The Elliotts: Bedrooms Not Boardrooms!

“I don’t have to worry about that with EPH. Patrick made each of us pay our dues by working our way up through the ranks.”

“I’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean to ruin your call by whining.”

“You’re not whining, and I needed to change the subject before I asked you to take off your nightgown and touch yourself the way I would if I were there.”

A half-choked sound carried over the line. “And would you return the favor? Touch yourself the way I want to?”

Desire churned thick and hot through his veins. He cursed. “Yes. Anywhere you want.”

“Next time, then.” And then he heard a click followed by the dial tone.

Next time. The words energized him, filling him with an anticipation for tomorrow that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Aubrey floated through her workday in a cloud of excitement, unwarranted by her position as VP of single copy sales. She’d breezed through phone calls with uncooperative distributors and meetings with the other circulation department staff. None of the usual daily irritations had brought her down or driven her for a double Mocha Frappuccino, her help-I’m-losing-it drink.

If only every day could be this enjoyable. She felt a twinge of unease. It was really pitiful that she sought, from a voice on the phone, the approval she couldn’t get at work.

Since arriving home she’d showered and shampooed, given herself a manicure and pedicure all in preparation for her hot date with the telephone. She’d set her alarm for midnight, but she hadn’t needed the annoying beep to wake her because there was no chance she’d drift off to sleep with this overdose of adrenaline flowing through her veins. She’d been watching the clock for what seemed like hours.

She stepped into the sexy teddy she’d darted out to purchase at lunchtime, tied the ribbon bows on each shoulder and brushed her hands over the lace covering her. The regret that Liam would never see the seductive garment dampened her excitement a little.

Finally it was time to call. Her heart raced and her mouth dried. She took a sip from the bottle of water on her nightstand, settled back against her mountain of pillows and dialed.

“Hello.”

Goose bumps raced over her skin at the sound of Liam’s voice. “This is an obscene phone call. Hang up if you don’t want to listen.”

Liam snorted. “Are you kidding? Do you know any guy who would hang up if he had a beautiful woman promising to talk dirty to him?”

A smile twitched on her lips. His comment erased much of her nervousness. “I bought something very special for you today. I’m wearing it.”

“She goes for the kill on the first line,” he muttered in a barely audible tone. “Describe it for me,” he said in a louder voice.

“It’s lacy and sheer and very brief.” I can’t believe you’re doing this, A.

“Tell me more.” His pitch was lower, huskier.

Her nipples beaded and desire tangled low in her belly. “It’s cut very high and very low. My legs are bare. And it’s sheer and red. A teddy with a bow on each shoulder. One tug on each ribbon and …”

He groaned. “You’re killing me, Aubrey.”

Her inner rebel relished this brief interlude of feeling sexy and desirable and wanted. She’d never have the nerve to act as brazen face-to-face. “I want to talk about fantasies tonight. Tell me, Liam, in your secret fantasies where is the one place you’d like to make love but haven’t?”

“At a Mets game,” he replied without hesitation.

That jarred her right out of fantasy land. She’d never attended a baseball game, but she couldn’t imagine finding a private place in Shea Stadium. “A Mets game.”

“You?”

She shook away the disturbing image of crowds, stale beer and peanut shells. Did she dare confess her secret? “An elevator.”

She heard the whistle of his breath. “That could be arranged.”

“I know, and I think about your private elevator at night when I—” no, she would not confess that “—when I can’t sleep.”

“Untie the bows, Aubrey.”

She did as he asked. The lace slid downward, temporarily snagging on her erect nipples and then gliding into a puddle at her waist.

“If I were there I’d kiss you, taste you until you begged me to stop,” he promised in a gravelly whisper that made her lightheaded.

A quiver started deep inside Aubrey and radiated outward. “What makes you think I’d ever ask you to stop?”

“Aubrey.” Her name was half moan, half plea.

Her pulsed fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings and she squirmed restlessly, aching for his touch. “What are you doing right now, Liam?”

“Wishing you were here. This is insane. I need to see you.”

“We can’t. My father and your grandfather would never forgive us.”

