I wake up earlier than usual. I am nervous about my meeting with Dylan. Mr. Hawke I remind myself. I can't make the mistake of being informal with him. He is my client and we are going to keep a professional relationship. I think I have said that at least a hundred times. I slept like crap. My dreams were filled with my client doing things to my body that left me begging for more.

How am I going to look at him without remembering those dreams and what it felt like to have his hands caressing my body. The memory sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. The dreams have left me in sex mode, which is why I am going with the red.

My red lace panties and matching bra from Victoria's Secret were a splurge, but one I am confident I deserved. I run my hand over the skimpy panties that are really nothing more than a small V shape scrap of material and I imagine Dylan's hand in place of my own.

“Alexa Jenkins!” I shout at the mirror. “Quit acting like a horny teenager!”

With my head on mostly straight, I finish dressing. I feel like testing the waters a bit today. The sleeveless black dress I usually wear with a jacket is a little big. Today, I put a skinny white belt around the waist and skip the jacket. It isn't too sexy, but it does prove I have a waist line, unlike my typical work wardrobe.

I scan my paltry shoe rack, debating whether to stick with the plain nudes I usually wear or to step outside my comfort zone. Fuck it. I'm going all in. I pull out the red pumps that I usually only wear on a date or to the club. Only I know the shoes match my bra and panties. It is a delicious little secret that makes me feel slightly naughty. By the time I get to the club tonight, I am going to be in sexual overdrive. I am not going to be picky. The first man that looks like he could do the trick is going to get a very good time without even trying.

I take a last look in the mirror and suddenly feel anxious. This is too much. I grab the jacket. I feel too exposed without it. I debate changing the shoes, but decide I want to feel dangerous today. I want Dylan Hawke to find me attractive. I will of course deny any advances. I like the idea of having a little power over the man who is a king in this world.

I stroll into the lobby of Hawke Enterprises on the 58^th floor, not at all surprised by the luxurious furnishings. The man had more money than he could ever spend. It made sense to splurge.

“Good morning,” I greet a pretty blond secretary. I should have known he would have a beautiful woman at his beck and call. “I'm here for an eight o'clock with Mr. Hawke. I'm Alexa Jenkins with James and Sons.”

The woman smiles, “Let me get his secretary for you.”

I'm only a little surprised. I look around, making sure I have the right place. A wide set of solid oak doors opens. A little old lady uses her butt to hold one of the doors open, “Come in, Mr. Hawke is waiting for you.”

I fight back a giggle. This woman could be my grandmother. No, my great grandmother. This was Dylan's secretary? She had to be related.

“Thank you,” I say, walking past her to an inner office area with it's own private seating area.

“Let me pop in and make sure he isn't on the phone,” she says, shuffling across the plush carpet to another massive wooden door.

She taps on the door once and pops her head in. Apparently he wasn't busy. She waves me over, “Go right in, hon.”

I smile. It has been a long time since anyone called me hon.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a deep breath and walking into what I have dubbed the lion's den.

My heart stops beating for a split second when I lay eyes on him sitting behind a massive desk. He stands. I take a few steps forward and then stop. I can't move another inch. The way he is staring at me makes that flight or fight instinct come racing to my brain.

Behind me, I hear the door close. Flight is off the table. I have to fight.

“Ms. Jenkins,” he says, holding my gaze as he walks around the desk, crossing the white plush carpet with slow, steady movements.

He is walking towards me and I still can't move. He looks like the lion and I feel like the prey.

“Mr. Hawke,” I manage to squeeze out.

He stops, directly in front of me with very little room between us.

“I'm glad we have a chance to talk—alone,” he says, his eyes still holding mine captive.

I can't look away. I feel as if there is some invisible thread pulling me to him. His hand moves to my shoulder and he starts to slide the sleeve of my jacket down my arm. The contact creates a literal spark between his finger and my shoulder. I gasp at the jolt.

His gaze drops to my mouth causing me to involuntarily open it. Before I know what I am doing, I lick my lips. I suddenly have the worst case of cotton mouth. It's his quiet moan that snaps me out of the trance he has managed to put me in simply by looking at me.

“What are you doing?” I snap, taking a step back while pulling my jacket back up.

“It's warm. Take off your jacket,” he says in a voice I'm sure he uses when he wants something.

“I'm fine,” I shoot back defiantly. Take that, you spoiled rich boy.

He steps toward me, “Take it off,” he says in a low voice.

I open my mouth to tell him no, but quickly snap it shut. Instead, I feel compelled to comply. It is warm after all. I start to shrug out of the left sleeve, but he stops me.

“Let me,” he whispers, before sliding the jacket down my arm. “Put down your briefcase,” he commands, which I do, releasing the briefcase from my fingers and allowing it to drop to the floor.

His other hand comes up to pull down the other sleeve, for a brief moment, I feel as if I am trapped. Each of the sleeves is halfway down my arms, effectively pinning them at my sides. I look up, questioning him. He doesn't notice because he is looking at my breasts. My breath kicks up a notch, inadvertently causing my breasts to rise and fall in time with my breathing. He appears mesmerized.

Before I knew what he was doing, he rips the jacket from each arm, dropping it to the ground behind me. I feel my dress being unbuttoned, dropping open and revealing my red bra. There is a growl moments before the bodice is pulled open more.

I open my mouth to protest, but I can't speak. I can't say a word because his lips are pressing into mine. He grabs my hips and pulls me into his own as he grinds his mouth against mine. Instinct takes over and my mouth opens, giving him the entry he is demanding. I hear a low growl, not sure if it came from me or him, but it lights a fire in my belly.

He is pushing his hips into mine so hard, I take a step back and then two steps and before I know it, I am pressed into the door. With no give, his hips grind into mine. The feel of his erection against my belly nearly makes me climax. I have to have this man. I start grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, tugging them from his pants.

I cry out when he steps away from me. I need more!

“No,” he says in a gruff voice.

I want to scream. He gets me all fired up and then leaves me hanging?

“What?” I say, dumbfounded by what just happened, quickly scrambling to button my dress.

“I'm sorry,” he says, undoing the belt I had been trying to release. He tucks his shirt in before fastening the belt and walking back to his desk.

I stand there, staring, unable to move. I had been so close to ripping the man's clothes off and letting him fuck me against his office door. I can't believe I let him do that. I watch him, arrange some papers on his desk and realize we are going with the 'it never happened' way of dealing with things.

Works for me.

“I brought the contract. You'll need to review it, sign it and get it back to us by end of day,” I say, reaching into my briefcase. Doing my best to be calm, cool and collected.

I slap it on his desk, turn to pick up my jacket from the floor and look back at him, “I have a meeting. Please let me know if you have any questions. Your assistant can reach me anytime. Good day, Mr. Hawke,” I say, spinning on my heel and yanking the door open.

I win. He thinks he got the last word, but I did.

“Ms. Jenkins,” he calls my name from his desk. “I'll see you next week. I already know I am going to have lots of concerns. I'll have my assistant schedule a meeting.”

“No,” I breathe. I can't possibly work with this man. I have a strict no fraternization rule. I never mix business with pleasure. This man threatens to undo everything I have worked so hard for. I have to find a way out of this mess. Dammit! I grumble, stepping into the elevator. What was I thinking?

Tonight. I will go out tonight, find a man and not come up for air until Sunday. That should cure me of this lust I have for my new client. It has to or I will be in serious trouble.