A Little Wild (10 page)

She glanced at the man walking beside her. Rob wasn’t as hot as Zach, however. Date-worthy, but not beneath-the-desk or bathtub-worthy. Rob Tanaka sizzled, but Zach Halliday’s slightest touch—even the sound of his voice—scorched.

He’d transformed her bathwater into a roiling Jacuzzi.

“In my third and fourth years at UBC, Rob and I shared a basement suite with Blake Ashton, another friend of mine you might know,” Zach of the Scorching Touch said. “He’s a criminal lawyer.”

“I’ve heard of Blake Ashton, but I don’t know him.” It made sense that Zach and the headline-grabbing Ashton ran in the same social circles. Both families were rich as sin.

However, the Tanakas weren’t wealthy, and yet Zach counted Rob as a trusted friend.

“I’ll introduce you to Blake sometime.” Zach’s pace slowed as they neared an intersection and the Walk sign blinked to Don’t Walk. Pedestrians milled around them while the busy noon-hour traffic crept by.

“If I take you on as a client?”

“Or you decide not to represent me, but you still want to see me. Of course, you could always see
and
work for me at the same time.”

Tess shook her head. “I already said I don’t date clients. The Bar Association wouldn’t approve.”

“Not even if our personal relationship pre-dates the professional one?”

“You have an argument there, but I’m not prepared to test it.” Besides, if she didn’t agree to represent him, he’d be back at square one. She could send him to an old law-school friend, but he wanted her, and that felt good.

“Am I a client?” he asked.

“I haven’t decided.”

“Decide fast, okay? Because I need to get the ball rolling. Although, either way, I’m happy, Tess. Either way I get to see you, unless you decide you don’t want me in your life at all.” His voice lowered. “But, hey, if you do want me in your life, either as a client or something much more cozy, then it’s just a matter of how
much
of you I get to see.”

He flashed a wicked grin, and Tess swore her knees weakened. Her inner nympho wasn’t as restrained. The randy harlot liquefied into a puddle of lust at his feet.

She sucked in a breath. Damn it, why did he have to be Zach? Everything had been motoring along just fine with Jack Halloran, and now she had to reevaluate their entire relationship—however short it might be at this point—in both its Jack and Zach incarnations.

And she needed to accomplish that arduous task within the next few minutes, before they reached the law firm and he rightfully demanded a reply.

She knew which answer she should give. The safe one. The passionless, career-choking, leave-no-room-for-temptation choice.

The choice that would send him out of her life completely.

Because, no matter how she sliced it, neither working for nor sleeping with Zach Halliday would be smart at all.

Chloe hummed along to the U-2 song reverberating over her iPod as her sandals smacked the hot Yaletown sidewalk and a battered garment bag whacked her legs. Her lunch-break hike to Gastown had been worth it. She now owned the funkiest, hip-length sable fur coat the vintage-shop owner could produce—a direct import from some old lady’s attic and perfect for dry days this winter.

Naturally, Chloe didn’t believe in wearing new fur. But the women from the last century hadn’t known any better, and Chloe couldn’t let all those little sables’ lives go to waste. It wouldn’t be right.

She opened the glass door to Whole Latte Lovin’ and arrowed for the serving counter. Customers packed the place, but it looked like Jonnie, Sara and Frank had everything under control. Jonnie passed a take-out cup to—

The Suit.
Chloe nearly jumped out of her iPod. There he was in all his Bill-Blass-clad, baby-making glory, his back to her as he accepted his macchiato from Jonnie. A leather briefcase duplicating the rich brown of her new/old winter coat hung from his other hand.

Was he heading for a meeting and just had to stop in to catch a glimpse of—uh, to taste her coffee?

The Suit half turned. Heart pounding faster than Bono tickled his guitar strings, Chloe ducked behind a display of travel mugs and coffee beans.

Her cheeks burned.
What a nightmare!
If The Suit caught her ogling him, he might try talking to her. His arm could graze her boobs as he leaned in to murmur something clever, and next thing she knew she’d chuck her Lent commitment out the window.

Besides, he was a Suit. She must keep her distance, lovely though the man was.

Powering down her iPod, she peeked out from the display. Jonnie’s huge grin told her he’d witnessed everything. But had The Suit? The frown puckering the man’s forehead could mean: (a) he’d seen her and thought her a crazy woman, or (b) he hated her coffee.

