The One Nighter (3 page)

But she didn’t.

Yanking her purse out of the drawer, she swiveled in her chair to slide her sweater off the back. As she stood up, Jill appeared. The normally infectious smile she offered did nothing to lift her spirits.

“So?” she began, her eyebrows arched high.

“So, what?” she bit back.

“Did you meet him?” she inquired.

“Uh huh,” she replied, gritting her teeth.

Jill rolled her eyes. “Well, what’s he like?” she pro
d
ded.

She let out a huff of aggravation. “It was kind of like meeting the devil face to face.”

Her grin widened. “Sounds sinful,” she purred, her eyebrows wiggling up and down.

Melanie shook her head. “Look, I need to get out of here,” she said, pushing past her.

Jill frowned. “Where are you going in such a rush?”

She jerked her purse higher on her shoulder.
“An
y
where but here.”

“I know what will cheer you up. Come have a drink with me at Charlie’s, and you can tell me all about him.”

Her lips formed a thin line. “No offense, Jill. But the last thing I want to talk about is Connor Mason.”

With that, she left Jill to stare after her. As she drove home, guilt intruded on her personal melancholy. She hadn’t meant to be rude. It wasn’t Jill’s fault that she’d slept with their new owner a year ago.

No, the fault lay resolutely in her lap.

It didn’t seem right that the one time she let go of her inhibitions, she would be punished so severely. Everyone had a lapse in judgment once in a while, didn’t they?

So, why did hers have to come back?

The worst part was that she knew she had to face him again tomorrow. She felt like she was in the middle of a Scrooge tale, only she couldn’t change the channel. Still, no
matter how many times she tried to look away, it was a
l
ways there glaring back at her in the end.

Tomorrow, she would have to face the devil again.

All she could do was hope that she was strong enough to resist the sin.

* * * *

He couldn’t believe it.

After months of thinking about her, wondering where she was, she turned up in his office. It was the worst kind of irony.
Especially now.
Maybe he should’ve expected it. It seemed to be some sort of universal law that whenever his life started going well, something blindsided him. Still, of all the things that could’ve happened, she always would have been the least likely. Hell, he’d thought he would ne
v
er see her again.

But he couldn’t deny that seeing her again wasn’t co
m
pletely unwelcome.

He had thought of her many times. Even wondered where she might be. He would have been a fool not to. Their night together was the stuff of erotic fantasy. But it was too late. He had gone on with his life. They couldn’t pick up where they left off now.

Not that he even knew where that was.

After all, the woman had run from him after a night of incredible sex. She had acted like she was guilty, and he had spent the better part of the last year trying to figure out why.

Did she have a boyfriend?

Or worse, a husband?

Why had she run out without saying goodbye?

It was a question that still haunted him.

Maybe she would quit?

It wasn’t inconceivable.
She had run from him before. It seemed to be her M.O. He gripped the steering wheel. Whether she decided to quit or not, he was fairly certain that she would still attend their meeting tomorrow.
That meant that he would have to deal with her whether he wanted to or not. Since he had no choice, maybe it was time he got some of the answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for the last year.

* * * *

Melanie stared at the walls of her cubicle. Ten o’ clock was approaching way too fast. She sighed heavily. Som
e
times, it truly felt like life was out to get her. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Last night, her dreams had been an enemy she couldn’t fight. Over and over she’d relived their night together, and even created some new scenes.

It was horrible.

Mostly because it was so seductive.

What was it about this man that made her lose all sense of reason?

She watched the minutes get closer, wishing she could be somebody, anybody else. Finally, when she could wait no longer, she gathered her files and headed down the hall. She would face this the way she had faced everything else in her life.

Head on.

It was the only way.

Clutching the files to her chest, she tapped her knuckles against the office door.

“Come in,” she heard his deep voice boom through the thick door.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the doorknob and walked in. He pushed back from the small conference table in the corner to stand, crossing the distance in two long strides.
He relieved her of several files by placing them on the table.
When he turned back to face her, his boyish grin nearly did her in.

“Turner had a meeting, so it looks like it will just be the two of us today.”

Great!

She wanted to say it, but she didn’t.

She sat down beside him, opening one of the files.

It was going to be a long day.

After an hour of going over accounts, Melanie almost forgot the tension between them existed.
Almost.
Sure, there were the odd moments when they reached for the same file, their fingers brushing against each other’s inn
o
cently. She tried to ignore the tingle of awareness that thrilled through her each time it happened, but she couldn’t deny that it was getting harder.

As much as she tried to focus on the renewal costs and past claims, certain things were beginning to distract her. Like the way his blue eyes turned sea green in certain ligh
t
ing. Or the little lines around his mouth that deepened when he laughed.

He leaned back, stretching before long tanned fingers met together in the center of his chest.

