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When I open the door, his eyes roam over my body, sending a shiver passing through me. I watch his eyes darken and wonder if he’ll comment on my new hair and makeup, but he blinks a couple of times and looks around. He smiles and points at my bags. “Is that all you have?”

  I nod and watch him grab my suitcases. After Mr. Thornton escorts me to the car, a uniformed chauffeur opens the trunk to stow my bags. The interior of the huge SUV is claustrophobic once he closes the door and shuts us inside. “Did you manage to find everything you’ll need for our trip?” my boss asks as we pull into traffic.

  “Yes,” I answer and fidget with the hem of my skirt, praying this trip flies by quickly. Then it dawns on me. “Oh, before I forget, Mr. Thornton.” I search through my purse and grab the credit card. “Here’s your card. Thank you.”

  As he reaches for it, our fingers lightly brush, and electricity zings through my nerve endings. I tell myself to ignore it. “We’re going to be working closely together,” he informs me. “I think you should call me Marcus from now on.”

  It’s the first shock of this day full of surprises.

  My stomach clenches, and sweat breaks out under my clothes when we step onto the tiny aircraft. “This is the plane?” A flight attendant gushes over Marcus, and I ignore them and drop into one of the seats toward the back of the plane. Further from the impact, right?

  My boss slides into the seat next to me and picks up my hand. “Nervous flyer?”

  His finger runs slowly over my knuckles, and I momentarily forget my fear of flying as another emotion engulfs me. Intense hunger shoots through every cell in my body, and I bite my tongue to hold back the groan that’s fighting its way up my throat. Swallowing, I smile weakly and nod.

  After the plane levels off, I attempt to pull my hand away from Marcus, but he holds tight. When the flight attendant brings us drinks, he’s finally forced to release me. I lie and tell myself it’s relief coursing through me, but my heart knows the truth. Where in the hell is this disappointment coming from? The rest of the long flight is uneventful. After pretending to sleep for a while, I wake up and have a normal, light conversation with my boss. We discuss our plans for the week and what he expects. The atmosphere is still a little strained, but I’m beginning to relax in his presence right about the time the pilot announces we’re ready to land.

  When we arrive at the airport, a car is waiting on the tarmac. The driver loads our suitcases before handing Marcus an envelope. As we drive to the hotel, the car fills with an uncomfortable silence, and I glance over to find Marcus wearing the same dark, brooding look I’ve come to expect from him. I wonder what’s happening. Where has the relaxed man from the plane gone? If he’s going to flip from hot to cold at the drop of a hat all week long, this whole trip will be a nightmare. The driver stops in front of the Four Seasons Hotel and hops out to grab our bags. We bypass the front desk and head straight to the elevator, and I ask, “Don’t we have to check in?”

  “It’s already taken care of.” Marcus signals for me to precede him into the elevator, and I step in, then the bellboy follows us in with our bags. After pulling a key card out of his suit pocket, he slips it into the slot on the door and presses one of the penthouse buttons. I grit my teeth, holding back my questions, but I’m dying to ask why he isn’t choosing a button for my floor. Surely, he hasn’t reserved a penthouse for me, too.

  The elevator whizzes up, and I finally snap, “What floor am I on?”

  “We’re sharing a suite.” My mind cuts off on the word ‘sharing’. Oh, hell no. It’s a bad idea. There’s no way I’m spending a week in the same hotel room with my steaming hot boss from hell.

  As soon as we walk into the stunning hotel suite, I spin around and sputter, “We can’t share a room.” Oops. I should’ve waited until we were alone.

  “I didn’t offer to share your room, Ms. Overton,” he snarls. “This suite has four bedrooms. Choose one and lock your fucking door if it makes you feel better.” My asshole boss turns his back to me and tips the stunned bellboy who’s still standing in the doorway. Then he grabs his suitcase and storms into the first door on the left. After the bellboy smiles and hurries out the door, I look down at my bag and sigh. Well, that went well.

  I pick up my suitcases and choose the room at the far end of the long hall. He’d actually been fairly pleasant during the flight, and I let my guard down. Then the minute we arrived at the hotel, BAM! King Asshole is back.

