Talking Dirty with the CEO

chapter Four


The Ashton Tech E-Slate product launch at the Hilton on Princes Wharf was in full swing by the time Christie arrived, the huge ballroom already packed. The event had been touted as a pretty big deal and all the tech gurus and attendant media were there, including a few celebrities who would provide the new product with a bit of cachet. Promo girls in slinky outfits circulated, as well as waitstaff with free alcohol. All the ingredients needed to make it a launch to remember.

Christie hated it.

She scowled at the crowd, trying to ignore the nervousness she always felt when it came to social events. Small talk really wasn’t her thing and as for networking, she only knew about that in relation to computers.

Good thing she was here to do a job and not socialize.

A woman who looked as if she’d escaped the pages of Italian Vogue sauntered past, and Christie scowled even harder. Oh bollocks. Was she supposed to have dressed up for this? If so, Ben hadn’t told her. She’d just chucked on what she’d normally wear to a tech function—T-shirt, jeans, and Docs. Yes, the T-shirt was a limited edition Death’s Head tour T-shirt, the jeans were skinny, and her Docs purple velvet, but clearly that said special to nobody else but her.

Too bad. She wasn’t going to regret refusing Marisa’s help with finding a “suitable outfit,” either. After the stretchy black dress debacle, she had no intention of letting her friend make any more clothing choices for her.

Debacle? Joseph wasn’t able to take his eyes off your legs…

Pushing the thought out her head, Christie scanned the crowd looking for people she knew and sure enough, after a couple of minutes she spotted some colleagues from a rival magazine. Taking a glass of champagne, she threaded her way through the knots of people toward her friends. They greeted her with friendly smiles, and soon enough they’d all gotten into a deeply interesting discussion about the latest smartphone.

“So what do you think of this Ashton guy then?” Christie asked Tony, another colleague and fellow metal connoisseur, a while later.

She’d tried to do a bit of investigation about the Ashton Tech CEO before the launch, but information had been sparse. Unsurprisingly. He was known for being media shy, preferring to leave all that stuff to his company’s spokesperson. All she’d discovered was that he’d started his PC business from a friend’s garage while in his teens, and from there it had gone from strength to strength, becoming not just a force to be reckoned with in Australasia but in other parts of the world, too. Apparently he was based in Auckland but traveled a lot. And that was the extent of the information. She’d found a couple of official-looking pictures though, and she had to admit, for a technology CEO he was hot, if too clean-cut and expertly coiffed for her tastes.

“What do I think? I think the guy’s a freaking genius.” Tony waved the beer he was holding for emphasis. “Ashton Tech went from a garage start-up to a turnover in the billions in less than ten years. That’s genius in my book.”

“Sounds more like a work/life balance problem to me,” Christie muttered.

“Decide for yourself then.” Tony elbowed her. “His Highness is about to address the masses”

“Where?” she asked, craning around.

“Over there.” Tony pointed. “Interesting he’s made a personal appearance tonight. Must be important, I guess.”

A makeshift stage had been rigged up on one end of the ballroom, and she spotted a dark-haired man going up the steps. At first Christie couldn’t see him with the lights dimming. A spotlight came on as he walked over to the lectern and then there he was, standing in the center of the column of light like James T. Kirk ready to be beamed aboard the Enterprise.

Tall and broad in a very expensive-looking dark suit. Black hair expertly styled. A chiseled clean-shaven jawline and cheekbones to die for. He looked somehow hotter in real life than he did in those pictures. And also somehow… The nagging sense of familiarity gripped her.

Abruptly her heart stopped.

Sweet Jesus. What the bloody hell was uninhibited-sex-on-the-bathroom-vanity Joseph doing here?

Then, as her brain caught up with the rest of reality, she realized: gorgeous, uninhibited-sex-on-the-bathroom-vanity Joseph was Joseph Ashton of Ashton Technology. The owner of the company whose product was being launched with such hype tonight.

Christie’s glass of bubbly slipped through her nerveless fingers and smashed on the polished wooden floor.

Up on the stage, Joseph turned and she found she couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. The whole ballroom seemed to fall silent.

She wanted to die.

But unfortunately death didn’t oblige her, so she had to stand there in agony, face flaming, as everyone stared at her. Including Joseph. And just when she thought her embarrassment would burn a hole through the floor, his attention shifted and he began to speak. As if he hadn’t seen her at all.

Waitstaff appeared, cleaning up the mess while Tony stared at her, puzzled.

“Are you okay? What was all that about?”

