My Guilty Pleasure

“Play again?” he asked.

“Thanks, but no.” Her grin wavered slightly. “I really should be getting home. Maybe next time.”

She turned and walked away, heading toward the bar. He stared at the gentle sway of her hips in tight denim until his common sense took hold. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t let her get away just yet. He didn’t even know her name.

He caught up with her by the time she reached the bar. “You think you should be driving?” She hadn’t had a drink in at least ninety minutes. Her eyes weren’t glassy and her stride had been steady when she’d walked away from him. Honestly, he didn’t think driving under the influence was an issue at this point, but it was the best excuse he could come up with under pressure.

“Excuse me?”

He gave her his best winning smile. “Why don’t you let me buy you breakfast?”

“Thanks,” she said with a shake of her head, “but no. I’m fine.”

Yes, she was. Which was exactly his point. “There’s an all-night diner across the road. Just breakfast.”

She hesitated. He took that as a good sign in his favor.

“Coffee?” he offered.

“Maybe I could use some coffee.”

He smiled. “Good idea.”

“Hey, Mitch,” she called out to the bartender. “You want anything from the diner?”

Smart girl, Sebastian thought.

“No, I’m good,” the bartender answered, then looked him over and gave him a hard stare, leaving Sebastian with the distinct impression he’d suffer a severe pounding should anything happen to the blonde under his watch.

“TWO EGGS OVER EASY. Bacon, crisp. Rye toast,” Joey told the waitress.

“Pancakes and eggs for me,” her breakfast companion ordered. “With a side of sausage links.” He handed the waitress the menus.

Joey admired his long slender fingers and took a sip of hot coffee. “So, you have a name?”

He stirred cream and sugar into his own mug. “Sebastian.”

“First or last?”

“First. You?”

“Joey,” she said. Just Joey.

He set his spoon on the saucer. “I gotta ask. What’s a nice girl like you doing hanging out at a roadhouse like Rosalie’s?”

She hid a smile behind her mug. “What makes you think I’m a nice girl?”

“You made sure the bartender knew you were leaving with me,” he said, then took a sip of his coffee.

“Caution does not necessarily equate to being a nice girl.”

“You trying to convince me you’re a bad girl?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.” Maybe she’d take him home and screw his brains out. That ought to convince him.

The possibility intrigued her more than it should. Not that a tumble in the sack with him would be a hardship. Far from it. There wasn’t much about the man she didn’t find appealing. Even his arrogance was sexy.

He chuckled. “I think maybe not.”

She tried not to feel insulted. “You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to,” he said, then took another sip of his coffee. “Get to know you, I mean.”

And she’d like to get to know him. But then what?

The waitress returned with their meal, saving her from having to conjure up an answer. Still, she couldn’t help wondering how long she’d hold his interest. Until he discovered where she came from and became so intimidated by the Winfield name, and all that it implied, that he’d ditch her cold? He wouldn’t be the first guy scared off by her family’s wealth and reputation. The Winfield name was as old and prestigious as Massachusetts itself. Rumor had it they had roots as far back as the Mayflower. Thanks to her ancestors, and a ridiculous fortune made in the shipping business, she had more money in her trust fund than her grandchildren’s children would ever be able to spend.

Or maybe until he realized she wasn’t the clingy type and was perfectly content living alone? Or maybe until he learned that aside from her family, her career ranked at the top of her list of priorities?

“Are you allergic to cats?” she asked suddenly.

He slathered butter on his pancakes. “No. Do you like dogs?”

“Very much,” she said. Brooke was allergic, but Katie had recently acquired a cocker spaniel, which she’d taken to spoiling whenever she visited her sister.

“I know you like hard rock,” he said, pouring a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes.

She salted and peppered her eggs, then mixed them with her hash browns. “My tastes vary,” she admitted. She liked everything from hard rock to hip-hop to the stuff from the sixties and seventies her mother used to play so often, in addition to classical and opera. In fact, she was supposed to accompany her grandmother to a chamber music performance Sunday afternoon. “Let me guess, you’re a country boy at heart.”

He shook his head and his grin turned sheepish. “Motown. None of those CD remakes or compilations, either. Vinyl or nothing at all.”

She’d like to see him in nothing at all. “Temptations or Four Tops?” she asked, reining in those baser thoughts that could lead her straight to a broken heart.

“Temptations. Especially the earlier stuff before they cut David Ruffin loose.” He cut into a sausage link, then dragged it through the syrup pooling on his plate. “And before you ask, Smokey Robinson is a songwriting genius.”

“If we’re talking old school, I prefer Lennon and McCartney. Or Elton John and Bernie Taupin. But a man who knows his Motown…?” She plucked a strip of bacon from her plate. “Impressive. So what brings you to Boston, Sebastian? Escaping an ex-wife? Girlfriend, maybe?”

