I Brake For Bad Boys (9 page)

“Oh, give up, George. Becky's not fine china. You're perfect for her, just as Cameron is perfect for Asia.”

Ian stood right in front of Erica. “And I'm perfect for you.”

She peered up at him. “You lied to me.”

Frowning, Asia sat down beside her. She no longer looked so certain in her mission. “But as you said, Cameron lied to me, and I still love him.”

“Yeah. I'm working that part of it out in my head.”

Becky sat on her other side. “George lied to me too, but only for a little while. He admitted to me that it was a setup. And you know what? I remember he said he would help set you up with the perfect guy too. I just didn't know he'd think Ian was perfect.”

George stepped forward. “I didn't, but Ian did. And why not? He's crazy about her. How much more perfect can it get?”

Cameron added, “We are talking about Erica here, remember. She scares most guys to death.”

Erica tossed a throw pillow at him. “I never scared you.”

“That's because I knew Asia would protect me.”

George nodded.

“It's heartwarming that you're all so concerned about her. Really.” Ian looked at Erica. “But I think we can work things out on our own.”

Cameron cleared his throat. “Well, I don't know about that. I feel rather protective.”

Asia nodded. “Me, too.”

Becky smiled at George. “We all do.”

Laughing, Erica said, “Now why would you all feel protective of me?”

Ian knelt down in front of her. “Because they love you as much as I do. And if you're still keeping count, that's three.”

Erica looked small and very uncertain sandwiched between her friends with their men crowding close to their sides.

“Three what?” Becky asked.

Erica's eyes went soft and dark. “Three times now that he's told me he loves me.”

Asia and Becky were mute. Cameron said, “I believe him. God knows he's worked hard enough to get you here.”

“Damn right,” George agreed. “And I think Erica loves him too.”

Ian raised a brow. “You do?”

“Sure. She's been defending you since we got here. Damned if I've ever heard Erica defend a man before. Usually she's ripping them to shreds.”

Slowly, Ian's grin spread until he thought he might burst with satisfaction. Erica had been taking his part, defending him to her best friends. The look she gave him now was part wary, part annoyed. She was such a prickly woman sometimes. “Tell me you love me, Erica.”

Cameron and George quickly seated themselves on the arms of the sofa next to their respective women. “I don't want to miss a word,” Cameron said, despite the way Asia tried to hush him.

George said, “I wish I had my video camera,” and Becky elbowed him hard.

With everyone looking at her, Erica naturally went cocky. “Yeah, sure, I love him.”

Four mouths fell open. Ian just continued to smile.

“I mean, what's not to love? On top of being gorgeous, the man's a great cook, a talented electrician, and he plans to build a house off in the woods.” She looked at Asia. “I always wanted to live in the woods.”

“You did?”

Erica nodded. And then to Becky, “And I've always had a thing for the big macho guys.”

“You have?”

“Oh, yeah.” She slid off the couch to land in Ian's lap. He toppled onto his rump, but kept her locked in his arms, near to his heart. “I just didn't realize it until Ian came along.”

“Does this mean you're getting married?” George wanted to know.

Erica laughed. “That better be what it means.”

“Great. Then we're out of here.” He pulled Becky to her feet. “Trust me, love. They want privacy.”

Asia and Cameron stood too. “We'll go,” Asia told her, “but I expect to hear from you soon with all the juicy details.”

Erica gave a sly grin. “I'm not sure you're old enough to hear these details, Asia. They're juicier than most.”

Cameron laughed. “A challenge!” And to George, “You think he's trying to outdo us?”

“Sounds like. I don't know about you, but I'm heading home to add to my repertoire on sexual deviations. The way these three gossip, you can't protect your manhood closely enough.”

Becky snickered.

Asia took Cameron's hand. “A good idea. Cameron and I will do the same.”

“Such a grand exodus,” Ian noted once the door had closed behind them all. “Should we put out the same effort, you think?”

“I believe you already have.” She toyed with his chest hair and asked, “All that stuff you did . . . it really was wonderful. You're wonderful.”

“I told you that for the right woman, I'd do whatever I needed to.” He gave her a lecherous smile.

