"There are some things you learn to make time for. What's his name?"
"Jake."
"Jake what?"
"Oh no, I'm not telling you his last name. You'll have Booker check him out and I don't want Booker involved." Emily most certainly did not want Booker, the head of security for Stafford & Co., checking up on Jake. Especially, if she was considering a brief, but wild fling with Jake. And she was considering it. More like fantasizing about it. Nightly. Not to mention daily.
"Lee. You know as well as I that it only makes it easier on everyone involved if you give Booker what he wants. And," Marilyn added pointedly, "Booker will want to know his name. So you might as well tell me, because he's supposed to meet me in a little bit for pizza."
Emily rolled her eyes and decided to change the subject. "Pizza? You didn't invite me."
"I hadn't gotten around to it. Want to come over and have pizza with Booker and me?"
"What kind?"
Marilyn muttered a curse no woman should know let alone understand. "Just get your butt out of the tub and haul it on over. I'll make sure Booker picks up a small cheese for you."
"Don't forget the—"
"Black olives will be on half. Go on and get out of the tub. Pick up some drinks while you're at it. I'll meet you at the house."
"Don't tell Booker about the, um,
you know
."
"Good grief, Lee. Just get out of the tub and haul your fanny on over here."
CHAPTER TWO
The slice of pizza was halfway into Booker's mouth when Marilyn, who more than resembled a taller version of Vivien Leigh and spoke with a sugar sweet, Georgia accent reminiscent of Scarlet O'Hara, made her announcement.
"Lee had an orgasm today."
Lee's eyes widened and she dropped her pizza.
Booker dropped his pizza.
Splat
! Both slices hit the table at the same time and Marilyn grinned like the wicked Cheshire cat she was.
"I am going to kill you. It will be a slow, painful death. I'll begin by bending your fingernails backwards and—"
"An orgasm," Booker choked out.
Marilyn gnawed on her pizza. Her green eyes gleamed and she wiggled her eyebrows at Lee.
Booker's dark brown eyes did not gleam. His entire body, which was six and a half feet of solid used-to-be-a-Marine physique, tensed and he looked ready to bolt for the door. "I, um, am happy for you, Lee. I didn't realize that you had, um, never had an orgasm before. Congratulations."
Lee tried her best to fade into the background. "Thank you, Booker."
Marilyn finished chewing and wiped her mouth with a paper towel. "It's the first time I've ever heard of anyone having an orgasm because—"
"Marilyn."
"Of a—"
"Marilyn!"
"Man's voice," Marilyn finished, undaunted.
Lee threw her napkin down on the table. "Dammit, woman, you promised you wouldn't tell him."
"I did not. You asked me not to tell him, but I never said I wouldn't."
"What man?"
Lee glared at Marilyn. "I don't know why I even bother to tell you secrets. You just turn around and blab it to anyone who will listen."
"What man?"
"I do not," Marilyn shot back defensively. "I never told anyone about you being a virgin."
"Oh, that's just great. Why don't you just throw open the windows and shout to the world… Hey everyone, listen up! Emily Katherine Stafford is twenty-eight years old and still a virgin."
"What man," Booker practically shouted.
Lee and Marilyn ignored him.
"I think it's sweet the way you're saving yourself for Mister Right and his magic voice."
Lee rolled her eyes. "I am not waiting for Mister Right. I do not need a Mister Right. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and, for your information, I never said Jake was the right man. I merely said that his voice pushed me over the edge and made me… on the stairs."
"On the stairs? With just his voice?"
"What are you afraid of, Lee? I heard the way you described him on the phone. You sounded like you were this close," Marilyn held her forefinger and thumb a hair's breadth apart, "to being madly and hopelessly in lust."
"Ha! Me? In lust? With Jake? Preposterous. I am the last person on this Earth to ever fall in lust with a man whose name I only found today, Marilyn. I don't know anything personal about him. All I know is that he has a body to die for and a voice which is… pure sin," Lee finished lamely.
How could she get it across to them that there wasn't a place in her life for a Mister Right? That Mister Right wanted more than Lee could give. He would expect her to spend more time with him than her company. He would try and… control her. That's what all men wanted. Control.
Well, she wasn't called Lee-The Barracuda-Stafford for nothing. She didn't need to stand on the shoulders of any man in order to get what she wanted. Lee had built her own company, played hardball with the big boys, and… she wasn't about to give up her life for some man.
