Chapter Two
HER MOUTH HAD fallen open with the same shock Simon had seen on her face when he’d first caught her in his office. So he repeated his question, like he’d had to repeat his first one. “Are you in love with me?”
Color rushed to her face again. But she wasn’t embarrassed. She was amused because she started laughing. Hers was no flirty, girlish giggle, either. Her laugh was deep and husky and had his pulse racing with attraction even as his pride bristled.
Focused on his face, her dark eyes widened. “You’re serious? You think I’m in love with you?”
“No,” he said, and his face heated a little with embarrassment. But it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had fallen for him without any encouragement from him. “I don’t.”
Not anymore. Not after her reaction.
Apparently, it was a good thing he’d never acted on the attraction he’d felt for her. He had no doubt she might have sued for harassment. But now that she’d already given her notice...
“Then why would you ask...?” She trailed off as her voice cracked with the threat of another giggle. It turned into a hiccup instead.
He caught the faint scent of wine on her breath and asked, “Have you been drinking?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she countered. “It’s after office hours, and I’m not working. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve had to drink.”
“It does if it’s affecting your judgment,” he replied.
Just how affected was her judgment? He wasn’t thinking about just tonight or about just the drinking. Other things could affect judgment. Like greed. Or some other kind of coercion. Maybe she had a lover at an opposing law firm. Had something like that affected her judgment enough that she’d sold information from their case files?
Was that why she didn’t need money any longer?
He had to find out. Right now was probably his best chance—if she’d had enough alcohol to bring down her defenses. He had never seen Bette like this before. Or maybe he’d just never let himself see her like this—except for a stolen glance or two at her assets.
Simon hadn’t been able to stop himself from admiring the lush curves of her hips and ass in her pencil-slim skirts. And the little cardigans she wore did nothing to hide the fullness of her breasts. They strained the buttons at the front, showing little glimpses of the lace camisoles she wore beneath the sweaters.
“So you think the only reasons I could have for wanting to quit are because I’m drunk or in love with you?” she asked, a smile curving her full lips.
Since she didn’t usually look at him, he’d never noticed before how full her lips were—so full that she had a slight dimple in the middle of her bottom one.
He wanted to tug at that lip—with his lips and with his teeth. He wanted to nibble on it until she gasped for breath. Then he wanted those lips to touch him, to close around his cock as she sucked him deep into her throat.
His heart slammed against his ribs as desire sneaked up on him. This was Bette, his boring assistant. Except that she didn’t want to be his assistant anymore.
So what did that make her? The spy who’d betrayed their practice? Simon needed to know for certain if she was the office mole. But how the hell was he going to get her to talk?
She wouldn’t even give him the reason she was resigning. Why didn’t she want him to know? What was she hiding?
In order to get her talking, he needed to talk first. The best way for a con to gain the confidence of his mark was to share a confidence of his own.
“I’ve always had a problem keeping assistants,” he admitted to her. It wasn’t exactly a deep, dark confession, but it was the truth. “You’ve lasted much longer than anyone else has.” About a year and a half longer than her longest-working predecessor.
“I know people who would love to work for you.”
He sighed. “For the wrong reasons. Professionally, they want to get ahead.” They wanted to use the position as his assistant to launch their own legal careers.
Or they wanted to give him head. He wouldn’t mind if Bette had wanted to do that, but that obviously wasn’t why she’d taken the position as his assistant. She had never once showed any interest in him. Until now. “Or, personally, they want me.”
Her eyes widened again, and so did her pupils, dilating as she stared up at him through the lenses of her black-framed glasses. The glasses were too big for her delicately featured face, which was probably why they kept sliding down her small nose.
“I—I don’t want you...” she murmured, but there was no amusement in her voice now. Not even a hint of laughter. But her voice had grown more husky, and her pulse quivered visibly, erratically, in her long, slender neck.
He leaned even closer, so his lips just brushed over hers as he whispered, “Liar...”
She gasped, which moved her lips against his. He took advantage of her open mouth and deepened the kiss. First, he nibbled on her lips, like he’d wanted. Then he slid his tongue between them, into the sweet heat of her mouth. Would her body feel the same?
Hot and wet? He wanted to find out.
He clutched the back of her head in one hand, his fingers closing over that knot of soft, thick hair. It tickled his palm, making his skin tingle. The sensation surprised him. This was Bette, his assistant. She wasn’t supposed to make his skin tingle or his cock swell and throb behind the fly of his dress pants.