As if eradicating disturbing thoughts, The Suit shook his head and left. Thankful no other customers lingered around Jonnie, Chloe ran to the counter.

“Take these.” She shoved the garment bag, her purse and iPod at him. “I’m extending my lunch hour by fifteen.” She flapped her hand toward the door. “Surveillance.”

Jonnie placed the armload beneath the counter. “I don’t blame you. Were he on my team and Frank out of the picture, I’d do the same thing.”

“How do you know he’s
not
on your team?”

Dark eyebrows hiked. “Chloe, if that man’s gay, I’m a wombat’s uncle. Now go. You don’t want to lose your tail.” Jonnie chuckled.

“Thanks.” Chloe dashed out the door. As she wiped her clammy palms on her skort, she glimpsed her guy strolling halfway down the sun-strewn block.

Staying close to the old, converted warehouse buildings, she trailed him. He glanced over his shoulder before rounding a corner, and she darted into a recessed doorway, heart racketing.

One-Mississippi, Two-Mississippi.
She crept out of the doorway. Turning the corner, she spied him entering a brick building.

She approached the old wooden door and scanned the brass business nameplates—North Star Marketing, McKitrick Advertising, Knowles & Clyde, Architects.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. Now what?

The door swung out, and she jumped back.

“Chloe?”

“Hi, Marco.” Her old boyfriend from two relationships ago. “Why are you here?”

“I had a meeting with McKitrick Advertising. Now that I’m opening more pizza places, I need to get serious about radio spots.” He crooked the wide smile that had once baked her brownies. “How about you?”

She scratched her arm. “You know, shopping.” Without her purse.
Groan.

Marco didn’t notice its absence. He followed her off the stoop. “Do you have a minute? I just screwed up big-time with Amy, and I need your advice.”

Yeah,
she
was a great choice to dispense relationship advice. However, Marco was well aware of her faults. If he wanted her input, who was she to say no?

“Sure. Walk me back to work and we’ll see what I can do.”

Ethan paged through a sports magazine while waiting for the receptionist to signal his appointment. He was losing it—there was no other explanation. In the coffeehouse and again on the street, he’d thought he spied the brunette he’d hoped would serve his macchiato. However, whenever he’d turned to catch her eye, she hadn’t been there.

His skyrocketing stress levels must be inducing delusions. Because why would a grown woman play hide-and-seek on him? They’d only spoken once or twice, when he’d first begun visiting Whole Latte Lovin’. He hadn’t been rude to her, had he? Sometimes, when absorbed with business matters, he forgot basics like replying “Fine, how are you?” or smiling as he paid for his coffee. Or—the biggest bonehead move so far—neglecting to read her apron name tag.

The steam from his coffee cup drifted from the side table. He lifted the macchiato for a sip then resumed staring at magazine pages.

Now that he thought about it, the brunette never served him anymore. Whenever he entered the coffeehouse, she hightailed it to the stockroom, the washroom, or turned to speak to a co-worker. All provided excellent views of her ass, but wouldn’t score him a date.

A muscle ticced below one eye.
It’s for the best.
While Ethan prided himself on being attentive, he didn’t have time in his schedule right now to escort the woman to a bus stop, much less shower her with affection. For the foreseeable future, his life belonged to Halliday Enterprises. However, come winter, Dad’s plans for Zach accomplished, maybe Ethan could finally carve out a personal life.
Focus on that.

The receptionist looked up. “Mr. Bartlett will see you now.”

Ethan stood and reached for his briefcase.
Winter.
He dragged in a breath.

The months couldn’t pass fast enough.

“Thanks, Jenna. I appreciate it,” Tess said toward the speakerphone of her new cordless. She rummaged in a kitchen drawer for batteries then tore into the shiny box from Hoochie-Mama Love Boutique.

“No problem,” her youngest sister replied. “They’re my worst set of clubs. If you destroy them, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Your faith in my golfing abilities is mind boggling.” Tess tugged her new vibrator out of the packaging and stood it on the counter. Well, well, Mr. Good Vibrations
looked
like he’d live up to his name. The salesgirl had described him as their “extra-large, realistic model”, and she hadn’t been kidding. If this big guy didn’t take the edge off the fantasies that had bombarded Tess since meeting Zach, nothing would.

