One Night for Love (8 page)

“Uh-huh,” Meg said. “Seems logical.”

“Completely sound.”

“Businesslike.”

“Right.” Prim handed Dori a ten and took the change.

“Makes sense.”

“Definitely.” Prim walked toward the end of the counter and waited for the coffee.

“It will never work.”

Prim stopped. “What?”

“I’m telling you it won’t work.”

“Meg!” Prim said. “Stop it. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay,” Meg said.

“Seriously, this is simply an attraction based on a long dry spell and chemicals and taboos and pheromones and two high-functioning individuals who want what they can’t have.”

“Right,” Meg said.

“This is the perfect solution. I stop being obsessed with Tristan and instead I spend my time proving to him that he must keep Metro Media a whole company.”

“All while sleeping in his bed?”

Prim’s stomach sickened. When Meg said it like that, Prim didn’t like the sound of the agreement she’d made.

“The agreement is meant to be finite, discreet, and private.”

“Sounds like a great deal for him.”

“He offered to release me from my contract and pay out my full bonus.”

“And you said no?”

Prim took the coffee cup and slid a sleeve around it. “I can’t protect Metro if I’m not there. I’m not going to abandon everyone I’ve worked with, everyone who has depended on me, simply because I can’t keep my own sexual urges in check.” Prim sipped her coffee. “There was a problem. I found a solution.”

“Fuck-buddies is a solution?”

Prim cringed. “No. We made an agreement like adults, and we’ll behave appropriately at work.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Meg said. “I know all about appropriate behavior at work, or have you forgotten where I fell in love with my husband?”

“That took three years.”

“No,” Meg said. “The attraction was immediate; it took three years for me to get out of my own way.”

“I’m not in love, nor do I intend to be.”

“Intentions don’t always make it where love is concerned,” Meg said. “But okay, if you think you two can make this agreement work.”

Prim threw her hand up in the air. “I hate it when you’re like this.”

“I’m agreeing with you.”

“No,” Prim said. “You’re doing that patronizing agreeing-with-me thing. You use it on Cole, you use it on me, I’m certain you use it on your staff. It’s that thing where you believe that you’re right but you won’t argue with the person you’re disagreeing with, you simply wait until they figure out that
you
were right all along.”

“Aren’t I always right?”

Prim sighed. “As far as I’ve ever known.”

“Where are you?”

“The Coffee Bean in the lobby of your building.”

“I’ll be right down,” Meg said. “You have a situation that we need to discuss.”

*

“Mr. Rhodes, Miss Baxter has returned.” Philippe stood just inside Tristan’s office door.

Tristan looked away from one of the four flat screens he’d just had mounted to his office wall. “Will you have her meet me at my elevator?”

He flipped from CNN to MSNBC. Watched the ticker across the bottom for a moment and then stood. Would whoever bought Metro take the company public? Or would he get more profit if he sold off the different divisions? He pulled at his cuffs. A week before, he’d been so certain of Metro’s fate, but now that certainty had evaporated. He’d started to enjoy seeing recognizable faces in the hallways. The employees were all so damned efficient and pleasant. They smiled when they came to work. None of the other companies he’d purchased had had such happy employees. Metro’s staff all seemed so pleased to be part of the company.

Their love for Metro was Prim’s doing. She was great at business. A leader who could also close deals. If only he wasn’t so damned attracted to her. He’d already agreed to more with regards to Prim than he should have. Monogamy he could do. He could even respect the need for privacy. The nonrestriction of behavior? Of course. Although, never before had he wanted to beat the life from a man who glanced with an appreciative eye at a woman like he did with Prim. He needed to get his head straight. Prim was causing him to entertain all kinds of fantasies, and not all of them were sexual. The idea of asking Prim to stay and run Metro had even flitted through his mind. That scenario was an impossibility.

He walked from his office. Prim waited just outside the door beside his private elevator. The warm scent of cinnamon from some damned body wash or shampoo she used greeted him. Her scent drove him to distraction. She tipped her chin up and slid her gaze toward him.

“You had Philippe track me down?” Prim said.

“I want you in this meeting.”

