be
attached to their family to be happy, but clearly whatever Ben was holding onto
was eating him alive. “But he made the effort to come to the wedding, so maybe
that’s a good sign.”

“Maybe
I should try to call,” Jonathan said, frowning thoughtfully out at the water.
“Since he walked out because he thought I was getting the cold shoulder.”

“Yeah,
maybe it would help for him to know that Lord Uncle hasn’t cut you off
completely, that he’s softening in his old age.” Andrew winked at Sarah. “Or
maybe Sarah should call, since he seemed particularly fond of her.”

Jonathan
made a guttural noise that sounded almost like a growl, sending the rest of
them into peals of laughter.

After
dinner, Jonathan said he felt like taking a walk. He seemed to expect Sarah to
go with him, and she was happy to oblige.

She
really liked Andrew and Laurel, but she didn’t want to be around them all the
time—not in such a romantic setting.

Jonathan
had evidently gotten directions from Andrew, since he seemed to know where we
was going as they walked down to a pebble beach. It was dark by now, but the
moon and stars were incredibly bright, so they had no trouble finding their
way.

They
didn’t talk much on the walk, which wasn’t at all unusual. It didn’t bother
Sarah at all until she started to notice Jonathan getting stiff—the way he only
did when he was uncomfortable.

They
were standing on the beach, looking out on the water, when she finally asked,
“What’s the matter?”

He
looked at her and opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

“You
have to tell me,” she said quietly. She had a flare of nerves. She was so happy,
and she was convinced that Jonathan was too. But that didn’t mean something bad
couldn’t still happen. “Is something wrong?”

“No.
Nothing’s wrong.” In the light of the moon, he looked almost sheepish.

She
lowered her brow. “So what is it? What are you working yourself up for?”

He
gave a low laugh and glanced away. But before she could prompt again he’d
turned back. “It might be too soon. I don’t know. I’m just no good at this.”

“Good
at what?”

“At
any of this.” He gestured between them. “I have no good instincts.”

She
let out an indignant huff. “Don’t you dare say things like that. No one could
ask for a better man than I’ve got. Seriously. You don’t have to be a charming
talker like Andrew to love someone. I mean it, Jonathan. I feel loved. Really
loved with you. You
are
good at it.”

He
smiled at her and took her face in his hands. “I do love you, Sarah. More than
anything. I can’t believe you love me back. I still don’t understand why.”

“You
don’t have to understand it. You just have to accept it.”

“Okay.”
He paused, but she knew he wasn’t finished, so she waited until he continued
again. “Anyway, I don’t know if it’s too soon or not.”

“Too
soon for what?” She was so focused on easing his concerns that she genuinely,
stupidly, had no idea what he was going to say.

Or
do.

What
he did was stuff his hand into his pocket and pull something out.

She
blinked down dumbly at the ring he’d given her for their fake engagement.

“I
want it to be real,” he said, his voice like gravel. “I want it to…I mean, if
you do too.”

She
was so overwhelmed with surprise and joy and emotion she couldn’t do anything
but tremble and stare down at the ring.

Evidently,
she stared too long. Jonathan stuff the ring back into his pocket. “It’s fine
if it’s too soon. I can wait. I’m not any good at—“

“No!”
she cried, grabbing for his hand and, when it came up empty, trying to dig into
his pocket for the ring. “It’s not too soon. I want it. I want it!”

“Oh.”
They had a little scuffle until he manage to get the ring back from her. “Well,
am I at least allowed to put it on you myself?”

“Right.”
She was shaking helplessly and had to force herself not to grab the beautiful
ring back from him, so much did she want it. “I guess you can do that.”

He
cleared his throat and picked up her left hand. Then he gently slid the ring
onto her finger. He gazed up at her face then, still holding her hand, his
expression reflecting everything she needed to know about his love, his
commitment, the depths of his generous heart.

A
stupid tear slipped out of her eye as she nodded back at him speechlessly.

Then
he groaned hoarsely and pulled her into a kiss. A deep one. One that went on
for a really long time.

When
they finally broke apart, her knees were weak and she had to cling to him to
keep her feet.

“That
was a proposal,” Jonathan said, his arms holding her unshakably. “Just in case
it wasn’t clear.”