“So it was just to wear me down?”

“No, it was to get you ready.” He kissed the end of her nose. “They call it foreplay.”

“Well, it worked.”

Maintaining his hold on Erica, Ian came to his feet and headed for the bedroom. “Shall we see if it'll work again?”

“Am I still in charge?”

“For a little while longer. Then it's my turn.” He entered the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Leaning over, being as serious in his declarations as he could be, he said, “That's what marriage is all about, you know. I love you, so I want you to be happy. You love me, so you want me to be happy.” Then he asked, “Right?”

A teasing, very sexy grin eased into place. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

She laughed. “Yes. I love you.”

Ian snatched her up for a strangling hug. Laughing, Erica forced him back a bit, then said, “You know, as long as I'm still in charge, where's the massage oil?”

His expression warmed and his eyes grew dark. “You're ready for more pleasure, are you?”

“Absolutely.” Erica shoved him to his back, then straddled his hips. “And I figure getting to rub your big gorgeous body all over is probably as much pleasure as any woman deserves.”

“You want to use the oil on me?”

“That's right. And any man as controlling as you, ought to be able to control himself while I do this. So lie quietly . . . and let me love you.”

Ian smiled. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”

Janelle Denison

Jill Richardson had the sweetest ass Eric Wilde ever had the pleasure of admiring. Slightly rounded and toned, her smooth, luscious bottom gave way to long, slender legs encased in sheer stockings and three-inch designer high heels he found equally arousing. There was something about a woman's curvaceous backside that turned him on, and Jill's pert bottom, along with the slow, sexy sway to her hips, never failed to cause a rush of heated lust to flow through his veins.

And it had been a long time since he'd found a woman so sexually appealing. So damn distracting. Or so challenging.

He watched as Jill disappeared into the copy room, which was across the hall and adjacent to his private office at Massey and Associates, and released a long exhale. Dropping his head back against his chair, he closed his eyes and squeezed the blue rubber stress ball in his fist, welcoming the clench and release of tendons and muscles. Unfortunately, the exercise did little to ease the sexual tension thrumming through him.

No, there was only one cure for that particular ailment—having Jill hot and breathless beneath him, taking him hard and deep, and begging him for more.

Oh, yeah,
he thought with a slow, lazy smile as he enjoyed the private fantasy filtering through his mind. Of stripping away the conservative peach suit she wore, along with her pragmatic facade, and discovering the sensual woman he sensed beneath the composed exterior.

“Eric, are you sleeping on the job?”

Startled by the sound of Jill's voice so close, he blinked his eyes open and found her standing on the other side of his desk. Amusement glimmered in her green eyes, and a matching smile curved the corners of a mouth so tempting he ached to taste her lips, and deep inside. She wore her auburn hair tucked into a tidy twist at the back of her head, and too many times he'd wondered about the length of those strands—the feel and texture against his fingertips and trailing across his skin. From head to toe she looked every inch the corporate professional and damned if the entire sensible package didn't do it for him in a major way.

Smiling in return, he sat up straighter, kneaded the ball in his hand one last time, then set it next to his computer. “Just taking a rest. It's been a long day.” Twelve hours for him, to be exact, filled with budget meetings, a three-hour presentation to a client, and half a dozen contracts pored over and approved.

“And a very productive one for me,” she said, her excitement nearly tangible as she slid a glossy color flyer on top of the reports in front of him. “I think I finally nailed the concept and layout design for the Enchanted Cruise Line account.”

He picked up the presentation brochure, taking in the impact of her design and identifiable artwork, unique to the cruise line they were representing. The concept was tied together with the catchy slogan they'd brainstormed together late one night, and he knew without a doubt she'd captured the full effect of what their client was expecting in their final presentation.

She walked around his desk and came to a stop next to his chair. Bracing her hand on the mahogany surface, she bent low to look at the brochure with him, bringing with her the unique but familiar scent of feminine softness and sensuality that wreaked havoc with his mind and body.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, obviously anxious for his approval.

