Overtime Play

Overtime Play by Kasey Moone

The Wild Rose Press www.thewildrosepress.com

Copyright ©2011 by Kasey Moone First published in 2011 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Overtime Play by Kasey Moone

CONTENTS Dedication PRAISE FOR AUTHOR Overtime Play About the Author Also Available ****

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Overtime Play by Kasey Moone

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Overtime Play COPYRIGHT (C) 2011 by Kasey Moone All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Angela Anderson The Wild Rose Press PO Box 708 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708 Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com Publishing History First Scarlet Rose Edition, November 2011 Published in the United States of America

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Dedication For all those women working two jobs to make ends meet. This one's for you! [Back to Table of Contents]

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PRAISE FOR AUTHOR Kasey Moone AND HER BOOKS "With vibrant characters, witty dialogue and sizzling hot love scenes, Kasey Moone is a new author to watch!" ~Eliza Knight, TWRP author [Back to Table of Contents]

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Overtime Play Damn, damn, damn! Mira Perrin leaped into a nearby aisle at the first sight of her sexy boss, Jeremy Rain. There were plenty of stores on the glitzy Atlanta strip that suited his expensive tastes. But no, no, no, he just had to make an appearance at The Dollar Place, the nightshift job that helped her pay the bills. For an entire year, she'd worked as a file clerk at the radio station he owned, filing papers in the large, downtown office. Dealing with inflated egos and bossy producers. She would've quit a long time ago, but she couldn't afford to behave recklessly now. She had her uncle to think about. He needed help paying for his expensive medication, and dammit, she wouldn't let him down! She crouched down next to the shelf and peered around the corner. He stood in the next aisle shuffling through a handful of children's notebooks. She pinched her lips together as she regarded him. He looked so damn good. Tall, muscled, and fine. Dirty blond hair fell around a lean face that held intense, hazel eyes. A slightly crooked nose sat above pink, sensual lips. With his high cheekbones and slashing golden eyebrows, he could only be described as a pretty boy. The kind her momma warned her about. Her head craned up. Even though the shelves were the standard six feet, he managed to tower over them like a superhuman. The man was huge. Muscle-ripped to the core. He belonged on a rig somewhere, doing blue-collar work, not 8

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sitting behind a desk pushing papers. Mira let loose a girly sigh. She wished she was drop dead gorgeous like the broads he brought into work. Not a frumpy, size fourteen chick. Chill out, girl. So what if you got a little more junk in your trunk? You're still as fine as wine. "I wish you were mine, Jeremy Rain, just this once." He turned. Squealing loudly, she scurried back in the aisle, where she collided into bony legs. She looked up to see Roger Denkins, the manager of The Dollar Place, and scrambled to her feet. "Roger! I was just straightening the plastic containers." Her fingers flew to the rubber food bowls in an effort to look busy. "You know these customers. They love rearranging the containers." Roger gawked at her. "You need to watch yourself, Mira," he ground out harshly, wiping dust from his slacks. "You're too clumsy. This store is small enough." Mira offered him her best smile. "Yes, I know. Was there anything else, Roger?" She braced herself for his reply. Roger Denkins. The worst boss on the planet. "I need you to restock merchandise on aisle seven," he barked, eyeing her suspiciously. "I need this done ASAP." "I'm on it." "After that, there are boxes in the back that need to be unloaded." At the thought of working in the stuffy, dark room, she mentally gagged. "Aren't the stock boys doing that tonight?" 9

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"Well, they need a little help, and the others are busy in the front, so that leaves you." A smile lit up his pimpled face. "You're a big girl, Mira. You should be able to help the boys back there." "Fine," she managed, her temper close to the surface. "After that, I need you to work on the coupon books up front. They have to be ready by this weekend. It'll be Memorial Day." "Preparing for Armageddon, sir?" She meant it as a joke, but Roger glared. "Ms. Perrin, I take my job very seriously..." He took a step forward. Then another, the stench of pepperoni and tobacco following him like a dark cloud. "Some of us care about our careers." She blinked. What was he trying to say? That she didn't work her ass off? She suppressed a growl and gave him the evil eye. "I care, too." "Then show it." "I am." "Then stop giving me attitude." "I'm not." "You are," he spat, mouth set in a cruel line. Determined to hold her ground, she responded forcefully, "I'm not." "You are." "Stop being such an—" She clapped a hand over her mouth, thanking the gods for her quick reflexes. Her pouty mouth was a major pain in the butt sometimes. Roger moved closer. "What was that?" To keep from responding, she bit her tongue. 10

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"Ms. Perrin, you were about to say something?" He folded his arms across his beer belly. A smug look enlivened his face. Fuming, she remained silent. Great. Now she had to listen to the jerk's career advice on top of everything else? Could her night get any worse? For a moment, she seriously thought about kneeing him in the nut sac, but opted for a tongue lashing instead. Something told her that if she gave in to violence, he'd be laid up in a hospital for weeks. She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his advice— "Lay off the lady." At the sound of Jeremy's husky voice, Mira froze. This was not happening to her. Jeremy Rain was not defending her against Roger Denkins. She'd laugh at the irony, if she wasn't so embarrassed. Why couldn't he just mind his own damn business? It was bad enough that he invaded her thoughts every moment of the day at her daytime job. Now he had to torture her at The Dollar Place, too? Perfect. She spoke over her shoulder. "Sir, I have this under control." Suddenly he was leaning beside her ear, speaking very slowly and very clearly, as though she was hard of hearing. "I'm not going anywhere." Mira swallowed. Heat rose on her face. And between her legs. She wondered what would happen if she leaned back. Would he wrap those big strong arms around her? Would his orders grow harsher by the minute? Nastier? The thought felt outrageously good. 11

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No, no, no. Don't go there, girl! She took a deep breath and mentally untangled herself from the fantasy. She didn't need Jeremy to defend her. She could handle Roger on her own, dammit. "Look Roger, I'm on my way to aisle seven." Roger's expression turned severe as he looked above her head. "Call off your dog, Ms. Perrin." Jeremy growled loudly. "Apologize to her." "Excuse me?" spluttered Roger, outrage flashing across his red face. "Who do you think you are?" "Apologize." Mira cleared her throat. "Please, let's not get all worked up. I'll get back to work, Roger." "No," Jeremy whispered. "You'll do no such thing." Shocked beyond words, she spun around to face him and immediately caught her breath. In all of her fantasies of him, she'd never been so close to the "goods" before. He was pure man—sun-warmed bronze skin, bulging biceps, and a strong stubborn chin. If the phrase "sex on a stick" needed a poster boy, he should apply, since he was all that and then some. Her nipples burned and puckered, wanting his tongue to lap at them, as a warm pool of liquid gathered between her thighs. The green uniform she'd grown accustomed to suddenly felt hot on her skin. She longed to rip it off, to rub her aching nipples against his hard, lean body in an effort to satisfy her ever-growing desire for him. She looked up. And up. And met Jeremy's penetrating eyes. "I can handle this, mister." 12

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Bright hazel eyes, so mesmerizing, stared at her intensely. No recognition shown in them. No whisper of familiarity. Just complete and utter indifference. Despite herself, Mira sighed. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. A part of her wanted him to recognize her from the station, wanted him to acknowledge her presence, just this once. Oh, get real, she thought bitterly. Who was she kidding? Of course, Jeremy Rain wouldn't recognize her. He owned a handful of successful media stations and partied with celebrities every weekend. He didn't have to talk to the little people. She searched his face. "I can handle this." "Can you now?" Her micro braids tumbled around her shoulders as she nodded her head. "Yes, I can." "You heard her, pal," snickered Roger. "Fuck off." Jeremy's big body tensed. He arched an eyebrow in Roger's direction. "What happened to the customer always being right?" "You ain't right tonight." Jeremy studied him coldly. "I'll have to educate you." As though he was flicking away a bothersome mosquito, Jeremy wiggled a finger in Roger's direction, which sent her boss tumbling into the castle of containers. His arms and legs bobbled around, desperately trying to regain balance. But it was no use. A fall was a fall. He landed hard, a befuddled look transforming his features to that of a sniveling, snotty kid. Crawling and squirming, he flung containers aside and 13

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muttered vicious curses beneath his breath. Mira found it hard to suppress her laughter. Served him right, the ass. "Mira," he hollered. "Help me up!" "She'll do no such thing," replied Jeremy. "She quits." Bewildered, Mira stuttered. "I-I-I quit?" "Yes," parroted Jeremy. "You quit." Knee-deep in the sea of containers, Roger threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine. Good riddance." "No," she replied, snapping out of her momentarily daze. This was not happening. This was just a bad, bad dream. "I didn't say I quit. You misheard." "I heard you loud and clear," Roger said, rising on wobbly feet, flashing her a nasty glare. "I want you out of this place in fifteen minutes!" She opened her mouth to plead with Roger to show mercy, but it was too late. He was already hurrying down the corridor. Off to make another employee's life miserable no doubt. Mira covered her face with her hands and groaned. Why, oh, why did these things happen to her? Couldn't she catch a break for once in her tired, broke, sex-starved life? She turned to Jeremy. "You just got me fired, pal." He gave her a slow, sexy grin. "Was it really your calling?" Her anger soared. "How dare you!" She knew she was scowling at one of the most successful business owners in Atlanta. But she didn't care. The man was not going to screw up her life. His face suddenly softened a bit. "I'll hire you." Was he nuts? 14