She
giggled helplessly. “I know it was a proposal, you idiot. And, just so you
know, I told you yes.”

“Yeah,
that’s what I thought. Just making sure.”

There
was a kind of joy so deep it couldn’t possibly be shaped by words. That was
what Sarah was feeling as they walked slowly back toward the inn. She could see
on Jonathan’s face that he felt exactly the same way.

He
held her hand as they walked, and they didn’t speak at all.

***

If
you haven’t yet read them, you can read the first two Heirs of Damon books,
Seducing the Enemy
and
Playing the Playboy
.
The final Heirs of Damon book—Stripping the Billionaire, about Benjamin
Damon—will be out this summer.

If
you enjoyed Engaging the Boss, you might enjoy Missing by the same author.

“Nathan
Livingston is sex on a bun.”

Lynn
Madison dutifully scrawled the words “sex on a bun” into her little reporter’s
notebook and tried not to laugh.

The
middle-aged woman selling coffee from a sidewalk cart stared across the street
to the square, toward the press conference Lynn was covering. “But you can tell
he’s a family man at heart.”

“Why
do you think that?”

“Well,
he could have been the President by now, like his dad, but instead he pulled
out of politics so he could take care of his girls after his wife left him.”

Lynn
jotted down a couple of notes. “I wouldn’t say he pulled out of politics. He
makes a fortune as a political consultant. People pay exorbitant amounts for
even just an hour of his time and advice.”

“Yeah,
but that’s different,” the woman said. “He has to work behind the scenes now.
He was born into American royalty, but he stepped down for his daughters.”

Glancing
over her shoulder, Lynn focused in on Nathan Livingston, standing in front of a
bank of microphones and looking as handsome and confident as a movie star.

He
was born to be a politician. His grandfather had served in the Senate for forty
years. His father had been a two-term president. His uncle was currently the
governor of Virginia.

Lynn
had actually been an intern in Nathan’s office the year after she graduated from
college. Ten years ago now, when he’d had his short-lived career in Congress.

She
had to agree with the woman’s earlier assessment. He might not be sex on a bun,
but he was definitely sex in a three-thousand-dollar suit.

She
had good reason to know. For the last two years, Lynn had been spending one hot
night with him every three months.

“What
do you think of his project?” she asked, turning back to the woman, trying not
to think about the next time she’d get together with Nathan.

“What
project?”

 “The
urban redevelopment project. The one he’s talking about at the press
conference.”

“Oh.
I didn’t pay any attention to that.”

Lynn
smothered another laugh and jotted a final note.

“I
love your top,” the woman said. “Where did you get it?”

Lynn
glanced down at the pale blue silk blouse she wore. “At a flea market. I think
it belonged to someone’s grandmother.”

“Oh,
no. It doesn’t look old-fashioned at all. I wish I could make clothes like that
work.”

Lynn
was ridiculously pleased by the compliment. She had a weakness for vintage
blouses and accessories, so she scoured thrift stores and flea markets
religiously. She thought she pulled them together pretty well so they looked
stylish rather than outdated, but it was nice to have affirmation from a
stranger.

She
thanked the woman for talking to her and then scouted her surroundings for
someone else she could interview.

As
the editor of the successful web magazine she and her ex-husband had founded
eight years ago, she didn’t usually write stories as minor as this one herself.
The press conference had been last-minute, however, and no one else was
available to cover it.

She
noticed a guy selling knock-off designer purses down the block who didn’t look
busy, so she went to talk to him.

She
managed to get a good quote from him too. “Livingston fakes it better than any
other son of a bitch I know.”

Then
she figured she had enough for a short article, so she just stood at the edge
of the square and watched Nathan Livingston control the crowd, control the
story, control the world.

Even
from a distance, he exuded strength and authority. His charisma was solid
rather than slick.

She
couldn’t help but feel a surge of pleased entitlement at the secret knowledge
that she got to have sex with this man. Not very often, but still…

Lynn
didn’t always agree with his politics, but she had no doubt that the
coffee-woman was right. He could have been President. He could have been
anything he wanted.

***

Back in her
office, Lynn took fifteen minutes to draft the article.

She
made sure to play up the humor and irony while still being fair to Nathan and
his project. Their web magazine had established a niche for itself in the very
crowded D.C. market by taking a different slant on politics.

