An After-Hours Affair

Mitch gave his friend a nod.

Jenny didn’t glance his way.

“Nice ceremony,” Mitch offered, wondering why he felt awkward.

“I’m not sure Brad’s going to survive the night,” Cole returned, canting his head in the direction of the tuxedo-clad Brad, who was on the receiving end of a glare from Abigail.

“She’s a pistol,” Mitch agreed.

“Excuse me a moment,” Jenny put in, moving away.

Mitch’s gaze reflexively followed her as she made her way toward the bride and groom.

“That’s a shocker,” said Cole.

“What?” Mitch pulled his attention away from Jenny’s tanned legs and the sexy little sandals that accented her dainty feet. Her toenails were polished a bright plum, he’d noticed.

Cole’s expression was incredulous. “I’m talking about Jenny. She looks like a million bucks.”

“It’s a nice dress,” Mitch allowed, telling himself to get a grip. It was Jenny—sensible, efficient, professional Jenny.

“She’s a stunning woman,” said Cole. “I wonder why she dresses down all the time.”

Mitch frowned. “I wouldn’t call it dressing down. She looks completely professional at the office.”

Cole drew back. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. But you have to admit, it’s a shocker.”

What was shocking was that Mitch couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from her.

“I may ask her to dance,” Cole declared.

“With what intention?” Mitch demanded before he could stop himself.

“Intention? What are you, her chaperone?”

“Jenny’s a nice girl. Just because the woman puts on a pretty dress, doesn’t mean she’s fair game.” But even as he spoke, Mitch realized just how ridiculous his words sounded. Who Jenny danced with was absolutely none of his business. Neither was who she dated, or slept with for that matter. He was her boss, not her keeper.

Cole’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “Have you got designs on her?”

“No, I do not have designs on her. We’re colleagues. I see her every day at the office.” Theirs was a professional relationship, nothing more.

“Not like that, you don’t,” Cole muttered.

“Quit obsessing about Jenny.”

“Me?” Cole gave a hollow chuckle. “You’re the one who can’t keep his eyes off her.”

Mitch realized he was watching her yet again, marveling at her grace and glamour. He dragged his attention back to Cole, meeting the man’s smirk.

“Back off,” Mitch growled.

Cole accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and Mitch did the same.

“Admit it,” said Cole. “You think she’s hot.”

“I think she’s efficient.” And that was all that mattered in Mitch’s world, no matter how tempting she looked tonight.

Two

Jenny’s evening had been an abject failure.

Mitch hadn’t been wowed by her new appearance. He’d barely seemed to notice her, and he didn’t ask her to dance, not one single time. Through dinner, the toasts and speeches, the cake cutting and finally the dancing, she’d grown more and more depressed.

Now that the bouquet had been thrown and the newly married couple had officially left for their honeymoon, she was going straight home to take down her hair, take out her contacts, scrub off the makeup and send the dress back to Emily via the dry cleaners. She never wanted to look at it again.

Outside in the parking lot, she hunted through the small jeweled purse for her car keys.

To think she’d felt beautiful at the beginning of the evening. She’d let Emily’s optimism rub off on her. Then, standing next to Mitch while the bride marched down the aisle, she had actually felt a little like Cinderella.

She retrieved her car keys as she made her way across the asphalt, feet aching from the high heels and a blister burning on her left baby toe. Her car was parked under one of the many overhead parking lot lights, but as she approached it, she realized something was wrong. Her taillights seemed to be faintly glowing.

She quickly inserted the key and opened the driver’s door to find her headlight switch on. She flicked it off, frowning, because it had been broad daylight when she arrived for the ceremony. She slipped into the driver’s seat, pulling the door shut and inserting her key into the ignition.

“Come on,” she muttered, holding her breath as she turned the key.

It clicked. The engine clunked. A brief grinding noise came from under the hood. And then silence.

Jenny cursed under her breath.

She tried the key one more time but was met with stubborn silence. She smacked her palms down on the steering wheel in frustration.

