Money Shot (80 page)

“Not here. I have my one night, Marcus.” He smiled, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “With clothes on.”

“I remember the condition, gorgeous.” He kissed and licked his way up her throat, and she was throbbing by the time he reached her ear. “It has to be tonight—I can’t wait any longer than that. I have plans. You have no idea just how creative I can be when presented with a challenge.”

Oh, she had a good idea. He had her panting, on the edge of an orgasm, and she was fully clothed, his hands nowhere near bare skin.

“Tonight,” she whispered. “I’m good with that.”

“Thank God.” With a frustrated growl he captured her lips again, rocking against her, his tongue sliding over hers at the same teasing, erotic pace.

A knock on the door stilled them.

“Mr. Hawkins?”

God—it was Kyle, the security guard from the lobby. The security guard Leah had to walk past every day. Marcus eased back, leaned his forehead against hers, and took a few deep breaths.

“What is it, Kyle?”

“Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a huge delivery downstairs, and they won’t leave it without your signature.”

Excitement lit his eyes. “Tell them I’ll be right down.” He waited until Kyle’s footsteps faded, then kissed her, with enthusiasm, before he lowered her to the floor. “My new toys are here.”

“Wait—not the gaming computers?”

“Yes.” He kissed her again, and tangled his hands in her hair, ruining her neat bun with his clever fingers. “Come down with me, Miss Frane, and help me check the inventory.”

She smiled up at him. “It is my job, Mr. Hawkins.”

His laughter rumbled through her. After a last kiss he took her hand, taking a detour to grab his glasses off his desk. When he slipped them on her heart did a flip—he looked so damn sexy. She could almost forget he had more money than God, and was her boss.

That was a detail they’d have to talk about. Tonight.

She shivered at the thought of what might happen. What she wanted to happen.

Marcus led her to the door, and let go of her hand to pull it open. He looked a little more rumpled than usual, but none of the other women in the office would notice. While he made his way across the waiting room, Leah took the time to redo her bun. That would be noticed—and she didn’t need any enemies. The women here were already jealous that she was his assistant; any whisper of scandal and they would make her life hell.

When she bent down to retrieve the now creased notepad, she saw Marcus at the elevator, his fingers tapping the plate above the call light. He glanced over his shoulder, like he knew she was watching him, and winked at her. She swallowed, warmth spreading through her, centering around her heart. Lord, was she in trouble.

He stepped into the elevator, and braced his hand on the door frame. “Coming, Miss Frane?”

“I’m on my way, Mr. Hawkins. Did you need the invoice?”

“No.” A smile spread across his dangerously handsome face. “I have an eidetic memory.”

She fussed with the notepad to cover the blush heating her cheeks. By the time she reached the elevator she was a bit more composed—until the door slid closed and Marcus trapped her against the back wall.

“Is this going to become a habit, Mr. Hawkins?”

“God, I hope so.” He tossed the notepad over his shoulder—again—and leaned in to nibble her earlobe. “I have a vivid imagination to go with that memory, Miss Frane.” The way he said her name made her shiver. She felt him smile against her cheek. “And I have imagined you in so many different scenarios. All with your clothes on.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered. What had been meant as a deterrent had become an incentive for him.

He captured her lips before she could say anything else, kissing her until she couldn’t think straight. Only the weight of his body kept her upright, her legs as steady as rubber. He must have been counting floor dings—by the time he freed her and they made themselves presentable, there were two floors until they reached the lobby. Marcus picked up her notepad and handed it to her, the gleam in his eyes leaving her jittery.

“I plan on bringing the packing material home with me. So many things one can do with bubble wrap, and packing tape.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

Smiling, Marcus strode out of the elevator. “Coming, Miss Frane?”

Any second now.

She clutched the notepad and followed him toward the pile of boxes. It was going to be a long day.

Tonight. She could last until tonight.

One night with Marcus Hawkins was worth the wait.

The End

Thank you for joining Marcus and Leah on their first eventful date. 
One Night
, part 2 of 
The Hawkins Brothers
, is now available here: 
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0118Q4B9U

ABOUT LILY MARIE

I love to tell stories—everything from shifters and love in space to pure fantasy.