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"You'll hire me?" "Sure." "You'll hire me?" "Yes." Mira growled. The nerve of the man. She spun around and marched toward the back of the store to get her belongings. If this was going to be her last night at The Dollar Place, she wanted to make a quick exit. All the while, she could hear Jeremy's footsteps on her trail. "Did you hear what I said, miss? I'll hire you." When they passed a row of laundry detergent, she seriously thought about dunking his head in one of the boxes but held back. Messing up that pretty face of his would be the ultimate sin. Damn the man! She took a steadying breath. For God's sake, girl, he just got you fired. Stop drooling. She marched on. "Don't get irate," he said. "I'll hire you." Fed up, she whirled around, her heart pounding with each breath, her mind spiraling in different directions. "That might be difficult to do." A grin curved his lips. "It's not, actually. You see I own a very reputable—" "I already work for you, Mr. Rain." "What?" "I. Already. Work. For. You." At the sight of his shocked expression, she couldn't help but smile. The know-it-all. "I'm Mira Perrin. Nice to meet you, sir." 15

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The following day, Jeremy Rain sat behind his desk at Hot 87.5, searching through a stack of employee files. His best friend and producer, Chad Howard, stood in the doorway, laughing. Jeremy looked up and pointed at the door. "Leave. I have work to do." "Why would I leave when your story is just getting good?" Jeremy sighed and swiveled back in his chair. He never should have told Chad about the woman from last night. Mira Perrin. His employee. He gritted his teeth. He wasn't even supposed to be in The Dollar Place. He'd gone because his sister had nagged him about spending less for the drawing supplies his charities requested. But things hadn't gone as planned. One minute he was looking at a few children's notebooks, and the next minute he was getting someone fired. He dropped his arm over his eyes and groaned. He was a total dick. It didn't matter that Ms. Perrin's boss had behaved like a control freak or that he hated control freaks in charge. It wasn't his place to step in. Chad whistled from the doorway. Jeremy looked up. "You still here?" "So did you get a chance to speak to her afterward?" Leave it to Chad to want to know all the details. Jeremy took a long swallow of his coffee. It was as black and sugarless as his mood. The way he liked it. "No." "You didn't go after her?" "She disappeared into the stockroom. The place was on lock down." Chad grinned. "You didn't break down the door?" 16

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"Fuck off." "You didn't recognize her from around the office?" "Cut the interrogation." "What does she look like?" continued Chad. "Maybe I know her." Jeremy's brain skidded to a halt. A slow smile curved his lips. He thought about Ms. Perrin. Mira. Why didn't he already know her? Her caramel skin, plump lips, and killer rack should've stayed in his mind long before now. She was the kind of woman that had always appealed to him, short, curvy, and feminine. A bit stubborn, for sure, but he liked ladies who stood their ground. They were a fun challenge. An overwhelming sense of possession coursed through him at the thought of her. He glared at Chad. "She wears braids." "That's all?" "What do you want? A play-by-play?" "Yeah, something like," snorted his friend. "Give me some details." Jeremy growled, remembering ogling Mira's plump ass as she'd stormed away from him. The temptation to take her then and there amid aisles of mops and brooms had nearly been too great. He laughed nervously. What was up with him? "She's cute, okay." At the look of interest in Chad's expression, he switched tactics and lied. "She wears ugly glasses though. They make her look like a nerd." "I like nerds," his friend offered. "Nerds can be fun." 17

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Jeremy hurled a paperclip at the man who was a pussy connoisseur. "Don't you have artists to book? I'm not paying you big bucks to slack around the office." "You're not paying me big bucks, period." "Chad." "I'll let this go for now," replied his friend, shaking with laugher. "But I want all the details later, bud." Jeremy searched for something heavier to throw at his friend, but the other man ducked from the room just in time, laughing all the way up the hallway. The prick. He returned his attention to the employee files. A minute later he found what he needed. Mira Octavia Perrin. Twentysix. A few years younger than himself. Works in the Records Department. Bachelors in English. Tapping his fingers against the folders, he continued reading. Originally applied for a position to work with Promotions but was denied due to a lack of available positions. Settled for a file clerk position. Been here for one year. Jeremy frowned. Why had she settled for a simple file clerk position when she was obviously over-qualified? Why get caught up in the humdrum of paper filing? Why deal with Dollar Place pricks? It didn't make sense. He stood up, intrigued by his mystery woman. Now that he knew where to find her, he better get moving. He just hoped that once he did find her, she'd agree to become his personal assistant. Something told him not to press his luck. Mira turned up the music on her MP3 player as she emptied another cabinet of records. She'd been organizing the file room all morning. It was a hell of a job and it required 18

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her full attention. Most of the records were as old as her great grandma, and the station wanted them organized by their publication date, not alphabetically by album. She sat on the floor, bobbing her head to the music, and soaked up the sunshine that streamed from a nearby window. Sometimes it felt good to be alone. To really have time to think. The records room sat in the basement of the large radio station, a place people rarely ventured. It was her private oasis. She shrugged. She was easy. It didn't take much to make her boat float. Besides, she needed time alone to relax. She was all nerves. When she'd arrived at the station that morning, she half expected to find Mr. Rain waiting for her in the parking lot or mailroom, wanting to apologize for getting her fired. But that was just a fool's dream. He hadn't been there. Why would he be? She sighed, her spirit low, as she searched through another stack of records. She'd have to find a part-time job soon. If she didn't earn some extra cash by the end of the month, Uncle Leo wouldn't be able to buy his diabetes medicine. And she couldn't have that. He needed that prescription. She reached for a glossy record with Donna Summer in bold white letters on the cover. I will survive. That's right Donna. You go girl! Smiling a little, Mira rocked her head to the familiar lyrics. If Donna could survive, she could, too, dammit! No matter how bad things got, she had her health. And that was something to celebrate. Hell, yeah! She closed her eyes and pretended she was a disco-star. Worry-free. Sporting a black 19

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pants suit and platinum boots. She'd put John Travolta to shame. And Jeremy was there. In her daydream. Looking gorgeous in a brilliant white two piece suit that made him seem scruffy, yet classy. "Dance with me, Mira." They grooved around the dance floor in dizzying circles, twirling around and around, too lost in each other's arms to let troubles weigh them down. She leaned against him like the women did in those old movies—except her movie had a little more heat. Her hips pressed against him in total abandon. Sparks of pleasure ran up and down her spine at the intimate contact. God, he felt so good. Even though he was fully dressed, she could feel every ridge and ripple of his cock. It was deliciously thick, lurching before her, grinding over her sex, preparing her for a good fuck. And his hands were snaking beneath her shirt to reach her bare skin. Cupping the fullness of her breasts as he whispered the things he planned to do to her in her ear. She was just about to arch her back to give him better access when she suddenly felt as though she was being watched in the real world. Her arms fell to her sides. Her daydream floated away. Biting down on her lower lip, Mira opened her eyes. Then turned around. Of all the people to witness her impromptu sex dance, it had to be him. Jeremy Rain. The hunk of hunks. He sat on a box in the entranceway, staring at her with smoldering eyes. Silence filled the room. 20

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Mira swallowed roughly. How did he find her? Nobody visited the basement of Hell. Damn, damn, damn. Did he enjoy sneaking up on her? A green T-shirt clung to his bulging biceps. Dark denim encased his long legs. He was as fine in the morning light as he was in the night. Still raw from the daydream, she ordered her body to behave. She suddenly wondered how he'd look in the buff. Did he sport chest hair or was he as clean and lean as a Greek god? Her lips pinched together in a frown. Had it come to this? Had she become so desperate for dick that she was undressing her boss with her eyes? Good grief! She tilted her chin, determined to regain her composure. So what if he'd caught her in the middle of a sex dream? He would not unnerve her again. He did not have the upper hand. She clicked off her MP3 player. "Can I help you, sir?" For a few seconds he didn't respond, just stared at her in that intense way of his. Then a brilliant smile lit his face, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. "Call me Jeremy." She returned her attention to the records. "Was there something you wanted, Jeremy? Coffee? Water? Someone's livelihood?" He sighed heavily behind her, but she didn't turn back. What was he thinking? That she had no right to be angry over last night. Yeah right! She whirled around and stuck a finger in his direction. "You had no right, pal. No right." "I know," he said softly. "I was way out of line." "You got that right!" "I'm sorry." 21