They
reported all the big news, but their focus was on the “little guys”—how the
people on the periphery felt about major happenings and how it affected them.

 Lynn
was well aware that the
Cooler
was read more for entertainment than for
“hard” news, but she didn’t care. They were successful, they did good work, and
they’d managed to avoid the stigma of tabloid for the most part.

She
was finishing the story when Matt stuck his head in her office. “You got a
minute?”

“Uh
oh,” she said, when she saw his expression. “If you’re going to tell me we lost
another advertiser, I’m going to hit something.”

She
and Matt had started the
Cooler
together, back when they’d been married.
He handled the business side, and she handled the news side. They’d gotten
divorced four years ago, but Lynn still counted him as one of her best friends.

“Nothing
that bad,” he replied, casually dumping a pile of papers out of a chair and
onto the floor so he could sit down.  “Monica Chastain turned us down for
the internship position, so we’ll have to go with our second choice.”

“Damn,”
Lynn muttered. “She thought weren’t respectable enough, didn’t she?”

Matt
just gave her a half-grin.

Lynn
scowled at her ex-husband. His dark hair was too long, as usual, and starting to
hang over his eyes. His brown eyes were always laughing. While she was still
very fond of him, his constantly laidback attitude about everything was one of
the things that had driven her crazy during their marriage.

She
understood that avoiding stress was good, but some things—like her feelings,
like their relationship—had been genuinely important, and they should have been
taken seriously.

She’d
never really felt like Matt had.

Moving
a pile of files toward the middle of her desk, Lynn made room for herself to
lean against the edge. “So who’s next on the list?”

Matt
looked down at the piece of paper he’d brought with him, which Lynn could now
see was a résumé. “Beth Broadview was our second choice. Junior at George
Washington. Good experience. Fluent in three languages.”

“Oh
yeah. I remember her. She was a great writer, but she seemed so young to me
that I thought Monica would be a better fit.” She thought back to the reserved,
dark-haired girl she’d interviewed three weeks ago who had looked about sixteen
years old. “She’ll be good. Let’s offer it to her. She better not turn us
down.”

“Let’s
hope she doesn’t. I’d hate to see you unleash your wrath on the poor, innocent
thing.” He stood up, taking a step until he was a little too close to her.
“You’re looking very good today, by the way.”

She
smiled at the familiar huskiness in his tone. “It’s a new top.”

Matt’s
brown eyes lingered on the way the silk of her blouse clung to the curve of her
breasts. “It’s a
very
nice top.”

She
laughed and put a hand on his chest, pushing him back a bit. “Don’t get any
ideas. You always get horny in the spring, but we’ve managed to go two years
now without any slip-ups, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

One
of the consequences of working closely with an attractive man you were amicably
divorced from was—when neither was seeing anyone else—it was easy to have
“slip-ups.” They’d enjoyed having sex with each other for many years, and it
was tempting to let that continue, even after the marriage had ended.

Three
years ago, they’d even tried a covert reconciliation for a couple of months,
but it hadn't worked. Lynn had come to realize that things worked more smoothly
between her and Matt when they didn’t let sex muddy the waters.

“Are
you sure?” he asked, giving her his most appealing smile. “It’s been a while
since you’ve gone out with anyone. The timing might be good for both of us.”

“Uh
huh.” She was unable to resist smiling back, although she kept her hand on his
chest to hold him away. “I’m doing just fine without dating.”

Matt
left her office, good-natured and resigned, as Lynn sank into her desk chair
and stared at her reflection in her computer screen, which had gone dark from
inactivity.

There
wasn't much she wanted to change about her life, but it would be nice to have
more sex. She went out on first and second dates fairly regularly, but it had
been more than a year since she’d dated anyone longer than that.

It
had been eighty-three days since she’d last had sex. At the moment, she was
just as horny as her ex-husband.

But
Matt wasn't who she fantasized about when she closed her eyes at night.

Lynn
pulled up her calendar and stared at today's date. Six more days until the
24th. Six more days until she would have sex again.

Sex
with Nathan Livingston was better than any sex she’d had in her life.

And
it wasn’t long until she would see him again.

***

You
can find out more information about Missing
here
.