“Lainey,” Sal sings happily. “Fancy seeing you here.”
What. The. Fuck?
I jump up from my stool and move back, feeling like I need some distance. “Lainey?” I ask, trying to gather myself, straightening out my suit. I do a quick rewind through the past few minutes’ conversation to locate what I’m hoping is a cock-up on my part. Lainey? I look at Sal. “I’m pretty sure you just referred to your new PA as Lainey.”
“I certainly did.” Sal nods, eyes still on . . . his new PA?
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“You must be Sal’s partner.” A lovely, delicate hand extends toward me, and I look at it. I just look at it. And my mind instantly puts that hand around my cock. And starts to thrust it up and down. And I’m groaning. “Hello?” she prompts.
I jump back again, ignoring her offering and looking at my best mate. My mouth twists, the situation now as clear as daylight. The fucker. Sal hitches a knowing eyebrow at me and takes a swig of his beer, and I brace myself to face our new employee. Employee. That word needs to remain at the forefront of my mind. She works for us. Works for me. I don’t have many boundaries but steering well clear of staff is one of them. It’s a rule. Clients, yes. Potential clients, yes. Business associates, yes. Any woman . . . as long as she doesn’t work for me. Simple. Sal knows this. Supports this. Insists on this. It’s another one of our cardinal rules.
I take a deep, steady breath and take her hand. Her soft, perfect hand. “Pleasure,” I say, meeting her eyes. Fuck me, my whole world just narrowed into a tunnel of torturous fantasies. Ones I now know I can never make a reality. I want to cry. “Ty Christianson.” I cough and subtlety reclaim my hand, placing my arse back on the stool before my stupid legs give.
“I know who you are,” she says, smiling that lovely fucking smile. I swear, she’s a goddess, breathtakingly beautiful, but her beauty broke the fucking scale the second I learned she works for me. For fuck’s sake. I look away and signal to the barman again. I need something stronger than beer. Of course she knows who I am. Everyone does.
“Scotch,” I order. “Neat.”
“Just thought I’d say hello,” Lainey goes on when my back’s turned.
“Hello,” Sal replies, holding up his beer. “You look . . . nice.”
I roll my eyes and accept my Scotch, knocking it back in one swift, needed shot. “Another.”
“Thank you,” Lainey replies graciously. That voice. I can hear it groaning my name, and my hand goes to my groin to discreetly control the blood rushing to my cock. Get me out of here!
“All set for tomorrow?” Sal asks.
“Yes, can’t wait. Eight?”
“Perfect,” Sal confirms.
“Great. I’ll leave you to your drinks.” Her hand rests on my shoulder, and I freeze, refusing to turn around and acknowledge her. But my eyes do turn and land on some pretty, perfectly painted nude nails resting on my suit jacket. I can feel those nails sinking into my naked back. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Christianson.”
“And you.” I barely force the words past my thick tongue, so I have no hope of being polite and facing her. “Welcome to Christianson Walker.”
“Have a good night.” Her hand lifts, and the whole of my torso rolls, fighting off the aftereffects of her touch. And as soon as I’m brave enough to check she’s gone, seeing her behind subtlety sway as she goes, I swing around to my best mate and glare at him.
“What?” Sal asks.
“What? Seriously? You’re asking me that?”
“You can’t fuck her,” he says flatly, knowing exactly where my man brain has been.
“I don’t want to fuck her.”
“Yeah, right.”
I can’t believe he’s done this to me. Hired the most beautiful woman on the fucking planet as his PA, knowing I can’t even sniff her. “You call yourself a mate? You’re bang out of line.”
He laughs. “Told you she was perfect.”
I groan, looking down at my phone when it starts flashing a call. “Oh, go away.” I smash the reject icon and slump over the bar. But through my lingering awe, I manage to surmise just how bad this situation is, and not only because I can’t touch her. Or think about her. My mate hasn’t gotten laid since the other month. And he’s married. I turn to Sal. “You told me you hadn’t thought about the fact that Moya hasn’t put out much lately.”
“I hadn’t. Not until you mentioned it, you nymphomaniac.”
“Fuck off. You’re telling me you haven’t thought about your new PA fucking your deprived, betraying brain out?”
“No.” Sal looks at me, offended. “I love my wife. Granted, we’re going through a sticky patch in the bedroom department, but I would never betray her. Never. Let’s get that straight.”
I sit back on a sigh. “I know you wouldn’t, but fuck, Sal. Why in God’s name would you hire something as tempting as that? And what the hell is Moya going to think when she meets her?”
“Moya’s fine.” He sniffs, glancing away. “I was totally professional during the process, as was Lainey. It’s you who’s the Romeo that thinks with his dick, not me. Why’d you think I interviewed her alone?”
“Because you’re an arsehole.”
He laughs. “No, because when I saw her headshot on her file, I knew damn well you would’ve picked fault with her CV, anything to put me off, just so you could fuck her with a clear conscience.”
I can’t argue. He’s right. I would have put him off, found any reason for us not to hire her. She’s that stunning. That alluring. For fuck’s sake. How am I supposed to concentrate, knowing that much sexiness is in the office?
“Anyway,” Sal goes on, ignoring my pouting face, “you’ve got Gina. She’s hot, and those great tits are there to admire daily.”
“Gina is Gina, you wanker. She’s a mate. I fucking hate you right now.” I wave for more drinks. “What are you having?”
“Beer. If I start on the hard stuff, I probably won’t make it home.”
I order myself another Scotch and my mate a beer. Because he needs to get home. To his wife. And I need to smack my wandering brain into shape quickly. She’s just another beautiful woman. It’s not like I’m not used to those.
Sal gets progressively drunker, even though he stays with beer, and by ten o’clock I decide it’s time to put him in a taxi and send him home to Moya. After waving him off outside Long Bar, I stand on the curbside, trying to decide where to venture next. I pull my phone out to call one of the lads and track them down to whatever bar they’re in, but stall when something comes to me. I look over my shoulder, back to the bar, wondering if that black-haired beauty who caught my eye earlier is still there. My phone gets shoved into my pocket, and I reverse my steps, turning and heading back inside. Because if I’ve ever really needed a good fuck, it’s now.
Straightening the knot of my tie, I keep my eyes peeled and spot her in exactly the same place as before. Excellent. The rest of my night is quickly mapped out in my head. She catches my eye, and I flash her my most suggestive, sexy smile . . . but my feet grind to a stop when something past her grabs my attention.