A Very Exclusive Engagement

Not that Liam Crowe was settling-down material. He was just sexy, fling material. she typically didn’t indulge in pleasure without potential. But seeing those broad shoulders pulling against the confines of his shirt, she realized that he might be just what she needed. Something to release the pressure and give her the strength to hold out for “the one.”

Francesca reached into her bag and pulled out a hair clip. She gathered up the thick, dark strands of her hair and twisted them up, securing them with the claw. It helped but only for a moment. Her tight-fitting pencil skirt was like a heavy, wet blanket thrown over her legs. And her camisole, while seemingly flimsy, was starting to get damp and cling to her skin.

If they didn’t get out of this elevator soon, something had to come off. Taking another sip of water, she leaned her head back against the wall and counted herself lucky that if nothing else, she’d worn pretty, matching underwear today. She had the feeling that Liam would appreciate that.

Two

“Sweet mercy, it’s hot!” Liam exclaimed, standing up. He felt as if he was being smothered by his crisp, starched dress shirt. He unfastened the buttons down the front and whipped it off with a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I’ve got to do it.”

Francesca was sitting quietly in the corner and barely acknowledged him, although he did catch her opening her eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of him without his shirt on. She looked away a moment later, but it was enough to let him know she was curious. That was interesting.

He’d gotten a different insight into his feisty executive vice president of Community Outreach in the past two hours. He had a better understanding of her and what was important to her. Hopefully once they got out of this elevator they could work together without the animosity. And maybe they could be a little more than friendly. Once she had stopped yelling, he liked her. More than he probably should, considering that she worked for him.

“Francesca, take off some of your clothes. I know you’re dying over there.”

She shook her head adamantly, although he could see the beads of sweat running down her chest and into the valley between her breasts. “No, I’m fine.”

“The hell you are. You’re just as miserable as I am. That tank you’re wearing looks like it will cover up enough to protect your honor. The skirt looks terribly clingy. Take it off. Really. I’m about ten minutes from losing these pants, so you might as well give up on any modesty left between us.”

Francesca looked up at him with wide eyes. “Your pants?” she said, swallowing hard. Her gaze drifted down his bare chest to his belt and then lower.

“Yes. It’s gotta be ninety-five degrees and climbing in this oven they call an elevator. You don’t have to look at me, but I’ve got to do it. You might as well do it, too.”

With a sigh of resignation, Francesca got up from the floor and started fussing with the latch on the back of her skirt. “I can’t get the clasp. It snags sometimes.”

“Let me help,” Liam offered. She turned her back to him and he crouched down behind her to get a better look at the clasp in the dim red light. This close to her, he could smell the scent of her warm skin mixed with the soft fragrance of roses. It wasn’t overpowering—more like strolling through a rose garden on a summer day. He inhaled it into his lungs and held it there for a moment. It was intoxicating.

He grasped the two sides of the clasp, ignoring the buzz of awareness that shot through his fingertips as he brushed her bare skin beneath it. With a couple of firm twists and pulls, it came apart. He gripped the zipper tab and pulled it down a few inches, revealing the back of the red satin panties she wore.

“Got it,” he said with clenched teeth, standing back up and moving away before he did something stupid like touch her any more than was necessary. It was one thing to sit in the elevator in his underwear. It was another thing entirely to do it when he had a raging erection. That would be a little hard to disguise.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes warily watching him as she returned to her corner of the elevator.

As she started to shimmy the skirt down her hips, Liam turned away, although it took every ounce of power he had to do so. She was everything he liked in a woman. Feisty. Exotic. Voluptuous. And underneath it all, a caring soul. She wasn’t one of those rich women that got involved in charity work because they had nothing better to do with their time. She really cared. And he appreciated that, even if it would cost him a few headaches in the future.

“Grazie, signore,” she said with a sigh. “That does feel better.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her settle back down on the floor. “Is it safe?” he asked.

“As safe as it’s going to get. Thank you for asking.”

