Talking Dirty with the CEO

chapter Three


The barbarian warrior on Christie’s screen swung his ax at the rat nibbling at his feet and missed. Christie sighed. Another stupid online game. Another stupid review. She just didn’t have the patience for it today.

She glanced over at Ben’s office door. It was shut. Nervousness clenched in her gut. She’d sent her dating article to him on Saturday, having worked all night Friday to get it done.

The Friday night she’d left Joseph’s apartment.

Her cheeks burned at the memory.

She’d kissed him. She’d bloody gone and kissed him. He’d told her he didn’t want her to leave and…well, she’d decided just to go for it then and there.

Still, kissing complete strangers in their bathrooms wasn’t exactly her usual modus operandi, either. Neither was what had happened afterward.

Oh man, the way he’d touched her had been…so good. She hadn’t been able to control the intensity of her response, hadn’t wanted to. It had been so long since anyone had touched her in that way.

I want you. Here. Now. Right now.

His words had reverberated through her whole body.

In the heat of the moment she’d forgotten her nervousness. Her awkwardness. Forgotten she was supposed to be Naughtygirl. She’d even forgotten she was Christie.

For that hot, desperate moment, she’d been just a woman who wanted a man and was wanted in return.

After which, in spite of the kiss and hot sex, she’d bolted yet again.

Good going, St. John. Truly stellar behavior.

Savagely gnawing on her lip, Christie stared at her screen again, trying not to think about what had gripped her in those shocked, panting moments afterward. The unreasoning, senseless panic that had made her push him away and fueled her desperate break for freedom. As she’d run down the hallway, she’d heard him call after her but she hadn’t stopped. She hadn’t stopped running until she’d gotten back home.

Nooooo, definitely not going to think about that part.

“So what happened?”

Christie jumped as Marisa, blue eyes avid, deposited herself on the chair next to Christie’s desk.

“C’mon, St. John. Tell me. Did you do it?”

“Do what?” Christie fussed around with the mouse. Did the world really need to know about her one-night stand with a complete stranger? Uh. No, it did not.

“You know what I’m talking about. And you gave me nothing over the phone, so spill.”

Christie looked at her screen as her barbarian warrior finally succumbed to the rat and died a hero’s death. “Oh, great. Look what you did. You distracted me and now Bjorn’s dead.”

Marisa wasn’t fooled for a second. “Who cares about Bjorn? I want to know what happened with Mr. Hotness.”

Dammit. If Marisa thought you were hiding something she wouldn’t give up until she’d unearthed it.

“Oh. Him.” Christie dealt with her barbarian’s remains, eyes on the screen. “Nothing.”

Marisa didn’t say anything. Christie gave her a cautious, sidelong glance. Her friend’s mouth was open in a silent O of surprise. “Oh my God. You slept with him!”

“What?” Christie squeaked, fiery heat rushing over her. “How did you know? I mean, I never…we didn’t…”

“Ha! You did! You so did!”

“Did what?” One of the guys passing by Christie’s desk, paused, looking interested.

Christie froze while Marisa flapped a hand at him. “Get out of here, Mike. This is girl talk.”

Mike nodded as if the dismissal were perfectly acceptable and moved on.

“Okay,” Marisa said in a quieter voice once he’d gone. “Know this—you are the worst liar in the world so there’s no point trying to hide anything. Tell me what happened. From the beginning, please. Leave nothing out.”

Christie chewed on her lip. She didn’t want to tell her friend. Because then she’d have to reveal her ignominious retreat five seconds after having sex with him.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked bluntly.

“Because I’m bloody jealous,” Marisa replied, just as blunt. “That guy was so hot he nearly set me on fire.”

The beginnings of a tiny, helpless smile began to curve Christie’s mouth. Yeah, Joseph had been hot. And he’d thought she was hot, too. And she’d been the one to kiss him, taking what she’d wanted for a change, rather than letting self-doubt make her decisions for her.

Couldn’t she be the tiniest bit proud of that?

“Well…okay then.” She gave the area another quick scan in case any more of the guys were lurking around, then leaned forward. “We…um…ended up in his apartment. And…uh…I kissed him.”