Her mouth felt dry. Her knees weak with shock.

“Nothing,” she croaked out. “Nothing at all.”

Nothing except for the fact that Joseph Ashton, head of a major company with a turnover in the billions, one of the most innovative IT companies in Australasia with a future that was going to go global, just happened to be her one-night stand. How could she not have recognized him? How could she not have known? He was kind of famous and she was in the industry.

Then again, what were the odds of your online date being a technology billionaire? And he’d been in jeans and T-shirt with an unshaven jaw and messy-ish hair. She hadn’t made the connection. But, Lord, she did now.

And just as she was struggling with that thought, another one sneaked up behind and hit her with a baseball bat.

She had to interview him.

Bloody freaking hell.

“Hey, Chris. You’ve gone white.” Tony now looked concerned.

It was too much. All way too much. She had to get out. Get some space. Some air.

Muttering excuses, Christie turned and pushed her way out of the ballroom, stopping in the reception area outside, breathing hard.

There were several low black leather couches scattered around and she tottered toward one, sinking down on it to give her wet-noodle knees a break. Then she lowered her head into her hands.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Shame and embarrassment spread through her. This interview was going to be a nightmare. He’d probably look at her in shock as she sat down in front of him. The geeky tech hack he’d slept with. The one who’d run out like a frightened rabbit. What would he say? What would she say?

Whoa, freaking out much, St. John?

Christie shut her eyes. Oh yeah, she was freaking out. Which was dumb. She had to get a grip here.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, staring at the huge painting on the wall opposite her.

So he was her one-night stand. So he was a billionaire. So she had to interview him. So what?

She’d handle it. No biggie.

Yeah, he probably dated models or gorgeous actresses or something. But, hell, that didn’t matter. God knew, hot billionaires weren’t her usual thing, either. Those kind of guys, the guys her parents sucked up to all the time—guys like Greg—were usually arrogant, self-obsessed, and up-themselves anyway. Totally not her scene at all.

I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous…

Christie’s throat closed. No, don’t think about that. Don’t.

“Chris?” She jerked her head up to see Tony coming toward her. “What’s up?”

Oh, just gearing myself up to interview my one-night stand. The one-night stand I ran out on. Nothing major.

She let out a long breath. “Nothing. I think it must have been something I ate.”

He frowned. “Do you need to go home?”

Yes. She did want to go home. Run away back to the safety of her apartment. Fire up a game of Zombie Force Online. Go back to where she was comfortable. Where she was safe.

But she wouldn’t because she had an interview to do. An interview she’d promised to deliver to her boss and one she wasn’t going to let mere embarrassment stop her from delivering.

She could do this. She could. He was just a guy. A guy she’d had bathroom-vanity sex with, but hey. With any luck he wouldn’t even remember it.

Christie pushed herself off the couch. “No. I’m fine, Tony. But I could use another glass of champagne.”

…

Joseph, his speech over, stepped off the stage. People began to surround him but he took a moment to grab the attention of a nearby aide, who responded with the usual suck-uppiness. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ashton?”

“There’s a woman here tonight, long reddish-brown hair, Gothic-looking T-shirt with a skull on it. Find out anything you can about her, please.”

Not much for the guy to go on of course, but hell, what was the point of having an aide if you couldn’t ask them to do the impossible?

The man nodded and sped off while the crowds closed in.

Joseph put on his game face, trying to do the CEO thing while his brain kept focusing on the only thing it considered important: Naughtygirl’s face in the crowd, staring at him in shock.

Perhaps it was stupid, not to mention desperate, to try to find out about a woman he’d had a one-night stand with a week ago. He’d had one-nighters before and never felt the urge. Then again, none of the women he’d had one-nighters with had turned tail and bolted on him.

All he wanted was an explanation. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

That and the fact that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. But he wasn’t going to think about that, oh no, he wasn’t.

The evening began to stretch interminably, a test of his patience and his concentration.

He hated it. The endless succession of people, the same conversations over and over again, trying to remember names, trying to remember faces. The whole thing made him restless and unable to focus.

It was different when he was researching or developing something. When that happened, he was the very definition of focused, staying up all night, working all day. That quality had enabled him to get the E-Slate to market far quicker than any of his competitors, and that was why Ashton Technology was always at the forefront of innovation.

The ADHD had may have played merry hell with his personal life, but it had given him the edge when it came to his business, at least.

An hour later, the aide was back with some information.

