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How does efficient personal assistant, Amy Gallagher, gain the amorous attentions of her boss, James Kent? By playing tricks—until they backfire on her and she finds herself definitely under his radar!
Winning Sylvia’s Heart
A broken-hearted Sylvia Maxwell finds true romance, with more than candy kisses and clichés, with Jack MacNamara, her next door neighbor.
Wishes and Kisses
For Angelina Marrone's twenty-first birthday she receives a birthday present to remember; a night in the arms of sexy escort, Burke Severson, along with the proverbial birthday spanking.
When Maggie Loved Patrick...then John
Maggie discovers her fiancé, Patrick, is cheating on her once again. When she catches him in bed with his secretary, she wants revenge. Then John, the secretary's fiancé, approaches her with a plan. Maggie gets much more than she bargained for.
Riding Blue Steel
One woman, biological clock ticking; one widowed father with no desire for more children. Is it lust or love at first sight at a Bikini Bike Wash?
“Damn! Where in the hell are my clothes?”
James Marshall Kent, owner of Kent’s fine clothes for men and women, stared into his closet, unable to believe his eyes. Every article of clothing he owned had been removed. Clad in a towel he’d hitched around his waist, he stalked over to his bureau and started opening and slamming drawers.
No underwear, no t-shirts, not even one pair of socks. Someone had cleaned him out. And he had a pretty good idea of the thief’s identity; Amy Gallagher, his beautiful but naughty personal assistant of one year.
He’d been the victim of several pranks over the past month, and had yet to identify the prankster. He guessed it was his assistant, since everyone else he employed was scared of him. It irked him she wasn’t.
James slammed the last drawer shut and thought about Amy’s recent comments to him. ‘Lighten up,’ and ‘You take life way too seriously’.
Amy’s words irritated him. None of his employees dared to talk to him that way—except her. The fact of the matter was her words were true, still, the woman needed to show respect for him as her boss. He’d show her serious, with a trip over his knee for a good old-fashioned spanking, if he discovered her to be the culprit who’d absconded with his clothes. Then the unwanted image of taking her to his bed and lavishing her ass with kisses, over the marks left from the imprint of his hand, entered his mind. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the ridiculous idea. But damn if the woman didn’t tick him off!
He let go of the towel and threw himself down on his back on the bed. He should have been on the road home to White Plains by now, where he planned on spending a quiet Christmas—by himself.
Bah. Humbug. He knew his employees felt that way about him and he liked it that way. Christmas was just like any other day to him—since Stephanie left him six years ago. Chagrinned, he realized he still hadn’t gotten over his ex-fiancée. No, that wasn’t true. He’d gotten over her, so much, in fact, he refused to allow any other woman to get close to him again, including Amy.
He sat up, swiped his still damp black hair back from his forehead, and grinned. He’d go downstairs and fetch some clothes; so much for his assistant’s pranks. Ironically, she must have forgotten he owned a clothing store right downstairs.
Yet he knew Amy wasn’t an ‘airhead’, but the best damned assistant he’d ever had. Though, by her ‘come hither’ looks at him over the past several months, he guessed she’d developed a crush on him. As soon as he saw her again, he’d set her straight and inform her he wasn’t the marrying kind.
He rose from the bed, picked up the towel and tucked it in around his waist again then headed toward the door. The phone rang and he paused. Who in the hell would be calling him on Christmas Eve? He picked it up on the third ring.
“Yes,” he barked.
Amy. Guilt must have driven her to call him.
“Are you there?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Gallagher?”
“Are you…are you mad at me?” she rushed out.
He dropped the towel again. “Why would I be?” He made his voice smooth as silk and calm as a sea with not an ounce of wind in the air.
“Because I stole your clothes.”
“It was you.”
“Were you the one who replaced my bottle of Spice cologne with the women’s counterpart, Spicier?”
“And the other pranks?”
“All me,” she confessed.
“Dare I ask why?”
“I wanted your attention.”
“Rest assured you’ve got it. Can you think what I’d like to do to you at the moment?”
“Uh, well, I can’t. I imagine you’re angry, though.”
“Angry?” he said through gritted teeth. “I was supposed to have left for home over an hour ago.”
“I thought you were spending Christmas alone. At least you told all of us at the office you were.”
“I am,” he snapped. “I like my privacy, damn it, and planned on spending the next week catching up on some reading.”
“Whew! I was worried you had family coming and I made you late.”
“Hell, no. My family is spread across the country and spending time with their own families.”
“Okay. I’ll return your clothes, once you hear me out.”
“Where—are—you?” he snarled.
“In the office.”
“How’d you get by the night guard?”
“I hid there until everyone left at the end of the day.”
“Come up here. Now.”
“Talk, you said you need to talk to me,” he reminded her.
She didn’t say a word for a long while, then whispered, “I’m on my way.”
~ * ~
Amy clutched her faux fur coat around her as she rode the elevator to his suite. She wouldn’t reveal herself to him until she needed to. If words didn’t work she’d give him no quarter and ply him with womanly wiles and had dressed—or rather undressed accordingly. She hated doing it but she had no choice.
