The Garrisons: Parker, Brittany & Stephen: The CEO's Scandalous Affair

Suddenly, she jerked to a stand, whipped her still-damp hair over her shoulder and faced the mirror, giving him a wide-open shot of a pink lace bra that barely covered her sweetly curved cleavage.

“Oh, my God!” She yelped and spun around, slapping her hands over her and hardly covering a thing. His gaze dropped lazily, taking in the narrow waist, the flare of feminine hips, the low bikini cut of delicate pink panties cupping an alluring apex between those lovely thighs.

Good God, his administrative assistant had been hiding all this under navy pantsuits and crisp white blouses?

“Anna?” His voice sounded as tight as his throat suddenly felt.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

The question yanked him back to her face, her appealing features tinged with the shade of her matching underwear, bottle-green eyes bright with embarrassment.

“What am I doing here?” He didn’t mean to smile. Or stare. But, he was human. And she was… unbelievable. “Last time I checked, this was my office.”

She managed an indignant breath—no mean feat for a woman clad only in heels and underwear. “I mean, so soon. What are you doing here so soon? Aren’t you in a meeting? With your family? About the will?”

The will. The words whacked him over the head as effectively as if he’d stepped into the shower that still dripped behind her. “I left early.”

She threw a pleading glance at the towel rack next to him. She wanted coverage. But he wanted answers. And a few more seconds to memorize every delectable inch of her.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, still struggling for her always-professional voice.

“No kidding.” He couldn’t help the tease in his. This was, without a doubt, the bright spot in an otherwise dismal morning.

“I went running,” she said, with another desperate look at the towel rack. “It’s very humid out there. I needed a quick shower. I thought you’d be a while.”

His gaze was slipping again, along with his ability to form a coherent thought other than the one screaming in his brain: How the hell had his all-business-all-the-time administrative assistant concealed that body from him?

And why would she? Most women with a figure like hers would wear as little as possible, as often as they could.

“The meeting ended early,” he said calmly, lingering just one more minute on the heels. Did she wear them every day?

He tore his attention from her slender ankles to slide over the neat little turn of her calf and meander back to that silky triangle with a silent vow to buy more Victoria’s Secret stock. He zeroed in on a luscious inny navel, then paused just long enough for those lace cups to rise and fall with an exasperated breath.

“If you don’t mind, I could use a towel.” Her demand was sharp as shock morphed into anger.

She was angry? He should give her a lesson in professionalism, a reminder that she shouldn’t be making herself at home in his office. He could treat her like the employee she was, and reprimand her for not being at her desk, or even issue a warning that she shouldn’t assume anything about his schedule.

But all he did was smile and tug the towel from the rack, holding it out to her. “Great shower, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she took the welcome cover and wrapped it around her narrow frame, hiding every blood-warming curve. “Yes.”

“Gotta love those dual massage heads.”

A sneaky smile pulled at her mouth as she tucked terry into terry and formed a makeshift knot under her collarbone.

“Yes. They’re great. Both of them.” She straightened and lifted her chin, doing her very best to appear the altogether competent assistant who’d impressed him from the first interview. She almost pulled it off, except for the tumbling waves of dark hair that she normally wore in a tight twist, and the fact that the towel barely covered her backside.

He cleared his throat and tried really hard to scowl. “Anna,” he said sternly.

“Yes?”

His head pounded with the morning’s news followed by the surprise attack on his hormones. But that was no reason to take his anger and physical response out on this young woman whose only real crime was bad timing. Or good timing, depending on your perspective.

“Don’t quit your day job to be a singer.”

Her smile transformed her whole face, taking what had been plain, passably pretty features to something more stunning. “Not to worry, Mr. Garrison.”

But he was worried. Not only had he missed her incredible body, he’d never even noticed her milky smooth skin, or the way the tip of her tongue slipped between her teeth when she smiled, or how nicely her eyes tilted up at the sides. He’d never noticed this lovely woman right under his nose.

So of course he worried. Worried that he was going blind. Or maybe he was just so deep into the family business that he’d failed to see the gorgeous woman who sat outside his office all day long.

He turned to leave, closing the door to give her privacy to dress, and congratulating himself on the return of control and focus. And perspective.

So she was pretty. So she had a body that could bring him to his knees. It didn’t matter. What had just happened was nothing more than a close encounter that she would regret and he would forget. She was an excellent assistant and he had an empire to run, a will to contest, a brand to build. He needed his legendary control and focus more than ever.

But, damn, it would be hard to forget those legs.

Anna crossed the Oriental rug that welcomed visitors to the CEO’s suite and stabbed the digital air conditioner control until it read a chilly sixty-seven degrees.

But even that wouldn’t reduce the burn of embarrassment that singed her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. If it even was embarrassment. It was a burn, anyway. As hot and uncomfortable as Parker Garrison’s eyes when he’d given her a visual lick from those same roots to those same toes.

A familiar wicked, gooey sensation stirred low in her belly. Really low. Really wicked. Really familiar. And really dumb to think about her boss that way.

“Stupid,” she chided as she turned on her computer and picked up the phone receiver to listen to voice mail messages. How could she have been so careless? Just for five extra minutes under the ultimate hydro-jet massage from heaven?

God, if he knew how many times she’d treated herself to that shower, she’d be updating her résumé. And she’d worked in human resources long enough to know that the last place she wanted to be was on the job market. No one hired anyone without a check of the Internet—and she knew exactly what would pop up when someone typed “Anna Cross” into a search engine.

Accused of corporate spying…

No, Anna shouldn’t do anything that would force her to look for another job. So, she’d better hope her boss didn’t think borrowing the shower was grounds for dismissal.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she listened to the voice mail system announce that Parker Garrison had seventeen messages.

Seventeen? What the heck was going on?

By the time she jotted down message number five, she knew. At least she knew that something really bad had gone down at the morning meeting. The various Garrison siblings and a couple of lawyers didn’t provide details in their voice mails, but their tone, along with a few clues about “what the will said,” didn’t sound good.

Parker’s door had remained firmly shut since she’d done her level best to exit his office with some measure of dignity, knowing he watched her, knowing he’d seen everything she’d been careful to hide. Ever since she’d arrived at Garrison, Inc. four years ago, Anna had done whatever was necessary to stay off the radar, and do an outstanding job as an administrative assistant.

In fact, she’d done such an outstanding job in human resources that she’d been handed the promotion of her dreams when the slot for Parker Garrison’s administrative assistant had become available three months ago. Maybe, considering her history, she should have turned it down.

But she couldn’t resist the upgrade in status, pay and benefits. Plus, she’d been tucked away on a lower floor for almost four years. Surely, after all this time, her past would remain, well, in the past.

Still, it had become habit to keep a low profile.

Until ten minutes ago when her profile had been anything but low. It had been… damn near naked.

She closed her eyes again as another heat wave threatened, trying to ignore it as she noted each caller. No, that definitely wasn’t embarrassment. Nor was it a feminine response to the warmth of Parker’s very obviously high opinion of how she looked sans suit. The heat wave that warred with the air conditioner was raw terror.