It turned out that his Naughtygirl was in fact Christie St. John, a tech journalist for one of the better technology mags. A fact that certainly explained her very specific knowledge of his stereo.

“And here’s her most recent article,” the aide said, thrusting the most recent issue of Total Tech into his hand.

Distracted, Joseph waved a group of people away and stepped over to the side of the ballroom to read it. The article concerned the Internet dating scene, an informative and amusing bit of fluff about her encounter with a certain Studman500.

Ah, so that was why she’d been out on the date. She’d been researching her article. Perhaps that was also why she’d run out on him. Unless she’d expected to end up on his bathroom vanity…

But that wasn’t likely, was it? She’d tried to hide it, but he could tell she’d been nervous and unsure of herself. And if he hadn’t picked up on it with her intermittent stutter and flashes of vulnerability, then her fleeing the scene of the crime in his bathroom certainly gave it away.

Quickly he scanned the article again, unable to stop the grin that curled his mouth. Man, she was good. The wit he’d noticed in her IM conversation was right there in the dry, funny way she’d written about their date. She hadn’t included the sexy part but she’d put in their chat about his hi-fi unit.

“Joseph?”

He looked up from the magazine as Liz, his chief media officer, approached. “What is it?”

“The interviews are due to start in a couple of minutes. Are you ready? There’s a suite upstairs for you.”

A sudden thought struck him. “Do I have an interview with anyone from Total Tech?”

Liz whipped out her E-Slate, flicking through the apps on the screen. “Ah, let me see…yes, you do. Total Tech is up first.”

“The name?”

“Uh…Christie St. John.”

Well, well, well. Looked like he was going to get his explanation after all.

A feeling of intense satisfaction settled inside him.

“Good.” He handed a surprised Liz the magazine. “Let’s get on with it then.”

Upstairs, the hotel suite set aside for the interviews had been prettified with flowers, a plate of fruit and even a bottle of champagne on ice for his personal use. But Joseph ignored both the fruit and the champagne.

He paced over to the windows, surprised by the intensity of his anticipation. Then turned as the door opened and Liz came in, a tall, female figure trailing behind her. “Christie St. John from Total Tech,” she announced and stood aside.

And there she was, standing in the middle of the room. His Naughtygirl.

Over the past couple of days he’d thought that maybe he’d imagined her sexiness. Built her up into something more than she had been. But looking at her now, he realized that in fact he’d underestimated her attraction. Because, goddammit, even without the stretchy black dress, she was something else.

She wore a loose black band T-shirt with the grinning skull on it he’d noticed earlier, her long, fabulous legs encased in tight black jeans. He liked the jeans. Very much. Though the T-shirt could be tighter, all the better to showcase the round perfection of her breasts.

Unable to help himself, he took in her figure, dropping down to her legs, then farther down to…velvet Docs?

The launch had been a high-class affair. Black tie all the way.

But not, apparently, for Christie St. John.

Unexpected. Unusual. Fascinating.

Liz left the room while Christie gave him a curiously defiant look. “Hello, Mr. Ashton. I’m Christie—”

“I know who you are.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You do?”

Right. So she was going to pretend nothing had happened between them? Annoyance cut through his fascination. Why the hell would she do that? Had she not enjoyed what they’d done together?

“What? You mean apart from the fact that Liz just introduced you?” Joseph folded his arms. “Well, here’s a reminder. You on the bathroom vanity. Me inside you while you screamed in my ear.”

Her face went beet red. “I-I-I— “

“So it does ring a few bells?”

“I didn’t scream.”

“Sure you did, honey. I was there, remember? But five seconds later you weren’t.”

Her mouth closed with a snap. Christie’s gaze slid away, her hands clutching the straps of the scruffy leather bag she had slung over her narrow shoulder.

His annoyance began to escalate. She couldn’t even look him in the eye? “Don’t tell me,” he said, unable to help himself. “Women’s problems again?”

She became even redder, if that was possible. Small white teeth nibbled on her lower lip and he tried to ignore the stab of lust that speared through him.

God, he remembered that mouth. Remembered the taste of her…

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” she said at last.

“Why wouldn’t I? I don’t make a habit of forgetting women I have wild bathroom sex with.”

“Oh.” She still didn’t look at him.

An awkward silence fell.

Was she shy? Embarrassed? What?

“Any time you’re ready,” he prompted.

Christie let out an audible breath, then suddenly she was all business, checking her watch and looking impatient. “We can discuss that later, can’t we? I have to do this interview and you’ve only allotted me ten minutes.”

