Celia entered her office with a heightened sense of anticipation. She already knew she'd be clock watching until it was quitting time and then she'd race home so she could change and look her best for her naughty escape to Evan's.
Her mouth curved into a naughty smile to match the naughtiness of her and Evan's plan. It was wicked, forbidden, and she was so turned on that she was ready to fidget right out of her shoes.
With a sigh, she sank into her chair behind her desk, kicked off her shoes and logged on to catch up on e-mail. She hadn't planned to go out for lunch at all and had, in fact, brought food from home, planning to eat at her desk. After missing Friday, she'd spent the morning getting a report from Jason on her client meetings he covered and then she'd gone through messages.
She groaned as her in-box stacked up with e-mail after e-mail. She started at the bottom and worked
up, deleting several after cursory glances. Those requiring a lengthy response she flagged to respond to later and the ones she could just do a one-line response to she typed furiously and sent on their way.
She was nearly to the end when her gaze flickered over the name Lucy Reese. She did a double take.
Evan's mom? Why would she e-mail and how had she gotten Celia's address?
Her stomach fluttered a bit, and guilt crept over her all over again. Lucy was nice and Celia hated lying to her. She hated lying as a rule for any reason but especially not for such a frivolous endeavor.
She braced herself and clicked on the message. It began as cheerfully as Lucy herself was in person.
She said again how thrilled she was that Celia and Evan had found each other.
Talk about another shot to the gut.
She expressed her desire to see Celia again and hoped Evan would bring her to Seattle for a visit.
Could this get any worse?
Her message ended with a short note that she'd attached some pictures from the wedding that she thought Celia would enjoy.
Celia opened the attached JPEGS and couldn't help but smile. The pictures were of her and Evan at the wedding reception. They looked happy and…in love.
There was one of them dancing, another of Evan looking down with a tender expression and the last was when Evan had kissed her. Celia's hand rested on his chest and the glitter of the ring contrasted with the black of Evan's tuxedo. Their mouths were fused together, and it was obvious to anyone looking at the picture that they were in danger of combusting right there in the middle of a crowded reception.
For several minutes, she debated whether or not to reply to Lucy's e-mail. It seemed rude not to, but it was also a terrible thing to prolong the charade.
Finally, she settled for a brief thank you and that she'd enjoyed meeting Lucy, as well. It was true and didn't delve into any part of her nonexistent relationship with Evan.
Stealing over to the man's hotel room after work hours certainly couldn't be considered a relationship.
Her intercom beeped, startling her from her thoughts.
"Celia, I have a cleaning service willing to take over Noah Hart's house."
"Brave," Celia muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Do you have details on when they'll start? Can you e-mail me that and the agency name and contact info so I can forward it?"
"Sure."
There was a distinct pause and then Shelby's hesitant voice filtered through the intercom.
"Sooo, are you going to give me the dirt on Noah Hart? Like how you know him and why you're arranging his maid service?"
"No," Celia said shortly.
She punched the button to end the conversation and hoped Shelby would get the hint. True, Shelby liked to gossip but she wasn't overtly intrusive. She backed off when people wanted her to.
She checked her e-mail and then forwarded the information to Noah. After closing her e-mail program, she stared at her phone and sighed. Noah was a disaster when it came to e-mails. The man just didn't care about advanced methods of communication. If it couldn't be said on the phone or person, he wasn't much interested. It drove his agent nuts. Simon Blackstone much preferred the impersonal methods of e-mail and text messages to actual conversations, but if he wanted to talk to Noah, he had to pick up the phone. Celia was convinced Noah did it just to torque his agent's jaw.
At any rate, she'd better call and leave a message on Noah's cell or God knows what the cleaning lady would come across when she went to his house.
She'd hit the end button after leaving him a nagging, sisterly message when it hit her square in the face that she had neglected to mention the game to Evan.
How could she be so stupid? With everything else that had gone on in the weekend, the game had slipped her mind. Even when she'd done the pitch and specifically dangled the Noah carrot in front of Evan's nose, she'd flaked on the season opener.
He was probably already booked solid, if he was even going to be in town. The game was the night before her scheduled pitch session and he'd probably just fly in on the morning of their meeting.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered.
Would it be crass to mention it tonight? During their little sex getaway? If she wanted to get him in front of Noah in a casual setting, then she was going to have to move fast and hope he hadn't locked up his week already with other obligations.
She looked up when a knock sounded at her door. Brock stood against the door frame, a smile easing the newly developed lines at his eyes and mouth.
"Hey, we wanted to get together at Rosa after work today. You're the star and we want to toast with copious amounts of alcohol. It will be a good pep rally for the presentation on Friday."
Her stomach rolled into a tight ball. The last thing she wanted was a raucous night at Rosa with the work gang. Usually she'd be all over it. The Maddox employees regularly hung out at the upscale martini bar just a block away. It's where they met to celebrate, commiserate or just take a break from a hellish workday.
The last celebration they'd staged there had been for Jason after he'd landed the Prentice account. Now Brock was lining up the chorus for her.
Her cheeks tightened in pleasure even as her heart sank at the idea of ditching Evan after agreeing to meet him. He'd think her the worst sort of coward even if it was the smart thing to do.
"I'd love to, Brock, but I already have plans for the evening. Important plans," she added after a pause.
"Besides, I'd rather not jinx myself before going into the presentation. It's not in the bag—yet—but I certainly plan to perform a slam dunk on Friday."