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Mira growled. He was just too gorgeous to stay mad at. There was no use torturing the poor fella. Besides, she couldn't afford losing another job and unlike most, he had apologized. "It's okay." "That's it?" "What?" "You'll forgive and forget like that?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to be agreeable." "You're too forgiving." "So what?" He tossed up his hands, a look of puzzlement transforming his features. "I've never met someone so forgiving." "You need to get out more." "Well, thank you for accepting my apology, then." "You're welcome." She couldn't help but give him her twocents. "See, even though you're a bit of a grouch when you're upset, you meant well." He held her gaze for a few seconds and grinned. "So you have me pegged now?" "Sure do. Besides, Roger's fall made up for the whole ordeal. Did you see his face?" She pretended the scattered records were the plastic containers that had cushioned Roger's bottom. "Mira, help me please! My ass is stuck in this massive food bowl!" A round of giggles seized her as she flapped her arms like a bird. "Mira, this bowl is cutting off my ass circulation." She was giggling so hard that she didn't see Jeremy's approach. But suddenly she was turning around to discover she was face to face with his groin. She stopped giggling. And 22

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swallowed. If the large bulge behind his zipper was any indication, he was happy to see her. Oh shit. The man was huge. Get it together, girl. Now was not the time to act like a complete goofball. Rising on wobbly feet, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "Yeah, that was pretty hilarious, but the prick deserved it." Though his face was emotionless, humor danced in his eyes. She made a show out of rearranging her black pant suit, then studied him closely, suddenly wanting to prove to him that she was a capable file clerk. Not a giggling twit. "Look, thanks for the apology but I have to get back to work. I'm on the clock." "Well, I have a plan, you see." "A plan?" What was the man up to now? "Do you enjoy parroting me?" "I don't parrot you." "You did last night. And you're doing it right now." "Fine," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Speak of this plan, O-wise-one." He flashed her a wicked grin. "I need a personal assistant to attend a radio conference with me next week. Maybe you've heard of it: The Rock n' Rolla Festival in Daytona, Florida? Usually I skip it, but this year I want to make an appearance. My regular assistant is on maternity leave. Up for the gig?" Her brain turned to mush at the thought of being near him for a whole week. Absently, she shuffled a row of boxes. "I have to work next week." 23

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"You'd have the week off, plus bonus pay. Will five thousand do?" Good Lord, she thought, Uncle Leo would be set for the rest of the year with that amount of dough. Ten rounds of meds paid off like that! Reigning in her excitement, she played it cool. "That's a bit much, don't you think?" He shrugged. "Consider it severance pay for your last job." "Trying to ease your conscience by paying me off, Mr. Rain?" A sliver of anger flashed in his beautiful eyes. "I'm trying to be agreeable, Ms. Perrin." She couldn't help but laugh. He was fine as hell when he was mad. "The conference can be demanding. I need someone efficient by my side. Someone who can help me handle the stress. You'll earn the money. Believe me." She turned her back to him and concentrated on rearranging a few shelves, weighing her options. There had to be another way to earn some extra cash. A way that didn't involve frolicking with Jeremy Rain for an entire week like a sex-deprived lunatic. Desperately, she held on to her resolve. "You don't even know me." "I've looked through your files. You're educated and capable. You'll do." Her nerves tensed. He'd looked through her files? What was she supposed to make of that? It was all very detectiveish. Her confusion grew stronger and stronger by the minute. What choice did she really have though? Five thousand dollars 24

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was some serious cash and Uncle Leo needed her. Now was not the time for the weak of heart. Besides, it was just a conference. It wasn't like he'd asked her to go skinny-dipping or something. She'd approach it like a regular nine to five job, then she'd be out. There'd be no overtime play. "Fine," she answered, whirling around. "I'll do it." He crowded her space. "Good." Suddenly the fact that she was down in the basement of Hell with the man she'd been crushing on for a solid year seemed a bit unwise. She sucked in a nervous breath and looked at his muscle-roped biceps. The man was seriously ripped. And so close. All it would take would be a simple push to make contact with his sculpted chest. Another push to lock lips. Her pussy grew moist at the thought of sucking his tongue into her mouth. She studied the blond hair that fell around his handsome face. One lousy year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days; she had thought of him for far too long. What would it feel like to give in to her fevered longing? To fuck him raw, no questions asked? No doubt he'd bring her to the brink of pleasure. And somewhere beyond... She met his gaze. "Will that be all, Mr. Rain?" He leaned forward, his heady, masculine, scent colliding into her like a drug, making her weak in the knees. His lips quirked. "I'm not going anywhere."

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She could think of no reply. Her palms touched the wall behind her. Her heart settled into a dull thud. Good Lord, why was he staring at her like that? Was he attracted to her? Imprisoned by his stare, her mind turned back to her earlier fantasy of him on the dance floor. How she'd ground against him. How he'd cupped her breast. Now his eyes bore into her, holding her immobile. He lifted one of her loose braids, slowly, to twirl around his long fingers. She had the sudden urge to reach up and suck the digits into her mouth. To taunt him to the point of insanity. Weakly, she looked away. He dragged her chin back. Then leaned over and kissed her. It was good. So good. Lazily, he teased her lips, like he had all the time in the world, awakening every nerve ending in her body, pushing her toward a slow and steady fire. She melted against him. Fell into the slow tug of his lips. Knew that she was losing it, but didn't give a damn. The feel of his gentle tongue claiming her mouth, stroking her lips, made her tremble with desire, made her pussy flutter in anticipation. This was her fantasy come to life. Had she made it happen simply by wishing for it? Had it been that easy? Perhaps. Stranger things have happened. She lost herself in the moment, dragging her hand down his torso, around the lines of his six pack, settling above the heavy buckle of his jeans. 26

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The taste of him. The sound of his erratic breathing. The feel of his skin. My God. The man knew how to kiss. How to turn a woman's world upside down in the span of a minute. Cocooned by his intoxicating masculinity, slowly, she began to unlatch his belt buckle, lightheaded with need. At the contact, he muttered a stream of obscenities and stepped aside, while she collapsed against the wall, with rubbery bones and sweaty palms. She touched her swollen lips. Then, shyly, met his steady gaze. "I shouldn't have done that," he hissed. Reality slammed into her like a sledge hammer. Simmering with pent up lust, she wiped her sticky palms on her pants and breathed deeply. "Don't worry. It won't happen again." "I apologize." Mira glared. She had had enough with the apologies. "It's fine." "Really I—" "It's okay, sir." Her voice was hard as steel. "Look, it's time for my coffee break. Give me the trip details later." Like the devil himself was on her trail, she slid passed him and hustled down the long hallway. When she finally made it to the end of the corridor, she looked back on a whim. She expected to find him closing the door or walking toward the second exit, the one that was closer by. She did not expect to find him standing in the entranceway, watching her intensely with a mysterious smile on his handsome face. Neither of them said a word. 27

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Just looked at each other. Fearing she might say something totally inappropriate, Mira turned and exited the hall. Well, he finally noticed your presence, girl. Now what? Dammit. She wished she knew the answer. Jeremy grinned as he made his way up the stairs. Lord, had he kissed the woman? He hadn't meant to. But the come hither look in her eyes had worked his control. She'd tasted like vanilla and creme. Like the sweetest treat. Groaning, his hands settled above the heavy ridge of his dick. He chuckled nervously. He was not going to jerk off at his place of work. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to regain his composure. Mira Perrin. She was an outspoken little thing. Not the type of woman to hold her tongue when she had something to say, which turned him on immensely. For the past year, he'd dated a slew of shy wallflowers skilled at saying whatever they thought would please him. It felt good talking to someone who meant what they said and said what they meant, even if she was a bit too forgiving. She shouldn't have settled for the five thousand. Shit, he would've gone a lot higher. He wondered what type of financial plights had driven her to such poor decision making. Jeremy snickered. What did he care? She was not his to worry about. He'd apologized. He'd offer her another job. He was officially exonerated. He walked up the stairs and dug his hands in his pockets, unable to rid himself of thoughts of her. She'd called him a 28

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grouch. No, a well-meaning grouch. Not even his sisters resorted to name-calling. And they knew about his temper. But his sexy Mira had spoken her mind, even to the boss. Leaning on the railing, he assessed the situation. What was it about the woman that intrigued him so? He had to admit, hers was a pretty face; round brown eyes, a dimpled chin, and a sweet luscious mouth. He even found the ugly bun that held her braids appealing, even if it was somewhat schoolmarmish. But she was one of those "black pants suit" wearing women, he reasoned. The ones who hid their femininity in muted-colored clothes during working hours. And he didn't like those types of women. Didn't he? He exited the stairwell and stopped next to the men's restroom, where he took a steadying breath. What was with him? One small, talkative woman was working his control. Fuck. He entered the restroom and splashed some water on his face. On the way back to his office, he passed Chad, who asked, "Found her yet?" Jeremy frowned. "No." For some reason he wanted to keep Mira a secret a little while longer, if only until the end of the day. The following week, Mira found herself dragging Jeremy to interview after interview at the Rock n' Rolla Conference at the Hilton Hotel in Daytona, Florida. Because of his celebrity status he was in hot demand, much to his annoyance. He often complained about his schedule, citing that he couldn't 29