“Tess, you’re echoing,” Jenna said. “What are you doing at ten at night that you needed to put me on speaker, anyway?”

“Making chocolate cake.” Tess twisted open the sex toy and popped in the batteries.

“You never bake.”

“Yes, I do.” She twisted the base back on. “When the mood strikes me.” The mood was definitely striking her now.

“Who are you golfing with?”

“A new client.” Zach. “He’s around thirty.” Three years older than she. And extremely talented when it came to matters beneath her desk.

“A man?”

“That’s what ‘he’ usually implies.” Tess’s nipples tightened beneath her sleep shirt. Every time she remembered Zach caressing her panties yesterday, arousal coursed through her. Other than their amazing phone sex and approaching him in the bar, when had she last acted so free? She couldn’t stop thinking about what might have continued to happen in her office if Sammi hadn’t interrupted them.

If she were sexually braver.

If she didn’t give two rips about her career.

Jenna’s chuckle carried over the speaker. “He must be hot. You hate golfing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Maybe you should do more than golf with this guy.”

Unease trickled down Tess’s spine. Why couldn’t Jenna and Chloe accept that she needed to put her career first? Not to insult their professions, but Chloe supervised a few coffeehouse workers and Jenna had recently graduated from golf course management school. Would anyone care if either of them hooked up with a customer?

She rolled the vibrator in her hands. Her thumb nicked the switch, and the unit buzzed. Squealing, she tossed Mr. G.V. into the torn box.

“What was that?” Jenna asked.

Face blazing, Tess grabbed Mr. G.V. and turned him off. “The stove timer.”

“Sounds like a vibrator.”

Jenna of the Overactive Libido would know! “It’s just the dinger telling me the stove is hot enough for my cookies.”

“You mean your chocolate cake.”

“Yeah. That.”

Jenna laughed. “Oookay, whatever. Enjoy yourself, Tess. G’night.”

“’Night.” Tess returned the phone to its charging unit in the living room. After covering Buddy’s cage with a night cloth, she absconded to her bedroom, Mr. G. in hand.

Under the covers, she closed her eyes and lifted her sleep shirt above her breasts. Parting her legs, she started the vibrator. Loud humming reverberated in the quiet summer night, warming her palm and shooting tingles up her arm.

She bit her bottom lip. She needed a fantasy—featuring Zach. His deep voice on the phone, his skillful fingers stroking her panties.

“Keep doing that,” she’d murmured, and he’d responded in gravely tones, “My pleasure.”

A moment later, she didn’t require lube. Zach’s hands and mouth moved over her, his husky voice spurring her excitement. She moved Mr. G. slowly in and out of her slick channel, pushing the toy deep until her vagina throbbed, then easing out the unit to hover at her entrance…until the pulsing subsided and she wasn’t in danger of coming too soon. She wanted this to last. Her swollen labia and aching nipples craved Zach’s touch, courtesy of Mr. G.

Her fantasy transported them to her office. She and Zach were under her desk again. This time, he tugged off her panties and positioned himself behind her, on his knees like she was. Except this was a fantasy, so while she leaned onto her elbows in their hidey-hole, he found room to maneuver.

He slid two fingers inside her, and she moaned.

“God, you’re
wet
,” he murmured. “Incredible. Amazing.”

His fingers stroked faster and faster, spiraling her toward climax.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his big fingers leaving her body.

“Please.”
Her need for him saturated her voice.

“No, not my fingers, Tess. I want my cock inside you.”

“Oh yes. I want that, too.”

“I need you out from under this desk.”

Right now, she’d do whatever he asked. He moved away, giving her room to respond to his commands. On her knees, she backed up. She stood and kissed him, their tongues tangling in a tantalizing rhythm she yearned to duplicate with their bodies. She didn’t have to worry about Sammi barging in, because the seductive curtain of night had fallen in her office.

They were alone.

Zach ripped off her jacket and bra and greedily sucked her nipples. The erotic sensations zipped to her clit.

In another instant, they’d torn off their clothes. His cock was massive. Her pussy clenched as he lifted her onto the desk and pushed apart her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he announced. “Bareback. No condom.”

She tried to speak, but could only nod.