Never Naughty Enough

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She settled herself on the faded patches of the blanket, tucking her legs beneath her, giving him a clear view down her sweater. Her cleavage was, in a word, stunning.

He had to get her out of there. He had a merger to concentrate on, not…

“Thigh or breast?” she asked.

He gulped. Chicken. She was offering him chicken. Not her delectable body. “Both.”

Wagner sank to the floor beside her before he gawked further. This was her way to celebrate; she’d worked hard. If Annabelle wanted to sit cross-legged on the floor, he would let her. He owed her.

“I thought an indoor picnic would be nice. We both have to eat lunch. This way we don’t have to leave the office, worry about ants, and I can still answer the telephone if needed.”

Perfect sense. As always. He appreciated having Ms. Scott in the office. He’d miss her punctuality, level head and sense of order.

After pulling out two red ceramic plates from the basket, she began to lay out chicken salad and pasta. His stomach growled as the smell of warm bread hit his nose.

“Fresh from the bakery around the corner.”

She spread a liberal pat of butter on her bread with efficient movements. A little of the butter landed on her finger. She brought her finger to her lips, sucking the tip into her mouth.

Their eyes met. She’d caught him staring. “Butter?” she asked.

Oh, yeah.

“Wagner, would you like butter on your bread?”

He gave himself a mental shake. “No. Better not. Thank you.”

“Would you open the bottle?”

Reaching for the bottle, he tore the aluminum covering off with the ease of a man in familiar territory. In the past, he’d had many reasons to celebrate, but nothing to be proud of.

Stretching gracefully across the blanket, she placed his plate in front of his knee. Her fingers lightly grazed his leg. He felt the sensation through the wool material of his pants and he steeled his muscles not to react. Instead, he stared at her hands. He’d never noticed the fine bone structure of her delicate fingers and wrists.

Such slender hands to take on so much work. School, her job with him and he knew she did some freelance typing to lessen her considerable debt. His gaze moved upward. Such narrow shoulders to take on the burdens of her father. His eyes traveled to her mouth. Such sweet lips. Pink and full, demanding a man’s kiss.

His kiss.

Something strange and unusual tightened and swelled within him and his fingers pushed harder into the softness of the cork.

With a pop, the cork flew across the room and the bubbly champagne floated down the side of the bottle. Laughing, she handed him a flute.

He smiled as he felt its weight. “Plastic?”

“Couldn’t find glass.”

Eating on the carpet and drinking out of plastic champagne glasses was the other side of the planet from his caviar and Cristal days. Five years ago he could clear a path to the buffet just by walking through the room. Gourmet food on the finest china had awaited him.

Somehow he liked this better.

After carefully filling the two glasses, he handed one to her. Annabelle Scott had worked with him for so long, they meshed. But he could not remember ever having a meal with her or even being so close he smelled the tantalizing vanilla scent of her shampoo or noticed the tiny dimple in her right cheek.

Except once.

He’d forgotten that one. Until now.

Two months ago, they’d worked late into the night on a project proposal. She’d fallen asleep on the couch in the corner of his office. He’d only meant to bring her a cup of coffee so she’d be awake enough to drive home. Instead, he’d found himself staring at the way her hair curled around the soft curve of her chin. The seductive roll of her hips and the tugging of her breasts against the buttons of her blouse had jerked at his body. Pure temptation.

He’d walked away congratulating himself on not making the huge mistake of kissing her awake as his instinct first had urged.

The dimple appeared in her cheek as she slowly sucked in a coil of pasta.

A spiral of desire shot through his body. Wagner looked away. The food on his plate was a much safer place to stare.

Silence settled between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but after a few minutes, something propelled him to break it.

“How’s your back?”

Her eyebrows knotted together in confusion, then she smiled. “Oh, fine. Just needed to stretch a little bit. All that studying.”

A cold sweat blasted him on the back of the neck as she closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders. His gaze roamed to her breasts and he very nearly groaned. He grabbed the plastic champagne flute and downed his bubbly in one long swallow.

Then he coughed. “That’s not champagne.”

“No. I didn’t think alcohol would be wise in the middle of a workday. That’s sparkling plum cider.”

“Very…interesting flavor,” he said between coughing and trying to catch his breath.