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be everywhere at once. Chuckling behind her hand, she smiled at his petulance. He was so cute when he was put-out. The only time he'd held his tongue was at a children charity event, one he co-sponsored with the National Children's Education Matters Foundation. She felt a glow of pleasure watching him pass out drawing supplies to a group of underprivileged children. He looked like a fabled giant amongst the clan of tiny children. As big and blond as a Viking. She'd been right. Despite his grumpiness, he had a good heart. Deep down inside, of course. Still, the interviews dragged on. One afternoon, he followed her to a secluded part of the lobby, found a comfy chair, plopped down, and fell asleep. As if to emphasize the point that he did not want to be bothered, he buried his head in the chair cushions and snored loudly. Mira laughed. He fascinated her. Awake, he was hunky and dangerous. In sleep, he looked as peaceful as a child. When he awoke a short time later, he pleaded for her to get him a cup of coffee. Already accustomed to his precaffeine fix grouchiness, she went on a hunt for the magic elixir, only to discover that a woman had given him a cup when she returned. Mira watched them covertly in the hotel lobby, wondering how long the platinum-blonde woman was going to flirt with her boss. She was tall and slender with absolutely no curves or class, since her ass was practically in Jeremy's face. Two squares of cotton covered her behind in what Mira assumed were a pair of shorts. She snickered when the woman 30

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accidentally dropped her purse and asked Jeremy to retrieve the items, while her legs zigzagged around him like a spider's web. Mira rolled her eyes. What would the woman's momma think? Didn't she remember rule number nine—cross your legs when you're sitting next to a gentleman, not when he's up under you. Jesus. After watching them for a few minutes, she was shocked to discover that despite the woman's looks, Jeremy seemed to have absolutely no interest in her. He picked up the woman's items, downed his coffee, and walked away. Just before he exited the room, he met her eyes and winked. As the days passed, for some reason, his attention seemed fixed on her. She knew she was not hallucinating, because each time she looked up, he'd be staring at her closely like he did the day he kissed her in the basement of Hell. And if that wasn't enough, he continued his naughty winks. Making her feel deliciously warm in all the right places. It didn't make sense. She wasn't wearing anything as revealing as the other woman, just her black pants suit. Her braids were put up in a neat bun, and her dark skin was free of makeup. But the man still stared at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the room. Dumbfounded, she'd called her best friend Kelly to describe the phenomenon. Kells had said the usual, "When dick is in your sight, reach out and have a bite." Mira had laughed at that. Her friend was the walking dick-whisperer. Both of them needed to get some. But Kells didn't understand. She couldn't afford to screw things up with her boss. She had to keep her eyes on the prize—the bonus pay. 31

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In spite of everything, there was absolutely no way she was going to end up in the sack with Jeremy Rain. On the fourth night of the conference, a sudden knock came from her hotel door. Squealing, Mira turned toward the entranceway. "Who is it?" "Me." Her breathing stuttered at the sound of Jeremy's husky voice. What could he possibly want at one in the morning? A sinking feeling suddenly overcame her. Something told her that if she answered the door, strange things were bound to happen. Her gaze darted to the door. "What is it?" "Mira, open the door." At the sound of his command, she laughed at her jitteriness. Really, Mira. Relax honey-child. Something is seriously wrong with you. She yanked her braids up in a ponytail and threw on a longer T-shirt. At the last minute, she glanced at herself in the hallway mirror. Her shorts were decent enough. She opened the door. "Got a minute?" Jeremy barged into her room. Mira growled. "I guess so." He sat on her bed, next to her opened suitcase, looking adorable in dark sweats and a white T-shirt, his blond hair tousled, as though he'd been trying to get some sleep. "What is it?" "Sorry," he said, shifting his gaze to the flickering television. "Sometimes I'm wired at night from years of hosting my own late night radio show." 32

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"I couldn't sleep either," she offered, sitting next to him. "And nothing's on TV." She averted his gaze, feeling strange being so near to him when he'd been watching her so intensely for the past few days. He was so big next to her. So masculine and strong. Her hands sunk into the plush mattress as she met his extraordinary hazel eyes. He was smiling at her with an arched eyebrow. Blood rushed to her face. She changed the subject. "Do you miss deejaying?" "Somewhat," he replied, running his fingers through his sleepy locks. "You'd be surprised how many whackos call in at night. It made for good radio." Mira smiled. She didn't have to imagine. Her Dollar Place gig had exposed her to all types of late-night whackos. "I understand," she said, chuckling. "One night at The Dollar Place this guy bought fifty pairs of ladies underwear." He laughed at the bizarre little tale. "A day later he came back for more." "The man must've been shitfaced." "Must've been." "Why work at the Dollar Place in the first place?" "I'm the sole provider for my Uncle, who has diabetes. I need the extra income for his medication." "Don't I pay you enough?" "You pay me well, Mr. Rain," she replied with a grin. "But sometimes people have to pick up part-time work to make ends meet." He stared at her, tight-lipped. "I'll give you a raise." 33

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"What for? Didn't I say you paid me well?" "I don't like the idea of you working at night," he ground out. "It's too much work for one person to take. You're only twenty-six." Mira snorted. The poor man was suffering a serious guilt trip. "I'm used to working part-time from my college days," she said, patting him gently on the hand. "I'm not afraid of a little extra work. It does the body good." His eyes narrowed. "It also runs the body down." Sighing, she suddenly felt as though she'd said too much. Could he detect the lie? Did he somehow know that sometimes when life got rough she secretly wished things were different? Wished someone would step in and lessen her burden? Sadness threatened to consume her so she pushed it down. Get it together, girl. Jeremy Rain isn't that someone. Don't be foolish. This is just a business deal. Nothing more. She steered the conversation back to safer ground. "Do you have a big family?" "Two bossy sisters. Bullheaded father. Sweet mother." "Give me more than that." He shrugged. "My sisters teach college history and nag me to death. My father works with a recycling company. My mother is a retired high school principal. What about you?" "It's just me and Uncle Leo," she replied with a laugh, "and Kells, of course, who is my best friend, and let's not forget my huge collection of action movies." She could almost kick herself for revealing the last bit. Way to go, girl, you're just what he's looking for. A film geek. 34

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Sulking about her nerdiness, her attention darted across her suitcase, stopping at the sight of her black underwear on display. Had they been there all this time? Her eyes locked with Jeremy. Had he seen them, too? Jeremy suppressed a smile. He kept his gaze on Mira's face, not her panties. It wouldn't be right to drool over her underwear, especially when she was talking so adamantly about her passion for action movies. It felt good listening to her talk about a non-work related subject. She worked too damn hard. For four days, he'd watched her hustle at the conference like her life depended on it. For fuck's sake, she needed to relax. Fighting the sudden urge to pull her long braids out of her ponytail and run his fingers through the intricate plaits, he clenched his fingers. He wanted to see the plaits swinging around her like they did at The Dollar Place. His eyes skimmed her body. She wore shorts and a simple T-shirt with gray hearts sprinkled around the neckline. He willed his blood not to rush to his dick. He could see the outline of her nipples through the flimsy material. Each time she wrestled with her luggage in an effort to push the underwear back in place, the nubs bobbed from side to side, mesmerizing him with each sway. Fuck. She was wellproportioned. His muscles shifted with arousal. His dick radiated heat. It would be a crime to not get a taste of her. She continued to wrestle with the luggage. The more she shoved her underwear to the bottom of the suitcase, the more pieces popped from the sides, forcing her 35

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to start the entire process all over again. Jeremy laughed. When a spark of red flashed amid the dark clothing, he couldn't help himself. He plucked the piece out, discovering with pleasure that it was a thong. A silky red thong. One of those confections women wore when they wanted a good fuck. His cock grew rock hard, stunned that she wore sexy panties beneath her ugly black pants suits. He gave her a sidelong glance. His mystery woman was full of surprises. She lunged for the panties. "Give those back." He held them above her head out of her reach. He knew he was behaving obnoxiously, but was unable to stop himself. "Plan on getting laid this week?" She stopped struggling and just looked at him. "What-what are you talking about?" "Sweetheart, these panties don't cover up shit. You might as well go commando." He expected her to reprimand him on his familiarity or playfully slug him in the arm. He did not expect her to lick her lips and stare at his crotch. Her voice came out in a breathy sigh. "Are you going commando?" His cock grew harder, the rigid flesh standing at full attention. Sensing his shift, she scooted away from him, toward the headboard, where she watched him warily. "Forget I said anything. Just forget it." His jaws clenched. She wanted him to forget she'd asked him whether or not his dick was covered or bare? Not in this lifetime. Growling, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her 36