“You what?” Marisa’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

The heat of Christie’s blush could have powered a small island nation. She held up a finger. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Her friend grinned at her. “Okay then, have it your way. So, anyway, the kiss was…?”

“It was nice.”

“Nice?”

Christie grinned. “Fine, it was more than nice.”

“It was fantastic judging from the way you’re blushing right now,” Marisa observed. “So, after the kiss? You did it then, right?”

Christie blushed harder. “Yeah.”

“Was it good? Come on, don’t leave me in suspense!”

On the bathroom vanity. Cold marble beneath her, Joseph’s heat between her thighs…

Her mouth had gone dry. Dammit. “It was okay.”

“Christie St. John, I swear to God…”

“Okay, fine, it was bloody fantastic. Satisfied?”

It had been fantastic. All weekend, the memory of it had kept her warm. The smell of him, the taste of his mouth, the feel of hard muscle under the material of his T-shirt. And the shock of sexual desire, hot and hungry inside her. She’d never been kissed like that before, not with such blatant demand. Greg had always been tentative, as if asking her permission. Not Joseph. He’d taken that kiss whether she’d wanted to give it to him or not.

But she’d wanted to. Drowning in it, she’d given him that and more. She’d given him everything.

Marisa grinned like a loon. “Woohoo, girl! When you go to town, you really go to town. So, are you going to see him again?”

Ah. Yes. The minor matter of her bolting out the door within seconds of coming apart in his arms. That.

Suddenly there seemed to be a lot of work she needed to do. “No. Would you mind, Mar? I’ve got to do this—”

“You’re not?” Marisa pounced on the crucial part of her sentence. “Why not?”

Christie gave her a glance and tapped importantly on her mouse. “Work. I have it. You know, like, to do.”

But Marisa just stared at her. “You ran out on him, didn’t you?”

Busted. Big time.

She fixated on her screen again, searching for a better way of putting it. “Not so much run out. More like I had to get home urgently.”

Marisa threw up her hands in disgust. “I don’t believe it. When you find a guy like that, you do not run away from him. You stick to him like glue. Especially if the sex is fantastic.”

A thread of irritation wound through Christie. She hadn’t wanted to stick to Joseph like glue. Yeah, he was as hot as hell and the sex had been amazing, but relationships were about more than great sex. You had to have things in common. Stuff to talk about. Okay, so they’d bonded over the stereo but you couldn’t talk about that kind of thing forever, right?

Besides, she didn’t even want a relationship right now. She had her job and her friends. She didn’t need a man to make her life complete.

Christie stabbed at one of the buttons on her mouse. “I didn’t want to. The sex was great but I don’t think we’re compatible in other ways.”

Marisa snorted. “Do the other ways even matter? Great sex is great sex.”

She had a point. Sex with Greg had been…well, comparing that with her experience with Joseph was like comparing an original old master to a copy painted by apes and then photocopied one million times. Harsh to Greg probably, but then the two experiences were so different they weren’t even the same thing.

Stupid to think about, though. She and Joseph hadn’t even swapped numbers, and there was no way in hell she was going to turn up at his apartment out of the blue.

“I can survive without great sex,” she said primly.

“You can survive without what?”

Both women looked up to see Ben, their boss, standing by Christie’s desk.

Oh, great. Had he overheard? Christie wanted to sink through the floor

“Hi, Ben.” She gave him a strained smile. “I was just saying that…uh…I can survive without texts.” She mimed texting on her phone.

Pathetic, St. John. Pathetic.

“Really?” Ben replied, a genial look on his face. “And here was I thinking you were talking about sex.”

Ben did a mild-mannered-reporter act that was very convincing, but underneath he had a mind like a steel trap and nothing escaped him. The steel trap snapped shut now. “Don’t you have work to do, Marisa?”

Marisa rolled her eyes. “And I’m gone. Catch you later, St. John.”

As Marisa left, Ben turned his attention back to Christie. “I read your dating piece.”

A thousand butterflies started doing the macarena in her tummy. She tried to act nonchalant. “So it was okay?”

“Actually, Chris, it was better than okay. It was great. I’m impressed.”

Christie swallowed and the butterflies scattered. “Oh. Oh, that’s…that’s awesome, Ben.”