But she was...
And it was...
His body pulsed and ached. He wanted her aching for him, too. So he moved his other hand, the one not in her hair. He slid it over the curve of her hip down her thigh to the hem of her skirt. He wanted to lift it, wanted to skim his fingers up the inside of her thigh to the heat of her core. But how drunk was she?
He didn’t want to take advantage if she’d had too much to drink. And he suspected that she had because she was kissing him back, her tongue chasing his into his mouth. He tasted the wine on her tongue, crisp and slightly sweet. He wasn’t surprised that she would drink a sweet and fruity white. She wasn’t sophisticated like the women he usually dated.
Not that he wanted to date her. All he wanted was the truth. Why was she leaving? And was she the one who’d sold their secrets to opposing counsel?
At least that was all his mind wanted. His body was making demands of its own. And he found himself giving in to temptation. He moved his hand beneath her skirt, stroking his fingertips up the inside of her thigh.
She wore stockings, but they stopped halfway between her knees and her core. His finger touched lace and silk. She was wearing a garter?
He never would have thought Bette was the type to wear sexy underwear, let alone lingerie. His breath caught as he touched bare skin, which was even silkier than the stockings and the garter.
But the stockings and garter excited the hell out of him, too. Was she hiding something else—something super sexy—beneath that cardigan?
He moved his hand from her hair down the nape of her slender neck, then around her throat. Her pulse beat madly beneath his fingertip. She was as excited as he was.
He traced his finger lower, over her collarbone to the first button of that sweater. He flicked it open and then moved down to the next and the next, revealing the deep valley of her cleavage. She wasn’t wearing a camisole, like he’d thought. She wore a red lace bustier adorned with tiny bows.
A garter and bustier?
His breath escaped in a ragged groan. Who knew Bette Monroe was so damn sexy and sensual? He’d had no idea.
Did someone else? Had she worn this lingerie because she was meeting someone? At the moment he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the desire burning him up. His cock pulsed with excitement and the need for release. A release only Bette could give him...
She gasped and trembled against him. Then she tensed. And her hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back.
“I—I...” she stammered. Her face was flushed with color, and her eyes glittered behind the lenses of her glasses.
“You want me,” he finished for her.
She shook her head and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. He’d loosened the pins, which fell onto the hardwood floor. Her hair was long, so much longer than he’d realized. It reached nearly to her waist. And it was thick and wavy. How had he never noticed how damn sexy it was? How damn sexy she was?
“I want to leave,” she said, her voice steadier now as if she’d forced herself to stop stammering.
He stepped back and swept his arm toward the door. “Go ahead.” He’d never had to hold a woman against her will. Usually he was the one who had to fight to escape.
Bette moved forward but swayed slightly. Maybe she’d had more to drink than he’d thought, which was another good reason to stop. Because despite what she claimed, she wanted him. He could easily change her mind about staying with just another kiss, another caress...
And he was tempted to do just that because he wanted her, so much that it surprised him. She could have betrayed his and his partners’ practice. She could be a con, like him, like his father. Maybe the cardigan sweater and black-framed glasses were just part of the act and the lingerie was the real her.
Was that why he was suddenly attracted to her, because he hadn’t had a challenge in so long? Bette Monroe might pose his greatest challenge yet. He watched as she walked toward the door, watched her hips rock back and forth beneath that tight, sexy skirt. And he swallowed a groan of desire.
Then she stopped, halfway to the door, and turned back to him and said, “I won’t be coming back.”
He arched a brow. “Really?”
“I am not working out a two-week notice,” she said, and her voice wasn’t just steady. It was dead calm with determination.
He grinned at the challenge she was going to pose. Then he told her, with equal determination, “Yes, you are.”
She shook her head, tumbling all that glorious dark hair around her shoulders and over the cardigan. The thick tresses hid some of the red bustier he’d revealed. He’d always been a sucker for brunettes.
Had she known that? Was that why she’d interviewed to be his assistant two years ago? Had she been working him all this time?
“No,” she said. “I can’t work with you now.”
He shrugged. “Why not? Because I kissed you?” He intended to do a hell of a lot more than that to her. Over and over again. Now he wanted to see what was beneath that lingerie. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her silky skin.