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toward him, making her squeal as she pulled a few sheets along with her. He laughed mischievously and thought he heard her mumble something about arrogant men but wasn't sure. All of his attention was on her lips. He leaned over and coaxed her tongue into his mouth. He did it softly, gently, a small tug. Then pulled her closer, his nostrils filled with her heavenly lilac scent. He could feel her quiver beneath him just before she let go of her hesitation and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, moaning. He relished in the taste of her. Rich. Sweet. Addictive. A dangerous pheromone paralyzing his senses. His fingers twitched. His skin grew clammy with sweat. And his heart beat like a wild foreign drum. "Fuck, you make me so hard." He pushed her onto the bed and settled between her legs. He couldn't think straight. His hands roamed her body, her breasts, her hips, the curve of her belly and ass. He sucked a nipple through the thin T-shirt. Tugging on the hard pebble, relentlessly, thrilled at the friction. She was so rich. So sweet. She touched his arm, then sank her fingers in his hair. He smiled at her touches as he lapped at her nipples. "You taste so good, baby." Shutting his eyes, he lost himself in the pleasure of it all. Good Lord, he wouldn't be able to hold out if he didn't take her now. And he knew she was ready for him. Don't fall for this woman. She's your employee. Don't jerk her around like her former boss. Don't. 37

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It took all of his willpower to untangle himself from her embrace. He sat up. Took a raggedy breath. "Jeremy?" Suddenly, she was sitting up and scooting next him, her dark skin still flushed with heat. He chuckled softly, unsure of what to say or do. His cock was so hard it hurt. Fuck! What was he thinking? Had he lost his ever-loving mind? The last thing he needed was to get involved with an employee. For fuck's sake, he helped write the manual about the dangers of fraternization for his companies. Frustrated beyond all get-up, he stood and walked toward the door, blushing brightly. When he turned back, she was looking at him with big brown doe-like eyes. What was he supposed to say? That he didn't mean to feel her up? That his fingers accidently slipped? "Sorry about that," he offered. "It won't happen again." He opened the door and made his way back to the room, his cock still as hard as ever. It was going to be a long, long night. Mira scanned the convention center. The party was in full swing—just like the other three parties the conference had sponsored during the past week. Shoved to capacity with a bunch of loud horny music-folk. Luckily she'd found a spot in the far left corner of the room at the mini bar, away from the ballroom dance floor. Not far away, a couple ground up against one another like teenagers. "At least someone is going to be getting some tonight," she mumbled, taking a sip of her margarita. Though the dance floor pulsed with energy, she couldn't help but sulk at the bar. For the hundredth time, she thought about Jeremy's 38

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mix signals. One minute he was ogling her, and the next he was avoiding her like she had the bubonic plague. Last night, after he'd sealed her lips with a smoking hot kiss, followed by an awkward apology, he'd shut down completely, only speaking to her if he had scheduling questions. It was as though the kiss they'd shared was a figment of her imagination. Why did she have to ask him about going commando? Why couldn't she just shut her mouth? That's easy, said her libido, 'cause ya need to get some! Oh, shut up! Mira took another sip of her margarita. Then bobbed her head to the loud music. She needed to get out of her funk. She was in Daytona. It was time to have fun! Time to banish thoughts of Jeremy Rain from her mind once and for all. She slinked to the dance floor and started to rock to the beat. Several men flanked her on both sides. One of them grabbed her by the waist. "You're the first pretty thing I've seen in here all week," he hollered, revealing a row of straight white teeth. Mira smiled. It was exactly what she needed to hear. "You're not bad on the eyes either," she purred. She put her back to him and flung her arms in the air. "Damn, baby girl," he moaned. "Fuck, yeah." They grooved toward the front of the crowd. A song about single ladies boomed from the speakers. Hell yeah! Being single had its pluses. She dipped and dived, dived and dipped. She was so caught up in her moves that she didn't 39

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notice her dance partner stiffen behind her until it was too late. Suddenly, Jeremy was there, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, dwarfing him by a good five inches. Dark jeans and a suit jacket made up his ensemble. His hair was slicked back, giving him a devil-may-care look that made her grin. He looked good enough to eat. "Can I cut in?" Mira's eyebrows shot up, wondering what he was up to. The man shoved his hand away. "Nah, man, she's busy." "I beg to differ," said Jeremy, eyeballing the man. Mira stepped in between them. "Jeremy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" "Yeah man, are you even with her?" Jeremy eyed the man with an evil glare. "Fuck off, punk. Now." Taken aback, the man turned and disappeared into the crowd. Anger soared through her. She was just starting to loosen up, and here he was again, butting into her business! "You know, I'm getting real tired of you sneaking up on me, acting like a Neanderthal. It's played out!" His thumb stroked her bottom lip. "Were you going to fuck him?" She flinched at his bluntness, still boiling with anger. "Maybe." Cupping her cheek, his eyes flickered dangerously. "Don't play with me, Mira."

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"What I choose to do off the clock is none of your damn business, sir. I'm not one of your skinny broads. Following you around like a deer in headlights isn't my style." She knew he was not listening because his eyes were on her slinky dress. It was all black and it dipped down in the front and stopped above her knees. It was one of her sexist outfits, since it showed off her fabulous tits and ass. When his eyes continued to explore her body, she threw up her hands in sexual frustration. The man had the uncanny ability of making her feel irritated and turned on at the same damn time. Rattled, she clung to her anger. How dare he treat her like that kiss didn't happen and then get all jealous when a nice, respectable man wanted to dance with her? He was beyond sufferable. Arrogant, rude, bossy... She took a deep, calming breath then pushed her way out of the crowd. Before she did anything that she would regret, like forgive and fuck him on the spot, she walked toward the elevators. She had to put as much distance between her and her boss as possible. Cursing profusely, Jeremy followed Mira back to her room, where she slammed the door in his face. Glued to the spot, he mumbled, "crazy woman," and returned to the party, unfulfilled. Shit. He was sure she'd said something to him about skinny broads, but how was he expected to pay attention when she was wearing that dress? It was nothing but a ring of black silk and skin. A devilish cloth that accentuated the 41

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curve of her lush ass nicely. No wonder his concentration had gone to hell. He adjusted his hard-on and headed out of the crowed. A group of women hollered for him to come back, but he kept going. He sat at the bar. All day long he'd behaved like a dick, pretending as though last night hadn't happened. Tonight he wasn't any better. But he had breaking points. One of which was the sight of her grinding against another man on the dance floor. How did she think he'd react? With an enthusiastic thumbs-up? He slurped down a drink and wandered through the halls of the convention center, watching flocks of partygoers whirl by. Some clung to friends, singing loudly. Jeremy sighed. What was it about conferences that made middle-age men act like drunk college kids? As if getting high off of liquor was going to somehow magically transport them back to the good old days? Feeling the beginning of a headache, he found a lobby chair away from the bedlam, and thought about Mira. Women had never been so difficult to appease before. They usually were agreeable whenever he flashed them a smile. But Mira was different. She wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. Fuck. At this rate he'd be sporting a perpetual hard-on for the rest of the conference. His cell phone suddenly rang. When he saw who it was, he flipped opened the device and snapped, "What is it?" On the other end, Chad laughed loudly. "Did I call at a bad time?" 42

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"What is it?" "Just calling to give you the weekly update." "Has anyone burned down the damn building?" he asked, rapping his knuckles against the chair. The last thing he wanted to talk about was the station. Not when his thoughts were on an entirely different and more pleasurable matter. "No." "Then don't call." A moment of silence passed between them. "Just fuck her if you're that hard-up." "Shit." It didn't surprise him that Chad had somehow found out about Mira. His friend was a gossip-hound. "She wears ugly black pant suits." He cringed. What was he, ten? "Like you care," snickered Chad. "Have some fun for once. What's the use of being rich and famous if you don't engage in a quick fuck when you're out of town?" "It's not like that. I'm paying her five thousand to be my assistant. It's strictly business." "Why so much cash?" "Chad, not now," warned Jeremy. "I'm not up for one of your Q&A sessions, dude." "Jeremy?" "Yeah?" "She doesn't wear glasses, bro. You lied." Jeremy hung up the phone. Chad didn't need to know Mira's description. It was none of his fucking business. She was his. She just didn't know it yet. 43