“Yes. Awesome was just what I thought.” Ben’s mild-mannered reporter abruptly morphed into shark editor. “Which means you’ll be up for the launch of Ashton Tech’s E-Slate next week.”

She froze, terrified and thrilled in equal measure. “You sure you want me to cover it?”

Ben leaned against the desk. “Of course.” His brows rose skyward. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

“Oh, yes! I mean…uh…sure.”

He laughed. “Good. I’m going to give you the interview, too.”

Interview? What interview? “I thought it was just the launch you wanted me to go to?”

The shark grinned. “The mysterious Mr. Ashton will be there and we’ve been granted an audience with the man himself.”

Holy crap. The trepidation turned around and settled into outright fear. “But I thought he never gave interviews?”

“He doesn’t. He’s only doing a handful. Total Tech is one of the lucky recipients.”

Christie swallowed. This was a big deal. The biggest. Joseph Ashton was the largest fish in the technology pond. He never did media stuff. Never.

No wonder Ben looked like the cat who’d not only gotten the cream but swallowed the whole freaking dairy. This interview was a huge coup for the magazine.

“Yeah,” Ben said, clearly seeing every one of Christie’s thought processes. “It’s a big deal. Think you can handle it?”

This was her chance. Her moment. Her opportunity to leave reviewing the latest online war game and stupid dating website for dust, and get her teeth stuck into some real tech journalism.

This was thrilling. Exciting.

And it scared the crap out of her.

“Yes,” she said before she could change her mind. “I can. I promise you I can.”

“Good. You’re a great writer, Chris. I’d like to see you nail this one.”

She grinned. Grinned till her face ached. “And I will. You can count on me, Ben.”

…

Joseph angled the screen of his laptop away from Jude’s view. She scowled at him from across the wide expanse of his desk. “Hey, I thought you were going to take me to lunch?”

“In a sec. Just have to check something.”

His sister let out a breath and flopped on the low, squishy couch that dominated his office. “Five minutes,” she warned, knowing full well his tendency to get distracted. “Then I’m gone.”

Joseph wasn’t listening. Telling himself he was only checking on some details for the E-Slate launch, he glanced down at the laptop. But of course he couldn’t help his attention sliding toward the chat window that was also, coincidentally, open.

The empty chat window.

Right. So Naughtygirl25 wasn’t online. Just as she hadn’t been online for the past three days. That was okay. More than okay. He hadn’t created his own profile just so he could check to see if she’d visited the chat room where he’d first met her. That would be ridiculous. Not to mention desperate.

But if she had been then she would have had some major explaining to do.

Since that night three days ago, she’d steadily taken over his thoughts like a species of fast-growing, beautiful vine. The incident in his bathroom haunted him and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the incredible chemistry that had ignited between them. About the way she’d lit up when he’d touched her, blazing with passion and heat and sensuality. About how he’d been like a sex-starved teenage boy, taking her without any niceties at all. Thank God there’d been a condom in the top drawer because even if there hadn’t been, he wasn’t at all sure he would have stopped.

Terrible behavior. He’d never acted like that before. Why had he responded to her so intensely? Why should the best sex of his life be with a woman whom—to be totally honest here—wasn’t his type in the slightest.

Perhaps it had been due to her response to him. So abandoned. Giving herself up to him with a hunger that had nearly stopped his heart. He’d loved that.

Except for the end when she’d rushed from the room and from his apartment as if the hounds of hell were on her tail. He’d tried to go after her, but dazed after the intensity of the orgasm that had ripped him apart, it had taken him a couple of moments to haul his jeans up and get himself moving. By then it was too late. He’d even gone down to the street to see where she’d gotten to but she’d vanished.

“Joe?”

Her sudden exit had made him feel like absolute crap. Made him wonder if she hadn’t wanted it after all. That perhaps he’d misinterpreted her signals and taken her against her will.

“Joe.”

No, it couldn’t have been that. Her arms had gone around his neck and she’d told him how good he’d made her feel. Then she’d wrapped her legs around his waist just like he’d been fantasizing since the moment he’d seen her, and the sound she’d made as he pushed inside her… She’d been so wet, ready for him. Yeah, she’d wanted him.