The man had been unemotional and impenetrable toward her advances, a royal pain in the ass. Why couldn’t he be like any other hot blooded male she’d dated? Men never seemed able to keep their hands off her, not that she was any raving beauty. But for some reason her wheat-colored hair, big blue eyes and petite, curvy body attracted them.
She’d had several boyfriends over the years and had been in a serious, physical relationship with the last two. Yet neither man, in the end, was marriageable to her mind. James was different. She felt certain they were destined to be together.
Ignoring his somewhat cranky disposition, Amy had fallen madly in love with him. A month ago, after months of trying, she’d given up on traditional ways to catch his attention, resorting to naughty pranks instead. While he never said a word, she knew from the accusatory look in his eyes he believed her to be the prankster, but she’d set herself a goal; make him notice her by Christmas, affording her an opportunity to seduce him into falling in love with her and Christmas was now.
The elevator stopped and she stepped out. In several steps, she reached the double set of doors leading into his apartment. Raising her hand to knock, she gasped when the door unexpectedly opened. Her boss stood before her with a towel tucked in around his trim waistline.
Amy gulped. Her pulse started racing, as it usually did when she was in his presence. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his glare unsettled her. She clutched her coat tighter. “May I come in?”
He stepped aside without a word and she rushed past him. She’d been in his suite a few times before and recalled it being dark and cave-like. It was, with the blinds all shut and the lights dimmed. Had he decided, without clothes in his suite, to go to bed? It was half past eight and he didn’t seem to be the early to bed type.
She cringed when the door slammed shut, then heard a click. He’d locked the door as well. This was it—the moment she’d been waiting for.
He brushed past her and sank down in a barrel-shaped leather chair. “I’m waiting for an explanation.” She didn’t like how he swept a distasteful look over her person. “Remove that fur or you’ll die of heat,” he added.
“I’m…I’m fine.” She sank down on the edge of his bed.
“I was in the process of getting ready to leave when you called, so make it fast.”
She released one hand from the fur and tucked a stray curl into her upswept hairstyle. “Well…” she gave a nervous laugh, “I’m not quite sure where to begin.”
His face was tight and drawn as he sat and stared at her but didn’t say a word.
God, she’d made a mistake. Gathering her courage, she said, “All right.” She rose and started pacing from one end of the suite to the other. “I took your clothes because I wanted you to pay attention to me.”
“You already said that.”
“Really pay attention—really notice me.”
She didn’t like how he narrowed his eyes on her and sent an insolent look over her body.
“In what way?” he asked, his voice soft but firm.
“In the way…in the way a man notices a woman.”
“Christ. You women kill me,” he said in exasperation, throwing up his hands. “You fight for respect and equal pay in the workplace for years and gain it. You ask to be treated as an equal and scream sexual harassment if a guy so much as touches you innocently. And now you have the audacity to say you want me to notice that you’re a woman and treat you differently because of it?”
Amy nodded then shook her head. “No, that’s not it…exactly.”
“Then what is it, exactly?”
“I want you to notice I’m a woman, not just your personal assistant and ‘go to’ girl.”
“Now why would I do that?”
I’ve…I’ve fallen in love with you!” she blurted out.
She couldn’t believe she’d confessed the truth to him. She’d said it and now she knew, by how his face had gone white, and by his fisted hands, that she’d blown it.
“If you’re looking for marriage, sweetheart, you’ve got the wrong guy,” he said gruffly.
Her heart plummeted. That’s exactly what she’d hoped for with him—love and marriage—after a short engagement. She’d had an entire year to fall in love with him, and she didn’t want to waste any more time. “Don’t be so hasty. Why don’t you like me?”
“I like you fine,” he grumbled, “as my assistant—a damned good one, but I’m not looking for a wife.”
Okay. The guy was averse to marriage. She bit her pride and decided if she couldn’t have him forever a short while would do, knowing no other man would compare afterwards.
She gave him a dimpled smile, opened her coat and stood up. “I was thinking of you looking at me more as a mistress, not as wife material.”
~ * ~
James narrowed his eyes on Amy. She slid out of the coat and it dragged down her body to puddle on the floor around her.
His heart stuttered as he gazed upon her exquisite, curvy, petite body. She wore a red furry bra. He moved his gaze from her well-rounded breasts covered in red to her eyes, which held a wicked look. His eyes lowered to her lips, which were full and pouty.
Love. She’d said she loved him, he thought dryly. Impossible. They’d had strictly a business relationship; there was no way she could be in love with him. She was young and maybe she’d never been in love before. Obviously, she was confused about her feelings. She was attracted to him on a physical plane only—ditto for him he now realized. She was a sweet little bundle of femininity he couldn’t ignore. Now. He admitted, though, he’d spent a year doing so.
Then she swiveled on her heel and bent over, affording him a view of the best ass he’d ever seen, clad in the tiniest red furry thong panty. Her legs were sleek and creamy and bare, the same creamy color as the plump, sassy cheeks of her ass.