She nodded. “That’s sexual harassment.”
“You already turned in your resignation,” he reminded her. It was probably a fine line, but he was a damn good lawyer. His employment agreements were indisputable. “And you will serve out your notice, just as stipulated in your contract.”
“But—but...” Her mouth fell open on a gasp. “You can’t want me to work here still.”
Knowing that she was probably the mole, no, he shouldn’t want her to work at Street Legal a second longer. But he would be careful to keep her away from all the case files.
He had other plans for keeping her busy. His body throbbed as some of the images he intended to act out flashed through his mind. Her on her knees, sucking on his cock.
Her sexy bare ass bent over his desk as he drove himself inside her...
Sweat broke out on his lip as tension gripped his body. He intended to sensually torment and seduce her into revealing her betrayal. But all of the thoughts of how he would do that were torturing him.
“Oh, I intend to work you,” he warned her as he stepped closer to her. His chest bumped against her breasts, which rose with her pants for breath so much that they nearly spilled over the top of the bustier. “Long and hard...”
And that was just him.
She gasped again, and her dark eyes widened even more with shock. And that desire she kept denying. “You can’t make me do anything but work,” she insisted, her voice husky and breathless.
He nodded but a grin tugged at his lips. “We’ll see...”
She had no idea how persuasive he could be. He had never turned his charm on her before. But he fully intended to do that now.
He was going to seduce the office mole. He was going to con the con until she revealed all her secrets and begged to stay with him—in the office and in bed.
* * *
It was just a dream. That was all it had been. It couldn’t have actually happened last Friday night. Simon Kramer couldn’t have really hit on her.
On Bette Monroe.
He hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t touched her...hadn’t hinted at wanting to do even more to her.
No. It was just a dream. And convincing herself of that was the only way she’d managed to come in to the office on Monday morning. That and that damn contract she’d signed. She had no doubt that he would enforce it had she decided to not work out her two-week notice.
The elevator bell dinged as the car reached the top floor. When the doors slid open, she sucked in a deep breath—bracing herself before she stepped out onto the floor for the Street Legal law practice. It was just two weeks. She’d lasted two years working for Simon Kramer, which—by his own admission—was longer than most of his previous assistants had.
Two weeks was nothing.
She lifted her chin and forced a smile for the receptionist as she walked past him on her way to her office. Miguel nodded in return. The former gang member looked more like a bouncer than a receptionist, which was appropriate since he often had to act more like a bouncer than a receptionist. His voice was like deep velvet, though, when he answered the phone. “Street Legal, how may I help you?”
Would he help her if she asked? Not if she needed help with Simon Kramer. Miguel was fiercely loyal to the managing partner of Street Legal. But she wouldn’t need help. Simon wasn’t going to attack her. Even if what had happened Friday night hadn’t been a dream, he hadn’t attacked.
He had seduced, which was far more dangerous. An attack she could have fought off. Even before moving to New York City six years ago, she had taken self-defense classes. She also carried Mace in her purse. She was prepared for an attack. She was not prepared for Simon Kramer’s charm.
She couldn’t believe she’d managed to walk away from him Friday night, that she hadn’t been tempted to stay and find out if he was as good as all his ex-lovers had claimed. If he was the best...
She shivered and shook her head. No. He didn’t tempt her. Not at all.
Liar, she called herself like he had called her that night.
The minute she stepped into her office, he turned that charm on her, grinning at her from where he reclined in her chair, his feet up on her desk. That grin stole away the breath she’d drawn. He was so damn good-looking. The grin didn’t just curve his sensual lips and show his perfectly straight white teeth; it made his blue eyes sparkle, highlighting the glint of mischief in them.
As if she’d looked directly at the sun, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. But when she opened them again, he was still there. Ignoring her pounding pulse and heart, she narrowed her eyes and focused on him. Sure, his masculine beauty would probably burn her retinas, but she risked it to study him. Despite the grin and the relaxed posture, he had tension in his broad shoulders and the rigid line of his jaw.
Something was bothering him. She doubted he was that upset about her resignation. Sure, hiring a new assistant would be an inconvenience, but he’d barely noticed let alone appreciated her these past two years.
His grin widened, and he greeted her with a “Good morning, sunshine.”
