Sheer Decadence

Unfortunately, it wandered to Justin Hawthorne two chairs down, to his smile and the brush of his hand against hers. She tried to recall what he’d smelled like, but she’d been so overwhelmed by his touch that she hadn’t had time to notice. Expensive cologne? A simple aftershave? Soap?

His grin was killer, and she tried to imagine his laugh. Deep, probably. A sexy rumble of amusement.

She sighed. Didn’t she ever learn? When a man looked like sin in jeans, it was best to stay far away from him, not dwell on his mouth, or the color of his eyes, which were the green of very deep water off Florida’s Emerald Coast….

Okay, she was fine now. She just needed to concentrate on something patently unsexy to combat Justin’s appeal and the boredom of this meeting. Aha! Her clogged sink, filled with brown gunk that morning because something had come up through the pipes and the super hadn’t come in to fix it before she left for work. Problem solved.

“…with Justin and Olivia.”

At the sound of her name, Olivia’s gaze shot to her boss.

“The two of you can discuss concepts and location on the drive up.”

She and Justin would be riding together, staying at the same hotel. In two very separate rooms, she reminded herself, annoyed by her juvenile twinge of excitement. Plus, the models and crew would be there. Nothing cozy about the setting at all.

“Liv, I liked your preliminary layout descriptions. Just make sure you and Justin are on the same page and that we get what we need.”

She had great ideas she couldn’t wait to use for promoting their new line of swimwear. Of course, none of those ideas came to mind just now. She was sidetracked by images of her and her photographer, alone on a romantic beach. What was that old movie where the couple kissed as waves crashed over them?

Telling herself sand was more gritty than sexy, Olivia dutifully fixated on her broken sink. A new picture flashed behind her eyes: Justin standing in her kitchen, clothed only in a pair of jeans and a toolbelt.

Then Steve mentioned that the South Carolina trip had been moved to Thursday, and she completely—well, partially, anyway—forgot about a shirtless Justin in her apartment.

“Moved to Thursday?” She couldn’t finish the two-day shoot in time to catch her Friday flight. “No one mentioned that to me.”

“It was just decided,” Steve explained impatiently. “Justin can’t go Wednesday.”

“B-but I leave for my vacation Friday.” It wasn’t as though flights to the small island left Hartsfield every day; who knew when she could arrange the next one? With the fashion show coming up, she’d been lucky to squeeze in time off now.

Steve shrugged. “So you’ll take your vacation some other time. I know it can be rescheduled because you’ve already done it for us once. And we appreciate what a team player you are, Liv.”

The veiled threat didn’t escape her. Team players got promoted. People who balked at rescheduling got passed over and were forever doomed to small offices with no windows.

When the interminable meeting finally ended, Olivia and her co-workers slunk from the room to return to their offices and rediscover their wills to live. She had just made it inside her own office when Justin surprised her, asking from her doorway, “Are they always like that?”

“Long and boring? Yep. Steve is—” Mentally, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Complaining with Meg at lunch away from the office was one thing. Saying something derogatory about management here, in front of someone she didn’t even know, was stupid. Normally, she didn’t make workplace faux pas, but she’d been distracted all day.

The reason for her distraction stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. When he bypassed the two upholstered chairs available in favor of leaning casually on the corner of her desk, she discovered that he smelled like a maddening mixture of denim, spicy cologne and male.

“I wanted to apologize for the trip postponement,” he said. “Steve assured me that bending the schedule would be no problem. I never would have asked if it weren’t important, but my—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” If her appendix burst Wednesday, Steve would have insisted she be a team player, crawl out of her hospital bed, and get her butt to South Carolina.

“Maybe I could make it up to you sometime,” he suggested with a flirtatious smile. “Buy you lunch, or something.”

“No!” Go out alone with Justin? Bad idea. And she didn’t even want to think about the “or something.” “That’s not necessary.”

He blinked, and she realized her immediate refusal had probably made her sound like the office poster child for PMS.

She backtracked quickly, not taking the time to organize her thoughts. “I meant to say, no, thank you. Nice offer, but, I, um, have these restrictions. Salad only.” Which he most definitely wasn’t.