His crooked smile had her pulse thumping pleasantly. Among other, more intimate places.

“Is that your way of wanting to know if I’m single?”

She took a bite of her bacon, smiled and nodded.

“Single. Never been married. You?”

“Same,” she said. Although, she’d been close once. Dangerously so. Two and a half years ago she’d been twenty-four hours away from walking down the aisle at the perfect society wedding when she’d discovered her fiancé hadn’t stopped dating. The jerk.

“And you’re in Boston because…?”

“Work,” he said, cutting into his pancakes.

“Work? What kind of work?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

He smiled. “Don’t start,” he said, his tone laced with humor. “There probably isn’t a lawyer joke I haven’t heard.”

“It’s not that,” she said, then burst out laughing again. So much for her wanting to be just Joey tonight. Well, she thought, at least he’d understand the demands of her job. Not that it really made any difference. Beyond tonight, anyway.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m a lawyer,” she admitted. “A litigator, actually.”

His smile slowly faded. “Yeah?”

Uh-oh. So much for all those intriguing possibilities. She wondered how long it’d take him to get to the door.

“What firm?”

Her own smile waned and she frowned. Wait a minute. Didn’t he say he was from Miami? Wasn’t the new head of…

Oh no. It couldn’t be the same…it just couldn’t be him.

This was more than a coincidence, it was insane. And unfair! The first time in months she’d actually been attracted to a man and he was off-limits? So totally not fair!

“Samuel, Cyrus and Kane,” she said.

He pushed his plate aside as if he’d just lost his appetite. She could relate. Hers had already evaporated.

Over the table, he thrust his hand toward her, which she automatically took. “Sebastian Stanhope,” he said, and gave her hand a brisk, impersonal shake. “Samuel, Cyrus and Kane’s new—”

“Head of litigation,” she finished, and dropped his hand. “And my new boss.”

3

“DID YOU SAY BOSS?”

Joey reached for her leather jacket and jammed her hand into the pocket for the small wad of bills. “That I did.” She peeled off a twenty and dropped it on the table. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Stanhope. See you Monday.”

She scooted from the booth, her movements jerky as she shrugged into her jacket. A mixture of disappointment and deep frustration, which she couldn’t entirely discount as sexual in nature, collided inside her.

“Joey, wait.”

“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.”

Thank God.

His lips brushed hers in a feathery kiss, but it was nowhere near enough. She leaned into him, as far as the bucket seat would allow, and opened her mouth beneath his. His answering groan as he slipped his tongue into her mouth was all the encouragement she needed.

Heat pooled in her belly, filling her with languid warmth. Was it so wrong to have what promised to be a very satisfying one-night stand? They were mature adults. Consenting adults. Why the hell not?

Okay, sure. So maybe he did have a point. They could very well end up complicating their professional relationship, but professional was the only relationship they would ever have as far as she was concerned.

He kissed her slow and deep, snapping that final thread of common sense she’d managed to hang on to thus far. A one-night stand was hardly happily-ever-after. She wasn’t even looking at a short-term fling beyond tonight. Heaven forbid they should embark upon a torrid office romance. Those always ended badly, anyway. Usually with someone in tears. And she’d bet her overinflated trust fund, Sebastian wouldn’t be the one reaching for the tissues.

Using his thumbs, he tipped her head back as his mouth left hers to nuzzle her throat. The delightful little dance his tongue made against her heated flesh was almost too much for her to bear. She wanted more. And she wanted it now.

Inviting him back to her place was out of the question, but…

“Sebastian,” she breathed, “let’s go where we can be more comfortable.”

He lifted his head, but kept his hand cupping her neck. His thumb drew lazy circles along her jaw and she trembled. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Okay, but just for a nightcap.”

Sure, she believed that. Not.

“By the way,” she said, giving him a sly, but deliberate smile. “Did I mention the beachfront property I have for sale in Arizona?”

IN THE DARKNESS OF his newly rented third-floor apartment, they tripped over a moving carton partially blocking the doorway to his bedroom. Sebastian cursed and Joey giggled, but he caught them both before they went tumbling and landed on the hardwood floor. His place was hardly the ideal scene for romance with a beautiful woman, but when Joey had insisted her place was too far away from Rosalie’s to be the practical choice, he hadn’t had enough sense left to argue with her.

They landed up against the door with a loud thud. He caught her weight with his body, but the door swung hard against the wall, then jerked again, slamming the knob through the drywall. With Joey’s slender curves pressed against him, he didn’t much care if the damn thing came off the hinges.

Joey tugged his shirt from his jeans and shoved her hands beneath the fabric to splay her hands over his stomach. Her fingertips teased the waistband of his jeans.

