After hanging up with Andrea, I shove my cell phone onto my desk and sigh. What a long fucking day. I’m so tempted to tap into the fresh bottle of bourbon by my wet bar, but I should probably not. Ah, hell, screw it. One drink won’t hurt—and it may help take the edge off. I’ve been feeling strange since I interviewed Andrea earlier today. Unsettled.

Uncomfortable, if I’m honest.

After I pour two fingers, I lean back in my seat and kick my feet up on my desk. Take a drag and savor the richness as it burns its way down my throat.

Truth is, I know Andrea will be good for the job. I’d have to be an idiot to let her walk away—she’ll be an asset to us with her willingness to learn everything she can. She’s really young, yes, but she excelled in her college classes, and she’s smart. I could see the spark in her eyes reflecting the intense bonfire burning in her belly. She wants this job, the same way I wanted to work my ass off to show the pros why I was worth the chance.

Yes, she’ll be good for the position…but it’s going to be a lot of extra work on my part to train her. Something I hadn’t planned on when I was interviewing for a new agent.

Not to mention she’s attractive as hell.

When she came in my office, her chin high and those dark eyes fixed on me, soft brown hair tempting me to stroke it, it took all my effort to maintain my cool professionalism. To not give away that I wanted to run my hands over other parts of her as well. Then she opened her mouth, and her voice was so husky and sexy. I was drawn to her immediately, to her pride, to the way she stood up to me when I tried to dismiss her due to my unfortunate attraction to her.

Fuck. The last thing I need right now is another distraction. I can’t afford to be tempted. Not with everything going on in my company and in the industry. This job requires 100% of me and my attention. No room for anything else.

Andrea is sexy, hot, curvy, fuckable…and she has no idea the effect she has on me. Thank God. Especially now that she works for me, under me.

Under me. That line of thought brings about so many dirty images I struggle to push out of my mind. Andrea naked, spread out on my desk, begging me to shove into her soaking-wet pussy…

I don’t want to feel this pull for her, this urge. I simply won’t allow myself to. I’ll be able to control my sexual desire. There are plenty of available women I can hook up with if I want to. So if there’s one desirable women under my nose whom I can’t have, well, that’s just life. My willpower and discipline are strong. I can resist her.

Besides, she’s far more useful to me in the company than as a one-night stand in my bed. Andrea is new and fresh to the industry, so I can mold her into exactly the kind of agent I want, without dealing with a more senior agent who thinks they have everything figured out. Someone who already has their share of bad habits and arrogance.

Andrea wants to succeed as badly as I do. She has stubbornness in her, a chip on her shoulder, and it speaks to me on a deep level. I’m interested to see how she’s going to handle herself tomorrow when we pay a visit to Cade Thompson. I badly want to sign this man—he’s a hot-shot first baseman who hits homeruns like some people eat potato chips. He’s going to be a star…and I can get him there.

Cade has a squeaky-clean reputation and a conservative “family values” image that I know would look positive for us right now if he were to sign with The Baldwin Corporation. Getting him would not only be a bragging point, but would help change the storyline the media has fixated on about my company, the idea of us being in trouble.

I mean, it’s true. It’s painfully true. Since the financial scandal when I had to shit-can my best agent, two other senior agents quit and took their clients with them. Normally I would have brought along one of my remaining senior agents with me tomorrow to visit Cade, but I don’t know if I can even trust them to have my back.

I’m waiting to see who’s gonna leave the company next. Trying my best to give them incentive to hang in there and stick with me. Doesn’t help that other agencies are using this time of weakness to poach my best clients…and agents.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand over my face and try not to panic at the free-fall happening around me. I can turn back the tide. I just need a new story, and getting Cade Thompson to sign would be a huge deal. I’d be back on top again, drawing other big potential clients. There’s a star made out there every day, as my former agent used to say.

I can spot a star. I can mold them into superstars.

I just need a fucking chance.

* * *

Andrea is five minutes early arriving at the office. Despite it being just before eight AM, the office is already bustling. New York never sleeps, as they say, and neither do my employees.

After a few shitty hours of sleep, I’ve been in the office for two hours already, sending and responding to emails, setting up visits with other potential clients. Gotta get shit done before I fly away to get more shit done.

She raps on my door, and my body forgets the talk I had with it last night. Seeing her in that snug, stretchy black skirt, the white blouse that hugs her tits to perfection, the black heels…and her hair, smooth and draped over her shoulder…

I will my cock to behave and give her a curt nod, turning my attention back to my screen. Not on her and her luscious body. You’re the boss, I repeat to myself. Nothing else. This woman is here to work—she probably doesn’t have any interest in you that way, anyway. “Thanks for coming in. I’m going to finish up here and then we’ll take off for the airport.”

Andrea clears her throat, and I look up at her again, one brow raised. “Um,” she starts, “where should I wait? Where’s my office?”