He nodded. "Yeah, I understand. We'll go and just call it a pre-planning session. It's as good an excuse as any to throw back a few. But if you land this, just be prepared for a victory celebration to end all victory celebrations."
She grinned. "Oh, you know it. I can't wait. I'll totally hold you to it."
"Okay, take care and see you tomorrow." He turned to go but stopped and turned back once more.
Oh, and, Celia, if I haven't already said it, thank you. You did a magnificent job. I doubted your approach at first, but you came through in spades."
Her heart sped up and she curled her fingers until her nails dug into her palms. It was all she could do not to stand up and throw her arms in the air complete with an obnoxious yell.
"Thank you for your trust," she said as calmly as possible.
With a short salute, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Celia grinning like a loon.
Promptly at a quarter to five, Celia headed down the elevator—fifteen minutes before quitting time so she'd miss the majority of her coworkers. She didn't want to explain why she wasn't joining them at Rosa.
Her apartment wasn't far, and usually she'd enjoy driving her Beamer with the top down—it really was a sassy, smooth handling dream machine—but today she was just impatient to be home, and the traffic was driving her mad.
When she reached her apartment, she recognized the car out front and the driver standing on the curb beside it. With a groan, she slowed to a stop on the street and rolled down her window.
"I'll only be a moment," she called.
The driver smiled, tipped his hat and said, "No hurry, Miss Taylor. Take your time."
She maneuvered into her parking spot and dashed inside, ready to do battle. She hadn't missed Evan's reaction to her sexy, feminine lingerie. It was her one indulgence or what she deemed a silly indulgence since her sex life was so staid in the last few years that no one but her had a prayer of ever seeing what her underwear looked like.
Hopping on one foot as she stepped out of her clothing, she went over to her drawer to find the most sinful set of lingerie she owned. She settled on pink. What was more feminine or soft looking than pink?
Even growing up with a hoard of boys hadn't erased the girly from her. And since she was a redhead, wearing pink clothing wasn't an option. But pink underwear she could do.
Unsure of whether she'd return to her apartment before going to work the next day—and she did like to be prepared for anything—she threw an outfit into an overnight bag along with her toiletries and a
lavender bra and panties.
She did a quick check of her messages and then did something she never did. She turned off her BlackBerry and tucked it into her overnight bag. Tonight was hers. She needed no reminders from the business world. If she was going to indulge in fantasy, she was going whole hog.
She locked up and hurried out her door to the street where the driver waited. He ushered her into the backseat and they drove away into traffic.
It amused her how exciting she found the whole experience. She could be a mistress at the beck and call of her über-wealthy benefactor, discreetly bundled into a private car and rushed to meet him at an undisclosed location.
"Get it together, Celia," she muttered.
Lord, but she did lose all her brain cells when it came to this man. If she wasn't careful, she'd throw away all her independence and start greeting him at the door every evening, wearing a kitchen apron with oven mitts and a piping-hot casserole dish.
Oddly but the image wasn't all that distasteful. For the first few seconds anyway. She laughed outright and it had the effect of someone popping her thought bubble with a sharp pin.
The driver looked up in the rearview mirror, and she valiantly tried to look back with a straight face. If he only knew the absurd thoughts she was processing.
If she was truly the naughty girl of her fantasies, she would have ridden over with only a trench coat covering her sexy lingerie. Then when she walked into Evan's room, she could discard the coat and watch his reaction.
The idea certainly had merit, and if she ever received another invitation such as tonight, she'd give it serious consideration.
A few minutes later, the driver pulled up to the sumptuous hotel Evan resided in when he was in town, bypassed the main entrance and stopped at the second pull in where her door was immediately opened by one of the hotel staff.
Maybe Evan had his own entrance. The thought amused her, but then he had so much money, it wouldn't surprise her.
She was immediately met by concierge and was handed a keycard.
"Mr. Reese wishes for you to go right up," the older man said.
She blushed from head to toe. She knew well what it looked like. Like she was some hooker or mistress—precisely what she'd imagined on her way over—all set to have a clandestine meeting.
She took the key card, murmured her thanks, and shot past the doorman and into the small hallway leading directly to the elevators. Thankfully she bypassed the lobby entirely. It seemed like everyone in the world knew what she was here for.
In the elevator, she inserted her key and punched the button for the top floor. She was whisked to the
top in no time at all and stepped into the eerily quiet hallway. There were only a few doors. The rooms must be huge because she only counted four doors total. Evan's was on the very end, and she took a deep breath before inserting the key into the slot.
When she opened the door and stepped inside, she immediately saw Evan standing across the room, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on her. He'd been waiting. She could sense his impatience and see the triumph in his expression when she closed the door behind her.
She stood there, unmoving, as he put his drink aside and crossed the room in just a few, long strides.
"You came," he murmured.
He swept her into his arms and kissed her. He wasn't gentle or even particularly careful. Their bodies came together in a clash she felt all the way to her bones.
Did you think I wouldn't?" she asked when she was finally able to draw a breath.
His eyes glittered, and his throat worked up and down as if he was trying to hold on to his control.
"If you hadn't, I was prepared to go and drag you out of your apartment."
All her concerns fell away. Nothing else mattered but the intense need they felt for each other.
"Next time I won't come. I have my own set of caveman fantasies wherein the Neanderthal drags me off to his cave."
He growled low in his throat and before she could react, he had her in his arms and was striding toward the bedroom.