“Want or need?” A smug look settled on her gorgeous features. He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist, pull her close, and kiss that look on her face. He couldn’t. His assistant, her assistant, and a host of other employees were all down the hall from this spot. The elevator door opened and he followed Prim onto the elevator. The door closed.

“I need you in the meeting.” He stepped toward her and again that nearly insufferable heat burst through him. Her mouth parted, drawing attention to those gorgeous lips that he’d watch surround his cock. He twitched with memory. Heat flooded his belly and he took a step closer. Prim did not back away from his nearness. He reached out and pulled the stop button.

“We have a communication problem,” Tristan said. “One of
your
parameters was the requirement of honesty. So, Miss Baxter, where were you?”

Her breath grew short. Was she wet? Because he was most definitely hard. He slipped his hand along her thigh and pulled up her skirt. The soft fabric hitched over her hip. Her gaze remained locked to his, but she’d yet to answer his question. He placed his fingertips over the tiny swatch of lace that she called panties.

“You’re wet for me,” he said.

There were no security cameras on his own private elevator. He didn’t want his staff knowing his entry and exit times.

Through the fabric of his pants, she pressed her hand to his cock. “And you’re hard.”

With a twitch of her eyebrow, she conveyed her desire for him. He slipped his hand under her panties and his fingertip pressed her clit, which was slick with want.

Prim gasped. Her eyes widened.

“You didn’t answer me.” His voice was thick with lust. Perhaps he needed to remind her of the power his fingers had over her physical response, that she could not ignore his touch, that he could bend her to his will simply by using his fingertip.

He pressed against her swollen nub with more insistence and her hips twitched. Her lips parted the tiniest bit more and he saw a flash in her eyes. His finger slid down the front between her cleft, between the lips of her pussy and deep into her. Again her hips hitched forward.

“You should answer me,” he said.

His thumb stroked over her clit. Finally she moved, her knees nearly buckled, and a long gasp hissed over her lips.

“So this is what it’s to be like?” She grasped him through the fabric of his pants.

“I certainly hope so,” he said.

His fingers pulsed in and out of her and Prim’s breath grew shorter.

“Tell me what I want to know.” He wrapped his free hand into her long black hair.

And pulled.

Her head tilted back and her chin jutted forward. He pressed his lips to that long, lovely neck.

“I was with …”

His lips reached the pulse point on her neck. She closed her eyes.

“Tell me,” he said. He pulled his hand back from pressing on her clit, from giving her the pleasure that she’d rolled her hips into. She was so near release.

“No, no … don’t stop.” Her eyes opened and her hungry gaze landed on him. She wanted more of his touch. More from him. She had surrendered to him.

“Where were you?”

“I was with Meg,” she said. Her hips pressed forward again and sought his touch.

He pressed his finger hard against her clit as reward for her response.

A low moan escaped her mouth. “Yes, yes.” Her hand moved across him. She clutched again at his cock and pulled at the zipper of his pants. She stroked him.

He flipped her around toward the wall of the elevator, and she clasped the rail with her hands. Her ass. That beautiful, full round ass. He stroked one hand over soft skin while he released his finger from the heat of her.

“Fuck me,” Prim said.

She need not ask again.

He grasped his cock and pressed into her with one hard stroke.

“God, Tristan, yes.”

She braced her hands on the wall of his elevator. Her sex clenched around him and his cock throbbed. He pushed deeper into her. He kept one arm wrapped around her, and his fingertip pressed her clit. Prim’s hips thrust back to meet his every stroke. He pushed hard into her. A shriek escaped her mouth. His fingers now wove through her hair and he pulled on the luxurious strands that were wrapped around his hand.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Pull harder, my God, pull harder.”

Tristan pulled harder and thrust deep into her.

She bent forward and he felt the sweet, hot jet of release, his body unable to contain the pleasure.

They closed the deal. At lunch, the president of Tri-Comm was mesmerized by Prim. She sat between them and exuded an air of confidence that was irresistible. Perhaps it was from being freshly fucked. Or maybe it was from how Tristan’s hand trailed up over her thigh when they were served dessert, causing her to open her legs to him and let his fingertips trace circles around the soft, inner part of her thigh. She sipped her coffee and pretended she wasn’t being turned on again by Tristan’s touch. Or maybe she got that extra sparkle from knowing that she wore no panties, that her pussy was exposed to Tristan, to the world, that under her skirt there was nothing between her and his desire. Whatever the reason, they closed the deal. The second lucrative deal in less than two weeks.