“Joe!”

Shit. Jude. He’d been zoning out again. “What?”

Jude looked long-suffering. “Lunch, remember?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Let’s go.” Cursing himself inwardly, Joseph closed down the chat window.

He had to stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about her. She was gone. In any case, even if he did want to see her again he didn’t know her name and had no way of contacting her apart from her chat handle. But he didn’t want to see her again. One night was enough. Any more than that and he ended up bored and restless, and that wasn’t fair. Not her fault he’d been built for casual, not permanent. That the ADHD didn’t allow him anything more, at least not without a fair amount of emotional heartache on both sides. No, these days he stuck to women who were after the same thing—no point in deliberately hurting someone.

Someone like Naughtygirl.

Yeah. Exactly.

They went to his favorite café, a tiny place down on the waterfront that had a view of the busy port—he did like to watch the container ships unloading. It gave him something concentrate on when he felt his focus slip.

“So,” he said as the waitress took their order. “The exhibition went well, huh?”

His sister pushed back the neat, black wings of her short, bobbed hair. “Yeah. It went really well. I sold at least twenty pictures.”

“Wow, that’s incredible, Jude.” And it was. She’d worked really hard to get her first exhibition up and going. He was so proud of her.

She frowned. “You were quite distracted, though. More than normal, I thought. Was it to do with your date?”

“No,” he lied, fiddling with one of the sachets of sugar on the table.

Jude raised an eyebrow, seeing through the lie instantly. “Don’t be an idiot. What happened?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t work out.”

“What? Losing your touch, Mr. Slick?”

“She wasn’t my type.” And she wasn’t. Not in any way, shape, or form.

Jude rolled her eyes. “You mean she wasn’t blonde and built like Big Bust Barbie?”

“Whoa, stereotyping much?” His leg jogged, impatience with his sister’s assessment of his tastes eating away at him.

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Then what is the point?” He folded the sugar sachet in half, making sure it didn’t tear. “Stop making snide comments and just say it.”

She pursed her lips, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. “I get worried about you. You’re my big brother and I hate seeing you so lonely.”

Lonely? What the hell was she talking about? He wasn’t lonely. He had friends coming out of his freaking ears. “I’m not bloody lone—”

“No, don’t say it. I can’t bear the denials. I’m just telling you what I see and that’s a guy surrounded by admirers and colleagues who respect him, but who doesn’t have a single person in his life who doesn’t care about his money or his success or his looks.” She raised a brow. “If you don’t count Caleb and Luke of course, and since Caleb is in the UK and Luke is even more of a workaholic than you are, I don’t.”

Joseph gritted his teeth, dropped the folded-up sugar packet, and grabbed a napkin instead. “I gotta tell you I’m okay with my money, my success, and my looks.”

But the expression in his sister’s eyes had become almost…sad. “You say you are. But I don’t think that’s true. Not really.”

The waitress came over with their coffees at that point, giving him a moment to contain his shock at her soft statement.

Shit, what did she know? He loved his little sister but she had no idea. None at all. He liked the respect he got. He liked the success. He liked the money. All the things he hadn’t had after he’d dropped out of school at fifteen. All the things no one had expected from him.

And he was happy with where he was. He was freaking ecstatic.

He grabbed a couple of sugars, dumped them in his espresso, and stirred. “So what are you trying to tell me? That I need a girl who loves me for who I am on the inside?” He didn’t hold back on the sarcasm.

Jude sipped her latte. “Why not?”

“Because. You know I’m not built that way.”

His sister shook her head. “Rubbish. You’re built the same as everyone else.”

Oh, sure he was. That’s why he’d dropped out of school so young. That’s why he’d had to start his own company because he couldn’t hold down a job. That’s why he only had two friends who’d stuck by him over the years for reasons even he couldn’t work out. That’s why his life was a constant series of reminders that kept him on track in case he got distracted by something unimportant.

Because he was the same as everyone else.

“So come on, tell me about that guy I saw you chatting to on Friday.” A graceless change of subject, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore.

In fact, he was pretty much happy not to talk about himself with anyone. Ever.

And that included his well-meaning sister.