Читать книгу The Beaumont Brothers - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 13

Six

Chadwick did not sleep well.

He told himself that it had everything to do with the disastrous board meeting and nothing to do with Serena Chase, but what the hell was the point in lying? It had everything to do with Serena.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Rationally, he knew that. He’d fired other executives for crossing that very same line—one strike and they were out. For way too long, Beaumont Brewery had been a business where men took all kinds of advantage of the women who worked for them. That was one of the first things he’d changed after his father died. He’d had Serena write a strict sexual harassment policy to prevent exactly this situation.

He’d always taken the higher road. Fairness, loyalty, equality.

He was not Hardwick Beaumont. He would not seduce his secretary. Or his executive assistant, for that matter.

Except that he’d already started. He’d told her he was taking her to the gala. He’d taken her shopping and bought tens of thousands of dollars worth of gowns, jewels and handbags for her.

He’d kissed her. He’d wanted to do so much more than just kiss her, too. He’d wanted to leave that gown in a puddle on the floor and sit back on the loveseat, Serena’s body riding his. He wanted to feel the full weight of her breasts in his hands, her body taking his in.

He’d wanted to do something as base and crass as take her in a dressing room, for God’s sake. And that was exactly what Hardwick would have done.

So he’d stopped. Thankfully, she’d stopped, too.

She hadn’t wanted the dresses. She’d fought him tooth and nail about that.

But the kiss?

She’d kissed him back. Tracing his mouth with her tongue, pressing those amazing breasts against him—holding him just as tightly as he had been holding her.

He found himself in his office by five-thirty the next morning, running a seven-minute mile on his treadmill. He had the international market report up on the screen in front of him, but he wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to it.

Instead, he was wondering what the hell he was going to do about Serena.

She was pregnant. And when she’d come out in those gowns, she’d glowed. She’d always been beautiful—a bright, positive smile for any occasion with nary a manipulating demand in sight—but yesterday she’d taken his breath away over and over again.

He was totally, completely, one hundred percent confounded by Serena Chase. The women in Chadwick’s world did not refuse expensive clothing and jewelry. They spent their days planning how to get more clothes, better jewels and a skinnier body. They whimpered and pleaded and seduced until they got what they wanted.

That’s what his mother had always done. Chadwick doubted whether Eliza and Hardwick had ever really loved each other. She’d wanted his money, and he’d wanted her family prestige. Whenever Eliza had caught Hardwick in flagrante delicto—which was often—she’d threaten and cry until Hardwick plunked down a chunk of change on a new diamond. Then, when one diamond wasn’t enough, he started buying them in bulk.

Helen had been like that, too. Oh, she didn’t threaten, but she did pout until she got what she wanted—cars, clothes, plastic surgery. It had been so much easier to just give in to her demands than deal with the manipulation. In the last year before she filed for divorce, she’d only slept with him when he’d bought her something. Not that he’d enjoyed it much, even then.

Somehow, he’d convinced himself he was fine with that. He didn’t need to feel passion because passion left a man wide open for the pain of betrayal. Because there was always another betrayal around the next corner.

But Serena? She didn’t cry, didn’t whine and didn’t pout. She never treated him like he was a pawn to be moved until she got what she wanted, never treated him like he was an obstacle she had to negotiate around.

She didn’t even want to let him buy her a dress that made her feel beautiful.

He punched the treadmill up another mile per hour, running until his lungs burned.

He could not be lusting after his assistant and that was final.

This was just the result of Helen moving out of their bedroom over twenty-two months before, that was all. And they hadn’t had sex for a couple of months before that. Yes, that was it. Two years without a woman in his arms—without a woman looking at him with a smile, without a woman who was glad to see him.

Two years was a hell of a long time.

That’s all this was. Sexual frustration manifesting itself in the direction of his assistant. He hadn’t wanted to break his marriage vows to Helen, even in the middle of their never-ending divorce. Part of that was a wise business decision—if Helen found out that he’d had an affair, even after their separation, she wouldn’t sign off on the divorce until he had nothing left but his name.

But part of that was refusing to be like his father.

Except his father totally would have lavished gifts on his secretary and then kissed her.

Hell.

Finally his legs gave out, but instead of the normal clarity a hard run brought him, he just felt more muddled than ever. Despite the punishing exercise, he was no closer to knowing what he was supposed to do when Serena came in for their morning meeting.