“I hear a lot of places serve that now.” His lazy grin held just the right amount of amusement—teasing, but not mocking.

“Right. Of course. Bad example. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve sort of given up…” She stopped, thank God, just shy of explaining about walking chocolate. Which he most definitely was. “It’s a diet thing.”

Justin pushed himself away from the desk, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women.”

“Excuse me?” Unless he meant one of those women who couldn’t string together a coherent sentence—which she blamed on how good he smelled—he was about to be in trouble.

“Someone with hang-ups about her body, who always wishes she were skinnier.”

The angry heat that blazed through her had nothing to do with his hitting close to home, it was based on principle. “You’ve known me for a matter of hours, Mr. Hawthorne, and you think that gives you the right to diagnose any so-called hang-ups?”

He grimaced. “In my defense, I was headed toward a compliment.”

“Yeah?” She crossed her arms. “Well, you took a wrong turn somewhere.”

His gaze slid down her body. “What I should have said is that you…don’t need to…”

He trailed off, his male admiration too frank to need words. Olivia tried to be offended by the perusal—who the hell was he to so boldly assess her and pronounce judgment? Her body, on the other hand, must’ve missed the memo on political correctness. Her skin prickled with awareness, growing warmer. His expression shifted as he raised his eyes back to hers. The appreciation had been replaced by something deeper, more urgent, and Olivia swallowed.

Even if she’d been able to muster any indignation, it would have been a tad hypocritical coming from someone so recently having toolbelt fantasies.

“Justin, I—”

“That’s an improvement,” he interrupted approvingly. “Much better than ‘Mr. Hawthorne.’ I’d like us to be on a friendly basis.”

Just how friendly did he have in mind? Desire swirled through her abdomen, warm and thick and slow, like honey.

“Olivia?” A knock accompanied Jeanie’s voice on the other side of the closed door.

Blinking, Olivia tried to reorient herself to her surroundings. For a moment there, she’d forgotten she was even at the office. Carefully looking past Justin, not wanting to risk meeting his eyes again, she called back, “Come on in, Jeanie. I have those proofs ready.”

The door opened and Jeanie stepped inside, her expression hesitant. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I—hello. You must be Justin.”

Smiling, he shook Jeanie’s hand, and annoyance caught Olivia off guard. A moment ago, he’d used that smile on her. Had she reacted with the same girlish, awestruck expression that was now on Jeanie’s face? Probably. Less than a full day into a new resolution to change her dating diet, and here she’d been, devouring Justin with her eyes and going all trembly and fluttery inside when he locked gazes with her.

She just needed some distance, time to regroup and strengthen her resolve.

Once Jeanie had the manila folder she’d come in for, she walked away, stopping at the door with an inquisitive glance in Olivia’s direction.

“Please, leave it open,” Olivia said. “Justin was on his way out.”

Judging from his raised eyebrows, this was news to him, but he turned without argument. As Jeanie had done, he paused at the entrance to the office. “We can just finish our discussion later,” he said with a wink.

He’d winked at her? It was such a kitschy thing to do, yet she didn’t hear bad ’70s pickup lines in her head. Instead, she was tempted to smile. The only thing that kept her from doing so was the threat of “finishing” their chat. Let’s see, which part was she most eager to revisit—why she didn’t think it would be a good idea to have lunch with him, what he thought of her figure, or how attuned their bodies had been? No thank you. With any luck, this little encounter would never come up again.

As if she’d ever had any luck with men.

AFTER A NIGHT spent in an apartment empty of her ex-boyfriend’s presence and her ex-roommate’s couch, Olivia entered the office Tuesday with renewed resolve. Her thoughts had strayed to Justin Hawthorne several times during the night, but echoes of heartache and humiliation had quelled her unwise attraction. Lifting her chin, Olivia strode toward her office, saying good morning to Jeanie as she passed. I’m here to work, not think about men.

Three hours later, she leaned back in her chair, congratulating herself on a productive morning. She’d even managed a quick conversation with Steve on the interoffice line without wanting to strangle the man with his own necktie.

“I deserve a break,” she muttered, stretching her muscles as she stood. A cup of tea sounded good, and maybe she’d drop by Meg’s office on the way back from the break room, see if her friend had any fun model gossip this morning.