“It was all they had.”

Coughing a few more times, he gasped for air, not able to break the cycle. Ms. Scott reached over and patted him on the back. Her breasts swayed before his eyes. The urge to cough again assailed him. Be an adult. “I’m okay.”

She leaned away, her eyebrows knotting again. “I have just the thing to clean your palate.” She returned her attention to the basket and pulled out two large slivers of chocolate cake and a bunch of green grapes.

“The grapes aren’t really in season yet, so they cost a fortune, but I just love them, don’t you?”

He nearly sprang up from the blanket when her pink tongue licked the plumpness of the grape. He imagined her tongue touching and tasting his—

What the hell was happening to him? The way she was eating made him think of nothing but sex. With Ms. Scott. Sex with Ms. Scott.

The absurdity of the idea drove him to his feet. Unfortunately he took the corner of the blanket with him. Silverware clinked off her plate and the chocolate cake flipped to the carpet. She scrambled after it.

“Ms. Scott, thank you for the lunch. I’ll eat the rest at my desk. I have to go over this merger contract one more time.”

Maybe he had more of the hunter left in him than he thought. His company falling about his ears, his most valued assistant about to leave him and the only thing that filled his mind was the image of her on that patchwork blanket.

Naked.

And the ideas. The first image had him laying her back on that quilt and drawing her into his arms. The second one had to do with butter, slathering and licking. He balled his hands into fists to prevent himself from acting on those ideas.

When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with something… What was it… ? Hurt?

Anger, with himself and this strange, frustrating situation, made him regret his awkward, brusque behavior. “Uh, thank you, Ms. Scott. And congratulations.”

With a tight nod, she scooted around on the quilt on all fours, gathering the remnants of their lunch and returning it into the wicker basket. He turned his head as her delicious backside came into view.

He was a pig.

The lid banging on the basket signaled her cleaning task was completed. “Ms. Scott.”

Her eyes met his, a mixture of dread and hope evident in her gaze. “Yes?”

“I’ll be working late this evening. Please lock up when you leave.”

He broke out in a sweat as she shut the door behind her.

ANNABELLE SUCCESSFULLY resisted the temptation to slam the door. Instead, she stalked over to her desk, dumped the basket next to the file cabinet and grabbed the pad under the phone.

This time she retrieved a thick Sharpie marker to cross out her stupid list. She meant business.

1. Use your tongue. Bite it the next time you feel the need to seek advice from Katie.

2. Play with your food. Leave that to the toddler set.

3. Arch your back more. Keep that up and you’ll give yourself a real backache.

The pungent odor of the marker filled the room as she colored over any trace of her latest mantra. You’re a seductress.

Yeah. Sure. A seducer right back to work.

Pushing the paper aside, Annabelle dialed Katie’s number. She should put it on the office speed dial. Her friend answered on the first ring; she must have been expecting her call.

“Are you sticky from butter?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Caller ID.”

“The plan tanked. I’m finished.”

“Hmm.”

The clicking sound over the phone line gave Annabelle a clear image of Katie in her mind. She reclined in her chair, clicking her pen between her teeth. Thinking. Never a good sign.

“No new plans. You’re right. The well’s a bust,” Annabelle said. She had a plan of her own. Maybe if she agreed with Katie, her next suggestion wouldn’t involve stilettos and a black feather boa.

“I don’t know. I can’t help but think all he needs is a nudge.” Katie took a sudden intake of breath. “I’ve got it.”

Annabelle cringed. “Maybe you shouldn’t say those words again. Your last two plans backfired.”

“Those plans should have worked. I’m beginning to think it’s the execution. That’s why I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’m overseeing the next operation.”

“Katie, I’m not interested—”

“You’ll start seeing another man.”

Her muscles relaxed. This newest brainchild would go nowhere. “Well, first I have to choose just one from the many clamoring outside my door.”

“We’ll start small. There’s a party tonight. Heather’s roommate got married and she’s throwing an ‘I’m still single’ bash at her apartment.”

This time Annabelle’s groan was audible. “No, not a party. I hate parties.”

“Belle, honey, maybe it’s time for you to move on. Nothing’s happening there in the office. You need to search for something new. It might not be at this party, but it’s a start to get your feet wet.”

