Page 10 of Tempt the Boss

“Why, what’d you hear?”

There’s a pause.

“What are you talking about, Ali?” she asks, puzzled. “Nothing. That’s why I called.”

“Oh right,” I say hurriedly. “Sorry. It went well. He explained what would happen after I signed the contract. He said some really amazing things about my book, too. I think he really likes it.”

I hear Darla’s smile when she says, “You betcha he really likes it! I’ve been telling you, Ali, this book is going to turn heads. You’re on the cusp of a huge career break.”

Would she say that knowing what I’ve just done? Oh god. But I manage to keep things neutral.

“Thanks, Darla. Totally appreciate your kind words.”

My agent snorts.

“Did anything else happen in your meeting?”

“Nope,” I say quickly. “Nothing of note.”

She pauses for a moment.

“You’re being weird, sweetheart. Trust me, Aunt Darla knows. Did something bad happen?” she asks suspiciously.

“No,” I say honestly. Sex was definitely not bad. And I’m hoping it’ll happen again, even though I know it shouldn’t. “It was really great, Darla. I swear.”

“Okay,” she says. I don’t think she believes me. “I should go. I’ll see you next week to go over that contract. I’ve already gotten back some changes since I sent you a copy yesterday. Do you want me to send a new one?”

I roll my eyes.

“Again? More revisions? Okay,” I say giving in. Such is the life of a writer. Darla burbles excitedly.

“Sounds good, sweetheart. I knew I could count on you. See you next week then! Toodle-oo!”

I say goodbye and hang up, slipping my cell back in my small purse. Confusions roils my mind because I should have mentioned what happened to Darla. She’s more than just my agent. Over the few months we’ve been working together, we’ve become friends. All the author forums I’m on say this is normal. Agents are friends, employees, therapists, cheerleaders, editors, and parents all wrapped into one. But I want to keep my naughty encounter to myself. Not just because Chris said I should, but because what happened today was special. I know there was something between Chris and me, not just a one-time thing. Hopefully.

As if reading my thoughts, my phone chimes with a text.

Hey, it reads. It’s Chris Carmichael. I hope it’s okay that I got your number from Jenny.

Oh my god, he’s texting me already! Is there a rule about these things? A three day limit or something? How does that work? My fingers fly as I text a response.

No worries,I reply. What’s up?

I wanted to say again that I had a good time during our meeting today. I hope you did, too.

Good time? I had more than a good time, I had my socks blown off! My pussy’s still sore and dripping. But keeping things cool, I type back: I did. Thanks.

Great, he types. Then there’s a pause before another message comes in a few seconds later. Can we meet again next week? Friday? That’s when we need the contract back by. If you decide to sign it, you can bring it along. If not… you can still come.

I stare at my phone. Am I being pranked? I’m obviously not the best at interpreting signs, but it seems like Chris wants a repeat of what happened today, even if I don’t sign the contract.

Sorry if I’m being too forward. I just had a really good time today. Really good.

It’s okay,I respond quickly. I’ll be there. What time?

How about noon?

I smile like an idiot standing in the middle of the street. Perfect. I’ll pencil you in.

Great, see you then,he writes. And somehow, I know the conversation’s over.

But the turmoil in my mind isn’t over. I clutch my phone against my chest, suddenly realizing how fast my heart is beating. Chris feels the same about our rendezvous, and he wants to do it again!

I’m getting wet just thinking about going back into that office with him. But oh shit. Darla might get suspicious if I tell her I’m meeting with Mr. Carmichael again. I’ll have to come up with an excuse to leave her behind. That can be figured out once Friday comes.

Plus, Chris’s name is programmed into my phone now, like we really know each other. It makes me feel tingling, my future career is just at the doorstep, waiting to be uncovered. There’s a contract waiting for me to sign and my agent seems to feel great about it. The publisher loves my book. I really like the publisher. Okay, so I more than “like” him. I’m infatuated. I can’t think of anyone but the dark, handsome alpha male. But it’s a blissful feeling, like the earth’s shifting under my feet in a good way.

I head to the train station, still thinking about what a perfect few days this has turned out to be. If this week has been this good, then I really can’t wait until next week. Because what happens next is going to leave me breathless with anticipation … and sheer need.