She pulled a red fur hat trimmed in white from her coat pocket, straightened up and jammed it on blonde hair she’d piled on top of her head. She whipped around and gave him a wicked grin. Then he noticed the red satin ribbon she’d tied around her neck, as though she were offering herself to him like some damned Christmas present—one he didn’t want to accept, but likely would. After a year of ignoring her charms, he couldn’t any longer. After all, how in the hell could any man resist Amy’s gift of herself?
“Merry Christmas,” she purred, strutting toward him.
Damn! She’d been in his office an entire year, longer than he’d ever imagined she would. He went through personal assistants the way people changed their clothes, because they either proved to be lousy at their job or they’d fall for him. What a loss she would be, but he’d have to let her go. He never mixed business with pleasure. He’d talk with a couple of competitors with whom he was on good terms to see if they required a personal assistant.
With his gaze riveted on Amy’s curves, he watched her dance slowly, swinging her hips from side to side, thrusting out her breasts; it appeared she possessed other talents as well, including, possibly, dance training that, in his vivid imagination, involved slithering down more than a few dance poles in some erotic night club.
Nah! She was too sweet, too gullible, yet erotic and enticing at the same time. In that moment, he realized suddenly he wanted her, more than he’d wanted any woman—ever—a disturbing thought for a confirmed bachelor.
It was time to test her sincerity. Frankly, he was tired of fighting his attraction for her. If she was willing to settle to be his mistress, he was more than fine with the idea. He enjoyed his bachelor lifestyle and had no reason to be saddled with any one particular woman. He’d tell her he agreed to the arrangement, but when he said they were through, there’d be no tears or recriminations from her. His terms, if she wanted him.
First, she deserved a dose of punishment before winning him as the prize, the idea of turning her over his knee appealing, followed by a healthy dose of sex.
He swept her a long, intimate look before meeting her wide-eyed expression. “Convince me.”
Her smile slipped. “Uh, of what?”
“That you love me and are willing to be my mistress.”
“O-kay.” She bit her lip and added, “How about if I dance some more for you.”
“Sure, why the hell not. I’ve nothing waiting for me in White Plains. You convince me and I’ll take you back with me tonight.” He smiled, liking the idea a lot. He couldn’t recall when he’d been so entertained, or so aroused, feeling the bulge beneath the towel. Her cheeks turned a pretty pink hue and he sank down further in his chair, waiting to hear her excuses how she couldn’t go home with him.
He knew nothing of Amy’s personal life and wondered if she had a family a mile long and had received several invitations to spend Christmas with them. He was stunned at her reply.
“I’d like that an awful lot, James.”
He nodded, surprised, but didn’t show it. He also liked the sound of his first name on her lips. While he’d never insisted his employees call him Mr. Kent, they did, always, even Amy, until now. “Then prove you love me,” he murmured. His eyes closed half way, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leaned forward.
She started dancing, sliding her hands up her sides, over her breasts and hips, lovely legs spread wide. Her heels were tall and slim, giving her at least another 4 inches of height. She paused then and he saw the hesitancy in her eyes.
“Don’t stop yet,” he said, arousal growing as he encouraged her to keep up the dance routine.
“I need music.” She worried her lower lip and stood stock still, staring at him with her wide blue eyes.
He rose and went to her. “For you, I’ll put on some music.” Then he couldn’t resist leaning down, lowering his head and kissing her lips.
Stars exploded inside his head with the initial contact and his arms came around her waist. Pulling her against him, he shuddered when she deepened the kiss. He grew harder when he felt her breasts against him. His towel came loose and fell to the floor.
Amy was a petite woman, even in the heels, and he picked her up to position her where he wanted—against his growing arousal. Deepening the kiss, her fingers threaded through his hair and he winced when she tugged on it in her excitement. When she wound one leg around his hip, he knew he had to stop her.
Breaking away from her, he pulled her leg down and eased her to the floor. Leaning down he kissed her gently, and murmured against her lips, “I want the full treatment. I want you to woo me, make me believe you’ve fallen head over stilettos in love with me. I want it all and I want you to take it real slow,” he said in a firm, demanding voice—the one he used when disciplining an employee for some infraction.
He released her then went to pick up his towel, but changed his mind. Maybe she was as innocent as she looked, though that kiss was from a woman who knew how to kiss! To hell with the towel. If she loved him, she’d want to see him naked, just as he wanted to see her. And with that kiss, she’d convinced him of it, besides. He’d informed her he wanted her to slow down yet his body told him another story—full steam ahead!
Ignoring his state of undress, he strode over to the corner housing an entertainment unit, snatched up the remote and clicked on the CD player. A classical piece started playing and he turned around and headed back to her.
She backed away from him and he sighed as a bad feeling came over him. By the way she was looking at him, her eyes wide and focused on his groin, he stopped in his tracks. It was possible she hadn’t seen too many naked men—not good, not for a mistress at any rate. Still, he went around her, giving her ass a pat before sinking into his chair again.