He glanced toward her, witnessing the exuberance reflected in her expression, and felt that jolt of chemistry that was always present between them. Not for the first time he wondered if all that creativity and enthusiasm for her work extended into the bedroom. He wanted to find out in a way that was bordering on obsession.

“I think that mind of yours is absolutely amazing,” he said, giving her the compliment she deserved for a job well done.

A huge smile lit up her face. “So, you really like it?”

“I love it,” he replied honestly. “And I think our client will, too.”

She turned her attention back to the brochure, and his gaze traveled down the smooth expanse of her throat to the conservative overlapping “V” of her suit jacket. Her stance caused the lapel to gap open slightly, giving him a glimpse of the delicate slope of one breast and the peach lace trim of a bra—just enough to tantalize and tease his senses before she straightened again.

“I have to admit that the generous bonus Massey is offering me to bring the campaign in on time and to the client's full satisfaction is a huge incentive in getting this presentation absolutely flawless.”

And that bonus was important to her, he knew. Had been from the very beginning, since the promise of that monetary reward had been the deciding factor in her taking on this freelance project. According to her impressive resume, she used to work for an equally large advertising firm, until she'd abruptly quit and started her own small agency. On occasion she did freelance work, and the president of Massey and Associates insisted she come on board as temporary creative director for this potential multimillion dollar contract, at any cost. Thus the bonus. There had even been talk of the partners wanting her on a full-time basis, but so far Jill had turned down their very generous offers.

She shifted beside him and handed him a signoff sheet. “If you'll give me your final approval and signature on the layout of the presentation brochure then both of us can call it a night.”

“Only to return tomorrow morning bright and early,” he said wryly. Reaching for a pen, he scrawled his signature on the appropriate line of the attached report.

“It's a vicious cycle in this business, you know that,” she said as she took back her papers to add to the presentation package. “But look on the bright side. Another week or so and we should have this campaign wrapped up and contracted. I'll be gone, and things can finally return to normal for you and your creative team.”

With that, she issued him a final good night and headed for the door.

He sat there as she exited his office, her idle comment a jarring reminder that his time with her was limited. As for things returning to normal, he didn't know what normal was anymore. Not unless it included a daily dose of her, which fueled his erotic nighttime fantasies of them together, in carnal ways that left him hot and bothered and hornier than he could ever remember being. After three months of working side by side, another week and a half and she'd be gone, and already he was mourning the loss.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, then scrubbed a hand down his face and along the late evening stubble lining his jaw. Oh, man, he was in way over his head when it came to Jill, intrigued beyond reason, and so crazed with wanting her that he knew his brothers would laugh their asses off if they knew a woman had him so tied up in knots.

While both Steve and Adrian had attempted committed relationships in the past, neither one of them had ultimately been lucky in love. After being burned, they'd opted for the joys and freedom of bachelorhood, and seemed content with their single status—much to the disappointment of their parents, who wanted their boys happily settled, as they were. Being the youngest, and having witnessed his brothers' misery with the opposite sex, Eric had learned to guard his own emotions. He'd always been the consummate playboy, enjoying all women but never allowing one to get under his skin quite the way Jill had.

She stimulated and inspired him, mentally and physically, and it had been forever since a woman had managed that feat. And while the awareness between them was evident and she took his flirtatious behavior in stride, she never acted on the attraction. In that respect, she was reserved and guarded, and damned if he didn't want to delve deeper and unleash the desire he'd seen in her eyes on more than one occasion.

She was a challenge he couldn't resist.

Never before had he hesitated to go after what he wanted. He'd always been aggressive and impulsive when it came to pursuing the opposite sex, and it was past time he took a chance on Jill. Their business relationship was only temporary, which worked to both of their advantages, and there was no denying an affair between them would be both incendiary, and oh, so satisfying.

There was only one thing for him to do. Issue her a mutually satisfying proposition, and hope she agreed to the same.

 

 

After shutting down her office, Jill checked in one last time with two coworkers on her design team intent on putting in a few more hours of work before leaving for the evening. She spent a good twenty minutes approving the start of the Web site layout James was designing, and gave Catherine her input on a direct mail marketing outline. Then she took her briefcase and headed toward the bank of elevators that would release her from the confines of the thirty-sixth floor of the Chicago high-rise. Another day down, and only a few more weeks to go before she collected her bonus check and a newfound freedom and independence was all hers. That extra money would finally put her on solid financial ground, and enable her to devote more time to building her own agency.