She cut another glance at Wagner’s firmly shut door. His heart, like that door, would remain shut to her forever. She might as well get used to it. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Great. See you there.”

Annabelle replaced the receiver and looked back at her notebook. She ripped out her carefully prepared notes. With purposeful steps, she walked to the paper shredder, flipped the switch and rammed the pages home.

2

“WHY AM I HERE?” Annabelle shouted over the din of the crowd.

“Do you mean philosophically?” Katie teased as she slid two drinks off the makeshift bar and handed one to Annabelle.

“No, you know what I mean.” Annabelle had never really fit into the singles’ party scene, although this one was better than most. Someone’s home always won out over a loud bar. But noise was noise. She smoothed the muscles above her eyebrows, a headache already forming. She should have worn her glasses.

Laughter drifted from the center of the room where two couples stood. Annabelle couldn’t miss the uncomfortable posture and forced smile on the face of one of the women. She did not relish an evening of doing the same. She tried to hand her drink back to Katie. “This is crazy. I hate parties.”

“Which is exactly why you need to be here. You need to get back into the groove. A few years ago, you were the life of the party.”

“Parties are all wrong for me. See that group of guys over there. They have ‘my-dot-com-start-up-went-bust-and-now-I’m-living-with-my-parents written all over them. They’re scouting for a woman to bankroll their next project. Not a soul mate.”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “And are you trying to find a soul mate? No, you’re only trying to have a nice time, maybe have an intelligent conversation with an interesting man.”

For six months, her best friend had been on a mission to give Annabelle a life—starting with the ridiculous toe ring now twisting around her index toe. Annabelle was amazed Katie still managed to gear up any energy for the project, especially after the picnic fiasco this afternoon. Of course, Katie did the easy part. Her best friend was all about suggestions.

As hard as Katie might try to zap her into some semblance of hipness, Annabelle could never match Katie’s innate coolness from her pink gel-spiked hair to her glimmer eye shadow. Glimmer. She’d just gotten used to glitter. And this party was a mistake.

Yes, it was time to leave. “Do you see any coasters?” Annabelle asked.

Katie shrugged, lifting her tank top higher and emphasizing her belly ring. “Just set it anywhere.”

Annabelle shook her head and scanned the room. Some deep-rooted sensibility prevented her from putting a glass on bare wood.

Katie straightened her back and smiled. “Hey, Jeff’s over there. Let’s join him.”

Annabelle glanced over to where Katie was pointing, then quietly groaned. She should have guessed. The group consisted of all men. Parties where her best friend felt an obligation to throw her into every cluster of eligible men were especially tiring. “Oh, not those guys.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

Too many reasons. They didn’t have blue eyes. They didn’t have a scar above their right eye or make every atom in her body jump.

They weren’t Wagner.

Annabelle shook her head. “I just can’t believe I left the office early for this.”

Aline formed between Katie’s eyebrows. “I’ll have you know, leaving at five-thirty is not early for most people. Especially on a Thursday night.”

“What’s the big deal about Thursday?”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Pre-weekend party. You’d think you’d never been to college at all.”

“I still have to go in early tomorrow. We’re working on a big project.” She searched for a coaster to set her drink. “In fact, I had a hard day at the office and I need to get some sleep. Thanks for inviting me, but I’m going to head on home.”

“Mr. Monochrome working you all hours of the day and night?” Katie stomped her foot, sending her ankle bracelet jangling. “How is everything in the— sheesh, what is it he does?”

“Solar cells. And it’s going extremely well. By replacing the silicone conductors currently used in the photovoltaic—”

Katie held up a hand. “Wait, sorry. Forget I asked. I’m not up to a conversation like the ‘how batteries really work’ discussion we had last week. I wasn’t able to get nickel-metal hydride out of my head for several days.”

Annabelle stood taller, ready to defend Wagner. “It won’t be long before his ideas revolutionize the way we power up our laptops and heat our homes. Besides, stop calling him Mr. Monochrome. That look happens to be very stylish and there’s a lot to be said about understatement.”

“Yes, but he wore it before that millionaire show made it popular. And that trend’s long gone.”