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The following evening, Mira roamed the halls in search of the pool. Though the hotel boasted of four, large, familyfriendly pools, she opted for the smaller one in hopes that she'd have the place to herself. She smiled upon discovering that she did. The space consisted of a circular pool, hot tub, and sauna. She walked to the hot tub and settled in. For the sixth day in a row she'd dealt with Jeremy's intense stares. After an awkward first meeting, where he mumbled an apology for behaving like an ass last night, he'd gone all bizarre on her. When she'd sat next to him during an interview with a rival station, he'd just stared at her as though he'd expected her to join in the conversation about his background in deejaying and children's charities. When they'd grabbed a quick bite to eat at one of the boardwalk's restaurants, he'd looked at her strangely, without saying a word, as though he was trying to figure something out. She wished he would figure it out already. His weird stares were beginning to rattle her confidence. Luckily, she only had two more days in Daytona. Then she'd be home. Although her brain told her going back home was for the best, her heart wallowed a little at the realization that her life would return to normal. That she'd become the mistress of the file room once more. She sighed deeply. I'll be able to take care of Uncle Leo, though, she coached herself. That's what matters! She wrapped her braids up in a quick up-do, leaned her head back in the hot tub and dozed off. The hot bubbles felt good on her skin, calming her nerves. After a few minutes, 44

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she got out, stretched, and walked to the sauna. It was smaller than most, but comfortable enough. She placed a long towel on the wood and lay down, leaving the doors slightly cracked by wedging her flip flops between the panels. She lay there for awhile, dozing in and out of sleep. From somewhere outside, she thought she heard a swimmer taking laps in the pool, but she wasn't sure. Thoughts of Jeremy floated in and out of her subconscious. She couldn't escape them. Even when she hid herself away in a sauna to relax, he haunted her. A sudden sound interrupted her musings. Slowly, she willed her body to sit up straight and then adjusted her eyes to the darkness. Someone stood in the entranceway, toweling his face. It was Jeremy. A half-naked Jeremy. For a split second she thought she was dreaming. Thought her mind had pulled her into another erotic vision, where Jeremy played the role of hunky sex god, and she, of course, the role of decadent mistress, so eager to please. But a pinch of her skin revealed the obvious. He was there. She was there. And they were both semi-nude. Oh, Lord. Her eyes gleamed up at him. Bathed in the sauna's orange ultraviolet light, he looked like a Greek god come to life. From his strong, sculpted shoulders to his lean six pack abs, the man was a double dose of fineness. His legs, incredibly long and muscled. His biceps, flexing pieces of flesh. His feet and 45

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hands, as big as a giant's. He was too big and too raw for the small space, and the ceiling seemed to shrink in his presence. She swallowed nervously, her eyes shifting to his blue swimming trunks, where she saw the outline of his large cock. Vivid memories from the past week came back to haunt her; the winks he'd given her, the hot kiss, the dance floor fiasco, and of course, the basement of Hell meeting from weeks ago. The sauna got hotter. Shit. Had she replaced one Hell for another? "Mira?" He looked around the dim room, then back at her. "I didn't know you were here. I'm not stalking you, if that's what you think." She rushed to soothe him. "I know. It's okay." Given her horny state, she wouldn't have minded if he had stalked her. Both of them stared at each other. She bit down on her lower lip. All she wore was a skimpy one piece suit that let out at the sides and back. Her breasts were practically falling out of the flimsy material. His eyes took in every detail. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to rescue them from each other, but it was too late. One minute he was standing in the entranceway, and the next minute he was pulling her up by the shoulders, slipping his tongue inside her mouth. And she was groaning at the soft, urgent pull. Tilting her head to give him better access, soaking in the feel of his lips, wet and warm, possessing her. Was anything better than a mind-blowing kiss? She clung to his neck, losing herself in the play of tongues, enjoying the feel of his grip on her ass and his cock against 46

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her stomach. He kissed her like he owned her, branding her lick by lick. She reveled in it, running her hands through his chest hair, tugging and sucking on his bottom lip greedily. When she moaned for more, he picked her up and leaned her against the cool sauna door. She watched in fascination as he pulled the top of her bathing suit down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. The fast, gentle tugs made her lightheaded with pleasure. It was just like the night before. But better. Her back arched in bliss. "You like that, don't you," he commented, switching to the other nipple. She nodded, wishing he would shut up and fuck her. She reached down to cup his shaft through his trunks. He was rock hard and huge. When she traced his swollen cock with the tip of her finger, he jerked wildly. She purred in delight. "You like that, don't you," she whispered. His head fell against the sauna door. "Don't...parrot...me." She laughed. Even when she was having her way with his dick, he still found a way to dish out orders. He'd learn. "What do you plan on doing about it, boss man?" "Don't." "Don't—what?" He growled loudly. "Parrot me." She knew she was behaving like an ass by mimicking him, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. For a year, she'd fantasized about fucking his brains out. Had yearned for something she'd thought would always be out of reach. Now she had him exactly where she wanted. 47

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She'd do whatever she damn well pleased. She dug her fingers inside his trunks and wrapped her hand around the length of his hot pulsating flesh. Then she stroked him up and down for several tension-filled moments, amazed at his hugeness. A laugh of triumph bubbled from her throat. She was finally touching him, feeling him in the most intimate way. With a kiss to his neck, she gripped the root of his cock and lifted his sack for a fuller exploration. A jagged sound escaped him. His body tightened. His hips pushed and rocked against her grip. Smoothing a hand over his chest, she stroked harder and tighter, until she thought she might be hurting him. He dripped with pre-cum, his balls hot against her inner thighs. She pulled upward, rubbed the wet curve with the heel of her palm and pushed down. "Mira." He gasped. "Please." A thrill shot through her. She had never heard him beg for anything before. It turned her on immensely. Her fingers flicked the tip of his crown. "Please what, Mr. Rain?" He jerked as if she'd touch him with a live wire. "Please stop doing what you're fucking doing or else I'm not going to last." His dark eyes narrowed. His breathing became fast and erratic. Did he really want her to stop? Ignoring his half-hearted pleas, she continued stroking his engorged cock, loving the clouded look of pleasure in his eyes and the warm feel of his skin. He clutched her hand in an effort to stop her, but she flicked him away and continued pumping faster, harder than before, causing him to tremble 48

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violently. He cursed. Flexed. Groaned. Her womb clenched at the incredible sexy sound. Outside she heard a group of swimmers, but their presence did not stop her ministrations, only made her wildly uninhibited. She wanted to see him fall apart for her. Wanted to see him beg for release. "Say please, hon," she whispered, "Say please if you can't take it anymore." Their gazes locked. She knew he did not like taking orders, but she would not back down. "Say it—" He swallowed and uttered the word in complete submission. "Please." She flicked her fingers against the smooth head of his cock. It was enough to send him over the edge. Enough to have him letting loose a ring of curses as a stream of hot cum shot from him and landed on her thighs. She'd never been more turned on in her entire life. Would she ever get enough of the man? He collapsed on a nearby bench, dragging her down with him, placing a sloppy kiss on her mouth. "My God," he whispered, his golden skin glistening with sweat. "You're just full of surprises." A satisfied smile lit up her face. "You have no idea." Part of her wanted to screw Jeremy right there, but the sounds from the pool made her listen to reason. She adjusted her bathing suit and pulled him to his knees. They grabbed their swimming bags and headed toward the shower room. By the time they reached an open stall, she was shaking with anticipation. She watched, transfixed, as Jeremy closed the curtains then pushed her into the corner of the stall. 49

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"What were you thinking?" he asked, a small frown tilting the corners of his mouth. Pleasure, so sweet, rippled across her skin. So, the great Jeremy Rain was a bit frazzled by the entire experience? She chuckled. Poor baby. He'd get over it, no doubt. "Are you complaining, Mr. Rain?" He growled and she blinked. He put his hands on both sides of her head. "No, sweetheart, I'm not complaining. I'm just wondering what the fuck made you think you could jerk me off in a public place like that. Someone could've walked in." Her fingers flicked water off his chest. "No one walked in, so chill out." He leaned in closer, his eyes a fiery hazel. "Still, someone could've..." "Well," she added, "if you're not pleased, Mr. Rain, I can leave." Her words seemed to ignite his anger, because suddenly he placed a big hand on the top of her bathing suit and ripped the piece down, leaving her completely and utterly nude. She squealed and squirmed, but he managed to hold her still. "You're not going anywhere." The arrogant man. Did he take joy in rattling her nerves? Even so, she couldn't help but laugh at the desperate act. Grumbling, he sat in the stall chair, then dragged her hips forward so that his mouth was at the entrance of her pussy. "I think I owe you, Ms. Perrin." Arching her back, she purred in delight. "What do you have in mind?" 50

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Bending over, he sucked her engorged clit into his mouth, simultaneously plunging his fingers inside of her hot pussy. Her sex spasmed violently at the delicious contact, her hips squirming from side to side. His fingers pressed harder, deeper, until her core throbbed with a blinding need that overwhelmed her. Clinging to his forearms, she moaned in ecstasy. "Brace your hands on the side," he ordered. She did as he said, totally lost in fevered sensations. When her hips angled higher, his tongue plunged deeper into her channel. As he lapped up the juices surrounding her clit, she writhed restlessly. It wasn't enough. She needed more. She clawed at his shoulders as he chuckled and pulled her down to straddle him. Then he reached in his gym bag, pulled out a condom, and sheathed himself. Her lips quirked as she absently wondered why on earth he had a condom in his gym bag. Sensing her thoughts, he shrugged, and positioned her closer. "I like to come prepared." She should've been pissed off at his incredible ego, but could only summon a chuckle. "You are seriously cocky, Mr. Rain," she murmured. His eyebrows lifted mockingly. "Had enough?" At the sight of the smirk enlivening his face, Mira rolled her eyes. She was just about to tell him off, when he plunged her down on his long, thick cock. They both jumped at the exquisite contact. The feel of his shaft slipping easily between her folds, warming her, cocooning her in a delicious swirl of bliss, was almost too much to bear. When he reached her 51