  Marcus

  I stand under the stinging spray and stare down at my hard cock. Fucker. It’s been rock-hard ever since I took her soft hand in mine on the damn airplane. I’m a moron. An idiot. An asshole with a sore dick. At least I can fix one problem. I reach for the body wash and close my eyes. After feeling her soft skin earlier, I easily envision wrapping my hands in her long, curly blonde hair and tugging her neck back for my lips. The fantasy rolls through my mind on a loop as I roughly jerk my cock. In my imagination, I replace my hand with her silky pussy and I’m coming within minutes.

  After finding a tiny bit of relief, I finish washing and drag my tired ass into the large bedroom. I don’t bother digging in my suitcase for boxers. I drop into the bed and flip through the channels. Maybe a little mindless television will drive thoughts of my gorgeous employee from my mind. As the images flicker across the large flat screen, I lay my head back and groan. Fuck. I was an asshole today. My only excuse was fear. She opened her apartment door this morning and shocked the fucking hell out of me. She’s always been beautiful, but this morning, she was absolutely stunning. I had the urge to forget about this damn trip and stay locked in her apartment for the entire week.

  On the plane, Olivia looked up at me and smiled, and a crazy, unfamiliar emotion sliced through my chest. My heart did a funny little flutter, which terrified me. I stared into her gorgeous green eyes and told myself to forget them and the feelings would go away.

  The entire ride from the airport, I scolded my cock for thumping hungrily in my pants while attempting to ignore Olivia. My plan worked okay until she protested the suite. Her outrage over the room was my final straw. Now, I wonder if I’ve permanently damaged our working relationship. The thought of losing her completely sends the weird squeezing sensation shooting through my chest again.

  I spend a restless night dreaming of her and wake up pissed off. Bringing Olivia to LA was one of the dumbest ideas I’ve had in a long fucking time. After dressing, I prepare myself to face her. The sitting room is empty, and I realize we never discussed our meeting schedule for today. I look down the hall and assume the one closed door at the end is the bedroom she chose last night. I’m standing at the breakfast bar, debating whether or not to knock on her door when I sense her entering the room behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as her delicate scent wraps around me. Fuck. Her presence instantly wipes away the effects from the cold showers last night and this morning. I ignore my semi-hard cock and walk into the small kitchen without turning to look at her. There’s a single-cup coffee maker with a large selection of pods. As I grab one, I notice my hand is slightly unsteady. Fuck. I slam the pod roughly into the slot and push a cup under the spout. Without turning, I ask her, “We have about an hour before we need to head down to meet the car. I ordered breakfast, and it should be here any minute.” Watching the brown liquid run into the cup, I continue. “Would you like a cup of coffee while we wait?”

  She walks up behind me. “I could use the caffeine.” I take a sip of my drink and turn.

  Son-of-a-bitch. “What in the ever-living fuck are you wearing?” I snarl as I stare at her. I’ve never seen her dressed in anything but traditional, plain, neutral-colored business suits. Today, Olivia is wearing a tight, ruby red skirt and matching jacket over a silky white blouse. The fucking skirt barely reaches mid-thigh, and most of her bare, tan legs are on display. She’s buttoned the jacket under her bountiful breasts, emphasizing her luscious, curvy figure. Every fucker in the meeting will be fighting wood the entire day after they get a look a
t my assistant. “That isn’t appropriate. Go change,” I roar.

  Outrage enters her emerald green eyes a second before she shakes her head. “No.”

  Her defiance causes me to gasp, and my coffee goes down the wrong pipe. I choke and sputter as I try to draw in a breath. She pounds my back as I cough up a lung. Coffee spews down the front of me as I fight to breathe. This girl is going to kill me.

  After I’m able to draw in a breath without wheezing, Olivia stops beating me and walks over to calmly take a sip of her coffee. “Everything I brought looks similar to this.” She points at the damn suit and raises an eyebrow at me. Fuck. I’m going to have a stroke by the end of the day.

  I ignore her and storm off to my room to change my shirt.