“Your skin is so warm,” she murmured. She shoved the shirt up and placed her wet, moist lips on his chest. “Hot.”

His skin wasn’t all that was on fire. His dick throbbed almost painfully within the strict confines of his jeans. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had him so hard—and all they’d done so far was kiss. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his guard down long enough to just be himself with any woman. All work and no play. His own personal motto, one he’d chosen to ignore for the first time in what suddenly felt like an eternity.

She smoothed her hands upward, brushing her palms over his nipples. A rush of breath left him, and he grabbed hold of her hips, pulling her tighter against him. The door creaked, protesting against their weight, but he was beyond caring about anything except having Joey naked and wanting him.

He dove a hand into her short blond hair and tugged gently, pulling her head back so he could kiss her again. She opened for him, inviting him inside. Her taste was sweet and wildly exotic, like a fine brandy. The kind he’d promised himself he’d one day be able to afford.

That thought nearly had him calling a halt to their nocturnal activities…until she arched her body, rubbing her slender curves up against him like a cat.

“Touch me,” she murmured against his mouth. “Touch me now, Sebastian.”

“Where would you like me to start?” He had a few ideas of his own, but he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about telling him.

“How about I let you decide?”

He wasn’t picky. He liked the sound of that, too.

She backed away, and he instantly regretted the loss of her body heat. In the moonlight streaming through the window, he watched her smile turn positively wicked as she shrugged out of her suede jacket. The heavy material landed on the floor at his feet.

He took a step toward her, but she backed up, keeping him a fraction beyond arm’s length away. This time she peeled off her blouse, slowly revealing inch after delicious inch of silky-looking skin. The top went somewhere—to the floor, he assumed—but he didn’t happen to notice where because his gaze was held prisoner by the sight of a red satin-and-lace bra cupping her firm, lush breasts.

His fingers itched to fulfill her demand to touch her, to test the weight of her full breasts in his hands. He wanted to taste her skin, longed to discover her secrets. Couldn’t wait to make her his in the most elemental way possible. For as long as it lasted, which according to her, would only be until they reported for work Monday morning.

With a flick of her wrist, she unbuttoned her jeans then slowly tugged the zipper down. He caught a glimpse of more red lace. Thong, he wondered? Or a sexy pair of those boy shorts he easily imagined hugging that adorable ass of hers?

A frown suddenly puckered her smooth forehead. “Boots,” she said, then plopped down on the edge of the bed.

“Here.” He bent and lifted her foot, resting it on his thigh. “Let me.”

Gently, he tugged the boot from one foot, then the other. The leather was supple and expensive, as he’d suspected earlier. His curiosity about her climbed another notch. She hustled pool, yet drove a BMW he doubted was more than a year old, yet she was only a junior associate. He’d lived the pay scale, and while he’d had no trouble making ends meet, no way could he have afforded anything as slick as Joey’s Beemer. His ten-year-old Honda Civic had been on its last leg when he’d bought the Jeep Commander, and he’d only been able to afford that with the bonus the partners had paid him after he’d won a multimillion-dollar products liability case.

Joey was full of secrets. Too bad he didn’t have time to unravel more of her mysteries.

Before she could object or slip away, he took advantage of her position on the bed and leaned in, urging her back on the mattress. He slid his hands to her waist and hooked his fingers into the waistband. She lifted her hips and he slowly eased her jeans down her legs, and smiled. “Boy shorts.”

“I’ve shown you mine,” she said with a teasing smile on her lips. “Now show me yours.”

He yanked off his shirt and tossed it aside. “I suppose it’s only fair.” He moved to join her on the bed.

She held up her hand to stop him. “Uh-uh, counselor. Not so fast.” She reached for the waistband of his jeans and easily popped the button. “Full disclosure.”

He toed off his shoes and kicked them aside, then shrugged out of his jeans. His boxer briefs were next.

Acute awareness powered Joey’s senses as she looked her fill of Sebastian’s powerful, athletic body. The man was nothing short of a work of art.

The dullness of winter faded and the dark colors seemingly turned brighter, as if springtime had entered the sparse bedroom with them. She was assaulted with a delicious vibrancy to her senses. The warmth of Sebastian’s skin as he joined her on the bed. The tickle of soft chest hair against her breasts as he leaned over her. The heat of his body as he kissed her deeply, thoroughly.

She felt as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. A rushing surge of intensity increased the sexual energy that had been haunting them since he’d approached her at the jukebox.

His lips and tongue tasted sweet, like the wine they’d shared from a single paper cup upon arriving at his apartment, until his mouth became hotter and more demanding as his tongue mated with hers. The gentle glide of his hands as he swept them over her breasts turned into an insistent quest to bring them both pleasure.