Together, she and Tristan made a formidable business team. A fact not lost on Prim and as a successful businessman, a fact not lost on Tristan either.

“Nice work,” Tristan said. He leaned back against the leather of the town car. “Despite my not being able to keep my hands off you.”

“First Flixster and now Tri-Comm—both are excellent deals for Metro.” The deals would generate greater revenue for Metro. Prim glanced toward Tristan. “Do you enjoy working toward the healthy future of Metro?”

The muscle in Tristan’s jaw flinched, a subtle tell that occurred when Tristan was either deeply aroused or was biting back his words. “I enjoy closing deals. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” Prim said. “But I wonder if the cause of our enjoyment differs.”

A placid expression settled on his face. He neither asked her to continue nor stopped the conversation.

“I enjoy closing deals for two reasons,” Prim said.

Tristan raised one eyebrow.

“I enjoy winning,” Prim said. “That is what a good deal feels like to me. A win.”

“And the second reason?”

Prim cleared her throat. Here she was quite certain that she and Tristan differed. “For the future of my colleagues. I know a win for me is a win for my team, for the Metro Media family.”

Tristan stiffened. His brow wrinkled. “Family? You consider this company your family?”

Prim clasped her hands in her lap. While family hadn’t always been a haven for her, she’d created a place amongst her coworkers that made her feel appreciated and respected. Two things she thought family ought to be.

“I…” Prim shifted in her seat. Should she tell him about her past? Was this even an appropriate time? Did he even wish to know?

“We’re here,” Tristan said.

The driver opened the back door, and Philippe waited for Tristan beside the entrance to his private elevator. Heat trickled through Prim with the memory of what had occurred in that elevator earlier.

“You have a three p.m. downtown,” Tristan said. “The car will take you and return you once you’re finished.” He entered the elevator with Philippe and they disappeared behind the metal doors. The car bolted forward and out of the parking garage.

Why hadn’t she asked the question? Why had she not asked Tristan what he intended to do with Metro?

Because she was afraid of the answer. He had promised her he wouldn’t lie and she wasn’t ready yet to hear that yes, Tristan did intend to sell Metro Media, which was Prim’s family and the place that had become her home.

*

“Sir?”

Tristan turned to Philippe. Irritation raced through him. Prim was such an excellent executive, and yet she was nearly delusional. How could such a smart woman equate a successful, functioning business with family?

“My afternoon. Is it booked solid?”

“Yes,” Philippe said. “And sir—”

The elevator doors opened upon the hall outside Tristan’s office. He exited his elevator and moved swiftly toward his office door. He needed to respond to several e-mails before the onslaught of afternoon meetings.

He opened his door with Philippe right at his heels.

“Sir, excuse me, but your—”

Tristan stopped. Cold burst through him.

“—father is here.”

“Dad,” Tristan said. “This is a surprise.” He reached his hand toward his father.

His father grasped his hand. So stiff. So formal. William Rhodes didn’t show emotion when it came to his sons. Except anger. Dad had always been well equipped to let his boys know when he was displeased.

“I came to see your newest acquisition for the trust.” Tristan’s father stood in the center of Tristan’s office. Upright, firm, his face all placidity and business. Those dark eyes that could spot bullshit a mile away. “Philippe showed me around.”

“Want to sit?”

His father shook his head. “No time. Your brother has an acquisition he’s interested in and I’m going by to take a look.” William raised an eyebrow. “He likes my advice before he acquires.”

Heat raced through Tristan’s chest. A direct dig from his father. Metro was not the first deal Tristan had done on his own, but if he wasn’t successful, didn’t show a quick profit, it could very well be the last. The measuring stick that William Rhodes used wasn’t just how much money the Rhodes boys made, but how much money they made in comparison to each other. Pitting the brothers against each other to ensure success was a Rhodes family tradition.