“To hell with them.”

Regret tightened Aubrey’s throat, dousing the sparks of arousal that had flared within her the moment she’d begun her evening preparations. She wished she could believe she and Liam had a future together, but even if Liam didn’t consider her father the enemy, Aubrey knew from her mother’s multiple marriages that love at first sight was an illusion. What she had with Liam, though breathtakingly powerful and thought-consuming at the moment, would pass.

“Liam, what we have is temporary. Our families aren’t.”

And then she hung up.

She had to end this and she had to end it now. If he called tomorrow night she wouldn’t answer her phone.

“I have your books and I’m holding them hostage.”

Aubrey nearly dropped the phone when she heard Liam’s voice. She quickly glanced out her open office door and exhaled when she spotted her administrative assistant’s empty chair. A check of her watch revealed it was almost six. Linda must have left for the day. “You shouldn’t have called here.”

“I’m using a pay phone. No caller ID will trace the call back to me, and I used the automated directory instead of going through the Holt Enterprises operator. The ransom I’m demanding for the books is dinner.”

So much for her plan to ignore him. Temptation nipped at her, but guilt took an even bigger bite. The preliminary report on EPH from the advertising department lay on her desk waiting to be read, edited and forwarded to her father. Aubrey shoved it into a drawer without reading it. Whatever the report contained was common knowledge among the advertising staff. She hadn’t pried and hadn’t gained the information using underhanded methods.

She still felt guilty.

Just say no, A. “We can’t risk meeting in public.”

“My place. I’ll cook.”

What happened to no? “Did you say books, plural?”

“I did. I have everything ever published by the author you mentioned, including an autographed copy of her recently released hardcover. But if you want them it’s going to cost you. I need to see you, Aubrey.”

Common sense warred with desire. “And you accused me of fighting dirty.”

“I play to win, and I promise that if you join me tonight we’ll both win. I’ll be waiting in the elevator at seven o’clock. Carlos, the doorman, will give you the key.” The dial tone sounded.

The elevator. Did that mean what she thought it did? Aubrey couldn’t catch her breath. She lowered the receiver, pressed a hand to her chest and tried to calm down to no avail. Tremors of excitement and nervousness shook her.

Did she have the courage to accept Liam’s challenge? There was only one way to find out.

Liam leaned against the mirrored elevator wall and sipped his champagne. Five after seven. Would Aubrey show or had he pushed too far too fast?

You shouldn’t be pushing at all. You should be walking away. But he couldn’t. Aubrey Holt had taken possession of his thoughts, and he couldn’t evict her no matter how hard he tried. And he had tried.

His heart chugged slower, heavier as minutes dragged past and Aubrey didn’t arrive. He’d learned that she was punctuality-conscious at their first meeting. If she were coming tonight she wouldn’t be late. Disappointment weighted his shoulders. He ought to pack it in and carry back to his apartment the ice bucket standing in one corner of the elevator and the bouquet of red roses lying in the other. He’d bought a dozen roses—not because that was the tradition but because they’d met and made love the first time twelve days ago.

Romantic sap. You didn’t make love, you had sex. Mind-boggling, cook-your-brain sex.

The elevator jolted and so did his heart, and then the doors glided open. Aubrey stood in the foyer, with nervousness filling her wide eyes and white teeth digging into her siren-red lipstick. She held her purse in front of her waist in a white-knuckled grip. Liam couldn’t stop the grin spreading over his face—one of relief, happiness—as he took in her seductive attire.

A black wraparound dress hugged her slender waist and dipped low between her breasts. Skimpy high-heeled sandals put her eyes on level with his. And her hair was rumpled, as if she’d just crawled out of bed.

“Come inside, drop your bag and push the button for my floor.”

She hesitated, her gaze roving over the ice bucket, the roses and then him in a slow head-to-toe perusal. Her breasts rose and fell on a deep breath before she did as he asked. Her scent mingled with the heavier perfume of the roses. The elevator whizzed upward, leaving Liam’s stomach behind. Or maybe the woman a yard away caused the roller-coaster effect.