That was for damn sure. Lee had worked too hard to get where she was today to let some man come into her life and order her out of the boardroom and into the kitchen.
"Just his voice." Booker whistled appreciatively. "Didn't think it was possible."
"Pure sin?" Marilyn arched a well shaped brow. "Just what I said. Madly and hopelessly in lust."
"I am not," Lee replied.
"Was there just one," Booker asked with extreme interest.
Lee looked at him. "I'm not sure. It went on and on."
"You didn't tell me that," Marilyn said.
"I didn't think you needed to know how long it lasted," Lee shot back.
"How long did it last?"
Lee dropped back into her chair. She picked at the black olives on her pizza. "I didn't time it."
"Give me a guess-timate," Marilyn begged.
"Oh please, Marilyn. It transcended time," Lee drawled sarcastically.
Booker whistled again.
Marilyn paused in the act of drinking her beer. "Smart ass."
"And he didn't touch you," Booker asked.
Lee shook her head. "Nothing that could be described as intimate."
Booker drummed his fingers on the table and looked from Lee to Marilyn. "Have you met him?"
"Nope," Marilyn answered.
"I see." He turned his attention back to Lee. "Are you gonna go out with him?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't decided yet."
"She means he hasn't asked her. She'll go out with him if he asks." Marilyn smirked knowingly. "He's the one she's been waiting for."
"How do you know that," Lee snapped. "I don't even know that. He could be some sort of sex crazed maniac."
"If he were a sex crazed maniac," Marilyn drawled, "I would have met him by now. They flock to my doorstep in the hordes."
"Ain't that the truth." Booker resumed devouring his pizza. "What's the guy's name?"
"Booker, I know you only want to protect me, but I'd feel better if you—"
Booker wiped his mouth. "Sure thing, baby doll. I'll have my boys check him out for you."
"Lee, if you don't tell him, I will." Marilyn held up a hand as Lee started to protest. "Honey, it's for your own good. Wouldn't you rather know if the guy's a sex crazed maniac before you fall for him rather than afterwards? I'm speaking from experience on this. I know you're capable of taking care of yourself, but both Booker and I would feel better if we knew this Jake character's background."
Booker nodded, his dark face serious. "Listen to her, baby doll. We're only looking out for your best interests." He leaned over and brushed callused knuckles along her cheek. "I promised myself a long time ago that I'd rather die than see you get hurt. And I'm too young to die."
"Both of you are absolutely horrible," Lee muttered without heat. "I make you tons and tons of money and you feel obligated to protect me from an innocent date which I haven't even been asked out on."
Booker gave her his government certified, lethal grin. "What's his name, baby doll?"
"Horrible. Absolutely horrible. Let's get one thing straight, you two. If, and I mean
if
, Jake asks me out and I accept, you two are not to interfere. Is that understood?"
They nodded at her.
"Good. 'Cause I won't tolerate it. If I'm going to have a torrid affair with someone, I'll do it on my terms and no one else's. Is that understood?"
"What's his name, baby doll?"
Lee sighed and knew they hadn't listen to a word she said. "Jacob Grayden."
"Emily Stafford." Jake wiped his hands on the bar towel. "She's got a body that can kill and a walk that'll keep you wondering long after she's left the room."
The other bartender and one-third owner of The Brigade Restaurant and Pub, Alex Waters, poured a beer for a customer. "What kind of wondering?"
Jake grinned and fixed himself a soda. "Silk or cotton."
"Silk or cotton what," Nick, Alex's younger brother and The Brigade's master chef, asked.
Jake and Alex turned to Nick and in unison answered, "Panties."
"Ah,
that
kind of wonderin'," Nick said.
"Don't worry, Nicki, you'll catch on one of these days."
Nick ignored his brother. "When are you going to bring her in here?"
"In here?" Jake laughed. "No thanks. I'll pass."
"Why not?" Alex handed change to a customer then turned to Jake. "What are you afraid of? That she'll like one of us better than you?"
"Well," Nick added, "she's bound to think we're a helluvalot better looking than Jake."
"True. He's probably afraid of a little competition."
"Yeah, but he could take care of that by seeing if Emily has a friend. Or two."
Alex threw a towel at Nick. "Thanks for thinking of me, Nicki."
Nick caught the towel easily. "Anytime, old man."
"I'm only a year older than you."
"Yeah and you look it."
A pretzel flew through the air.
Nick caught it and popped it into his mouth. "Does she have any friends?"
Jake ran a distracted hand through his hair. "I don't know."