She did not feel like waiting for a taxi to take her home. And now she’d have to come back tomorrow and get her car. Though it was a workday tomorrow, she’d decided to call in sick for the first time in, well, ever. She was going to pull the covers up over her head and wallow in self-pity. She swore that a pint of gourmet ice cream and a sappy movie were as close as she was coming to activity tomorrow.

She scooped up her purse and reached for the door handle, when she noticed something on her dashboard. It was a folded piece of paper, and she was certain it hadn’t been there when she parked the car.

Confused, Jenny reached out and unfolded it, leaning forward and squinting in the illumination from the parking lot’s overhead light. You’ll thank me tomorrow, it said. And it was signed Emily.

Jenny couldn’t believe it. Her best friend had actually sabotaged her car? Had Emily lost her mind?

Someone rapped on the window, and Jenny nearly jumped out of her skin.

“You okay?” came Mitch’s deep voice.

Jenny crumpled the paper into her palm.

He lifted the handle and pulled open her door.

“I’m fine,” said Jenny, hoping he’d accept her answer and go away.

“Car trouble?” he asked.

She shook her head, still staring straight ahead. She just wanted to get home, away from Mitch and away from the humiliating memories of this night.

“I heard you cranking it over. Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine,” she insisted.

He was silent for a moment. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” she lied.

“Your car’s broken down, Jenny.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I know. I’m tired. I was going to call a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Pop the hood.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re not exactly dressed for mechanical repairs.”

He glanced down at his pristine white shirt and silk tie. “Good point.” Then he held out his broad hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jenny glanced around the parking lot, desperately searching for someone else who could serve as her knight in shining armor. The very last thing in the world she wanted right now was to spend more time in Mitch’s company while he failed to notice the new, improved and sexy Jenny. But nobody else was around to save her.

“I’ll just go back inside,” she began.

“Will you stop?” He reached down and snagged her hand, drawing her gently but firmly from her vehicle.

She grabbed her purse and came steady on her feet just as he slammed the door shut behind her, obviously annoyed. Well, she was annoyed, too. Even if he hadn’t been bowled over by her chic new look, he could have at least complimented something. The hair, the dress, the shoes. But he couldn’t even throw her a crumb.

He kept hold of her hand. “This way.”

She spotted his sleek, gleaming Corvette parked haphazardly next to the front garden. “That’s not an authorized parking spot.”

“I was late. I’ll pay the fine tomorrow.” He swung open the door. “Now, get in.”

She huffed out a breath, and braced her hand against the back of the bucket seat, stepping one foot inside the car and nearly losing her balance on the high heels.

His arm snaked around her waist, and she felt her dress hike high on her thighs. Her bottom pressed against his leg as he braced her steady.

“I’m fine,” she ground out.

“You’re grumpy,” he responded, a trace of humor in the voice that was close to her ear.

“Will you let go?” Her pulse was doing unnatural things under his touch. Her face flushed hot, and her knees suddenly felt unsteady. She determinedly pulled herself into the car.

He let her go, and she dropped onto the seat. She quickly straightened her skirt, covering as much of her thighs as possible. Then she glanced down to catch an expansive view of her cleavage. She adjusted the shoulder of the dress and tugged at the bodice.

Mitch had paused, watching her, the door still open. But she refused to glance up. He was probably laughing at her clumsiness.

After a long moment, he stepped back and firmly closed the door, moving around to the driver’s side. There, he climbed inside without a word, started the engine and pulled the sports car smoothly out of the parking lot.

As their speed increased, the overhead lights flashed above them, alternating with the branches of stately oak trees lining the street. The silence stretched out between them. A mile farther down, they turned off River Road to take the shortcut along Rooster Lane. Given the potholes and sharp gravel on the little-used road, and Mitch’s deep love of his Corvette, Jenny could only assume he was in a hurry to get rid of her.

Fine by her. She couldn’t wait to get home.

Then, abruptly, he pulled off the road onto a grassy patch beneath the oak trees, rocked the car to a halt and set the emergency brake.

