My Guilty Pleasure

“Some other time,” she said, knowing it was a lie. Then she hightailed it out the front door.

A blast of cold January air bit at her exposed skin and whipped her hair into her face. A bone-deep chill instantly settled over her. Shivering, she shoved her hair from her face before tugging up the collar of her jacket, looking for warmth. With her hands tucked inside her pockets, she hunkered down and hurried to her car, which was sitting across the street at Rosalie’s.

The lot was deserted with the exception of her sporty red BMW parked under the hazy glow of a security light. A silver SUV with a Florida license plate sat a few yards away. Stanhope’s.

Still shivering, she pulled out her keys and pressed the button for the keyless entry to unlock her car. Just her rotten luck. Finally, she meets a guy who doesn’t have jerkwad written all over him, one who would actually understand the concept of billable hours and the demands of being a career-hungry associate attorney in a large firm, and he was as off-limits as they came. No way could she allow anything interesting to happen now—not with the revelation of Sebastian Stanhope being her new boss.

“Shit,” she muttered and yanked open the door. She climbed into the driver’s seat and fired the engine before tugging the door closed with a hard slam. And things had been going so well, too, she thought. Well enough that she’d been seriously considering that a brief affair might not be such a bad idea after all.

She cranked up the heater and sat trembling in the cold, cursing and giving the engine time to warm. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair. Maybe she should’ve gone to Chassy tonight and hung out with her half sister, after all. But no, tonight she’d wanted to be just Joey and what had it gotten her? A whole lot of nothing except an ache between her legs she so wanted Sebastian to ease.

His shadow, cast from the light above, appeared seconds before she heard his gentle rap against the driver’s side window. For the space of a heartbeat she considered telling him to get lost. Instead she hefted a weighty sigh and motioned for him to join her inside the slowly growing warmth of her car.

He opened the door and slid that long, gorgeous body into the passenger seat beside her. The luscious scent of him did crazy things to her senses…like obliterate every last one of them.

“Was it something I said?”

“Yeah,” she answered and looked over at him. Her stomach took a tumble at the crooked smile curving that very kissable mouth. There should be a law in the books somewhere declaring it illegal for a man to be so incredibly sexy when he was seriously off-limits. “Samuel, Cyrus and Kane.”

“Look, I didn’t know.” Regret tinged his deep, velvety voice. “I am sorry.”

So was she. More than he realized. And a hell of a lot more than she’d expected, for that matter. “It’s just one of those weird coincidences,” she said with a shrug. “No need to apologize.”

Most of the time, she was a realist. And the reality of the situation was that she was wildly attracted to Sebastian Stanhope, even though he practically came with a “do not touch” brand burned into what she’d been fantasizing were hard, lean abs.

She muttered another curse.

“Would it help if I said I wish things had turned out differently?” he asked.

The sincerity in his eyes irritated her. God, why couldn’t he have been a jerk? Then she wouldn’t give a rat’s ass that her sexual fantasies had come to a screeching halt. Of course, that was her problem, wasn’t it? Because she couldn’t stop imagining him hot and hard and naked.

“Not really,” she countered dryly.

A full smile curved his lips now. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t tease me, Stanhope. I’m a frustrated woman. That makes me dangerous and highly irrational.”

He had the audacity to chuckle. “I like you, Joey.”

Yeah, well, the feeling was definitely mutual. “Guess that’ll make for a good working relationship, now, won’t it?”

She slumped down in her seat. What was she saying? Working with him would be nothing short of torture. Long hours. Late nights. That incredible scent of his lingering in her office long after he’d gone, driving her to distraction. Those intoxicating eyes.

Oh, God. She was toast. A walking hormonal disaster. A ticking sexual time bomb. It wouldn’t take much for him to light her fuse, either. And he was just arrogant enough to realize it, too.

She looked over at him. “Too bad Rosalie’s is closed. I could use a drink.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

At least he agreed with her. That was something, right? Not that they could do anything about it. Dammit.

He tugged his key ring from his pocket and aimed the big black key at the Jeep Commander. He pressed the button and electronically started the vehicle.

Or could they?

Pulling herself up, she smiled at him. “You know, Sebastian, you really aren’t my boss—” she glanced at the digital display on the Beemer’s stereo system “—for another fifty-five hours.”

He made a sound that could’ve been a laugh. Or maybe a short bark of surprise. She couldn’t be sure. The smile on his handsome face had faded. Too bad. Feminine instinct told her they could’ve made good use of those hours.

“You realize we’re a sexual harassment claim waiting to happen.”

“Not for another fifty-five hours,” she argued.

“But what about intent?”

A weak legal argument if she ever heard one. “Are you questioning my intentions, counselor?” she asked, her tone going all husky.

In the soft glow of the dashboard lights, his eyes darkened. “Should I?”

She settled her hand on his arm. “It would be in your best interest. Yes.”

The air around them sizzled, crackling with energy. His gaze dipped to her mouth, then he shifted in the seat next to her. That he wasn’t immune to her spoke volumes, at least on her radar.

Life was filled with choices. Good ones, and not-so-good ones. Then there were the plain stupid ones. She wasn’t exactly certain where she’d classify coming on to Sebastian after his disappointing revelation. Come Monday morning, plain stupid would most assuredly apply.

But it wasn’t Monday morning. Yet.

“You’re a difficult woman to resist,” he said.

She didn’t detect so much as an ounce of regret in his admission. So did that mean he was buying her paper-thin argument? Oh, but she hoped so.

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Then don’t.”

He blew out a stream of breath. “You realize we’re on the verge of complicating our professional relationship.”

“Probably,” she admitted. “But we won’t have a professional relationship for—”

He smiled again. “Yes, I know. For another fifty-five hours.”

“Exactly.”

He pulled his arm from her grasp, but grabbed hold of her hand and laced their fingers together. Her heart rate took off like a rocket when he brought their joined hands to his mouth. His lips brushed lightly over her knuckles and she forgot to breathe.

“Your argument is weak.” Turning her wrist, he lightly pressed his lips against her rapidly beating pulse. Heat shot through her and settled low in her tummy.

The first genuine tug of desire pulled at her. “So is my willpower,” she said, her voice a strained, breathless whisper.

He shifted in his seat and reached for her, sliding his fingers behind her neck and gently pulling her toward him. “I think I left mine in Miami.”