The break room was a beige room with scuffed cabinets and absolutely zero decorative qualities. There was, however, always a ready supply of hot and cold beverages, the day’s copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution to read, and usually people with whom to shoot the breeze. All in all, a good source of procrastination.

Today, the coffee room’s inhabitants were female, with one notable exception.

Justin Hawthorne sat in a blue plastic chair amid five women, including Kate from HR; Steve’s personal secretary, Diane; a couple of ladies from accounting; and even sixty-seven-year-old Ms. Phipps, who kept casting wish-I-were-forty-years-younger glances in Justin’s direction.

The admiring glances Olivia could empathize with, but really, had Diane forgotten this was a place of business? When the curvy redhead asked Justin if she could have the issue of the AJC lying on the table in front of him, she managed to phrase the request in a breathless sultry tone that insinuated she wanted something much more. Instead of waiting for him to hand her the paper, she slowly leaned forward, brushing against him in a way Kate could have used as the what-not-to-do example in her sexual-harassment seminar.

Waggling his eyebrows, Justin said something in a low voice that caused Diane to laugh, and Olivia ground her teeth. Her annoyance was only heightened when she couldn’t help an admiring glance of her own. No man should look that good! His all-black attire today was a great foil for his light hair and bright eyes.

Basic black is back, and what could be sexier?

The man lounged in his chair like a sexy monarch surveying his coffee-scented kingdom. Or a sheikh with his harem. Olivia reached blankly for one of the mugs kept over the sink, but instead of seeing the cabinet in front of her, she envisioned herself in a flimsy costume of veils, summoned by Justin to—

“Morning.” His warm deep voice in her ear caused her to jump, and she clenched the handle of the blue mug to keep from dropping it.

“Justin! I didn’t notice you.” More accurately, she’d been too lost in her own torrid fantasies to see him stand up.

“Apparently.” He raised a dark blond brow. “Not very flattering, you realize.”

Olivia said nothing as she filled her mug with water. Was his teasing comment an invitation for her to appease his ego? Why would he need it when, as far as she could tell, the other women in the room had been generously feeding his self-esteem?

Sean’s parting words echoed in her mind. It wouldn’t be fair to the women of the world to limit myself to just one. Was Justin cut from the same cloth? Wanting that sixth woman’s attention when he already had the adoration of five, including a gorgeous redheaded secretary who was now glaring daggers at Olivia? Was that all the moment of sexual connection in her office yesterday had been about? For a few seconds, with his eyes on hers, he’d made her feel no one existed beyond the two of them, but maybe he would have behaved the same with any other woman.

Justin reached past Olivia to the coffeemaker, glancing over his shoulder at the female-inhabited table. “Did you want sugar in this, Ms. Phipps?”

“Two packets, please.”

As he stirred the sugar into the cup he’d just filled, Olivia sighed. It was much easier to maintain her cynical image of the man when he was enjoying Diane’s cleavage instead of doing a favor for the elderly Ms. Phipps.

Diane, however, wasn’t impressed with his small act of kindness. She left the room in an I’m-not-used-to-sharing-a-man’s-attention huff. The two women Olivia recognized from accounting followed behind, chatting as they walked, but they both shot wistful glances in Justin’s direction.

Seemingly oblivious, he handed Ms. Phipps her cup of coffee.

The older woman smiled. “Thank you, but I should be getting back to work now, too.”

“My loss,” Justin said with a rakish smile.

Olivia grabbed a single-serving bag of decaffeinated tea, wondering if he was a great guy who was kind to his elders, or if he was just so in the habit of flirting that he never turned it off.

After the small exodus of women, the only one remaining was Kate, who sidled closer to Justin and delicately cleared her throat. “So, um, about that dinner….”

“I’ll call you after the South Carolina trip,” Justin said. “You pick out the restaurant.”

Not a week on the job and he already had a date. Now why isn’t that surprising? The only surprise was that his plans were with fresh-faced Kate and not Diane, who stood a better chance at holding her own with a man in Justin’s league. Trying to look like something other than a disapproving eavesdropper, Olivia set her mug in the microwave.