Liam looked over at her. She had tugged down her camisole to cover most everything to the tops of her thighs, although now a hint of her red bra was peeking out from the top. There was only so much fabric to go around, and with her luscious curves, keeping them all covered would be a challenge.

“You might as well just take those pants off now.”

Liam chuckled and shook his head. Not after thinking about her satin-covered breasts. He didn’t even have to touch her to make that an impossibility. “That’s probably not the best idea at the moment.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why—” she started, then stopped. “Oh.”

Liam closed his eyes and tried to wish his arousal away, but all that did was bring images of those silky red panties to his mind. “That’s the challenge of being trapped in a small space with a beautiful, half-naked woman.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” her hesitant voice came after a long moment of silence between them.

He planted his hands on his hips. “I do.”

“I didn’t expect that.”

Liam turned to look at her. “Why on earth not? I think a man would have to be without a pulse to not find you desirable.”

“I grew up in Beverly Hills,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not saying I never dated in school—I did—but there was certainly a higher premium placed on the Malibu Barbie dolls.”

“The what?”

“You know, the blond, beach-tanned girls with belly button piercings and figures like twelve-year-old boys? At least until they turn eighteen and get enough money to buy a nice pair of breasts.”

“People in Hollywood are nuts,” he said. “There was nothing remotely erotic about me as a twelve-year-old. You, on the other hand…” Liam shook his head, the thoughts of her soft curves pressing against the palms of his hands making his skin tingle with anticipation. He forced them into tight fists and willed the feeling away. “It takes everything I’ve got not to touch you when I see you sitting there like that.”

There was a long silence, and then her voice again. “Why don’t you?”

Liam’s jaw was flexed tight, and his whole body tensed as he tried to hold back the desire that was building inside for her. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’m your boss. We have to work together. Things would get weird. Wouldn’t they?”

Please let her say no. Please let her say no.

“I don’t think so,” she said, slowly climbing to her knees. “We’re both adults. We know what this is and what it means.” She crawled leisurely across the elevator floor, stopping in front of him. Her hands went to his belt buckle as she looked up at him through her thick, coal-black lashes. “What happens in the elevator, stays in the elevator, right?”

Liam didn’t know what to say. He could barely form words as her hands undid his belt buckle, then the fly of his pants. But he didn’t stop her. Oh, no. He wanted her too badly to let good sense interfere. Besides, they had time to kill, right? Who knew how long they’d be trapped in here.

His suit pants slid to the floor and he quickly kicked out of them and his shoes. Crouching down until they were at the same level, he reached for the hem of her camisole and pulled it up over her head. Francesca undid the clip holding her hair and the heavy, ebony stands fell down around her shoulders like a sheet of black silk.

The sight of her body in nothing but her red undergarments was like a punch to his guts. She was one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen—and she was mostly naked, and on her knees, in front of him.

How the hell had he gotten this lucky today?

Unable to hold back any longer, he leaned in to kiss her. They collided, their lips and bare skin slamming into one another. Francesca wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her body against him. Her breasts pressed urgently against the hard wall of his chest. Her belly arched into the aching heat of his desire for her.

The contact was electric, the powerful sensations running through his nervous system like rockets, exploding at the base of his spine. He wanted to devour her, his tongue invading her mouth and demanding everything she could give him. She met his every thrust, running her own silken tongue along his and digging her nails frantically into his back.

Liam slipped his arm behind her back and slowly eased her down onto the floor. He quickly found his place between her thighs and dipped down to give attention to the breasts nearly spilling from her bra. It didn’t take much to slip the straps from her shoulders and tug the bra down to her waist. The palms of his hands quickly moved in to take its place. He teased her nipples into firm peaks before capturing one in his mouth.

Francesca groaned and arched into him, her fingertips weaving into his thick, wavy brown hair. She tugged him back up to her mouth and kissed him again. There were no more thoughts of heat or sweat or broken elevators as he lost himself in the pleasurable exploration of her body.