Oh, dammit, the bloody interview. He’d forgotten. He cursed. “Fine. Interview first.”

He strode to the couch, flung himself down on it, and watched her sit on one of the armchairs opposite him, pulling a digital voice recorder and her phone out of her bag as she sat down. She fussed around with the recorder, then sat back, fingers working the screen of her phone with great intention.

Joseph gritted his teeth, trying to figure out why he was so annoyed with her. So she’d run out. Did he really care that much?

Yeah, he decided, actually he did. She’d pushed him away hard. As though he’d hurt her or something, and he hated the thought of that. He had his faults, but hurting women wasn’t one of them.

Christie made a humming noise and his thoughts veered away from his anger, distracted by the sound. She had a fierce look on her face, a crease between her brows. He couldn’t stop looking at the shape of her mouth. The soft curve of her throat.

Impatience bit deep and along with it, desire.

Was ten minutes going to be enough for the interview, and for him to get the answers he wanted from her? It wouldn’t if she didn’t hurry the hell up.

“Ten minutes,” he reminded her, drumming his fingers on his knee.

Christie flashed him an annoyed glance. “I know.”

“Though it’s nine minutes now.”

“Give me a moment to get my questions, okay?” The crease between her brows had deepened. She cursed and muttered something about “stupid reception.”

“Can’t find them?”

“Don’t rush me.”

Beneath his impatience, a small kernel of unwilling amusement glowed. “Giving me orders, Naughtygirl? I like it. And that’s eight minutes, by the way.”

She glared at him. “Do you mind? Important journalist stuff going on here and counting down is not helping.”

Losing what remained of his minuscule store of patience, Joseph leaned forward and plucked the phone out of her grasp.

“Hey!” she protested. “I need that!” She grabbed at it, but he held it out of her reach.

“No, you don’t. Stop wasting time and just ask me some stuff. Then we can get on to what’s really important here.”

Green sparks flickered in her eyes, flashes of temper. “Actually, what’s important is my interview.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?”

“Give me back the phone, Mr. Ashton.”

“I was Joseph to you last week.” He paused for effect. “Christie.”

She flushed as he said her name. “Yeah, well, you’re Mr. Ashton now.”

“Harsh, Naughtygirl. What did I ever to do you? Oh yes, that’s right. Only gave you a screaming orgasm.”

“Can you please stop mentioning the orgasms?”

“Why? Does it turn you on?” Maybe he was being a tad childish but he couldn’t seem to stop the words coming out of his mouth.

Her eyes glittered and her T-shirt stretched tight over her breasts as she sucked in a breath, the press of her nipples obvious through the fabric. And he was betting that didn’t have anything to do with the air-conditioning.

Oh yeah, she could deny it all she liked, but she was turned on.

Just like he was.

Christie’s teeth caught her lower lip yet again, and that did not help the tight feeling happening in the vicinity of his groin. “No, of course not.” Her voice had a husky, smoky quality that sounded downright illegal.

“Liar,” he murmured, holding her gaze. “You’re as turned on as I am.”

The tension in the room pulled achingly tight.

Then there was a brief knock on the door and Liz, clearly oblivious to the mood she’d just killed, poked her head around it. “Five minutes, Joseph.”

Ah, shit. Already? “Thanks for the reminder, Liz,” he said through gritted teeth.

Christie blinked and sat back in her seat, pushing back a thick lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “Great. Thanks for wasting my time, Mr. Ashton.” She said his name with particular emphasis. “Now give me my damn phone.”

If she thought he was going to let her go so easily, she had another think coming. He wanted his explanation.

Not just an explanation. Don’t kid yourself.

May as well admit it. He wanted her, too.

She sat across from him, arms folded, looking all stern and annoyed. And all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her. Find the passion they’d had in his bathroom.

He’d never experienced anything like it in all his life, and he’d be damned if he let the chance of experiencing it again slip through his fingers.

Joseph leaned back against the couch. “No,” he said.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no, you can’t have your phone back.”

“Why the hell not?” The green sparks in her eyes had become tiny flames.

“Because I want to know why you ran out on me. And I’ve got a feeling getting an explanation from you is going to take longer than five minutes.”

“Are you always this irritating?”

“Frequently.”

Her chin lifted. “I don’t have to give you anything.”

“Yeah, you do.” He held her gaze, letting her see what was in his. “You came apart in my arms, Christie St. John. You screamed my name. You gave me the best orgasm of my life. Then you left me standing there with my pants around my ankles, trying to figure out what happened.”