“Marietta at the front desk can show you around—just be in your office in five.”

She draws her lower lip between her teeth, and her gaze lingers on me for a moment. Something crackles between us, a tension that is almost visible. She swallows, and a light flush covers her cheeks. Then she spins on her heels and closes the door behind her.

Andrea’s office is down the hall from mine. Better to help me avoid temptation. Except I’m about to get on an airplane with her. Fuck.

Get your shit together, I warn myself. This is business. Nothing else. Doesn’t matter if there’s a chemistry there.

I go to her office—the door is open, so I tell her without looking in, “Limo’s waiting. Let’s head out.” Then I turn and walk off. The smooth click of her heels on the tiled floor lets me know she’s following me.

I read emails and texts on my cell in the elevator so I’m not distracted by the warm, spicy scent of her perfume. Her soft breaths. But there’s a tension in her body that gives her away. She’s aware of me.

I don’t look over at her, but I can’t help the small smirk that climbs across my face. God, I’m a bastard. Reveling with perverse satisfaction in the knowledge that this girl is feeling hot and bothered right now.

Sure, I have that effect on lots of women and I’m used to it. But this one—somehow it feels different. More intense, and I have to admit I like that.

The ride to the airport is uneventful. Typical city traffic, but I budgeted time for that in our schedule. I sit on the seat farthest from Andrea and make a couple of calls. Anything to distract me from the way her legs cross and shift as she adjusts herself in the seat. She looks out the window and doesn’t speak, giving me space to work.

I hang up my phone and find myself asking, “Been in the city long?”

That startles her. Eyes wide, she looks at me. “Um, no, just a couple of months. Still adjusting.” Her lips curl into a grin that makes something in my chest tight. “Definitely different than Connecticut. It’s a much slower pace in my hometown.”

“Took me a while to adjust too,” I find myself admitting.

“Oh, right, you grew up in Michigan, didn’t you?” she asks, tilting her head.

I pause and eye her. Does she know this information because of researching me for the interview? But she doesn’t seem to notice what she gave away.

“I’ve never been to Michigan,” she continues, “but I have distant relatives who live there in the northern tip. We get a super-dorky Christmas card from them every year.” She pauses and draws her lips between her teeth. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m prone to do that sometimes.”

I give a light chuckle. We settle into silence and I try not to think about sucking on those luscious tits…and fail miserably.

We’re dropped at the airport and make our way through toward the gate where the jet is parked. Out on the runway, I can see Andrea staring in awe at the plane.

“Given the amount of international travel we do,” I explain, “it’s easier for us to have our own aircraft instead of flying publicly.” I lead her up the steps and we get inside.

The flight attendant welcomes us. It’s a small jet, with no more than a half-dozen seats, but it does the job nicely for our purposes.

I go up and greet the pilot, a friend of mine from college. “Hey, man,” I tell Jack, clapping him on the shoulder.

He looks back at me. “Hey, Ryker! Conditions are good and we’ll be ready to take off soon. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

We chat for a couple of minutes about his family. His wife is pregnant with their third kid. The glow on Jack’s face makes me a bit uncomfortable. He’s always wanted a family. Me, far from it. I just wanted to play ball and have fun. Escape reality. Pretend like my life was different than it was.

I excuse myself so he can focus and head back to the cabin. As I pass by the bathroom, I hear a soft feminine voice speaking.

“—how am I going to get through this without saying something awkward?” It’s Andrea. She smothers a laugh. “As if. I think I kissed that poster of him enough times that I wore the lips off. I bet his real mouth feels much better.” She’s clearly on the phone.

And…talking about me? My curiosity is piqued. I shamelessly eavesdrop.

“God, he smells so good today,” she murmurs, and my heart gives a painful throb…as well as my dick. “No way, you’re insane,” she hisses. “That’s a sure way to turn him off for good. I already lied to him when I told him I was a Boston fan. If I gush about how much I watched him play, he’ll think I’m a stage-five clinger.”

Oh Jesus, she is talking about me. A slow smile creases my face, and I cross my arms and lean against the wall across from the bathroom.

“Shit, I gotta go. We’re gonna take off soon.” A pause. “No, I’m not touching him. There’s this little thing called ‘sexual harassment.’ Not a good way to start my first day on the job.” Another long pause, then a laugh. “Shush. Love you, Daria. I’ll text about how things go.”

I step away from the door and go to the far end of the plane to fix myself a drink and process the information I just learned. So Andrea was a fan of me after all. She just didn’t want to give it away. And she had a poster of me. Fuck if that isn’t making my own need and desire for her boil out of control.