And when he felt her fingers slide down his stomach, slip beneath the waistband of his underwear and wrap around the pulsating length of his erection, for a moment he almost forgot where he was, entirely.

Thank heavens for power outages.

Francesca wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, but she was enjoying every minute of this naughty indulgence. Perhaps being trapped in this hot jail cell was playing with her brain, but she didn’t care. There was just something about Liam. Sure, he was handsome and rich, but she’d seen her share of that kind of man in Washington, D.C. There was something about his intensity, the way he was handling the company and even how he handled her. She’d been fighting the attraction to him since she first laid eyes on him, and then his shirt came off to reveal a wide chest, chiseled abs and a sprinkle of chest hair, and she lost all her reasons to resist.

When he told her that she was beautiful, a part of her deep inside urged her to jump on the unexpected opportunity. To give in to the attraction, however inappropriate, and make a sexy memory out of this crazy afternoon.

She still wanted a solid, lasting relationship like her parents had. They’d been happily married for thirty years in a town where the typical wedding reception lasted longer than the vows. But having a fun fling in an elevator was in a totally different category. Liam would never be the serious kind of relationship, and she knew it, so it didn’t hurt. This was a release. An amusing way to pass the time until the power was restored.

Francesca tightened her grip on Liam until he groaned her name into her ear.

“I want you so badly,” he whispered. He moved his hand along the curve of her waist, gliding down to her hip, where he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away. “You keep doing that and I won’t have the chance to do everything I want to do to you.”

A wicked idea crossed her mind. Francesca reached out with her other hand for the half-empty bottle of water beside them. “Let me cool you off then,” she said, dumping the remains over the top of his head. The cool water soaked his hair and rushed down his face and neck to rain onto her bare skin. It was refreshing and playful, the cool water drawing goose bumps along her bare flesh.

“Man, that felt good,” Liam said, running one hand through his wet hair as he propped himself up with the other. “I don’t want to waste it, though.” He dipped down to lick the droplets of water off her chest, flicking his tongue over her nipples again. He traveled down her stomach to where some of the water had pooled in her navel. He lapped it up with enthusiasm, making her squirm beneath him as her core tightened and throbbed in anticipation.

His fingertips sought out the satin edge of her panties and slipped beneath them. Sliding over her neatly cropped curls, one finger parted her most sensitive spot and stroked her gently. She couldn’t contain the moan of pleasure he coaxed out of her. When he dipped farther to slip the finger deep inside her body, she almost came undone right then. The muscles tightened around him, the sensations of each stroke building a tidal wave that she couldn’t hold back for much longer.

“Liam,” she whispered, but he didn’t stop. His fingers moved more frantically over her, delving inside and pushing her over the edge.

Francesca cried out, her moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls of the small elevator and doubling in volume and intensity. Her hips bucked against his hand, her whole body shuddering with the feeling running through her.

She had barely caught her breath when suddenly there was a jarring rattle. The silence was broken by the roar of engines and air units firing up, and the lights came back on in the elevator.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned.

And then, with Liam still between her thighs and their clothes scattered around the elevator, the car started moving downward. Francesca threw a quick glance to the screen on the wall. They were on the thirty-third floor and falling. “Oh, no,” she said, pushing frantically at his chest until he eased back.

She climbed to her feet, tugging on her skirt and yanking her bra back into place. She didn’t bother tucking in her camisole, but shrugged into her jacket. Liam followed suit, pulling on his pants and shirt. He shoved his tie into his pants pocket and threw his coat over his arm.

“You have my lipstick all over you,” she said, noting less than ten floors to go. Liam ran his hand through his still wet hair and casually rubbed at his face, seeming to be less concerned than she was with how he looked when they walked out.

By the time the elevator came to the first floor and the doors opened, Francesca and Liam were both fully dressed. A bit sloppy, with misaligned buttons and rumpled jackets, but dressed.

They stepped out into the grand foyer where the building engineers and security guards were waiting for them. “Are you two—” one of the men started to speak, pausing when he saw their tousled condition “—okay?”