Kate bounced out of the room with the enthusiasm of a teenager who’d just been asked to the prom, and Olivia almost winced on the poor girl’s behalf. When Olivia had been younger, she’d worn her heart on her sleeve in much the same way…but after it had been broken a few times, she’d moved it for safekeeping.

Instead of also leaving now that his admirers had gone, Justin leaned against the counter. She watched the microwave, willing it to beep. Thursday, when she’d be trapped in the car with him, was plenty soon enough to be alone with him. She pondered the possibility of his becoming less sexy between now and then. Was there a polite, logical way to insist he didn’t wear black?

Probably not.

TRYING NOT TO BE too obvious, Justin studied his beautiful co-worker. Her gray eyes were frosty today, with no hint of the molten silver desire he’d seen—and felt—yesterday in her office. He wanted to cajole her into a more receptive mood, to prove the woman he’d seen glimpses of was in there somewhere.

“How’s your day going, Liv?” He assumed she went by the office nickname, but, personally, he didn’t think it suited her.

The more lyrical Olivia fit perfectly—as did the navy turtleneck and long tailored skirt she wore. There was a sexy contrast between how little skin was revealed and how boldly the lush curves of her body were delineated. Stopping short of a noticeable leer, he discreetly traced those curves with his gaze, wishing it were with his hands instead.

“Fine.” She dipped her tea bag in her mug. “Busy.”

Not a woman of many words.

Licking her lips, she took a step forward to go around him. “I should be getting back to my office.”

The scent of her light floral perfume and the warmer fragrance of her body wafted over him. “You smell incredible.”

She froze, spine rigid, her only movement the now double-time dunking of her tea. If he didn’t know better, he’d say her expression was hurt. He was willing to admit that yesterday, when he’d commented on her figure, his words had come out wrong, but now he could only conclude that the lady didn’t take flattery well. She ducked her head, and her long wavy hair fell over her shoulder in a dark curtain, partially obscuring her face.

“I meant it in the complimentary sense,” he said.

“Yes. I know.”

“I thought women liked it when men notice personal details and comment.”

“Maybe some do.” She looked up then, her eyes steely. “Personally, I’ve had my fill of handsome charmers with ulterior motives.”

“Now hold on a second.” Noticing the way her skirt hugged her tight perfect derriere wasn’t a motive. He’d get back to that handsome and charming part later. “I—”

“I apologize.” She exhaled, her shoulders rounding. “You said something kind, and I was rude.”

More defensive than rude, and her eyes reflected a vulnerability that seemed an odd reaction to a comment on her perfume.

Justin told himself to end this exchange and forget it ever happened. After the responsibilities of the last few years, responsibilities that unofficially ended tomorrow night, he’d earned the right to uncomplicated fun. Olivia’s changing moods and mixed signals screamed complications.

A man with any brains would ask Diane out when he got back from South Carolina. He’d been caught off guard by Kate’s dinner invitation and reflexively said yes, but she seemed like a sweet kid who needed an equally sweet boyfriend. Justin was looking for something a little less lasting—simple, clear-cut, adult enjoyment.

He looked into Olivia’s soft gray eyes, and desire tightened his body. Too bad he didn’t think the offer of no-strings fun would appeal to her.

“Maybe I should be the one apologizing,” he said, “if my remarks were too personal for the workplace.”

“No, I overreacted. I’ve been…never mind. Maybe you really are a nice guy.”

“Just ‘maybe’?” he teased, giving her a look of mock-indignation.

She laughed, and the husky sound affected him even more viscerally than when he’d overheard it yesterday, because this time he’d won it from her. Her open, welcoming expression was unexpected and transformed her from attractive to so sexy his breath caught.

He held the door open, and as she passed by, she tossed one last smile over her shoulder. “I really am sorry if I’ve been curt. I’m glad we’re going to be working together, Justin.”

So was he. Particularly if he got to work with this Olivia, not the one behind the guarded mask. He’d just have to see what he could do to keep this Olivia around more often.

3

WEDNESDAY EVENING, long after the daily noise of the office had dropped to just a few remaining employees shutting down their computers, Jeanie poked her head through the doorway to Olivia’s office. “I’m about to take off.”