“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion, wondering if something was wrong with his car. Surely, Emily couldn’t have sabotaged them both.

But he turned in his seat, draping his arm across the back of hers. “Spill, Jenny. What’s wrong?”

His abrupt question took her by surprise. But she quickly regrouped. “I’m tired and I want to go home.” That was definitely part of the truth.

“You’ve been acting weird all night,” he pressed.

“I have not.” She folded her hands primly on her lap.

“You didn’t even dance with me.”

The accusation in his voice made her own tone rise along with her blood pressure. She spoke past a clenched jaw. “You didn’t even ask.”

“I had to ask?” he retorted.

“It’s kind of traditional.”

“Like you needed extra partners,” he scoffed.

She turned to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” he gestured with one hand “—the way you’re dressed tonight, there was a line around the block.”

“Nice that some people noticed.”

His eyes glittered in the dash lights, and there was a long moment of tense silence. When he spoke, his voice was a throaty rasp. “You think I didn’t notice?”

Jenny wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he’d noticed, he’d done a darn good job of hiding it.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he repeated, louder this time, crowding her.

Was the car getting smaller?

“You didn’t say anything,” she pointed out, fighting the urge to shrink back against the door.

“What, exactly, was it that you wanted me to say?” He leaned closer still, and a few beats of silence ticked past. “That your eyes look like emeralds without your glasses? That you have unbelievably sexy legs? That you should show off more often, by the way.”

The front of his shoulder brushed the tip of hers, and Jenny swallowed against the electric sensation that passed between them.

His voice went lower. “That those shoes were designed to keep a man awake at night? That I’ve been watching the wisp of your hair, curling over your temple and resisting the urge to smooth it back all night long?”

Jenny couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was frozen in place, while her pulse tripped over itself.

His fingertips fluttered against her temple, touching her hair. “Or that your red lips look soft, smooth, delicious?” His hand eased around to the back of her head, fingers splaying into her hair, as he drew her forward, his mouth coming down on hers in slow motion.

What was happening? What was going—

And then he was kissing her.

He was kissing her.

Sparks flew out from every corner of her body. Her skin prickled hot in the sultry car. Her belly buzzed and her thighs twitched, and her body leaned subconsciously toward him.

He parted his lips, deepening the kiss. His free arm slid around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest, while his tongue tested the seam of her lips.

She opened for him, and he invaded, spreading new waves of desire throughout her body. She whimpered, grasping his broad shoulders through his jacket for support while her world tipped on its axis.

He finally broke the kiss, touching his forehead gently against hers. “I noticed,” he breathed.

With her brain struggling to grasp the enormity of what had just happened, “Oh,” was all she managed.

He let her go, leaning back in his seat, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s, uh …” She straightened her dress again, sitting back in her own seat. “Fine,” she ended.

It was more than fine. It had been amazing.

He’d noticed. He’d noticed. And he’d kissed her.

Wow, had he ever kissed her. She’d never been kissed like that in her life.

Mitch let off the emergency brake and put the Corvette in gear.

He pulled onto the gravel road and continued toward Jenny’s small house beside Frost Lake.

She hadn’t the first idea of what to say or do.

Mitch pulled his Corvette into Jenny’s short driveway, his brain a jumble of lust and recrimination as he automatically turned off the headlights and killed the engine. He pushed open his door and rounded the hood to open hers.

In the ten minutes since he’d kissed her, neither of them had said a word. But inside his head, he’d given himself about a dozen stern lectures. What the hell did he think he was doing? Jenny was a nice girl, a great girl, a wonderful girl, and she worked for him.

She wasn’t one of the sophisticated women he met at parties in New York and L.A., who wanted nothing more than a famous football player as a companion for the evening or the night. She was honest, uncomplicated, and he was a cad for giving in to his baser instincts.

He pulled open her door, forcing himself to concentrate on the treetops, the full moon hanging on the horizon and the darkened outline of her little house—anything, anything but looking at Jenny again.