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cervix, she sighed in pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck, in awe of the intense pressure. For a few seconds, she held her breath then let it whoosh out of her. Running her fingers through his golden hair, she couldn't help but wonder if she had somehow died in gone to Heaven, if pleasure in the flesh could physically be so sweet. Slowly, she rocked up and down his long shaft, finding a steady rhythm, rejoicing in the feel of his bulbous head nearing her G-spot. When it wasn't enough, she picked up speed, grabbing his shoulders, riding him hard, not caring that she was fucking the boss. Only focused on the feel of the incredible bliss. The sounds of his muttered curses only made her grind harder. Faster. Closing her eyes, she wondered why it ever had to end, why she couldn't stay with him forever. He's not that someone Mira. She flinched at the pain of the realization, shoving the troublesome thoughts aside, losing herself in the heat of their intimacy. She rode him with complete abandon. Higher. Hotter. Faster. And deeper. Loving the feel of his palms on her thighs, his lips on her neck. Her nipples grew painfully hard. Delicious heat constricted her muscles and she thought she might burst into a million, little pieces. She tightened around him and shouted with joy as a powerful orgasm overtook her, blindingly sweet. He suddenly went still and came inside of her, swearing profusely. Sapped of energy, Mira buckled in his arms. And smiled. If she wasn't careful, she could fall in love with him. "Was it good?" 52

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"Yeah," she whispered, relaxing in the lull of his arms. "You delivered. You see I think—" He laughed and kissed her quiet. The next day Jeremy spent the afternoon with Mira, sightseeing. As they moved through the crowds, he thought about how she'd worked his shaft in the sauna and shower room. How she'd taunted him with her brash words. Remembering how she'd had him at her whim, he found it difficult to keep his eyes off of her. Though her yellow dress reached her ankles, he could still see her curvy silhouette through the thin fabric. When they entered a souvenir store, he flicked the ends of her dress teasingly. "What's with the black pant suits you always wear to work?" Her eyes narrowed at the question as she yanked the dress away. "I don't always wear black pant suits, Mr. Rain," she snapped. "I switch it up from time to time." "In what? Black skirt suits?" She shuffled through a rack of clothing, ignoring him. "I only ask because the color hides you," he said, determined to get back into her good graces. A small smile touched her lips. "My suits are comfortable. Plus, who am I going to impress at work? I go there to do a job." "Yes, I know, but the dress policy approves casual wear." "So what?" "Why not add a little color?" 53

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"I don't have time for color. Uncle Leo is what matters, not my wardrobe." He reached for her hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You work too much." "So do you," she bit back. He remained silent. My God, she was only twenty six. Had anyone ever spent the time to take care of her? To really see her for who she was—a kind loving woman who worked double shifts to take care of her ailing relative? A strong streak of protectiveness suddenly overcame him. He wanted to ease her troubles. To make her life easier somehow without stripping her of her independence, so that shitty Dollar Place bosses didn't tower over her, didn't break her spirit. She was the one woman he'd met in his entire life who he truly wanted to take care of, simply because she deserved it. Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he focused her attention on a T-shirt display and changed the subject. On the way back to the hotel, he wondered how he planned on convincing his sultry mystery woman that they were perfect for each other. That evening, Jeremy undressed Mira slowly, and watched as she stretched her hands above her head on the bed and spread her legs. Her breasts were large, melon-sized, with dark chocolate nipples. The rest of her was beautiful and voluptuous. He grew incredibly hard at the sight. "Are you going to stand there looking at me all day?" she teased from the bed, flipping a pillow up in the air. 54

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He chuckled and strolled closer, turned on by her brazenness. "Maybe." "Jeremy, stop playing and get over here." He stopped walking and stared. "And if I don't?" "Well, then, I'll be very disappointed." When his cock contracted, her eyebrows wiggled. Grinning, he whipped off his shirt and slacks so that he stood in front of her completely naked. "Believe me, Jeremy," she murmured, brushing a finger around a beaded nipple. "You don't want to see me disappointed." With a chuckle, he finally gave in and approached the bed. There he settled above her. "What do you do? Breathe fire?" "Maybe," she moaned, grabbing a handful of his ass, forcing him to take a shallow breath to calm his rock hard cock. "Let me put you out of your misery, then," he whispered against her ear, his hard flesh at the entrance of her pussy. Slowly, he rubbed his swollen head against her folds, relishing in the feel of her wetness. She sighed and clung to his neck, making the most adorable meowing sounds. His eyes burned into hers He reached for the condoms next to his bed and sheathed himself. Fighting his own desire. Unable to wait, he impaled her pussy with his shaft in one smooth move, gritting his teeth at the exquisite pleasure that was almost painful. My God. She felt good.

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She clawed his back, urging him to continue, murmuring in satisfaction. Kneading her ass, he pressed in and out of her channel in long, deep strokes, in awe of her tight, wet pussy. Her eyes fluttered on a sigh. She was loving it. The feel of her fingernails in his shoulders was proof enough. His hands tangled with her braids and pulled gently so that he had access to the delicate curve of her neck. There he let his tongue do the work, licking her lazily, as if he had all the time in the world, enthralled by her smoky cocoa skin. "Jeremy, oh God." He stared down at her lovely face. "Say you're mine," he ground out. Her eyes closed. A sudden bolt of fear, unlike anything he'd ever experience, pumped inside of him at the realization that she might not say the words. That she might not feel the same. But then she opened her eyes. "I'm yours." At the sound of the words, he pounded into her like an animal, driven by the need to claim her with his body completely. To banish any doubts she had once and for all. He impaled her with hard strokes, the sound of their lovemaking erupting in the air an added aphrodisiac. Rotating his hips, he slid deeper, pushing her up against the bed until her head touched the headboard. He lost himself in a world of pleasure. All he felt and saw was raw hot desire. He thrust harder, deeper, blinded by his need. Wanting her to never forget his touch. She tugged his hair and called out his name. Sensing her need, his hand found her clit. He pinched and tugged the 56

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sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. She bucked beneath him, but he continued his torture, loving her incredible sexy sounds. She screamed her satisfaction as an orgasm overtook her, her pussy contracting around him, milking him tightly. They shouted out together, their bodies convulsing wildly as powerful orgasms tore through their sweat-soaked limbs. Then they fell back to Earth. When the last of his convulsions vanished, he rolled over, thinking that he could get used to the feel of her in his arms. Mira was ready to rejoin the living despite her soreness the next day. She'd spent two days with the great Jeremy Rain; watching bad TV, ordering greasy food, fucking him like a rabid animal. A part of her was a little embarrassed by how brazen she'd been in bed. But another part, a stronger part, urged her to relax. For once in her tired, sexless life, she was following Kell's advice—she was going for the dick. It wasn't a big deal! A chill traveled through her as she thought about the intense look in Jeremy's eyes when he'd urged her to say she was his. She knew he'd said the words in the heat of the moment. Knew there was no chance in hell that she'd end up with him in the long-run. They were just having a little fun. Come next week things would return to normal. But even so, she couldn't help but wonder... Heavy with thoughts, she studied her surroundings. She stood inside of his hotel room, searching for the infamous speech folder that had eluded him all morning. Though he'd given up the hunt an hour ago and gone to the conference's 57

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premiere charity event, she was not easily swayed. The blasted folder was there somewhere. She searched the hotel room, looking under chairs and drawers, examining his luggage. When she heard a ring from his cell phone on the drawer, she made a mental note to tell him she had it. She reached for the device and tried clicking the silent function, but mistakenly clicked the voicemail tool instead. A man spoke on the other line. Her fingers fumbled with the off button, but the sound of her name on the stranger's lips stopped her dead in her tracks. Curious, she listened to the new voicemail. "Hey, are you up for signing more country stars to the daytime show next week? Also, the renovators called back about extending the Peachtree office. Hope you're having a good time with your "personal assistant" Mira down there in Daytona. I don't think five thousand is enough, bro. Why not get the most out of her and go for ten thousand? Black pant suit or not, I'm sure she'd be worth it. Talk to you later, bud." Mira froze. She took a slow, deep breath. Maybe she'd misheard the man. She listened to the message again, then suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. She sat on the bed, dropping her face in her hands. Surely, Jeremy hadn't sought to pay her off like a two-dollar ho? Had that been his plan all along? To play chivalrous knight when he was really a chivalrous dick? The evidence was there. The walls seemed to close in around her. What had she done? 58

