Overtime Play (3 page)

Besides, it was just a conference. It wasn’t like he’d asked her to go skinny-dipping or something. She’d approach it like a regular nine to five job, then she’d be out. There’d be no overtime play.

“Fine,” she answered, whirling around. “I’ll do it.”

He crowded her space.

“Good.”

Suddenly the fact that she was down in the basement of Hell with the man she’d been crushing on for a solid year seemed a bit unwise. She sucked in a nervous breath and looked at his muscle-roped biceps. The man was seriously ripped. And so close. All it would take would be a simple push to make contact with his sculpted chest. Another push to lock lips. Her pussy grew moist at the thought of sucking his tongue into her mouth.

She studied the blond hair that fell around his handsome face. One lousy year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days; she had thought of him for far too long. What would it feel like to give in to her fevered longing? To fuck him raw, no questions asked? No doubt he’d bring her to the brink of pleasure. And somewhere beyond…

She met his gaze. “Will that be all, Mr. Rain?”

He leaned forward, his heady, masculine, scent colliding into her like a drug, making her weak in the knees.

His lips quirked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She could think of no reply. Her palms touched the wall behind her. Her heart settled into a dull thud. Good Lord, why was he staring at her like that? Was he attracted to her?

Imprisoned by his stare, her mind turned back to her earlier fantasy of him on the dance floor. How she’d ground against him. How he’d cupped her breast.

Now his eyes bore into her, holding her immobile. He lifted one of her loose braids, slowly, to twirl around his long fingers. She had the sudden urge to reach up and suck the digits into her mouth. To taunt him to the point of insanity. Weakly, she looked away.

He dragged her chin back. Then leaned over and kissed her.

It was good.

So good.

Lazily, he teased her lips, like he had all the time in the world, awakening every nerve ending in her body, pushing her toward a slow and steady fire. She melted against him. Fell into the slow tug of his lips. Knew that she was losing it, but didn’t give a damn. The feel of his gentle tongue claiming her mouth, stroking her lips, made her tremble with desire, made her pussy flutter in anticipation.

This was her fantasy come to life. Had she made it happen simply by wishing for it? Had it been that easy?
Perhaps. Stranger things have happened.

She lost herself in the moment, dragging her hand down his torso, around the lines of his six pack, settling above the heavy buckle of his jeans.

The taste of him. The sound of his erratic breathing. The feel of his skin.

My God. The man knew how to kiss. How to turn a woman’s world upside down in the span of a minute.

Cocooned by his intoxicating masculinity, slowly, she began to unlatch his belt buckle, lightheaded with need.

At the contact, he muttered a stream of obscenities and stepped aside, while she collapsed against the wall, with rubbery bones and sweaty palms. She touched her swollen lips. Then, shyly, met his steady gaze.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he hissed.

Reality slammed into her like a sledge hammer. Simmering with pent up lust, she wiped her sticky palms on her pants and breathed deeply. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

“I apologize.”

Mira glared. She had had enough with the apologies. “It’s fine.”

“Really I—”

“It’s okay, sir.” Her voice was hard as steel. “Look, it’s time for my coffee break. Give me the trip details later.” Like the devil himself was on her trail, she slid passed him and hustled down the long hallway.

When she finally made it to the end of the corridor, she looked back on a whim. She expected to find him closing the door or walking toward the second exit, the one that was closer by. She did not expect to find him standing in the entranceway, watching her intensely with a mysterious smile on his handsome face.

Neither of them said a word.

Just looked at each other.

Fearing she might say something totally inappropriate, Mira turned and exited the hall. Well, he finally noticed your presence, girl. Now what? Dammit. She wished she knew the answer.

****

Jeremy grinned as he made his way up the stairs. Lord, had he kissed the woman? He hadn’t meant to. But the come hither look in her eyes had worked his control.

She’d tasted like vanilla and crème. Like the sweetest treat. Groaning, his hands settled above the heavy ridge of his dick. He chuckled nervously. He was not going to jerk off at his place of work. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to regain his composure.

Mira Perrin. She was an outspoken little thing. Not the type of woman to hold her tongue when she had something to say, which turned him on immensely. For the past year, he’d dated a slew of shy wallflowers skilled at saying whatever they thought would please him. It felt good talking to someone who meant what they said and said what they meant, even if she was a bit too forgiving.

She shouldn’t have settled for the five thousand. Shit, he would’ve gone a lot higher. He wondered what type of financial plights had driven her to such poor decision making. Jeremy snickered. What did he care? She was not his to worry about.

He’d apologized. He’d offer her another job. He was officially exonerated.

He walked up the stairs and dug his hands in his pockets, unable to rid himself of thoughts of her. She’d called him a grouch. No, a well-meaning grouch. Not even his sisters resorted to name-calling. And they knew about his temper. But his sexy Mira had spoken her mind, even to the boss.

Leaning on the railing, he assessed the situation. What was it about the woman that intrigued him so? He had to admit, hers was a pretty face; round brown eyes, a dimpled chin, and a sweet luscious mouth. He even found the ugly bun that held her braids appealing, even if it was somewhat schoolmarmish.

But she was one of those “black pants suit” wearing women, he reasoned. The ones who hid their femininity in muted-colored clothes during working hours. And he didn’t like those types of women. Didn’t he?