Aubrey knotted her fingers in front of her. The hem of her dress, which he could see in a multitude of reflections, swished almost imperceptibly with the fine tremor of her body. He poured her a flute of champagne. Their fingers touched on the stem as she accepted the glass. His pulse stuttered and her breath hitched. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I’m late. I went home to change first.”

Tension eased from his shoulders. He’d feared second thoughts had caused her tardiness. “It was worth the wait. You look incredible. Sexy as hell.”

She swallowed the champagne in her mouth with a sudden and audible gulp and her cheeks flushed. “Thank you … You too.”

“Thanks.” He’d showered, shaved and yanked on pale gray slacks and a pullover sweater in a darker shade. Same routine he’d follow for any other date, but this wasn’t like any other date. Tonight he was as nervous as a kid on prom night.

The elevator stopped on his floor and the doors opened. Liam made no effort to step out. Aubrey had said she fantasized about making love on an elevator, and he intended to fulfill that fantasy tonight—if she’d let him. The doors closed.

Her violet eyes found his and the awareness of his intent widened her pupils and quickened her breath.

Liam fought the hunger that urged him to grab her, yank the tie on the sexy dress to reveal the satiny skin beneath and then bury himself inside her. Hard. Deep. He used to have more finesse, more patience, but tonight a battle raged inside him.

Slow down.

“Decent day?” he forced out even though his mouth watered for the taste of her.

She rolled one shoulder. “As decent as it gets.”

The telling flatness of her voice said more than her words. “You don’t like your job.”

She stared into her glass, swirling the pale liquid around and then sipping. “I’m good at what I do.”

“But?”

Her troubled gaze met his. “But no, I don’t enjoy my job.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

Another swirl of champagne. Another sip. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me. Tomorrow is Sunday and neither of us has to work. We have all night.”

Her lips parted and then her pink tongue darted out to dampen them. “My father was there for me when I needed him. I owe him.”

“Family duty is a heavy cross to bear.” A fact he knew well.

“What would you do if you didn’t work for EPH?”

If he didn’t work for EPH … Not something he’d ever contemplated. “I don’t know. Maybe try my hand at making wine.”

“Making wine?” Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

He leaned against the brass rail separating the mirrored upper portion of the compartment from the dark wainscoting lining the bottom of the walls. Why did he feel comfortable confessing this to Aubrey when he’d never done so with his family or friends? “Wine’s a hobby. I’ve been studying viticulture and enology for years.”

She saluted with her now empty flute. “I don’t know how much you’ve learned about growing grapes or making wine, but may I commend you on your taste in champagne?”

He nodded acceptance of the compliment. “Refill?”

The corners of her lips turned up. “Maybe later.”

Liam’s pulse beat as fast as a drum roll. He wanted to make love with Aubrey. No doubt about it. But he would have been happy to just have her company. He took her glass and set it beside his on the floor, and then he straightened. The desire in Aubrey’s eyes slammed into him like a subway train, knocking the air from his lungs and the ability to think from his head. He lifted a hand and cradled her silky cheek. She leaned into his palm and her lids fluttered closed. A smile of pleasure curved her lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this since last night,” he confessed, and then he kissed her, sinking into the damp softness of her lips and savoring the taste of Aubrey, a flavor uniquely hers combined with a nuance of the champagne.

He tunneled his fingers through her soft hair to cradle her nape and banded his opposite arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. Warm and pliant, she arched into him in perfect alignment. Her breasts teased his chest and the softness of her mound cushioned his erection.

Her arms wound around his waist and her fingers kneaded the tight muscles of his back. She angled her head, granting him deeper access, and hunger inflamed him. He shaped her shoulders with his palms, traced the line of her spine and the indention of her waist, and then he filled his hands with her tight, round bottom. A perfect fit.

Need rose inside him with overwhelming, suffocating strength. He raked his hands over her hips, down her thighs and then up again, carrying the hem of her dress with him. His fingertips encountered silken hose, an elastic band and a strip of bare skin. Stockings. He groaned into her mouth and traced the line of lacy elastic across the backs of her upper thighs. He explored higher and found nothing. Aubrey wasn’t wearing panties or even a thong. Gasping for air, he yanked back his head and then he gritted his teeth as sexual heat pulsed through him with an urgency he’d never faced.