  As Neal Hanson’s secretary leads us into a conference room, I grit my teeth. The entire walk through Hanson Security causes my blood pressure to rise. Every fucking asshole in this place stops to stare at Olivia, and I fought the urge to shield her from their view while shouting to all the fuckers that she’s taken. Where the hell are these insane thoughts coming from? My mind should be on finishing this deal and earning multi-million-dollar consulting fees, not on keeping other men from looking at my assistant’s assets.

  “Please, have a seat over here.” Neal Hanson points at the chair to his right as his eyes roam over her body. As I place my hand on her lower back and lead her to the seat, I call myself ten kinds of fool. That light touch burns the feeling of her warmth into my brain. I’m fucked.

  The meeting progresses with less than half of my attention. As the stunning woman seated on the left of me commands the rest of my focus, I tune out everyone else in the room. My cock thumps hungrily in my pants, and I’m grateful for the wooden conference table hiding the view of my condition from all the other occupants of the room.

  “I think we’ve made enough progress for today.” Neal stands and smiles at Olivia, and the urge to knock his pearly white teeth down his throat runs through me. He extends his hand for her to shake, and I step between them before she’s able to respond.

  Neal raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. “I look forward to seeing both of you at the Gala tonight.” Fuck. If she wears another figure-hugging, body-baring outfit to the function, I might end up in jail.

  Marcus

  I stand at my bedroom door and count to ten. This entire day has tested my patience to the limits, and I both dread and look forward to spending the evening with Olivia. I’m losing my mind as this funny sensation in my chest keeps getting stronger. I’m terrified. I keep reminding myself of what’s at stake, but my heart and body refuse to listen to my reasoning. Growing up, I watched my father make an ass out of himself by sleeping with nearly every woman in his company. He’d chase them, pull out all the stops until he caught them, have a brief affair, and then toss them aside to move on to the next victim. His behavior crushed my mother and ruined his relationship with all of us. He died broke several years ago after his fourth wife took him to the cleaners. It’s a shame, but no one felt any pity for the asshole.

  I tell myself to stop being a pussy and head out into the sitting room to wait for her. At ten minutes to seven, I hear her door open and take a deep breath before turning to get my first look at her. Damn. She’s fucking stunning. Reaching down, I button my jacket to hide the evidence of my growing erection as I stare at her. She’s pulled her long, curly blonde hair up into some fancy twist, leaving her slender neck bare. My lips tingle with the urge to kiss the soft skin that’s left exposed. The light pink, silky, strapless gown hugs and emphasizes her luscious breasts before flaring out and flowing all the way to the floor. When she steps toward me, the slit down the gown’s skirt gives me a peek of the entire side of her tan leg, from her thigh down to perfectly manicured toes. I’m certain I’ll be blinding several unfortunate men tonight.

  “Went for broke, huh?” I ask her before walking over to pour myself a large whiskey.

  “You look very nice.” She ignores my question and attitude.

  After downing the drink, I lead her out of the suite. The fucking dress she is half-wearing is going to be the death of me. The entire walk to the car, I pray the night flies by without me ending up behind bars for smashing some fucker’s face in for staring at my girl. Shit. I’m losing my mind.

  When we arrive at the hotel, I tell the driver I’ll help Olivia out of the vehicle. The last fucking thing I need is another man touching her. She stiffens a little when I take her soft hand in mine but doesn’t pull away. I hold her close as we walk through the lobby toward the ballroom. Several pairs of eyes follow us, and I glare at any males who are brave enough to look too long at my girl. Shit. Where are these thoughts coming from? I rub the back of my neck, and Olivia glances up at me. “Do you have a headache?”

  I grasp the excuse and run with it. “Yeah. I don’t sleep well in strange beds.” It’s a lie, but how can I tell her the truth? She’s taken over my mind, and all these crazy thoughts have turned me into a lunatic. Oh, and my cock has been hard for days, and I’m worried about permanent damage.