He knew he should get the heck out of here without delay, but her porch light was out, and the gentleman in him wouldn’t send her up the uneven pathway and the dark stairs on her own. He offered his arm, ignoring her light touch, looking straight ahead as they made their way along the stepping stones in her front garden.

They walked up the stairs and across the porch, then she stopped and turned toward him.

“I’m—” she began, and he made the mistake of meeting her gaze.

Her eyes were opaque jade in the faint moonlight, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Her hair was disheveled, her cleavage highlighted by the sexy dress and those legs went on forever, ending in those fantasy shoes that somehow hijacked his primal brain. He groaned in instant surrender and swooped in for another kiss.

She tipped her head to accommodate him, soft lips parting, tongue answering his own, even as her slim arms wound around his neck. He wrapped his own arms around her narrow waist and pulled her against him once more, those luscious breasts flush to his chest. Her mouth was hot on his, her thighs taut, the feel of them hardening his body beyond imagination. He stroked a hand over her messy hair, releasing the clip that held it back, so that it tumbled free.

He kissed her temple, her ear, her neck, making his way along her bare shoulder.

“Mitch,” she gasped, her breath hot puffs against his chest.

He drew back, looking into her soft green eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, and her shiny strawberry blond hair framed her face like a halo.

Walk away, he ordered himself. Walk the hell away.

But she pressed a key into his palm.

On automatic pilot, he unlatched the door, pushing it wide. He scooped her into his arms and carried her inside, slamming the door firmly behind them and making his way straight down the back hallway to her bedroom.

There, he lowered her gently to her feet.

“Jenny,” he breathed, reminding himself of who this was, trying one more time to convince himself to do the right thing.

But she came up on her toes and kissed him passionately, and he’d spent far too many years being self-indulgent to summon self-discipline now. His hand moved reflexively to her breast, grasping the soft mound beneath the silky dress. She parted his suit jacket, her small hands sliding around his back, their heat searing through the thin cotton of his shirt.

He shrugged out of the jacket, and it fell to the floor. One of his thighs pressed between hers, easing her dress out of the way. She gasped, as the fabric of his slacks obviously hit home. Her hands fumbled with his tie, and he gave into temptation, slipping the single shoulder of the dress down her arm.

Their movements grew faster, more frantic.

She popped the buttons of his shirt, while he found the zipper at the back of her dress. In seconds, they were chest to chest, skin to skin, and he pressed long, deep, fiery kisses on her mouth.

Her dress slipped to the floor. Her scant panties combined with those shoes nearly sent him over the edge. He stripped off the remainder of his clothes and eased her down on the big bed, into the neatly pressed quilt and the plump, perfect pillows.

She was all motion beneath him, heat, softness, kisses and breathy cries. Her fingernails dug into his back, while he kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, kneading his hands along her thighs, up and around. Impatiently, he tore off her panties. She gasped, then moaned and arched against his fingers.

He kissed her hard and deep, strumming her nipples. Her hands roamed his body. He shifted over her, and her legs wrapped around him, her hips arched against his weight in an invitation he couldn’t ignore.

He grabbed for his slacks, quickly retrieving a condom before instinct obliterated reason. He thrust into her exquisite heat, his primal brain telling him to make it last and last and last. Pillows flew to the floor. The bed rocked on its brass foundation, while the stars through her bedroom window melted and slid from the sky.

She cried his name just as his own passion crested. His breathing went hoarse, and long minutes throbbed past before sanity returned. Exhausted, he rolled to his side, taking him with her, pulling her deep into his arms.

Once again, words eluded him. He had absolutely no idea what to say to her. He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t regret it. But, oh boy, had he ever made a big mistake.

Instead of speaking, he cradled her against his body, held her close until she was safely asleep. Then he held her an hour longer. He knew he’d be facing the stupidity of his actions full-on in the morning, but he was in no hurry to get there.