With a soft
ping,
an elevator arrived and she stepped inside, pressing the button for the underground parking garage. Just as the steel door began to shut, a big body just barely squeezed his way past and into the elevator.

She gasped in startled surprise, then realized the intruder was none other than her gorgeous boss, Eric Wilde, briefcase in hand and his suit jacket draped over his arm, looking every inch the “Wilde, untamable bad boy” he'd been dubbed by female coworkers. The man had a way of looking completely sexy, at any time, including after a long, tiring day at the office.

His tie was off, presumably stuffed into his briefcase. The first three buttons of his oxford shirt were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the muscular strength in those forearms. His pitch-black hair was mussed since he had a habit of combing his fingers through the strands when he was deep in thought, and his bright blue eyes had the ability to shift from striking to intense to flirtatious, depending on his mood.

At the moment, there was something about his entire demeanor that seemed a bit aggressive, predatory, and too damned sexual.

Or maybe her exhausted mind was playing tricks on her.

Despite that definite possibility, her stomach fluttered in keen awareness, and she did her best to squash her attraction to him, as she'd managed to do for the past three months that she'd been working for Massey and Associates. And keeping her distance included keeping to her side of the elevator, which seemed to have shrunk in size the moment he'd hopped on board.

It dawned on her that she'd never been alone with him in one of the elevators before—they were always surrounded by other people coming and going to different floors. The air around her turned too warm, his presence too intimate, his gaze too purposeful.

The elevator began its smooth descent toward the parking garage and she regarded him with a small smile. “All you had to do was holler and I would have held the door for you.”

A disarming grin full of his normal playful charm curved his lips. “I didn't want to take any chances.”

His odd remark confused her, but she refused to read too much into his comment—like the fact that he was insinuating she might not have held the door for him. “Well, I'm glad to see you took my advice to call it a night.”

He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I decided work will be waiting for me when I get in in the morning.”

“Unfortunately, it's so true.” Needing to distract herself from his compelling stare, and the fact that they were sealed in a small confined space
alone,
she opened her purse and began digging through the contents for her car keys. “Wouldn't it be nice if there was a fairy that came in at night and sprinkled fairy dust on all our outstanding work so that it was all done come the morning?”

He chuckled at her whimsical thought, and then the elevator came to an abrupt, jarring stop.

She sucked in a quick breath and her gaze shot to the numbered panel above the steel door, which confirmed her fear. They were stalled somewhere between the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth floors. “Oh, my God, we're stuck.”

“We're fine,” Eric said, his low, deep voice reassuring her. “
I
stopped the elevator.”

“You did?” She jerked her gaze back to him, and frowned, unable to comprehend why he'd do such a thing.
“Why?”

“Well, for one, I now have your full attention.” Calmly, he set his briefcase and jacket on the floor, then slowly closed the short distance between the two of them, stopping less than a foot away. “And two, I'm buying myself some extra time alone with you, five minutes max, without the chance of getting interrupted by a coworker, or something business related. This is strictly personal, between you and me.”

Her pulse leaped, spreading heat throughout her entire body. Somehow, she managed to keep herself outwardly composed, though her mind tried to predict what he intended to do with the five minutes he'd just brazenly claimed as his own. For some reason he'd chosen tonight to bring their attraction out into the open, to force her to acknowledge the desire they'd both skirted for the past three months.

She inhaled a slow, deep breath. He stood so close, she drew in the warm, masculine scent that clung to his skin, could feel the heat of his tall, lean, hard body that made her feel so soft and feminine in contrast. His eyes were dark and focused completely on her, the irises smoldering with an intense sexual energy she found both fascinating and unsettling.

Oh, Lord, he was so virile, so tempting, so . . .
everything.
Yet there was absolutely nothing intimidating about him, if she didn't count the threat to her hormones, and emotions, too. She had a feeling, given the chance, he could devastate both.