Things could be different in a beach hotel. We could take pretend to a whole new level with the ocean crashing outside the windows.
Duncan wants my ground rules, but I'm not sure I know my ground rules. My mind and body have been in constant disagreement since I proposed the deal to Duncan.
While I can't decide on my rules, I know without a doubt that the mere thought of him makes my insides pinch. His shimmering gaze, drop-dead sexy smirk, and deep, rumbling voice send ripples through me, causing involuntary reactions that bring my nipples to attention as well as dampen my panties. He's been a fantasy for so long that the idea of being with him—really with him—scares me as much as it excites me.
What if the rumors are false? What if he doesn't live up to his reputation? What if I don't live up to the women in his past?
Doubt and insecurity weasel into my thoughts and then, just as quickly, the reality of his baritone tenor washes them away.
"Miss Jones?"
I take a deep breath and turn toward Duncan Willis. The damn glint in his eyes makes me question whether my illicit thoughts about him were actually audible. It's as if the shimmer is an unspoken challenge daring me to learn if he lives up to my fantasies and his reputation.
I clear my throat. "Mr. Willis."
He doesn't correct me, and since he called me Miss Jones, I surmise we are being professional for the sake of the others in the office. Of course, I've told Shana all about the deal I proposed to Duncan; however, I didn't tell any of my coworkers. It hardly seemed appropriate lunchroom talk. "So guess what I did today? Wrong. I blackmailed Mr. Willis into being my plus-one for a wedding in a podunk town in Indiana. Nope. Really. Well, he agreed because I caught him in a compromising situation that I didn't report. Oh, and we'll be sharing a bed in my childhood bedroom." Yep, the opportunity to make such a statement never presented itself, not to random coworkers and definitely not to the others in the human resources department. The kiss in his office was against company policy. The entire thing could probably get me fired.
My gaze catches the corner of my computer screen. The clock says exactly noon, the precise time he said we'd leave. It seems as though I can add punctuality to Duncan Willis's list of attributes.
"I believe we have a car waiting to take us to the airport," he says, his intense gaze fixed on me.
I nod and log off my computer, hoping no one else is paying attention.
I'm confident that whatever is happening is definitely being noticed. It isn't often that exciting things happen within our walls. When it does, it's like a piranha feeding frenzy. No doubt there are gossip-hungry people ready to jump at the chance to learn the truth about my rendezvous with Mr. Willis.
As I smile at Jack, the guy who shares my partition, I vow that whatever is said once we leave doesn't matter. I truly enjoy my coworkers, well, most of them. That's why I want to come back to them all on Tuesday and still have my job. Besides, if anyone notices what is happening, they'll think we're doing something business related.
Maybe it's a seminar or conference.
Yeah, right, Kimbra. There are so many seminars over Memorial Day weekend.
I push away my worries and stand as Mr. Willis's cologne fills my senses, clouding all rational thought.
The way he's standing there, looking at me—the man is absolutely sex on a stick. If I didn't have a family to fool and a wedding to attend, I could let my fantasies go in so many other directions.
Stay focused. Concentrate.
Walk. Step and don't trip.
Thank God I'm not carrying coffee.
As we silently stand waiting for the elevator, I fidget with my purse and pray I won't hyperventilate.
Watching the numbers climb to our floor, I wonder why I suddenly feel awkward, not knowing what to say or how to say it. Three years of knowing one another and in the three days since I last saw him, everything feels different. Finally, the doors open and we step into the empty elevator.
Once the doors close, Duncan turns. In one quick step, I'm backed against the wall with his hips crashing into mine. I barely catch my breath, as I'm caged within his arms when without warning his mouth descends.
"O-oh!" I stutter before his lips steal my whimper.
Demanding yet sensual, his kiss is like the sweetest delicacy wrapped in cinnamon goodness. Breathing is forgotten as his tongue joins the assault. Without thought or hesitation, I accept his invasion, opening my mouth and welcoming his addicting taste. His one hand secures me against the wall while the other one wraps around my waist, pulling our hips together.
When the elevator stops, Duncan takes a step back. With a sexy glimmer in his eyes, his smile lingers before he wordlessly turns toward the opening doors, leaving my lips bruised, eyes wide, and lungs gasping for breath.
Shit, this man can kiss.
With little regard for those around us, he places his large hand in the small of my back and guides me through the lobby. With just two kisses, I'm suddenly at this man's disposal. My body moves to his inclination before my mind has time to process.
Duncan nods to the doorman as we exit onto the street and move toward the waiting car.
Standing beside the car is an older man with a cap.
"Mr. Willis, Miss Jones," the man says with a nod as he opens the door.
"Kimbra," Duncan says, "this is Pierce. Pierce, Miss Jones."
I nod. "Kimbra is fine."
As Pierce smiles at me, I realize that I'm probably one of a million women Duncan introduces to his driver. Just before entering the car, I stop and ask, "Oh, wait. What about our luggage? I gave mine to Jorge this morning."
"It's already been loaded in the trunk, ma'am," Pierce replies.
"Right." I'm definitely out of my element. And that information begs the next question: is luggage a common denominator among Duncan's women?
Duncan reaches for my hand. "Jorge took care of everything."
"Right. We don't want people to talk. The two of us leaving together with suitcases might start rumors."
As the door closes, Duncan lifts the hand he is holding. His touch is sure and possessive as he brushes his firm lips over my knuckles. It's such a small connection and yet it ignites tingles that radiate throughout my body. A kiss of my hand and my toes curl.
"Kimbra, I'm used to rumors. It seems I'm frequently the subject of many, or so I've been told. That doesn't mean that I want the same for you."
"I'm hardly innocent, Mr. Willis. We're here together right now because—"
"Because," he interrupts, "I seized the opportunity presented to me. That ability is what makes or breaks a businessman—or woman. Hesitation is a liability." His eyes sparkle with flecks of gold. "I don't hesitate. I seize."
My breath catches in my chest. "That's good to know."
As the car begins to move, stopping and going in midday traffic, Duncan continues. "There's much we both need to know. Shouldn't I know about your family?"
"My family? I mean, we've only been together for..."
"Five months," he says, finishing my sentence.
"Right."
"You have a brother?"
"Yes. Kevin. His wife's name is Susan. My mother is Judy and my dad is Oscar."