The greeting was more apt for him. With his golden-blond hair and sparkling smile, he was the sun. With her dark hair and eyes, she felt more like a dark cloud, especially after her sleepless nights since Friday. How could she have just dreamed that kiss when she hadn’t slept at all?
And from the way he was looking at her, his gaze moving like a caress up and down her body, she knew it had happened. He hadn’t just kissed her, though. He’d touched her.
Even though he hadn’t moved from her chair, she felt his touch again. Felt his fingertips gliding over her skin...
And another shiver chased down her spine, making her skin tingle.
His grin widened.
She glared at him. “Apparently, you’ve already filled my position,” she said. “So it’s not necessary for me to work out my notice.”
He laughed now, a deep chuckle that affected her nearly as much as his kiss and his touch had. It was so damn sexy. Just like he was.
She turned on the pointy heel of her pump and headed toward the door of her office. Her space was so much smaller than his, with just a few feet between her desk and the door. But she didn’t make it before a strong hand closed around her arm and jerked her to a halt.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her.
She tugged, but his fingers were locked around her arm, his grasp too strong for her to break. Even though she wore one of her long-sleeved cardigans, she could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric, and goose bumps of awareness rose on her skin.
“I am leaving,” she said.
“Not for two weeks.” Using his hand on her arm, he spun her around as if they were on a dance floor.
But Bette was not graceful, especially in heels. She stumbled and fell against him. Her breath escaped her lungs in a gasp as her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips pressed against his, and she felt his reaction to her closeness.
Instead of being embarrassed or apologetic, he chuckled. “I fully intend to enjoy every minute of these two weeks,” he told her as he pushed his hips more firmly against hers. “And I’ll make sure you enjoy them, too.”
Heat rushed through her from her nipples, which had tightened against the silk cups of her bra, down to her clit, which pulsed with desire for him. Damn him...
“If I’d enjoyed working for you, I wouldn’t have given my notice,” she said as she stepped back. She needed space between them. But with his hand on her arm, she could only get inches and couldn’t escape the heat of his body.
She needed feet. No, she needed miles. Miles between them would be good. Then she might not feel him, might not want him.
He lifted his free hand toward her face and ran his fingertips along her cheek. “That was because I wasn’t making sure you enjoyed it,” he said. He stepped closer and lowered his head. His lips were just a breath away from hers when he added, “You will enjoy working for me now, Bette. You’ll enjoy it so much that you will never want to stop.”
With the heat of his breath against her lips, she could smell a trace of mint and coffee and could almost taste him. Not the mint and coffee but him...
How he’d tasted Friday night. Dark and rich and hot.
That desire pulsing in her core had Bette leaning toward him. She wanted his lips against hers again. She wanted to make sure that the kiss—his kiss—hadn’t been a dream or, worse yet, just a manifestation of two years of longing. Longing for his kiss, his touch.
When her lips touched his, a jolt of sexual awareness shot so violently through her that she jerked back, fast and strongly enough that she pulled free of him. But it didn’t matter that he was no longer touching her. He still had a hold on her—with his charm, with his aura.
And he knew it. The knowledge was in his grin and the sparkle in his blue eyes. She had no doubt he would use the power of that attraction over her.
For what? To convince her to stay?
She was not going to change her mind. Street Legal was never where she’d wanted to be. Law was not her passion. And Simon Kramer would not sway her with his charm and his good looks.
“Oh, Bette,” he murmured with an ever-widening grin, “you and I are finally going to have some fun.”
Fun? That she doubted, just like she’d doubted her earlier pep talk to herself.
Two weeks wasn’t nothing. If he kept turning on the charm like this, it would be a lifetime. And because of that damn employment contract he’d had her sign, she wouldn’t be able to cut that time. But he could. He was the only one who could waive the requirement for her to work out the two-week notice.
What would it take for him to get rid of her right away? Then she remembered what he’d asked her Friday night when he’d caught her leaving the resignation letter on his desk—the reason he’d thought she was leaving. That she was in love with him...
What if she hadn’t laughed? What if she’d answered yes? Would he have shown her the door right then and taken away her key? Was that why she’d sent flowers to so many women for him over the past two years?
Because they’d fallen in love with him and had gotten clingy and desperate and he’d wanted nothing to do with them? From their calls pleading with her to let them talk to him, to see him...just one more time.
Yes. She knew what it would take to make him want to get rid of her right away. She would have to convince him that she’d fallen for him.