“You definitely fight dirty.”

A smile quivered on her damp lips and mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I like to be prepared.”

He eased a few inches between them and pulled the string fastening her dress at her waist. The rustle of the fabric ties against each other seemed unnaturally loud in the small compartment. He lifted both hands to cradle her face and kissed her again, fighting desperately to get a grip on his slipping control. He mapped the shape of her ears with this thumbs, smoothed over her fluttering pulse and then traced the V of her neckline. When he reached the valley between her breasts, he nudged the fabric aside and his knees nearly buckled.

Aubrey’s tiny black bra only half-covered her breasts. The puckered tips were clearly visible beneath the border of the lacy cups. His mouth watered. His heart pounded. His lungs struggled to find sufficient oxygen in the suddenly airless elevator. Liam circled his thumbs over the lace, easing it aside, and then he dipped his head to take one tight tip into his mouth.

Aubrey whimpered and collapsed against the elevator wall. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place as he sampled first one breast and then the other, sipping, nipping, lightly abrading with his teeth.

His palms glided over the hot satin of her skin, outlining her waist and hips and then parting her dark tangle of curls, seeking and finding her moisture. Her gasps filled his ears, and her fingers tightened in his hair almost to the point of pain. Liam captured Aubrey’s hands in his and transferred them to the cool, brass rail. “Hold on.”

He took a moment to savor the sexy picture of Aubrey with her dress gaping open, her breasts damp above the skimpy push-up bra and her long, slightly parted legs encased in those sinful thigh-high stockings and stiletto heels. An aroused flush covered her face and chest, and desire kept her lids at half-mast.

He dropped to his knees, cupped her buttocks and tasted her. He stroked her with his tongue, filled his nostrils with the scent of her arousal and savored each whimper of pleasure he heard over the loud drumming of his heart. And then she climaxed. He supported her weight as pleasure undulated through her and then he rose, dug into his pocket for a condom and reached for his belt buckle with trembling hands.

“Let me,” Aubrey whispered. Her fingers made quick work of his belt and pants, pushing them down his thighs. Good thing she worked fast since each brush of her fingers sent him closer to the edge of the cliff, and going over without her wasn’t an acceptable option. She took the condom from him and smoothed it over his rigid flesh. All Liam could do was lock his muscles, grind his molars and battle his raging need.

“I need you inside me, Liam.”

Her husky whisper nearly unmanned him. He’d never been happier to oblige a request in his life. He lifted Aubrey, rested her bottom on the brass rail and hooked her legs around his hips, and then he drove deep into the slick, hot glove of her body. Her arms twined around his neck, holding him close. For a moment he remained buried and still, as sensation engulfed him, and then he withdrew and plunged into her again and again until his lungs burned and his legs trembled.

Her lips found his, devouring him with one ravenous kiss after another until they were both gasping, and kissing became impossible. And then her head tipped back against the mirrored wall and she cried out his name. Her internal muscles clenched him and his own climax slammed through him.

He planted his hands against the mirror on either side of

Aubrey’s head and lowered his forehead to the fragrant angle of her neck and shoulder. Satisfaction thickened and slowed his blood. “You smell delicious.”

Her teeth caught his earlobe. “So do you.”

And just that easily desire rekindled. How did she do it? How did Aubrey Holt turn him inside out and give him pleasure exponentially more satisfying than anything he’d experienced before?

It wasn’t a question Liam could answer with his pants around his ankles and his brain lost in the ozone. Later, he promised himself, later he’d figure out why and how Aubrey knocked him sideways.

But first, he’d promised her dinner and a bag of books. And he always kept his promises. Always.

Six

She’d done it again.

Aubrey leaned back against the cool, mirrored elevator wall and tried to summon the guilt and regret she should be feeling for consorting with the competition. But she couldn’t rally the negative emotions when every muscle in her body hummed with satisfaction, her heart still raced with passion and her arms and legs still encircled the man who’d fulfilled her secret fantasy. Liam’s chest hair teased her breasts each time one of them inhaled.