Olivia waggled her fingers in a half wave. “See you tomorrow.” Unfortunately. No sunny Kaokara for her.

The blonde hovered indecisively, fidgeting until Olivia finally asked, “Something else I can do for you?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to dinner with us? Albert’s brother is very nice.”

“Thanks anyway, but I’m just going to head home.”

Having made one last failed effort at the double date, Jeanie nodded. The other woman was gone before Olivia could admit anything stupid—such as, she’d be a lousy dinner date with Justin Hawthorne on her mind.

Could he really be the exception womankind hoped for, the stunningly sexy man who was still a nice guy? After their brief interlude in the breakroom yesterday, she’d chided herself for having painted him with the same brush as Sean just because he was good-looking. So he and Kate were having dinner sometime after the shoot, that was hardly grounds for labeling him Womanizer of the Year.

Her stomach growled, turning her thoughts from Justin’s future dinner plans to her own immediate ones. She gathered her belongings and took the elevator down to her car, looking forward to food and a relaxing bath. About halfway to her apartment, however, she realized that she’d finished off her emergency store of groceries the night before. The sole contents of her fridge were wilted lettuce and half-empty condiment bottles of everything from lime juice to Worcestershire sauce.

Deli takeout it is, then.

By the time she pulled into a parking garage close to her favorite downtown delicatessen, she was starving. She hurried across the sidewalk, her trench coat not completely protecting her from the crisp evening air. As she waited at the intersection for oncoming traffic to stop, she shot an envious sidelong glance toward the expensive four-star restaurant on the corner.

Lacking an occasion big enough to justify the price tag, she’d never dined there. Now, she unconsciously pressed a hand to her empty stomach and fantasized about the meals lucky patrons were enjoying inside. She covertly studied the candlelit booths on the other side of the thick glass window and tried not to feel too much like a gastronomical Peeping Tom.

Justin.

Her jaw dropped as she did a double take. Yes, that was definitely Justin Hawthorne inside.

Aware she was staring openly, Olivia snapped her gaze to the blinking red upraised hand across the street. But a quick glance back showed Justin hadn’t noticed her. His attention was fully devoted to the beautiful blonde seated across from him, a slim young woman in a little black dress.

The blonde reached across the table for Justin’s hand, and anger churned in the pit of Olivia’s stomach. She’d rescheduled her vacation for a dinner date! She should be in South Carolina tonight and en route to her vacation Friday, but Justin had ruined that with his “emergency.”

The sign on the other side of the crosswalk finally changed, flashing the picture of a stick-figure pedestrian, and she marched forward, fuming. She wasn’t an unreasonable woman. If tonight’s date had been, for instance, an anniversary or a marriage proposal, she could’ve understood. But if the blonde was a serious girlfriend, what was he doing flirting with Diane and making dinner plans with Kate?

Either leading on the poor sweet kid from HR, or taking a leaf from Sean’s book and cheating on his girlfriend.

Fists clenched, Olivia entered the deli. As the warm air and aroma of fresh-baked bread hit her, she realized she didn’t actually have much of an appetite left. She’d spent all day castigating herself for hastily judging him, telling herself that his being attractive wasn’t a crime. She’d apologized to him, made a point of being extra friendly when she’d seen him in the parking garage this morning—only to learn he was like too many other men, interested in beautiful women and his own selfish pleasure. Forget work or any inconvenience to anyone else’s life.

Her first self-protective instincts about Justin Hawthorne had been right. Every inch The Guy, a creature with more testosterone than conscience, he should have a bright orange warning label smacked across his forehead. Why couldn’t she learn once and for all to stop pushing aside prudence in favor of a handsome smile?

JUSTIN WALKED into the dim smoky interior of Hewitt’s Bar shortly before midnight. Although he’d need to get out of bed before dawn to drive Andrea to the airport, he’d been restless after they’d returned from dinner, so he’d called his friend Bryan Tanner to meet for a couple of beers and a game of pool. On the weekend, when management brought a DJ in, Hewitt’s was a popular spot to socialize and meet women. In the middle of the week, business was slightly slower, and it was a great place to come for a quick drink.