I can admit it now—I’m overcome with wanting her. She’s so naïve, innocent, yet sexy and fuckable, and I want to bury my face in her tits…and between her silken thighs. I’m fighting my instincts, hard. I’m way too messed up from my past, from my demons, to ever be anything but a quick fling for this woman. And I’ve always subscribed to the theory that you don’t shit where you eat.

But God help me, my discipline and will are failing me now when I need them the most. Hearing her admit her attraction to me, it’s overwhelming my resistance.

When I turn around, coffee in hand, Andrea is making her way to a seat. Her cheeks are bright red, and she isn’t looking at me. Her plump lower lip is so round and tempting. Everything about her is calling to me.

She’s shy, but she’s definitely aware of me. I can see a pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. Her fingers are clenched hard, and she’s pressing her thighs together. She aches too.

Fuck.

Against my better judgment, I sit next to her and strap myself in. She stiffens, and her jaw tilts up as she stares straight ahead. I like how she tries to hold herself together. But I know her secret now. I can see the rapid rise and fall of those magnificent tits.

The flight attendant gives us her spiel, and then we’re rolling down the runway and left alone.

“You lied,” I find myself saying.

That gets her attention. She looks over at me. “Pardon?”

A half smile curves my mouth. “You said Boston was your favorite team.”

I can see the moment the oh, shit look crosses Andrea’s face. She knows I heard her. She closes her eyes and sucks in a shaky breath.

“You were aware of me during my pitching days,” I continue.

“Yes,” she manages to get out. Her lips are parted, and her chest is rising and falling with her rapid inhales and exhales. She clenches her thighs. Her nipples are hard.

Fuck. Me. I want to draw one of those rigid buds into my mouth so badly right now. I can practically smell her arousal. She’s pushing me closer to the abyss.

“Have you ever fantasized about me?” The question slips out, and there’s no going back.

Andrea swallows and doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, except for her lips parting even more.

I lean toward her, and her body melts at my proximity. Fuck. “It’s a simple question,” I reply. “Yes or no.”

Her eyes drift open, and she turns to look at me. “Yes,” she admits softly.

“How many times?”

She shakes her head and her gaze tears away from mine. That delicious flush on her cheeks deepens. My dick is swollen and my blood is roaring louder than the jet engines.

“More than a dozen?”

Andrea squirms and sucks in a rapid breath. I can tell she’s turned on by the way her body is responding to me, but she is too afraid to admit it. Her hands are admitting it though—they’re rubbing her thighs in small circles, inching closer to her apex. Oh, she’s fucking aroused as hell, and I can’t let it go.

I lean even closer until my lips are brushing the delicate flesh of her ear. “I’m going to whisper what I think you fantasized about. I want you to touch yourself just the way you used to, when you’d lie in bed staring at my poster on the wall.”

Her eyes close and her head falls back as she responds beautifully to my coaxing. She tugs her skirt up her thighs, exposing the beautiful golden flesh to me. Her panties have to be soaked—I can smell the scent of her wetness.

“I think you used to imagine me coming to you, sliding my hands up your legs and spreading you wide open for me.” I don’t touch her other than my lips against her ear. I suddenly need her to do this. “You think about what my mouth would feel like on your pussy, my fingers diving into you and curling in that way that gives you such delicious pleasure.”

Andrea shudders, and one hand grips her thigh. The other slides to her apex. I can see her fingers working as she touches herself. I’m so fucking hard and hungry for her that I could scream.

“I want to lick you,” I find myself saying. “Suck that hard clit into my mouth, grab your ass and keep you wide open for me.”

“Yes,” she murmurs as her fingers fly faster. I can hear the juicy sounds of her wetness now. I want to touch her. I know she wants me to touch her too.

“Someday soon, I’m going to do exactly what you’ve been dreaming of. I’m going to do all of it. But not yet. No, right now, I want you to push yourself over the edge for me. I want that orgasm. It’s mine.” The words are little more than a growl now, but I’m barely holding on to my control.

I can’t remember the last time I craved something as much as I crave her coming for me. I want to lick her fingers clean when she’s done, but I can’t lose my last shred of restraint, despite my impulses.

“Are you swollen for me, Andrea?” I murmur. “Are you going to explode thinking about all the wicked ways I could please you?”

“Oh God,” she says in a strained whisper, and then her whole body tenses and I can tell she’s over the edge. She’s clamped her mouth shut to keep from crying out, but the veins in her neck are prominent, and her back is arched.

Watching her fall apart so beautifully, I vow that next time, I’ll be the one taking it from her.

It’s taking everything in me to keep from shoving that skirt all the way up and plunging my cock into her. Again and again until she creams all over me.

Finally she stops shaking, and her breathing seems to get back to normal. Andrea nudges her skirt back down and gives me a wide-eyed look. I can read all the questions in her eyes—and I have the same questions too.

A big line has been crossed, but it’s clear neither of us knows what it means, or can really even process it.

What do we do now?