“Can you stop saying that?” Niveah snapped. “It’s not funny.”
“You were the one who said the sex was wild and primitive, like two animals mating in the jungle,” she said innocently. “Now back to my original question, are you going to talk to—”
“Why would I do that? We had our fun, and now it’s time to move on. I have a campaign to finish, and a presentation to prep for. I don’t have time to worry about some man I …” had hot, steamy sex with. The words rose in her thoughts, but she said, “I’ve already forgotten about.”
“I wouldn’t be able to work with someone I’ve had sex with, but if anyone can do it, you can. Your employees don’t call you ‘the Heart of Darkness’ for nothing.”
The bathroom door swung open, and two women from the human resources department sauntered inside. “Hello, Ms. Evans,” they greeted.
Niveah nodded, then whispered into the phone. “We’ll talk later.”
“Sure thing. Try not to worry. Everything will be fine.”
Doubtful of that being true, she ended the call, switched off her cell phone and slid it into her jacket pocket. Determined to make a hasty getaway, Niveah reached for the door handle.
“What do you think of the new guy?”
Niveah glanced over her shoulder, realized the brunette was speaking to her, and plastered a smile on her face. Each company had at least one employee who lived for gossip, but Access Media and Entertainment had been cursed with two, and since she didn’t want to be the next casualty on the rumormill, she decided to be nice to the Olsen twin lookalikes. “I only spoke to him briefly, but he seemed okay. Why?”
“The female employees are placing bets on who will nail him first. Essence Jackson, over in the finance department, is leading the pack.”
What was with the women betting all of a sudden? Snippets of her conversation with Roxi on New Year’s filled her mind. A cold shiver crawled up her back, and a scowl tightened the corners of her lips. Her friend was to blame for the trouble she was in. If Roxi hadn’t goaded her into having a one-night stand, she wouldn’t be hiding out in the women’s washroom now. Okay, so Roxi hadn’t had put a revolver to her head and forced her to have sex with Damien, but Niveah needed someone to blame and big-mouth Roxi was it.
“Damien Hunter puts the f in fine, and if I wasn’t happily married, I’d be all over him.”
I hear you, girlfriend, I hear you.
The shorter woman stopped preening in the mirror, a contemplative expression on her oval-shaped face. “I don’t know what it is, but every time he looks at me I get knots in my stomach and I break out in goose bumps. It’s the strangest thing.”
Tell me something I don’t know, Niveah thought, remembering the first time she’d seen Damien at the Ritz-Carlton bar. Six feet tall, dreamy eyes, shrouded with muscles. He was confident, persuasive and smoking hot. What more could a woman want? And then there was that dark, penetrating gaze of his. The sexual energy between them was crushing, the single most devastating thing she’d ever experienced. His voice had had a calm, soporific effect on her, and before she knew what she was doing, they were headed upstairs to his executive suite. There, he’d further broken down her defenses, making her believe with every kiss that it had never been like this for him.
“A bunch of us thought it would be fun to take Damien out for drinks after work,” she continued, turning back to the mirror. “If you don’t have other plans, you’re more than welcome to join us. We’re meeting at the bar up the block around five.”
Curious, Niveah asked who was going.
“Everyone,” they answered in unison. “Since there’ll be over twenty of us, I went ahead and made reservations for one of their back corner rooms. That way we can talk and mingle, and drink our martinis in peace.”
“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m afraid I can’t join you. I’m working late tonight.”
“I told you she wouldn’t come,” grumbled the shorter woman to her friend. “She doesn’t believe in fraternizing with her subordinates, remember?”
Anxious for the conversation to end, Niveah yanked open the bathroom door. She hurried out into the hall, and ran smack dab into her wickedly handsome one-night stand.
Chapter 4
“You, in my office, now.”
Niveah’s apology died on her lips. Where the hell did Damien get off yelling at her? She was the most successful creative buyer at Access Media and Entertainment, not some flunky in the mailroom sorting envelopes. Instead of saying sorry, Niveah asked Damien if he was out of his damn mind. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not your subordinate, I’m your equal. And don’t you ever forget it. I deserve to be treated with respect and—”
“Not here.” The sharpness of his tone put an end to her rant. “Follow me.”
Without as much as a nod, he strode past her. The thought of being alone with Damien petrified her, but when he turned the corner, Niveah had no choice but to follow. She watched him open the door to his left and frowned. Curious as to why he wanted them to talk in the storage room, she hurried to catch up.
As she entered, her feet slowed, and her eyes widened. Where was she when they’d transformed the dark, dingy space into something Martha Stewart would be proud of? The room smelled like freshly squeezed lemons and there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. The old photo copiers, broken office furniture and recycling bins were gone. Now the room was filled with sunlight, comfy couches and an enormous L-shaped desk decorated with sports memorabilia.
“I never realized this room had so much space. It’s twice the size of mine,” she said, admiring the rich, sleek decor. She wanted to ask who the people were in the framed photographs on the wall, but decided against it. After all, they weren’t friends and this wasn’t a social call. “I see you’ve made yourself right at home.”
“I plan to be here for awhile.” Damien took off his jacket, inspected it, and dropped it behind his chair. “You spilled coffee on my suit. I’ll send you the bill for my dry cleaning tomorrow.”
Niveah rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What did you want to talk to me about? I’m very busy, and I don’t have time for idle chitchat.”
He gestured for her to close the door, but when she didn’t, he strode past her and slammed it. Damien liked the view from where he was standing so much, he decided against returning to his desk. Niveah had a sexy ass, great legs and a perfect set of boobs, so why was she dressed like a Hutterite woman? Did she think that downplaying her looks would help her clients take her more seriously? Before he could censor his thoughts, the question running through his mind burst out of his lips. “What’s with the outfit?”
Niveah pivoted around on her heels. “Excuse me?”
“It’s drab, dark and shapeless,” he said, his gaze sliding down her hips. “It looks like something the hosts of that TLC makeover show would dump in the trash.”
Now she was good and mad. Her chest was heaving, her hands were clenched and when he stepped forward, she thought of kicking him in the shin.
Damien took another step.
There was no space between them now. If she sneezed he’d be covered in germs. The thought made a laugh bubble in her throat. It would serve Damien right for dissing her expensive suit. “Just because I have to work with you, doesn’t mean I have to like you. Stay away from me and I’ll be sure to do the same.”
“Did you forget that I was summoned here to infuse life and creativity into your afflicted department?” He spoke in a conciliatory