Annabelle turned toward the door, drink in hand. “I’m leaving. What kind of place doesn’t have coasters?”

Katie waved her hand. “Forget I said anything about Mr. Color Deficient. You need to think of someone other than him and this party is the place to do it.”

“We’ve been through this before.”

“I know and I’ll shut up. I just want you to stop wasting your time on him and think about meeting someone new. You’ve been working for him, what, four years? Honey, I know it’s hard to hear and it’s hard for me to say, but the guy is never going to notice you. He’s too involved in his company and proving that he’s not his father.”

Annabelle shook her head. “It is not hard for you to say that, because you say it all the time. I’m no longer interested in Wagner Achrom. I’m giving him up, but I’m staying because he pays well. Very well. Don’t forget he gave me a job when I had more bills than prospects. I owe him a lot. So stop giving me lectures.”

“Uh-huh, right.” Katie nodded toward the throng of men again. “Tell you what, we’ll go over there and you say just one sentence and then we’ll leave. No more hard time.”

Katie might be just this side of wild, but she also had an enticing smile. The kind that could convince Annabelle that clandestinely taping an Out of Order sign on the baseball coach’s hat was a good idea, or the kind that cheered her up after Hailey Griffin stole the heart of the cute guy in geometry.

Annabelle lifted an eyebrow. “Promise?”

“Promise. But your sentence can’t be ‘goodbye.’ Besides, we’re here to have a good time. And to celebrate you finally getting your pigskin.”

“That’s lambskin.”

“We’ll worry about that later.” With a wink and a flick of her red hair, pink highlights flashing, Katie looped her arm through Annabelle’s and sashayed through the various clusters of people all trying to have a good time.

“Hi, Katie, who’s your friend?”

That was about as subtle as a high-school sophomore. Annabelle tried to hide her cringe. He obviously didn’t remember, but she’d met Jeff before. His clothes reminded her of the Web sites he designed. All flash, no substance. Katie should know by now she’d never be attracted to that type of guy.

“Hi, Jeff, this is Annabelle.” Katie gave her a delicate push and she nearly stumbled into his shoulder.

He caught her, his hand lingering on her elbow. “Hiya, Annie. What do you do?”

Get irritated when people call me Annie. This guy would wear his ballcap backward. She just knew it. And what happened to the guys who just talked to a woman’s boobs? Jeff checked her out all right, but in a way that suggested he was mentally calculating the cost of her shoes, clothes and jewelry. Annabelle cleared her throat. “I’m an administrative assistant.”

His five-hundred-watt smile dimmed. An assistant probably didn’t fit into his success plan. “Nice to meet you. Mike here was just telling us he’s learning hypnosis.”

Annabelle couldn’t help it—she laughed.

Mike straightened and turned to her. Now, this one did wear his ballcap backward. A sure sign he hadn’t grown up and left his college days behind. “You don’t believe in hypnosis?”

“Nope.” There. She’d said something. Now they could leave.

Katie shook her head. “No subject, no predicate, no leaving,” she whispered.

Unfortunately, from the expectant faces surrounding her, they also expected more conversation.

“You really don’t believe in hypnosis?” Jeff asked.

“Well, I accept the power of suggestion, but as far as going under and changing your personality, I don’t think that could happen.”

Memories of her father’s ugly cons suddenly crushed that last bit of hope that she might actually have a nice time at this party. Her father had been a pro with the hypnosis scam. He’d promised them a cure through hypnosis. Smoking, overeating, nail-biting, whatever. While there were plenty of well-meaning trained professionals in the world who could aid someone with strategic hypnotic suggestion, her father was neither trained nor well-meaning. With his charm and charisma people readily opened their checkbooks. She tamped down the familiar surge of guilt she felt every time she remembered one of her father’s scams.

Jeff laughed. “Great. Then you won’t mind being a volunteer. Mike was just looking for a victim.”

Annabelle whipped her head toward Jeff. “What?”

“I can’t back away from that kind of challenge,” Mike said.

Annabelle reached for a lock of hair and twisted it around her finger. Twisting—a return of a bad habit. Normally, she wore her hair up in a tidy and simple bun, but Katie had insisted Annabelle’s brown locks had to “cascade” down her back. She hated how unruly her curls must appear.