She blushed, the red chasing over her face like a forest fire over snow. She opened her mouth but he raised a hand, silencing her. The hand that held her phone.

“So here’s how this is going to go. If you want your phone, if you want your precious interview, you’re going to have to give me a full and frank explanation of why you left.” He smiled. “At my place.”

…

Christie gaped. Then realized she was gaping and shut her mouth before she started looking like some kind of moronic fish.

His place? This interview was turning into the debacle of the century. She’d decided to act as if the whole one-night stand thing hadn’t happened. Tough it out. But had that ever been mistake. One mention of the vanity incident and she’d been stammering like an idiot. Then, for some reason, the net had been ultra-slow and she hadn’t been able to download her questions from her cloud storage drive. And then he’d bloody hijacked her damn phone.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Joseph sat opposite her on the soft plush red couch, one arm along the back of it, holding her phone in the other. A relaxed pose. As if he had all the time in the world.

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think? Do we have a deal?”

As if she could actually think with him sitting there, looking so damn gorgeous. She’d thought from the pictures she’d unearthed on the net that he wouldn’t be her type, but had she ever been wrong. The pictures hadn’t captured his formidable charisma, the fizzing, buzzing energy that crackled around him like cut electrical wires. The energy that had been so compelling that night outside the bar.

Christie tried to kick-start her sluggish brain cells. “Your place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled that incredible smile of his and a few more of her brain cells expired in ecstasy.

“As in go home with you?”

“I think that’s what I said, didn’t I?”

Christie’s mouth dried, a peculiar feeling curling through her body. A weird combination of fear and anticipation and…excitement. She tried to ignore it. “But why your place?”

Joseph’s gaze turned intent. He fiddled with her phone, turning it over and over in one long-fingered hand. “Would you like a benign, well-intentioned lie or complete honesty?”

Something about the way he said it made all the air in her immediate vicinity feel very thin. “Um… Maybe honesty,” she said unsteadily.

His movements stilled. The look in his eyes pinned her to the spot. “Because after the interview, I’m planning on seducing you.”

The air went from being thin to nonexistent. “W-what?” Damn, bloody stutter.

He tilted his head. “Too honest? I could go with the well-intentioned lie instead. And that involves me giving you the interview you wanted, and you giving me the explanation that I wanted, then me shaking your hand and letting you leave. Would you prefer that?”

He had to be messing with her. They’d both been there, done that with each other. Why a repeat?

“What I prefer,” she snapped, “is the truth.”

“I told you the truth.”

“But you didn’t mean it.”

His eyes widened. “Of course I bloody meant it. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Come on,” she said, feeling oddly defensive. “The whole reason you even kissed me in the first place was only because you were grateful I noticed your stupid stereo.”

Surprise crossed his face. “Actually, honey, if you remember, you were the one who kissed me.”

She flushed. Oh yeah. So she had. “Well…I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to?”

Christie’s jaw firmed. “No. I didn’t.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And what about the sex? Was that only because I was grateful you noticed my stupid stereo too?”

Anger flared from some deep, fragile part of her soul. “Well, wasn’t it?”

“No. It wasn’t.” His gaze held hers, so intense all the hot, angry words she’d been going to say dried up in her mouth. “The sex afterward was because I wanted you so much I couldn’t stop myself from having you.”

Something squeezed hard inside her chest. A hope she couldn’t allow herself to have. “I don’t believe you.”

Joseph bit off a curse, tossing her phone carelessly onto the couch beside him. Then he leaned forward and reached for her, his hand on the back of her head, pulling her to him before she could move. And then the whole world stopped on its axis as his mouth covered hers.

The kiss stole her breath. Stole her mind. Every thought vanishing from her head.

Hot, hungry, and so very, very insistent.

And over way too soon.

Joseph released her, sitting back in his seat, leaving her shaking and almost unable to speak.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked softly.

Christie stammered like an idiot.

At that moment a knock came on the suite door and his media person stuck her head around it again, giving Christie a pointed look. “Time’s up. Are you ready for the next one, Joseph? It’s Complete PC.”

Joseph sat back in his seat, composed. As if he hadn’t delivered the kind of kiss that would have made a stone curl its toes. If a stone had toes. “Yeah, Liz. Send them in.” And then he added quietly, for Christie’s ears alone. “If you want to continue this interview, then meet me downstairs in an hour. If not…” He picked up her phone and put it in his pocket, the look in his eyes all challenge, “Don’t.”