Oh, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to lay her out on his desk and lavish her curves with all the attention he had. He wanted her to straddle him. He wanted to bring her to a shuddering, screaming climax, and he wanted to hold her afterwards and fall asleep in her arms.

He didn’t just want to have sex.

He wanted to have Serena.

Double damn.

He threw himself into his shower without bothering to touch the hot water knob. The cold did little to shock him back to his senses, but at least it knocked his erection down to a somewhat manageable level.

This was beyond lust. He had a need to take care of her—to not fail her. That was why he’d bought her nice things, right? Sure. He was just rewarding her loyalty.

She’d said that her ex hadn’t responded to her email. There—that was something he could do. He could get that jerk to step up to the plate and at least acknowledge that he’d left Serena in a difficult situation. Yeah, he liked that idea—making Neil Moore toe the line was a perfectly acceptable way of looking out for his best employee, and it didn’t involve kissing her. He doubted that Serena would hold Neil responsible for his legal obligations—but Chadwick had no problem putting that man’s feet to the fire.

He shut the water off and grabbed his towel. He was pretty sure he had Neil’s information in his phone. But where had he left it?

He rummaged in his pants pocket for a few minutes before he remembered he’d set it down on his desk when he came in.

He opened the door and walked into his office—and found himself face-to-face with Serena.

“Chadwick!” she gasped. “What are you—”

“Serena!” It was then that he remembered the only thing he had on was a towel. He hadn’t even managed to dry off.

Her mouth was frozen in a totally kissable “oh,” her eyes wide as her gaze traveled down his wet chest.

Desire pumped through him, hard. All he’d have to do would be to drop the towel and show her exactly what she did to him. Hell, at the rate he was going, he wouldn’t even have to drop the towel. She wasn’t blind and his body wasn’t being subtle right now.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “I didn’t realize....”

“Just checking my phone.” Just thinking about you. He glanced at his clock. She was at least an hour ahead of schedule. “You’re early.”

“I wanted...I mean, about last night...” She seemed to be trying to get herself back under control, but her gaze kept drifting down. “About the kiss...” A furious blush made her look innocent and naughty at the same time.

He took a step forward, all of his best intentions blown to hell by the look on her face. The same look she’d had the night before when he’d kissed her. She wanted him.

God, that made him feel good.

“What about the kiss?”

Finally, she dropped her gaze from his body to the floor. “It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was unprofessional and I apologize.” She rushed through the words in one breath, sounding like she’d spent at least half the night rehearsing that little speech. “It won’t happen again.”

Wait—what? Was she taking all the blame for that? No. It’s not like she’d shoved him against the wall and groped him. He was the one who’d pulled her into his arms. He was the one who’d lifted her chin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought I was the one who kissed you.”

“Yes, well, it was still unprofessional, and it shouldn’t have happened while I was on the job.”

For a second, Chadwick knew he’d screwed up. She was serious. He’d be lucky if she didn’t file suit against him.

But then she lifted her head, her bottom lip tucked under her teeth as she peeked at his bare torso. There was no uncertainty in her eyes—just the same desire that was pumping through his veins.

Then he realized what she’d said—while she was on the job.

Would she be “on the job” on Saturday night? Or off the clock?

“Of course,” he agreed. Because, even though she was looking at him like that and he was wearing nothing more than a towel, he was not his father. He could be a reasonable, rational man. Not one solely driven by his baser needs. He could rein in his desires.

Sort of.

“What time shall I pick you up for dinner on Saturday?”

Her lower lip still held captive by her teeth—God, what would it feel like if she bit his lip like that?—he thought he saw her smile. Just a little bit. “The gala starts at nine. We should arrive by nine-twenty. We don’t want to be unfashionably late.”

He’d take her to the Palace Arms. It would be the perfect accompaniment to the gala—a setting befitting Serena in a gown. “Ms. Chase,” he said, trying to use his normal business voice. It was harder to do in a towel than he would have expected. “Please make dinner reservations for two at the Palace Arms for seven. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

Her eyes went wide again—like they had the day before when he’d informed her he was sending her to Neiman’s to get a dress. Like they had when he’d impulsively ordered all three dresses. Why was she so afraid of him spending his money as he saw fit? “But that’s...”

“That’s what I want,” he replied.