Liam looked at Francesca, and she could feel her cheeks lighting up crimson with embarrassment. He still had some of her Sizzling Hot Red lipstick on his face, but he didn’t seem to care. “We’re fine,” he said. “Just hot, hungry and glad to finally be out of there. What happened?”

“I’m not sure, sir. The whole island lost power. Wouldn’t you know it would be on such a hot day. Might’ve been everyone turning on their air conditioners for the first time today. Are you guys sure we can’t get you anything? Three hours in there had to be miserable.”

“I’m fine,” Francesca insisted. The engineer’s expression had been a wake-up call from the passionate haze she’d lost herself in. She’d very nearly slept with her boss. Her new boss. On his first day after they’d spent the morning fighting like cats and dogs. The heat must’ve made her delirious to have thought that was a good idea.

At least they’d been interrupted before it went too far. Now she just wanted to get a cab back to her hotel. Then she could change out of these clothes, shower and wash the scent of Liam off her skin. “Just have someone hail me a taxi to my hotel, would you?”

The engineer waved to one of the doormen. “Sure thing. It might take a minute because the traffic lights have been out and there’s been gridlock for hours.”

Without looking at Liam, Francesca started for the door, stepping outside to wait on the sidewalk for her car.

“Talk about bad timing,” Liam said over her shoulder after following her outside.

“Fate has a funny way of keeping you from doing things you shouldn’t do.”

Liam came up beside her, but she wouldn’t turn to look at him. She couldn’t. She’d just get weak in the knees and her resolve to leave would soften.

“I’d like to think of it more as a brief interruption. To build some anticipation for later. Where are you headed?”

“To where I was going before my whole day got sidetracked—back to my hotel. To shower and get some work done. Alone,” she added if that wasn’t clear enough.

“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Yes, I do.” She didn’t. But going out to dinner with Liam would put her right back in the same tempting situation, although hopefully without power outages. She’d given in to temptation once and she’d been rescued from her bad decision. She wasn’t about to do it again.

Liam watched her for a minute. Francesca could feel his eyes scrutinizing her, but she kept her gaze focused on the passing cars. “You said things wouldn’t get weird. That we both knew what this was and what happened in the elevator stayed in the elevator.”

Francesca finally turned to him. She tried not to look into the sapphire-blue eyes that were watching her or the damp curls of his hair that would remind her of what they’d nearly done. “That’s right. And that’s where it will stay. That’s why I don’t want to go to dinner with you. Or to drinks. Or back to your place to pick up where we left off. We’ve left the elevator behind us and the opportunity has come and gone. Appreciate the moment for what it was.”

“What it was is unfinished,” he insisted. “I’d like to change that.”

“Not every project gets completed.” Francesca watched a taxi pull up to the curb. It was empty, thank goodness.

“Come on, Francesca. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Even if just to say thank-you for the granola bar. As friends. I owe you, remember?”

Francesca didn’t believe a word of that friend nonsense. They’d have a nice dinner with expensive wine someplace fancy and she’d be naked again before she knew it. As much as she liked Liam, she needed to stay objective where he was concerned. He was the new owner of ANS and she couldn’t let her head get clouded with unproductive thoughts about him. They’d come to a truce, but they hadn’t fully resolved their issues regarding her budget and the way forward for the network. She wouldn’t put it past an attractive, charming guy like Liam to use whatever tools he had in his arsenal to get his way.

She stepped to the curb as the doorman opened the back door of the taxi for her.

“Wait,” Liam called out, coming to her side again. “If you’re going to leave me high and dry, you can at least tell me what you called me today in the board meeting.”

Francesca smiled. If that didn’t send him packing, nothing else would. “Okay, fine,” she relented. She got into the cab and rolled down the window before Liam shut it. “I called you figlio di un allevatore di maiali. That means ‘the son of a pig farmer.’ It doesn’t quite pack the same punch in English.”