  Neal and his date greet us at the door. While the two women chatter, Neal and I head over to the bar for drinks. I lose sight of Olivia as he introduces me to the various board members and their wives. I’m pretending to pay attention to the conversation when I glance out the corner of my eye and notice my fucking assistant dancing with some young asshole. He’s holding her snugly against his body, and his damn hand is brushing the top of her luscious ass. A red haze falls over my vision as fury slices through me. I barely contain the roar that barrels up the back of my throat. I force a fake smile on my face and tap the fucker on the shoulder roughly. “Excuse me. I need to speak to my date.”

  The asshole isn’t brave enough to challenge me when I push my body between the two of them.

  He takes one look at my dark expression and smiles at her. “I hope we get the chance to dance again.”

  Not if I have anything to say about it. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. As I ignore the funny sensation squeezing my heart, I look down into her shocked eyes and snarl, “Why the fuck are you dancing? You’re supposed to be here to assist me.” I know I sound like a spoiled moron, but my mouth is running away. Seeing her in another man’s arms sent an unfamiliar emotion shooting straight through my chest. To be honest, I’d rather argue with her than examine the feeling too closely.

  Anger flashes in her eyes as her curvy body stiffens in my arms. “I didn’t know dancing was a crime.” She huffs. “What do you need me to do?” She throws her arms up in frustration, and I sigh. I’m a fucking idiot.

  I didn’t think my bullshit excuse through and don’t have a ready answer for her, so I pull one out of my ass. “I need you to stick close to me and keep mental notes.”

  As my beautiful assistant rolls her eyes at me, my hand twitches with the urge to spank her luscious ass until it turns bright red. “Yes, sir,” she mocks, and I barely resist the desire to kiss her on the packed dance floor. I’m losing my mind.

  A few minutes later, they announce dinner, not a moment too early. As we sit at the crowded table, I look around and glare at all the other men seated nearby, warning the fuckers to keep their eyes off my stunning date. Throughout the meal, I notice Olivia isn’t touching her dinner. “Is something wrong?” I ask lamely. Duh? I’m acting like an asshole, and we’re the center of attention.

  She gives me a half-smile and shrugs. “Just a small headache.” Then she reaches for her third glass of champagne.

  It’s not long before I hit my breaking point. Every asshole in here is staring at her in this dress, and I’m about to lose my mind. I turn to her and snarl, “Let’s go.” I don’t see Neal or his date, so I’ll apologize for not saying goodbye tomorrow.

  She doesn’t argue as I lead her out of the ballroom. As we walk to the waiting car, I realize I’m fighting a losing battle between my heart and my mind. I’ve always sworn I’d never allow myself to fall for a colleague, yet my heart is i
gnoring the message.

  Olivia

  Downing four glasses of champagne in such a short time was a mistake. Huge freaking error in judgment. The driver shuts the door, closing us in the back of the vehicle, and I swallow. This is going to be a very long ride. Marcus’ thigh rests against mine, and each bump in the road pushes me harder into his side. I glance up at him, and he’s staring down at me with an expression that makes my heart beat faster. Before I realize what’s happening, I somehow end up straddling his lap while our mouths hungrily devour each other. As I rub my aching center over his dick, he grabs my hips in a bruising grip and pulls me down harder onto his massive erection. A groan rumbles up his throat, and he wraps his fingers in my hair and tugs my head into the position he wants me. Our tongues tangle as one of his hands slides inside the slit of my dress. Goosebumps break out all over my skin, and I shiver when he slips one of his fingers along the crease where my ass and leg meet. As it inches slowly over my sensitized skin, I dig my nails into the back of his neck. His kiss is burning me up from the inside out, and I don’t realize the car has stopped until the door next to Marcus suddenly opens. We pull apart and stare at each other in shock.

  He sets me on the seat before leaning his head back and staring into space for what seems like an eternity. “That was a mistake,” he mumbles and runs his hand through his hair. After he steps out of the car, I furiously fight the tears filling my eyes. I take a few moments to straighten my dress and pull myself together, then follow him into the hotel. By some miracle, the lobby is nearly empty, and we make it to the elevators without too many people seeing my walk of shame.

  We ride the elevator up to our floor in uncomfortable silence. After we make our way into the suite, Marcus turns to me and grimaces. “There’s something we need to discuss.”