Leslie Kelly - Wicked & Willing

Moments? Had she really discovered the existence of this man who made her heart pound like crazy and her legs feel weak and boneless mere moments before?

She finally thought about his reply and her heart sank, along with her plans. “Your office. Right there. So, uh, you work here? For Max Longotti?” When he nodded, she tried to contain a disappointed sigh.

“I’m Max’s new V.P. For now,” he continued.

Perfect. Just perfect. She’d met a man who’d finally made her rethink her “men aren’t worth the trouble” stance, and she couldn’t have him. It simply would not be smart to get involved with this man, no matter how delicious he was.

Leo would not be happy if she did what she really wanted to do with this handsome, charming stranger. He seemed intent on “pleasing” his uncle by presenting him with his sweet and lovely long-lost grandchild.

Sweet she wasn’t, which is exactly what she’d told Leo. So he’d settled for bright and lovely. Still, he had insisted that she be as discreet as possible, and she’d agreed.

And even Venus—who’d been called everything in her life, except discreet—knew sleeping with Max’s executive might not be the height of discretion.

As a matter of fact, the guy would have to be completely off-limits. Starting right now.

Hell.

TROY SENSED IT the moment the stunning redhead began to withdraw. Her smile faded, her eyelashes lowered and she turned away in her chair to stare at the skyline. Because he worked here? Interesting…

“Now, why don’t you tell me who are you, and why you’re here, Venus?”

“I’m just visiting.”

Her voice was cool, when it had previously been warm. That didn’t concern him. The heat in her eyes two minutes ago could have melted solid ice. “From where?”

“Baltimore.”

She swung her feet up on the rail again, silently dismissing him. Troy almost laughed, seeing through the maneuver. He paused to appreciate again those long-enough-to-wrap-around-him-twice legs and had to shift in his seat.

No. The cold shoulder wasn’t going to change the way they’d reacted to one another from the start. Or the way he was reacting to her now.

If she worked for Max and was worried about a no-fraternization policy, he might just have to quit his new job. It was a small enough sacrifice. What job could compare to getting his libido back?

“Have you been to Atlanta before?”

She merely shook her head.

Getting answers from her was like pulling teeth, but Troy was not about to give up. Not now that he’d met her, now that he’d seen those beautiful green eyes of hers up close, caught a whiff of her exotic perfume and heard the husky timbre of her voice. He could still feel the smoothness of her skin on the tips of his sensitized fingers.

He wanted her, not knowing who she was or why she was here. And she wanted him too.

It was just that simple.

“What do you do?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and said, “Right now, I’m a bartender.”

He nearly chuckled until he realized she was serious. Then he shrugged. “Remind me never to offer to make you a drink.”

“I don’t imagine you’d ever have reason to,” she replied firmly. “I’ll only be in town for a week.”

Ouch. A definite rebuff. But Troy hadn’t earned his reputation by being easily rebuffed. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Longotti estate.” Then, she grudgingly added, “At least, I think so. I’m supposed to go over there this afternoon.”

He hid a grin. Max hadn’t mentioned another houseguest. He could hardly wait to bump into her coming out of the shower or knock on her door at night to borrow some toothpaste.

He wondered if she slept naked. Then he wondered just how long it would take him to find out. Not long, he hoped.

It was too bad he’d be moving out in a few days. Then again, maybe his new apartment wouldn’t be ready for a week. Maybe he’d make damn sure it wasn’t. “So, why aren’t you sure you’re staying with Max? He knows you’re coming, doesn’t he?”

As she nibbled her full lower lip, the heat in his gut shot up another notch. She had a mouth made for kissing. And other things.

“Not exactly,” she mumbled. “Leo dropped me off here, then went to find him. He’s, uh, setting things up, I think.”

“Leo? Leo Gallagher, Max’s nephew?”

She nodded.

Not good. Leo was a white-haired weasel, as far as Troy could tell. Not that it was his place to judge, of course. He barely knew the man, who had some high-level job in this company, though no one seemed sure exactly what he did. But he did know Max’s nephew had been vehemently opposed to Troy’s arrival, and to the possibility of the company being sold.

Apparently, from what Max said, Leo had fully imagined himself to be heir apparent and had been angling for more than a decade for Max to retire so he could step in. Max referred to him as the pencil-necked leech and said he’d retire when they pried his office keys out of his cold dead hand. Or when he passed them over to a new owner—which somehow made Troy think Leo’s job aspirations weren’t going to pan out.

Venus must have noticed his sudden silence, and his frown. “You know Leo?” she asked.

“Barely.”

“You barely know him, but you know you don’t like him?”

He hedged. “I don’t dislike him, I only met him last week when I started working for Longotti Lines.”

Her eyes widened and she finally turned to give him her full attention again. “You just started your job? I thought maybe you’d just gotten a promotion and transferred in from Florida or something.”

“Today is my one-week anniversary.” Leaning closer, he went for smooth charm, since honest conversation hadn’t gotten her to relax, the way she had at first. “I never imagined perks like beautiful redheads sunning themselves right outside my door when I took the job. Maybe I should stock up on sunscreen. Would you like me to do your back?”

She rolled her eyes. “Save it. I liked you better when you weren’t being oily. Besides, you’re not very good at it.”

He straightened, not sure whether he felt amused or offended. Then a reluctant chuckle crossed his lips. “All right, Venus. In the interest of being strictly sincere, I personally think Leo Gallagher is a shifty, spoiled man with abominable taste in shoes and a need for a good barber.”

She grinned. “My, my, from oily to pompous. You are a contradiction, aren’t you?”

Pompous? She’d just called him pompous? He raised a brow and leaned closer. “You’re one to talk about contradictions. From sultress to iceberg in under a minute.”

He stared into her brilliant green eyes, daring her to disagree. She didn’t even try. “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

“So you don’t want to have dinner with me?” He dared her to deny it, knowing damn well she did.

She raised a skeptical brow. “Oh, you mean we were really talking about dinner?”

“What else could we have been talking about?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dessert.” Her voice held a note of challenge.

“I hadn’t even asked about dessert,” he said, his voice holding a hint of playful challenge.

Her creamy cheeks began to grow pink with obvious embarrassment. He doubted this woman blushed very often and he found the heightened color in her face extremely attractive.

He let her sweat for a moment. Then, unable to lie to her any more than he could to himself, he said, “But I would have.”

Her answer was equally as honest. “Five minutes ago the answer probably would have been yes.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s got to be no.”

“Why?”