What the fudge?
Riley pounded her fists on his back and he tightened his grip as he walked down the passage. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing? Put me down, you moron!’ she yelled. ‘Moreau, let me go!’
‘Try to remember that I’m your boss, Taylor.’ James spat the words at her knees.
‘Try to remember that I can sue you for manhandling me and for sexual harassment and for emotional distress …’
Riley squirmed and James tightened his arms across the back of her thighs and pinned her in place. What was happening here? Who was this person? James Moreau, usually cool and very controlled, must be losing his marbles because carting her around like this was very un-James-like behaviour.
Riley, realising that she had as much chance of surviving a nuclear explosion as she had of fighting James, stopped struggling and sighed when office doors opened and heads popped out to see who was screaming like a banshee. She guessed James had an expression like thunder because those faces disappeared as quickly as they had appeared and the office employees in the passage scuttled to get out of his way. Oh, yeah, this was going to spread through the building like wildfire.
James walked into his own office and kicked the door shut with his foot before dumping her onto the leather couch in the corner. Riley instantly sprang to her feet and launched herself at him, drilling her finger into his chest. ‘I don’t care who you think you are but you can’t just issue orders and then, when I don’t comply, toss me over your shoulder! ‘
God, she was still fighting him, James thought as he easily captured her wrists in one hand, twisted her around so that her back was to his front—and Mr Happy in his pants immediately sprang up in excited anticipation. And so it should, since this was the closest he had come to any action in far too many months and no, going solo didn’t count.
He really didn’t want to think about why the thought of bedding someone else left a sour taste in his mouth … every single time.
Riley stood immobile in his arms and, as he slid his other hand over her stomach and spread his fingers so that the tips rested just above her mound, a fine tremor skittered through her body. She went utterly still and under his fingers he could feel the rapid pulse in her wrists, could hear her uneven breathing.
She was so turned on…. Let’s see how much, he thought.
James pushed his hand under her shirt and he groaned when it encountered that silky skin of her flat stomach. He couldn’t help moving his hand further upwards so that he covered her breast and instantly her nipple bloomed into his palm. She was so responsive, her passion—and temper—was quick to flare. James, thinking that it was safe to release her hands, pulled her hair back and kissed that sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. He felt her shudder and she sighed when her small hands moved back to grip his thighs.
‘Don’t, James,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
He nuzzled his face into her hair. ‘I can’t help it.’
He strained to hear her words and, when he did, they felt like bullets to his soul. ‘Why do I only feel like this with you, the man who can’t give me anything more than explosive sex? A night here and there. It’s not fair …’
Unfortunately, she was right …
James felt the familiar shudder pound through his body and he stepped away, turning to his desk and wishing that it wasn’t too early for a belt of that bottle of twelve-year-old whisky in the cabinet next to the door. Riley, and his craving for her, could literally drive him to drink. He jammed his hands in his pockets and looked out of the window, ignoring the magnificent view of Manhattan, the icy drizzle outside echoing the temperature in his soul.
The only time it felt warmer was when he was talking to, holding, arguing with Riley. He’d missed her so damn much these past months. Missed her wide smile, her smart mouth, her pint-size body vibrating with energy. They’d never been friends, precisely—there was too much lust and passion buzzing around them for that—but he used to see a lot of her. At his parents’ house, at functions, most often at Morgan’s flat.
But not at all for far too long.
And he desperately wanted to make love to her again; his mouth went dry every time he remembered what they’d done to and with each other. It was ironic that the best sex he’d ever had was with a woman he’d known all his life.
Who would have imagined that?
Getting back to the problem at hand, Moreau. Oh, yeah …
James scrubbed his hands over his face and turned back to Riley, who was still standing where he’d left her, grey eyes enormous in her cute face. His mind finally left the bedroom and he remembered why he was so angry with her. ‘You just walk into my office, drop that bombshell on my head and leave without a friggin’ explanation? What the hell, Riley? You’re not going anywhere!’
Riley immediately pulled on her imaginary boxing gloves, lifting that stubborn chin as if offering him a chance to pop her on it. Why did he find her fighting spirit so attractive and why did she only ever fight with him? As far as he knew, she was perfectly pleasant to everyone else. Unless it was about her work, then she’d take on Genghis Khan and all his warriors to get her own way. And win. No one, including him, messed with her designs.
‘What did you say?’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ James stated, his voice now calm but his eyes hot.
He was fairly certain that the red in her hair intensified with temper. ‘How dare you, you simpleminded sack of Siberian snot? I’m a contracted employee and I am exercising my right not to renew that contract!’
James blinked at her creative insult. He’d heard a few from her over the past twenty years but that was a new one. And, he had to admit, a good one. ‘You’re exercising your right to be an irrational, crazy hothead!’ he retaliated. ‘Why do you want to leave, anyway? You love fiddling with the windows—’ He knew that that comment would inflame her even more but what the hell? In for a penny and all that.
‘Fiddling? That’s what you think I do?’ Oh, man, was that hurt he heard under the layer of vinegar? James gave himself a mental punch to the head. Why did he always say the wrong thing to her? He was generally quite together with women, except this one. With this one, he never knew what he was doing.
‘And maybe that’s another reason I should go. You don’t respect me or the work I do … you just give me grief about it,’ Riley yelled, her eyes now the colour of thunderclouds. Behind the pride he could see the pain, and frustration, in the depths of her soul and his anger receded. It killed him that he’d hurt her. No one should ever be allowed to hurt her, including him.
Time to rein this in, to haul back. The conversation was out of control, like so many other things between them. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Tell me why you are leaving.’
‘No.’ And there was her stubbornness. She could give lessons to a mule.
‘Why not?’
‘Because it won’t change anything.’
‘Tell me why or I’m going to do everything I can to make this as difficult for you as possible,’ James warned.
Riley’s nose lifted high enough to give her altitude sickness. ‘I’m not even going to dignify that stupid threat with a response but I will say that my Christmas windows will be installed next week, they’ll run through to the first week of January. The display for January is ready to be installed as soon as they come down—it’s simple and classic and my staff can put it up without my help. I intend to leave as soon as the Christmas windows are up. So, basically, at the end of next week.’
‘I do believe your contract runs to December thirty-first,