“I’m beat,” he admitted.
“How about a break for lunch?”

She shifted in her chair. “When do you want me back?” she asked.

His eyebrows drew together. “Come on, Mel. We have to eat. Why don’t I take you to lunch?”

She didn’t want to like the way he shortened her name. It was too knowing, too intimate.

So, why did it sound so good?

“I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly.

He stood up, holding out a hand in invitation. “Consi
d
er it a thank you for everything you’ve done.” When she didn’t immediately agree, he added, “Plus, you can help me get ready for the
McCready
meeting.”

Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around her hand. It was too warm, too inviting. It seemed unfair that one man should be so tempting.

She felt his hand on her lower back as he led her out.

Dear God, why did it have to feel so good?

Maybe it was because she hadn’t had sex in six months?

Yes, that had to be it. She was hard up. That was the reason that she wanted to melt into him.
Still, no matter what the cause, being with him in such close proximity was definitely chipping away at her resolve.

The restaurant he chose was a small Italian place with red tablecloths. Old wine bottles with melted down candles were the only centerpiece. She took a deep breath. This was a far cry from the cafeteria-style settings that Mr. Turner used for lunch meetings. No, this was a place that hosted many Saturday night dates. It certainly was not the type of place where a boss took his new coworker.

The setting led the way to a question she wasn’t sure that she was ready for.

What exactly was Connor Mason planning?

And, worst of all, would she be strong enough to resist it?

Chapter 5

As soon as they sat down in the booth, she knew she was in trouble.

Connor Mason in a professional setting she could ha
n
dle; Connor Mason in an intimate setting meant she was in trouble. After ordering a bottle of wine, he turned to face her. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

“I thought maybe we should talk,” he explained.

She picked up her menu, feigning intense interest.
“About what?”

The side of his mouth quirked up on a cocky grin.
“I just want to make sure that what happened doesn’t inte
r
fere with our work.”

Her eyes met his. “It won’t,” she assured him evenly.

His gaze bore into her, and she began to wonder how much he could see when he looked at her.

Could he see through the façade of indifference that she was clinging to?

After a moment of silence, he nodded. “Good.
Because that would be the last thing I need right now.
I mean, I know that this is awkward…”

“It’s not awkward. I mean, not for me,” she lied.

He tilted his head to the side as a lazy grin stole across his face. “No?” he prodded.

She tried her best to maintain his gaze, but that sexy grin was doing her in. Unable to stop herself, she looked away. For a minute, she thought the silence that enveloped the table would go on forever.

Luckily, he ended it.

“Well, that’s great, because we have our work cut out for us,” he remarked.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?” she asked.

He pinned her with a steady gaze. “I mean that Turner hasn’t brought in any new clients in over a year, and he’s barely holding on to the clients he’s got.”

Indignation rose up in her, and she
pursed
her lips. “I’ve been working with these clients for the past six years. If anybody knows them, I do. And I haven’t heard a single complaint.”

The look on his face made her blood boil.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he replied.

She sighed heavily as she tried to reign in her errant temper. “What does that mean?”

He was silent as the waiter brought their food. Sliding the napkin into his lap, he looked up. “It means that their problem wasn’t with you. It was with Turner,” he e
x
plained.

She let out a huff of aggravation. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Mr. Turner is a great man,” she bit back.

“Who hasn’t had his mind on the business for a while,” he provided.

She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

One eyebrow arched.
“Really?
When’s the last time he even met with his clients?” he challenged.

“Mr. Turner leaves most of the client relations to me,” she said.

“Exactly,” he replied.

Anger rose swiftly. “Are you saying that I don’t know how to do my job?” she demanded through gritted teeth.

His eyes narrowed. “No, I’m saying that Turner doesn’t know how to do his.”

The words were meant to placate her, but they didn’t have the desired effect. In fact, they did just the opposite, and she was seriously considering a full attack.

After all, what did he know about the agency?

What did he know about their clients?

She tried to pretend that his criticism didn’t echo her own. It was true that Mr. Turner could have been more i
n
volved with what was going on with the clientele. She had complained about that very thing many times.

But she would never admit that.

Especially to him.

He leaned in, his eyes meeting hers. “Melanie, I know you do a great job. I also know that you care a hell of a lot more about your job than Turner does,” he elaborated.

She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Alright then, convince me. Tell me what Turner has been doing to bring in new clients.”

She wanted to.

She wanted to throw his words right back in his smug, arrogant face.

But she couldn’t.

As much as she hated to admit it, Mr. Turner had put the business on the back burner.
At her silence, he conti
n
ued.

“You can’t, Mel.” Placing his forearms on the table, he leaned in. “Look, it’s not your fault. You’ve done an adm
i
rable job keeping the clients happy. Between the two of us, I think we could make a pretty good team.” He paused for a moment before adding, “If that’s what you want.”