What was wrong with me? If it weren’t for being unsure of how clean my cab was, I would have banged my head against the divider as we headed towards my apartment. I was an idiot. After all, everyone knew that rule number #1 of ghost writing the biography of a genius billionaire was DON’T LET HIM GO DOWN ON YOU. Or at least, that’s what it would be if someone had written a manual on such things.

Maybe that could be my next book.

I groaned, thinking of how insanely awkward it had been standing in front of Jack, the intensity of my orgasm rendering me too blind to see that he had wanted me out of there immediately. Hadn’t he?

Tomorrow was going to be awful. The next two weeks were going to be awful. Now that I knew exactly what kind of pleasure he was capable of giving me with that mouth of his it seemed impossible I’d be able to think of anything else when I saw him. Especially because I still wanted him. Badly.

And I thought he had wanted the same thing. His body definitely had. The way his cock strained against his pants had confirmed that. So why had he sent me home so quickly? I didn’t understand him at all. One minute he was hot – hot, hot, hot – the next he was cold and impossible to read.

My face got hot just thinking about tomorrow. Having to walk into his office pretending that he hadn’t given me the most incredible orgasm of my life. What if everyone could tell that something had happened? The thought of Mrs. Reynolds realizing that I had slept with Jack made me so embarrassed that I considered asking my cab driver to just take me to one of the bridges where I could throw myself over.

This was a disaster. But as I arrived home, and paid the cab driver, the sheer act of giving him the money that I sorely needed, reminded me that I needed this job. And orgasm or no, I was going to do it. And I was going to do it well.

I thought about burning my green suit. When I got up the next morning, I shot it a death stare from where I had left it crumbled on the floor. Never again, I told myself, dressing in a high necked, ankle length dress. I looked a little Amish, but it was for the best.

“You can do this,” I told myself in the mirror. “You are a professional. Ok, sure, you’ve never slept with anyone you’ve worked for before, but you’ve only worked with little old ladies, who are nice and sweet, but definitely aren’t your type. It’s not your fault that this boss is probably the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, plus he’s kind of nice – or at least he is when he wants to be – and he’s obviously smart and driven. And yes, he definitely knows what’s what when it comes to your clit, but last night was a mistake and you are not going to make that mistake again. You are going to be cool. Calm. Professional. You can do this.”

It was a pretty good pep talk, but the moment I walked into Jack’s office, all the confidence I had forced into myself immediately dissipated. He sat behind his desk looking put together as usual, and hot as fuck. As usual. Unfortunately, now I had intimate knowledge of other things about him that were quite sexy as well. Such as his mouth on my–

“Good morning!” I forced a smile onto my face.

He looked up from his pile of paperwork, and to my great surprise, gave me a smile in return.

“Good morning,” he said, standing and coming around the desk.

Uh oh. I had really been counting on having that giant metal desk as a buffer between us, so as he approached, I backed up until the backs of my legs hit the chair in front of his desk and I sat down abruptly.

He walked past me. Confused, I twisted my head to find him shutting his office door. Fuck. This was not good. He was totally going to fire me. Dammit. My poor cat was never going to get the vet care he needed. And all because I couldn’t keep it in my panties.

“Libby,” Jack came back around in front of me. He leaned his hips against his desk. Hips that I remembered pressing against mine as I had wrapped my legs around him, pulling him down on the couch with me.

Heat bloomed on my cheeks. And between my legs.

“Mr. Willis, I–”

“Jack.” He gave me a wry smile. “After last night, I think we are permanently on a first name basis.”

“About last night–” I started, but he held up a hand.

“May I say something?”

“Uh?”

“I should apologize,” he said, surprising me once more.

“Apologize?” I managed, not sure if I should be happy or disappointed. At least he didn’t sound like he was about to fire me. Yet.

“I should have been more respectful,” he told me.

My eyebrows went up.

“Respectful?” I was feeling a bit like a parrot but I had no idea how else to respond. I was so confused.

He smiled at me. “I could have handled it better.”

Oh, he handled me pretty damn well. In my opinion, that wasn’t the problem.

“I’d like to take you out,” said Jack.

I couldn’t have heard what I thought I heard. Could amazing orgasms bring on selective deafness? Or some form of insanity?

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, refraining from hitting the side of my head to clear my ears.

“I’d like to take you out,” Jack repeated with what seemed like infinite patience. “On a date.”

“A date.” There I went again – Libby the parrot.

“Dinner perhaps?” he stood and came over to me. “Or a movie.”

It was a movie that had gotten us into trouble last night. Or rather, movie equipment had gotten us into trouble. Who knew where an actual movie would lead us?

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, even as my body screamed at me to stop being an idiot. Every woman in Manhattan screamed at me to stop being an idiot.

“I don’t know,” he sat down in the chair next to mine. “But I feel like we’ve already crossed a line. So why not see where it leads us?”

He had a point. Despite the pep talk I had given myself that morning, I knew it was going to be impossible to see him every day and pretend that nothing had happened. Maybe this would be better. Get it out of our systems. It was a horrible justification, but I didn’t really care. I wanted him. I wanted him badly. Last night had just scratched the surface.

“A date,” I said slowly.

“Tonight?” he offered.

“Ok,” I took a deep breath. “Dinner. But nowhere as fancy as last night’s dinner.”

He laughed, the sound low and deep. Delicious.

“Deal,” he told me. “Why don’t I pick you up at your place at seven?”

“Ok,” I said, hoping that I wasn’t making a terrible, terrible mistake.

I stood, glad that I didn’t wobble as I walked to the door. My knees felt weak. My everything felt weak. What was I doing?

“Libby.”

I turned around, and found myself in Jack’s arms. He kissed me, slow and deep, and suddenly any apprehension I had felt went right out the window. I melted into his embrace, kissing him back, my fingers gripping the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close. After a few blissful moments, he pulled away.

“See you at seven tonight,” he told me, reaching back and opening the door for me.

“Uh huh,” I managed, and practically floated out of the office.