He exited the stairwell and stopped next to the men’s restroom, where he took a steadying breath. What was with him? One small, talkative woman was working his control. Fuck. He entered the restroom and splashed some water on his face.

On the way back to his office, he passed Chad, who asked, “Found her yet?”

Jeremy frowned. “No.”

For some reason he wanted to keep Mira a secret a little while longer, if only until the end of the day.

****

The following week, Mira found herself dragging Jeremy to interview after interview at the Rock n’ Rolla Conference at the Hilton Hotel in Daytona, Florida. Because of his celebrity status he was in hot demand, much to his annoyance. He often complained about his schedule, citing that he couldn’t be everywhere at once. Chuckling behind her hand, she smiled at his petulance. He was so cute when he was put-out.

The only time he’d held his tongue was at a children charity event, one he co-sponsored with the National Children’s Education Matters Foundation. She felt a glow of pleasure watching him pass out drawing supplies to a group of underprivileged children. He looked like a fabled giant amongst the clan of tiny children. As big and blond as a Viking. She’d been right. Despite his grumpiness, he had a good heart.

Deep down inside, of course.

Still, the interviews dragged on. One afternoon, he followed her to a secluded part of the lobby, found a comfy chair, plopped down, and fell asleep. As if to emphasize the point that he did not want to be bothered, he buried his head in the chair cushions and snored loudly. Mira laughed. He fascinated her. Awake, he was hunky and dangerous. In sleep, he looked as peaceful as a child.

When he awoke a short time later, he pleaded for her to get him a cup of coffee. Already accustomed to his pre-caffeine fix grouchiness, she went on a hunt for the magic elixir, only to discover that a woman had given him a cup when she returned.

Mira watched them covertly in the hotel lobby, wondering how long the platinum-blonde woman was going to flirt with her boss. She was tall and slender with absolutely no curves or class, since her ass was practically in Jeremy’s face. Two squares of cotton covered her behind in what Mira assumed were a pair of shorts. She snickered when the woman accidentally dropped her purse and asked Jeremy to retrieve the items, while her legs zigzagged around him like a spider’s web. Mira rolled her eyes. What would the woman’s momma think? Didn’t she remember rule number nine—cross your legs when you’re sitting next to a gentleman, not when he’s up under you. Jesus.

After watching them for a few minutes, she was shocked to discover that despite the woman’s looks, Jeremy seemed to have absolutely no interest in her. He picked up the woman’s items, downed his coffee, and walked away. Just before he exited the room, he met her eyes and winked.

As the days passed, for some reason, his attention seemed fixed on her. She knew she was not hallucinating, because each time she looked up, he’d be staring at her closely like he did the day he kissed her in the basement of Hell. And if that wasn’t enough, he continued his naughty winks. Making her feel deliciously warm in all the right places.

It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t wearing anything as revealing as the other woman, just her black pants suit. Her braids were put up in a neat bun, and her dark skin was free of makeup. But the man still stared at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the room. Dumbfounded, she’d called her best friend Kelly to describe the phenomenon. Kells had said the usual, “When dick is in your sight, reach out and have a bite.” Mira had laughed at that. Her friend was the walking dick-whisperer. Both of them needed to get some.

But Kells didn’t understand. She couldn’t afford to screw things up with her boss. She had to keep her eyes on the prize—the bonus pay.

In spite of everything, there was absolutely no way she was going to end up in the sack with Jeremy Rain.

****

On the fourth night of the conference, a sudden knock came from her hotel door. Squealing, Mira turned toward the entranceway.

“Who is it?”

“Me.”

Her breathing stuttered at the sound of Jeremy’s husky voice. What could he possibly want at one in the morning? A sinking feeling suddenly overcame her. Something told her that if she answered the door, strange things were bound to happen. Her gaze darted to the door. “What is it?”

“Mira, open the door.”

At the sound of his command, she laughed at her jitteriness.
Really, Mira. Relax honey-child. Something is seriously wrong with you.

She yanked her braids up in a ponytail and threw on a longer T-shirt. At the last minute, she glanced at herself in the hallway mirror. Her shorts were decent enough. She opened the door.

“Got a minute?” Jeremy barged into her room.

Mira growled. “I guess so.”

He sat on her bed, next to her opened suitcase, looking adorable in dark sweats and a white T-shirt, his blond hair tousled, as though he’d been trying to get some sleep.

“What is it?”

“Sorry,” he said, shifting his gaze to the flickering television. “Sometimes I’m wired at night from years of hosting my own late night radio show.”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” she offered, sitting next to him. “And nothing’s on TV.”

She averted his gaze, feeling strange being so near to him when he’d been watching her so intensely for the past few days. He was so big next to her. So masculine and strong. Her hands sunk into the plush mattress as she met his extraordinary hazel eyes. He was smiling at her with an arched eyebrow. Blood rushed to her face. She changed the subject.

“Do you miss deejaying?”

“Somewhat,” he replied, running his fingers through his sleepy locks. “You’d be surprised how many whackos call in at night. It made for good radio.”

Mira smiled. She didn’t have to imagine. Her Dollar Place gig had exposed her to all types of late-night whackos. “I understand,” she said, chuckling. “One night at The Dollar Place this guy bought fifty pairs of ladies underwear.”

He laughed at the bizarre little tale.

“A day later he came back for more.”