Liam frowned and stepped back from the window. The distance bothered her even though it was her own words that had driven him away. “I’d say it packs enough of a punch.”

She ignored the slightly offended tone of his voice. He wasn’t about to make her feel guilty. He’d deserved the title at the time. “Have a good evening, Mr. Crowe,” she said before the cab pulled away and she disappeared into traffic.

Three

Liam had just stepped from his shower when he heard his cell phone ringing. The tune, “God Save the Queen,” made him cringe. Had he told his great aunt Beatrice he was in Manhattan? She must’ve found out somehow.

He wrapped his towel around his waist and dashed into his bedroom where the phone was lying on the comforter. The words “Queen Bee” flashed on the screen with the photo of a tiara. His aunt Beatrice would not be amused if she knew what the rest of the family called her.

With a sigh, he picked up the phone and hit the answer key. “Hello?”

“Liam,” his aunt replied with her haughty Upper East Side accent. “Are you all right? I was told you were trapped in an elevator all afternoon.”

“I’m fine. Just hungry, but I’m about to—”

“Excellent,” she interrupted. “Then you’ll join me for dinner. There’s an important matter I need to discuss with you.”

Liam bit back a groan. He hated eating at Aunt Beatrice’s house. Mostly because of having to listen to her go on and on about the family and how irresponsible they all were. But even then, she liked them all more than Liam because they kissed her derrière. And that was smart. She was worth two billion dollars with no children of her own to inherit. Everyone was jockeying for their cut.

Everyone but Liam. He was polite and distant. He didn’t need her money. Or at least he hadn’t until the ANS deal came up and he didn’t have enough liquid assets to buy a majority stake quickly. Other people also were interested in the company, including leeches like Ron Wheeler, who specialized in hacking businesses to bits for profit. To move fast, Liam had had to swallow his pride and ask his Aunt to invest in the remaining shares of ANS that he couldn’t afford. Together, they had controlling interest of the company, and by designating her voting powers to him, Aunt Beatrice had put Liam in charge.

Liam had every intention of slowly buying her out over time, but he wouldn’t be able to do so for quite a while. So now, at long last, Aunt Beatrice had something to hold over his head. And when she snapped, for the first time in his life, he had to jump.

“Dinner is at six,” she said, either oblivious or unconcerned about his unhappy silence on the end of the line.

“Yes, Aunt Beatrice. I’ll see you at six.”

After he hung up the phone, he eyed the clock and realized he didn’t have long to get over to her Upper East Side mansion in rush hour traffic. He’d do better to walk, so he needed to get out the door soon.

It was just as well that Francesca had turned down his dinner date so he didn’t have to cancel. That would’ve pained him terribly, even after knowing what she’d called him.

“Son of a pig farmer,” he muttered to himself as he got dressed.

He opted for a gray suit with a pale purple dress shirt and no tie. He hated ties and only wore them when absolutely necessary. Today, he’d felt like he needed to look important and in control at the board meeting. He didn’t want the ANS directors to think they were in the hands of a laid-back dreamer. But as soon as he had a strong foothold in the company, the ties would be gone.

Tonight, he left it off simply because he knew to do so would aggravate Aunt Beatrice. She liked formal dress for dinner but had given up long ago on the family going to that much trouble. She did, however, still expect a jacket and tie for the men and a dress and hosiery for the ladies. It was only proper. Leaving off the tie would be a small but noted rebellion on his part. He didn’t want her to think she had him completely under her thumb.

It wasn’t until he rang the doorbell that he remembered her mentioning something about an important issue she wanted to discuss. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t involve him dating someone’s daughter. Aunt Beatrice was singleminded in her pursuit of marriage and family for Liam. He couldn’t fathom why she cared.

“Good evening, Mr. Crowe,” her ancient butler Henry said as he opened the door.

Henry had worked for his aunt Liam’s entire life and a good number of years before that. The man was in his seventies now but as spry and chipper as ever.

“Good evening, Henry. How is she tonight?” he asked, leaning in to the elderly man and lowering his voice.