It wasn’t until the moon was high in the sky, and Mitch knew he was in real danger of falling asleep right there next to Jenny, that he eased her from his arms and tucked the covers around her. He risked a gentle kiss at her hairline, before slipping into his clothes and leaving her sleeping.

Jenny wasn’t surprised to wake up alone in the morning. Since the wedding had taken place on the holiday Monday, her alarm went off as usual for the workday on Tuesday. She had a few unfamiliar aches and pains in the shower, but she didn’t mind. Mitch had noticed her. Boy, had he noticed her.

She was a little embarrassed about tumbling into bed with him so quickly. But it wasn’t as though they were strangers. They were both adults, and he’d spent years living in big cities and moving in sophisticated social circles. She knew it was an entirely different dating world out there.

She dressed neatly and professionally for the office, her glasses back in place, and took a cab to the TCC. She’d call the auto club and get a boost sometime during the morning.

As usual, she arrived before Mitch. She put on the coffee in their three-room, second-floor office area, booted up her computer, checked both her and Mitch’s voice mail boxes for weekend messages and pulled her pending files out of the locked cabinet, sorting the issues in priority order on her desktop.

She was halfway through her new emails, when the door opened. She felt an excited hitch in her stomach and looked up to see Mitch walk into the office. A reflexive smile formed on her face. Should she stand? Would he hug her this morning? Kiss her? Or would they leave that kind of behavior outside the office?

He clicked the door shut. And when he turned back, she was surprised to see him scowling. Her smile drooped.

“Good morning,” she offered, studying his expression. Was something wrong? Was there a problem she hadn’t heard about? The rivalry over the upcoming club presidency election was well known. Had something more happened between Abigail and Brad?

Crisply dressed in his usual business suit, he set his jaw, squared his shoulders and crossed toward her.

She stood. “Mitch?”

“I owe you an apology,” he began without preamble, his focus settling somewhere beyond her left ear.

“You don’t—”

“My behavior last night was completely unforgivable.”

What did he mean? That he hadn’t danced with her, complimented her at the reception or that he’d left in the middle of the night without a word? Whichever it was, he was already forgiven.

“I took advantage of you, and I am profoundly sorry.”

Now she was completely confused. Was he talking about their lovemaking? Because she had been as willing and eager as him.

“I stepped way out of line,” Mitch continued, still not looking her in the eye. “You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me.”

Wait a minute. She didn’t want better than Mitch. She wanted Mitch.

He finally flicked a glance directly at her. “I hope you’ll still be comfortable working here. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure our professional relationship is not impacted.” His dark eyes softened slightly. “Can you forgive me, Jenny? Can we possibly forget it ever happened?”

A lead weight pressed down on Jenny’s chest, and her knees nearly buckled from lack of breath. Forget it ever happened? He wanted to forget he’d made love with her? Go on as if everything was normal, as if she was … was … some kind of one-night stand?

Reality washed over her like ice water.

She was a one-night stand.

Mitch had thought she was pretty, sexy, desirable and available last night, period. The sophisticated dress, heavy makeup and fancy hairdo hadn’t given him romantic thoughts. They had given him lustful thoughts.

A clipped laugh of embarrassment slipped out, and she quickly covered her lips with her fingers.

What a fool she’d been.

His gaze narrowed. “Jenny?”

She scrambled to gather her emotions. This was one of those moments. She’d been stupid. She’d made a complete fool of herself. In the aftermath, she could pull it together and pretend she was as sophisticated and aloof as him, or she could break down altogether, and he’d remember forever that she behaved like a gauche teenager the morning after.

She wouldn’t let that happen. She was tough. She was controlled. She could do this.

“No problem,” she managed to assure him with a dismissive wave of her hand, sitting down and turning back to her computer. “Business as usual. I get it. We slipped up. Hey, it happens.”

“Are you sure—”

“I’m fine,” she said with forced brightness. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to get through these emails before coffee. The auto club will be here—” She stopped right there. No point in bringing up any reminders of their one-night fling. It was over and done, and she wasn’t going to think about it ever again.