“You ready?” Mike asked, draping an arm around her shoulders.

Her hair issues appeared not to daunt Mike; he had a point to make. After spouting off, she couldn’t very well say no now. It would be fun to prove them wrong. Besides, what could letting him try to put her under hurt? It wouldn’t work and Katie would owe her. Big time. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sighed. “Lead the way.”

She’d learned all the cons, scams and sleights of hand at the knee of a pro—her dad. Mike’s brand of backroom hypnosis didn’t stand a chance.

Mike laughed, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Heather, can we use your old roommate’s room?”

Annabelle winced as all eyes in the room turned her way.

“No one’s in the back bedroom. We can have a little privacy there,” Mike told her.

Heather raised one arched eyebrow. “What are you going to do back there?”

“Nothing wicked,” he assured. “A challenge. Annabelle here doesn’t think I can put her under hypnosis.”

“Sounds like fun, and seeing Annabelle put under…this I’ve got to see. Come on, Kelli. I can show you the bedroom while we’re in there and you can see if you think it will be big enough for your drafting board.”

Good to know Heather could multitask—throw a coasterless party with ease, aid and abet a delusional male in the name of fun, all while brokering her next potential roommate.

Jeff led the growing group down the narrow hallway. He opened the door and they all filed into the nearly empty bedroom. Only a desk, lamp, chair and bare mattress, angled against the wall, remained.

“Shelley’s going to pick up her desk and lamp tomorrow, but the mattress you can use since she and her fiancé are getting a queen-size bed,” Heather announced.

“Ladies, please. We need to create an ambience.”

Heather laughed. “Whatever. I used to date you, Mike—I know all about your, uh, ambiences.”

Mike closed the door behind the last person, positioned the desk chair in the middle of the room and gestured to Annabelle that she should sit down, which she did. He flipped on the beat-up banker’s lamp. “Hey, someone switch off the overhead lights.”

One of the women giggled when darkness flooded the room. “Why do I feel like we’re in for a session of light as a feather, stiff as a board?” Katie whispered.

“Oh, hey, I remember that game.”

Memories of late nights, bowls of M&M’s and bras in the freezer filled Annabelle’s memory. “That game we used to play at slumber parties? We could never get it to work on me. Just don’t let anyone put my hand in a bowl of warm water.”

Katie laughed.

Mike cleared his throat. “It’ll need to be quiet to pull this off. Okay, Annabelle, you’re getting very sleepy.”

She chuckled. “Oh, please. Can you come up with a line a little more original than that?”

Mike rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Just work with me. Close your eyes and clear your mind. Forget about everyone in the room.”

She exhaled sharply, but closed her eyes. The sooner he tried to hypnotize her and failed, the sooner she could go home and sink into a warm mountain of bubbles in her bathtub.

“Go back in your memory. Search it for a time when you were at your most relaxed.”

She opened one eye. “I’m never relaxed.”

“It’s true. I’ve never seen her relaxed,” Katie said.

“Okay, then a favorite memory.” Mike made a hand motion to indicate she needed to close both her eyes.

Favorite memory? Now, that was easy. That would have to be the time when she’d worked late with Wagner and fallen asleep on the soft leather couch in his office. He’d woken her up with the smell of fresh coffee under her nose. She’d opened her eyes and nearly fell into his deep blue ones, so much more alluring without his glasses. His eyes had darted to her mouth.

For one heart-stopping moment, she’d thought he might kiss her.

“Have you got one?” Mike asked, his voice slowly swimming toward her.

It took her a moment to answer. “Yes.” Her voice sounded heavy and slurred. Why was she having so much trouble saying only one word?

“Good. Now keep thinking of that time. Concentrate on the good feelings that memory brings to you. Let everything else fall into the background but those feelings and my voice.”

“Yes. Background. Coffee,” Annabelle repeated. She swayed a bit in her chair. Through the fog of memory, she felt a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

“Maybe you should stop, Mike.”

Was that Katie’s voice? Weird. She sounded upset. What was she doing in Wagner’s office? The voice faded. Annabelle must have made a mistake. The scent of Wagner’s cologne filled her senses and she felt the delicious sensation of anticipation as his lips almost touched hers. She arched forward, closer to—