Add some strong but tender heroines, throw them together with tortured or bad boy heroes, and heat is bound to happen.

I write romance—one steamy scene at a time.

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http://lilymariewrites.com

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I look forward to meeting you.

Lily Marie’s Amazon Author Page

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Chapter One

This place is perfect for me in so many ways. I always had confidence in my skills and I know I have done everything right. I got my degrees in an adequate amount of time, I had good grades and I made sure to gather some work experience while I was still in college.

But still I kept hearing it left and right. You want to work in a creative field? Media? Advertising? Maybe even Journalism? Forget it, darling. Everybody wants that! And there’s only so many who can actually do it.

Well, who says I can’t be one of them? I will try, that’s for sure. And I think I am headed in the right direction. Even if this is just an internship, hardly paying enough for my rent and only lasting for a few months, it is at one of the biggest advertising agencies in town.

The teams are landing some pretty big accounts around here. But sadly, I have never really been involved in any of the big projects.

Now, only a couple weeks before my internship comes to an end, I want to grab the chance and see the magic happen at least once. Ms. Kingsley, the only female senior copywriter at our agency, is about to give her team’s presentation in front of one of the biggest clients this agency has ever seen. And I want to be a part of it, at least sit in the same room.

This one would be killing two birds with one stone. I could witness a real pitch happening—and I could see it happen in front of Julian Lionstone, only one of the hottest bachelor billionaires around. Not your average client, but also one who is known to be strict and not easily impressed.
I would love to see how they try to catch him. And I’d like to see how Ms. Kingsley deals with a client like him.

I have known about the date and time of the presentation for a while now, but haven’t dared to ask, yet. I am not even sure if it is appropriate. And it’s not like I ever talked much with Ms. Kingsley before. She is always so busy and I don’t want to be a bother to her.

So I do the next best thing and ask the person I feel closest to in this office. That person happens to be the boss, Lance Cooper. He is a bit older than the Lionstone guy who is coming to our agency next week—but equally hot.

I never knew I had a thing for older men, Mr. Cooper is easily twenty years older than me, but there is just something about him. His demeanor is so decisive, so calm and secure. So unlike the college boys I am used to. And yet he has his cute little quirks that give him a boyish charm that is rare. He likes origami, folding paper the Japanese way. Helps him think, he says.

I noticed the little paper cranes on his desk the first time I came into his office, and when he saw me looking at them, he gave me one as welcome gift. I still have it sitting on my desk as a lucky charm.

“Mr. Cooper?” I ask, knocking at his door. It is ajar, as it often is. I have always wondered why. Maybe he wants to eavesdrop on what is going on outside in the hallway. Or he is lonely. Or maybe he doesn’t really mean to leave it half open like this, but it just happens, because his door is somewhat broken?

“Yes?” I hear him say.

I cautiously enter his office, just to find him folding paper cranes at his desk again.

He is looking sharp and handsome as always. Maybe it’s his wealth that turns me on so much? Am I really that shallow? Just because he’s wearing those exquisite suits, understated but expensive watches, always perfectly groomed, with his full hair—that subtly starts graying at his temples—combed to the site and a designer stubble. How can a man like him not be married?

Maybe it’s because of his weird quirks. I look at the paper cranes on his desk and can’t help but wonder what his home must look like. Who know what else helps him ‘think’.

“Lacey! How can I help you?” He asks, looking up at me. He does not let go of the half way folded crane in his hand. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, sure,” I hurry to reply. “I just have a little question... or a request.”

He raises his eyebrows. “A request?”

I take a deep breath. Pull yourself together girl, there is no reason to be shy now.

“I was wondering if you think it would be okay for me to sit in the Lionstone presentation next week?” I finally dare to ask.

He looks at me in anticipation, as if he is waiting for some kind of explanation.

So I give him one.

“It’s just that...” I utter. “I have never seen a real pitch happening, and my internship is about to end. I would really like to see it. I would be quiet and just observe silently!”

Mr. Cooper looks at me for another moment, then he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t see a problem with that. But don’t you think that Ms. Kingsley would be the person to ask? She’s leading the team, after all.”

I nod. “Yes, sure. I will ask her. I just wanted to check in with you first.”