The first time she and Liam had become intimate had been a fluke of hormones and happenstance, but this time she’d deliberately chosen to ignore her father’s animosity for the Elliotts and pursue her own personal pleasure because Liam reminded her of the person she used to be. Fun. Sassy. A little naughty. Or at least that was what her college roommates at Radcliffe had claimed. Aubrey hadn’t seen that girl in a long, long time.

Liam Elliott was the first person she’d ever met who understood the pressures of the family-owned magazine business, and their crazy late night calls had de-stressed her in a way that nothing else could. Not pills, nor alcohol. But an ongoing affair with Liam could be just as destructive to her job and her relationship with her father as a chemical addiction. She’d spent her entire life trying to please her father and prove her intelligence. This illicit involvement did neither of those.

“I guess avoiding each other isn’t going to work,” she asked once she caught her breath.

“Not a chance.” Liam eased from her body and instantly she missed him. He helped her stand and then began righting her clothing. Her legs quivered unsteadily. Watching him make love to her in the mirrors had been hotter than she could believe, but his haste to redress her was quickly quenching that fire.

“Are you trying to straighten me up so you can shove me out the door?” She winced at the hurt in her voice and pushed his hands aside to complete the task, albeit unsteadily.

“No. But if I don’t cover your delectable body, you’re never going to get out of this elevator or get the dinner and books I promised you.”

Pleasure wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “Oh. Well, in that case, may I return the favor?”

She bent her knees, intent on pulling up his slacks, but Liam caught her elbows and lifted her back up. “Not if you want to get out of here tonight. The thought of you on your knees.” He shook his head. “Hell, Aubrey, I can barely stand as it is.”

His words and the desire lurking in his eyes sent her pulse into a tizzy. “Maybe later, then. What can I do for you now?”

“A loaded question.” His eyes glimmered with suppressed hunger. He fastened his clothing, scooped up the roses and her purse and placed both in her arms. “The flowers are for you.”

The heady scent of the flowers filled her nostrils. “Thank you. Florist roses don’t usually have this much scent.”

“I special-ordered them. Twelve, because twelve days ago we first did this.”

His fingers tangled in her hair and he held her captive while he kissed her deeply, hungrily. By the time he released her lips, her head spun from lack of oxygen. Clutching the roses to her chest, she sagged against the elevator wall and filled her lungs with much-needed air.

Rendered speechless by the romantic gesture and his thoughtfulness, not to mention that killer kiss, she could only stare as he gathered the ice bucket and the champagne flutes and used his elbow to push the button to open the elevator doors.

Why oh why couldn’t his last name be something besides Elliott? And why couldn’t they have met and slowly fallen in love instead of instantly combusting?

The doors glided open. He nodded for her to precede him. Tantalizing smells greeted her as soon as he opened his apartment door. She followed him into the dining room. “Something smells delicious.”

He deposited the ice bucket on a long cherry table that had been set with ivory cloth napkins, silver and crystal. “Steak Diane. Lucky for you, I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”

“I imagine you’re good just about anywhere.” The bold comment—shades of the old Aubrey—slipped out before she could edit it.

Mischief sparkled in his baby blues, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he pulled out a chair. “You’re more than welcome to test that theory after dinner. Have a seat.”

Aubrey laid the roses and her purse on the long table and sat. Liam’s hands briefly massaged her shoulders—just long enough to agitate her breathing—and then he bent to nuzzle a kiss on her nape. “I’ll be right back.”

After he left, Aubrey rested her head against the back of the chair. What are you doing, A.? This path leads to a dead end.

What’s wrong with a dead end as long as you both know that’s where you’re headed?

Nothing, as long as hearts and hopes and hormones don’t become entangled.

Liam made her feel young, energetic and sexy instead of old, neutered and dedicated only to her job. He relieved her stress and gave her amazing orgasms. What more could a girl want? She could be happy with that, couldn’t she?

Absolutely. Without a doubt.