And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he let the towel slip. Just a little—not enough to flash her—but more than enough to make her notice.

And respond. No, she didn’t like it when he flashed his wealth around—but his body? His body appeared to be a different matter entirely. Her mouth dropped open into that “oh” again and then—God help him—her tongue flicked out and traced over her lips. He had to bite down to keep the groan from escaping.

“I’ll...I’ll go make those reservations, Mr. Beaumont,” she said breathlessly.

He couldn’t have kept the grin off his face if he tried. “Please do.”

Oh, yeah, he was going to take her out to dinner and she was going to wear one of those gowns and he would...

He would enjoy her company, he reminded himself. He did not expect anything other than that. This was not a quid pro quo situation where he bought her things and expected her to fall into bed out of obligation. Sex was not the same as a thank-you note.

Then she held up a small envelope. “A thank-you note. For the dresses.”

He almost burst out laughing, but he didn’t. He was too busy watching Serena. She took two steps toward the desk and laid the envelope on the top. She was close enough that, if he reached out, he could pull her back into his arms again, right where she’d been the night before.

Except he’d have to let go of the towel.

When had restraint gotten this hard? When had he suddenly had trouble controlling his urges? Hell, when was the last time he’d had an urge he had to control?

Years, really. Long, dry years in a loveless marriage while he ran a company. But Serena woke up something inside of him—and now that it was awake, Chadwick felt it making him wild and impulsive.

The tension in the room was so thick it was practically visible.

“Thank you, Ms. Chase.” He was trying to hide behind last names, like he’d done for years, but it wasn’t working. All his mouth could taste was her kiss.

“You have Larry coming in for his morning meeting.” She didn’t step back, but he saw the side-eye she was giving him. “Shall I reschedule him or do you think you can be dressed by then?”

This time, he didn’t bother to hold back his chuckle. “I suppose I can be dressed by then. Send him in when he gets here.”

She gave a curt nod with her head and, with one more glance at his bare chest, turned to leave.

He couldn’t help himself. “Serena?”

She paused at the door, but she didn’t look back. “Yes?”

“I...” He snapped off the part about how he wanted her. Even if it was the truth. “I’m looking forward to Saturday.”

She glanced back over her shoulder and gave him the same kind of smile she’d had when she’d been twirling in the gowns for him—warm, nervous and excited all at once. “Me, too.”

Then she left him alone in his office. Which was absolutely the correct thing to have done.

Saturday sure seemed like a hell of a long time off.

He hoped he could make it.

* * *

Serena made sure to knock for the rest of the week.

Not that she didn’t want to see Chadwick’s bare chest, the light hairs that covered his body glistening with water, his hair damp and tousled....

And certainly not because she’d been fantasizing about Chadwick walking in on her in the shower, leaning her back against the tiled wall, kissing her like he’d kissed her in the store, those kisses going lower and lower until she was blind with pleasure, then her returning the favor....

Right. She knocked extra hard on his door because it was the polite thing to do.

Thursday was busy. The fallout from the board meeting had to be dealt with, and the last-minute plans for the gala could not be ignored. Once Chadwick got his clothes on, she hardly had more than two minutes alone with him before the next meeting, the next phone call.

Friday was the same. They were in the office until almost seven, soothing the jittery nerves of employees worried about their jobs and investors worried about not getting a big enough payout.

She still hadn’t heard from Neil. She did manage to get a doctor’s appointment scheduled, but it wasn’t for another two weeks. If she hadn’t heard anything after that, she’d have to call him. That was all.

But she didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she thought about Saturday night.

She was not going to fall into bed with Chadwick. Above and beyond the fact that he was still her boss for the foreseeable future, there were too many problems. She was pregnant, for starters. She was still getting over the end of a nine-year relationship with Neil—and Chadwick wasn’t divorced quite yet. She didn’t want whatever was going on with her and Chadwick to smack of a rebound for either of them.

That settled it. If, perhaps in the near future—a future in which Serena was not pregnant, Chadwick was successfully divorced and Serena no longer worked for him because the company had been sold—then she could be brazen and call him up to invite him over. Then she could seduce him. Maybe in the shower. Definitely near a bed.

But not until then. Really.

So this was just a business-related event. Sure, an extra fancy one, but nothing else had changed.

Except for that kiss. That towel.

Those fantasies.

She was in so much trouble.