He smiles at me, almost lovingly. For a split second I catch myself thinking about it. What it would be like to kiss those lips, to be hold in his strong arms, to be led by him, serve him in a way that I know only certain people enjoy. Dominant men. I wonder if he is one of them. He certainly sends out that vibe...

“Go ask her then,” he says. “Like I said, I don’t see a problem with it. And I am sure Ms. Kingsley will be okay with it, too. If you ask her nicely.”

He winks at me during that last sentence. My heart jumps, ejecting all kinds of inappropriate ideas. Time for me to get out of this office—as soon as possible.

“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” I hurry to say, before I slip through the door, leaving it ajar behind me as I hurry through the hallway, heading towards Ms. Kingsley’s office.

Of course Mr. Cooper was right. She is cool with it, especially after I played the whole ‘female role model’ card. I knew that would do the trick. It is not completely untrue, but I might have exaggerated the whole thing a little to flatter her. And it worked.

When the day has come and the presentation is finally about to happen, I am sitting among the team, slightly offside, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

And I am extremely relieved not to be the one who has to lead this project. I am nervous just sitting in the same room with Mr. Lionstone and his entourage. The tension is almost unbearable and I couldn’t even imagine to be the one standing at the front like Ms. Kingsley does. All eyes are on her and I can tell she is nervous as well—but she does a really good job at not letting it interfere with her work.

And she appears to make an impression on Mr. Lionstone. It’s hard to tell with that guy, because his face seems to be incapable of displaying visible emotions. It would drive me mad if I was Ms. Kingsley. Unlike normal people—and everybody else in the room—he doesn’t give her anything to work with, and for a while I can actually see her giving up on interacting with him. She avoids eye contact with him for a while and instead addresses members of his team, until she appears to remember that this might be unprofessional.

It is fun to watch actually, but even I have to take a deep breath after this presentation is over and the Lionstone entourage has finally left our building.

I am surprised to even be invited back to Mr. Cooper’s office to celebrate when we find out that Mr. Lionstone did actually chose our agency for his new advertising campaign.

There’s Champagne and a group of very happy—and very relieved—people, clinking glasses on a successful pitch and I am in the middle of it, happy with them, even though I will be leaving the agency in just a few days.

I remain in Mr. Cooper’s office after everybody else has left, to clean up a little and make sure that there’s nothing left after the little celebration. These kind of things are part of my job—and it also provides me with an opportunity to thank him again.

But he is way ahead of me.

“So, what did you think?” He asks, as I start collecting the empty glasses the employees have left in his office.

“It was great!” I reply. “Thank you for encouraging me to ask Ms. Kingsley to let me join. I learned a lot.”

He is standing next to his desk, smiling down at me.

And then he says something awkward: “Good girl.”

That phrase. My heart gets carried away, pausing for an inappropriate jump once again. I freeze for a second and look up at him. Our eyes meet, just for a split second, before both of us shy away almost simultaneously.

Damn. What the hell was that?

I hurry to collect the remaining glasses. It’s time for me to get out of here, because he notices my fluttering heart.

“You don’t have much time left with us, do you?” He asks, after a few minutes of awkward silence have passed.

I place the last glass on a tray with the others and pause for a moment to look at him.

“Yes,” I say. “Next Friday will be my last day.”

He nods. “That’s what I was thinking.”

I wait for a few moments to see if he wants to say something, but he just looks down at his desk, contemplatively. He clears his throat just as I am about to pick up the tray and leave the room.

“We should have a little goodbye party for you,” he says. “On Thursday afternoon or early evening.”

I look at him, puzzled.

“No?” He asks. “You don’t like the idea?”

I shake my head. “No, I am just surprised. I didn’t think interns would get good bye parties... After all, I’ve just been here for a few months.”

“We don’t do it for all interns,” Mr. Cooper says, winking at me. “Just for the good ones.”

“Oh,” I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “Thank you, that is very nice of you to say.”

Mr. Cooper shakes his head and walks over to his chair.

“I’m not being nice,” he says, as he sits down on his office chair. “Just stating the truth. You have shown excellent efforts during your time, everybody has told me that.”

I smile. “I am glad to hear it.”

“Do you already have plans for the time after this internship?” Mr. Cooper wants to know. “Any other internships lined up? Or a job offer even?”