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That's simple; you've gone and fucked the boss. Jeremy probably seduced tons of women. Probably had pussy on the brain. She was just another one of his playthings. After a few moments of stunned reflection, she stood up and exited the room. Then made her way down the long, quiet hall to the elevator. When she entered the lobby, she turned and walked toward the convention center. For two hours, she waited for Jeremy to finish the charity event, refusing to make a scene. When she finally saw him emerge from the crowd, she pushed herself from the wall and walked toward him. He wore a dark suit jacket and jeans, looking incredibly sexy. A small grin flashed across his face as he spotted her. "Couldn't wait until I finished the charity event? Want to go another round?" She flinched at his words. He might be gorgeous, but he was nothing more than the arrogant asshole she'd first pegged him for being. How could she ever think he had a good heart? She'd find another way to support Uncle Leo. A way that didn't involve total humiliation. Suppressing her tears, she looked him in the eye. "I just came to give you my notice, Mr. Rain." He laughed and hugged her in his arms, but she pushed him away. She would not let him deter her from what she had to do. "What do you mean?" "I quit." 59

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Finally realizing she was serious, he straightened, anger whipping across his face. A low growl rumbled from his chest. "What for?" She shoved the cell phone in his hands, wanting to make an exit as soon as possible. If she didn't leave, she'd do something stupid. "You know what the hell I'm talking about," she snapped, her gaze bouncing off onlookers. He grabbed her arm. "What happened?" She wrestled out of his embrace then walked to the elevator, knowing he was following close behind. A group of bystanders eyed them thoughtfully. Though she took a step toward the open elevator doors, Jeremy hustled her into the stairwell, where he pushed her up against a wall and crowded her space. His hazel eyes bore into her. "What happened?" "It doesn't matter," she said, suddenly feeling incredibly sad. Why couldn't he just let her go? She meant nothing to him. He continued to glare at her. "Now you want to be silent," he snapped. "You usually yak my ears off, parroting me. Tell me what's the matter." She opened her mouth but closed it quickly. She would not give him the satisfaction of arguing with him. Her heart was already breaking. "Leave. Me. Alone." He placed a sweet kiss on her lips. "Talk to me." Then another on her collarbone. "Talk to me." Her nipples hardened. Silently, she cursed her body for betraying her. 60

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"I'll make it better." He kissed her again. "What do you need?" His voice was a drug, lulling her into his arms. "I'll give you what you need." She suddenly felt light on her feet; she didn't know whether she was coming or going. Why couldn't she be with him one last time? Why couldn't she choose to forget what she'd heard, if only for a moment? She tore at his shirt, running her hands up and down his chest, blinded by her need for him, even if it was all a lie. He yanked her slacks and panties down, and picked her up, so that she straddled his waist. The feel of the cold wall against her back did not cool her desire. Only made her impatient for his touch. She clung to his shoulders as he continued to rain kisses on the side of her neck. His teeth snapped by her ear. "Sweetheart." She closed her eyes at the word, her heart in turmoil. Keeping her back pressed against the wall, he unzipped his pants, sheathed himself with a condom, and lifted her up on his long, thick cock. She screamed at the pressure filling her core. He was so large and beautiful. So much the man she'd always longed for. Slowly he thrust inside of her, up and down, finding a perfect rhythm. She leaned her head on his warm neck, never wanting this to end. He rode her with urgency. Hot flesh on hot flesh. Higher up the wall. Harder. His massive flesh tearing her in two, grinding her toward the orgasm she yearned for. She could feel her climax building inside her. Could feel herself plunging over the edge. She groaned and tightened 61

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her legs, pulling him deeper, wanting to lose herself completely in the moment. Like a bolt of lightning, she hit her peak. The breath whooshed from her as she screamed her orgasm. Her pussy walls contracted wildly as she clung to his neck and whimpered his name. He thrust harder, the sound of his curses echoing in the stairwell as he found his own release. When it was over, she floated back down to the solid floor, where realty slammed into her. Stunned, she looked at Jeremy, her heart full of pain. Did she have no shame? She'd behaved exactly as he saw her—like a straight-up ho. In the stairwell nonetheless. "Now let's talk about what's bothering you," he said, grinning ear to ear as he brushed her braids back. Mira scoffed. Did he think fucking her would make her an agreeable twit? Make her coo and caw like a nitwit? She straightened her clothes and glared at him as he arranged his slacks. She had to protect her heart by making sure he got the message. She had to be a mean bitch for once in her life. "Thanks for one last fuck, Mr. Rain." Two things happened simultaneously. There was the look of surprise in his eyes and a hiss from his lips. She gasped when he placed a foot between her legs. "Are those your parting words?" Squaring her shoulders, she soldiered on. "What don't you understand, Mr. Rain? I quit. We're through. Kapeesh." "If you would—" 62

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"You've made my life a living hell since the moment I laid eyes on you at The Dollar Place." She hesitated for a moment, but continued on, fueled by her pain. "First, you get me fired from my job, a job I desperately needed. Then, you make me follow you around this hotel to do your bidding like I'm supposed to be thankful for your generosity. Am I supposed to praise you for your goodwill? I've had enough." "I thought you enjoyed the work," he said, tight-lipped. "You thought wrong. I'm tired of putting up with your bullshit. Making your coffee. Finding your folders. Scheduling your meetings. This has been the longest week of my damn life. The sooner it's over, the better." She hurried up the stairs in search for the safety of her room, where she could fall apart alone. "If you want to go back to the station, that's fine." "No. I want to be done with you and that station—for good." "Fine," he spat, coming up behind her. "If you want to spend the rest of your life working at lousy dollar-hole joints, go ahead, they suit you." She whirled around and slapped him hard, the bite of the contact smarting her hand. In all of her years, she had never hit someone. Immediately, she felt sick with shame. Eyes narrowed, he rubbed at what would become a bruise. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say anything that would make it all better, but he spoke first. "I'll send your last check in the mail. Bonus pay and all."

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The mention of the bonus money made her feel dizzy with sadness. Remembering the phone message, she fumbled up the few remaining stairs. "Keep the money," she whispered. "Keep it all." Exiting the stairwell, she hurried down the hall to her room, telling herself that whatever it took she'd find a way to move on. Come rain or sunshine, she'd forget Jeremy Rain if it was the last thing she did. The following week, snuggled up on her couch, Mira watched another action movie. In the midst of a sword fighting scene, a woman told her best friend of twenty years that she loved him. Mira grabbed the remote control and switched the channel. "Girl, it's not worth it! Men are scum!" She viciously clicked the remote control then ate another scoop of her ice cream. Despite herself, for the hundredth time, she thought about Jeremy, who hadn't contacted her in an entire week. Although she'd basically written him off in Daytona, her heart pinched at the realization that he'd managed to forget her so easily. A bitter laugh escaped her. He hadn't even blinked when she'd gone to the station to pick up her belongings and apologize for the slap. He'd just walked on by as if she were a ghost. Whatever spark they'd managed to maintain in Daytona was dead. It was officially over. She raised her fingers to her temple, knowing she looked like a sea monster in her baggy jogging pants and T-shirt, but refusing to give into the urge to change.

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Around noon she smiled when Kelly stopped by. Her friend was decked out with the essentials: a sad R&B CD, chocolate fudge ice cream, and candy. "Damn, girl. You look a mess." "Kelly, don't start," she mumbled, stuffing her face with another scoop of double fudge ice cream. Of course her friend had to look gorgeous in a peach-colored jacket, cream beige pants, and matching sandals. "Do you want me to go over there and kick his butt?" Mira grunted, knowing full well her best friend would actually do it. "No, girl. I'll be fine." "Maybe you misheard the message." Mira laughed sadly. "I wish." There was no way anyone could misinterpret the message. No way anyone could mistake the full explicit meaning. Her gaze skimmed over Kelly's worried expression just as the telephone rang. Uncle Leo's cheerful voice announced itself on the other line. "Just calling to thank you, child." "For what, Unc?" "The money for the medication. I received it in the mail this morning. You are so thoughtful." Mira froze. Goodness, had she been so out of it the last week that she'd sent Uncle's money early unknowingly? She scanned her kitchen calendar. Nope. His payment wasn't scheduled to go out until the end of the month. Confused, she stared at Kelly from across the way. "Uncle, how much is there?" 65

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He laughed merrily. "Didn't get a chance to look through it all, it's so big. Mostly hundred dollar bills. Child, you now I like my money in twenties." Mira took a steadying breath. "What's the sender's address on the envelope, Unc?" "Not there, but I figured it was from you, child." Elated, Mira did her best to contain herself, already thinking about how much she could save if Uncle Leo's was set for the rest of the year. "Let me call you back, Unc." At Kelly's curious gaze, she hung up the phone and spit out the news. "Someone sent some money to Uncle Leo. Can you believe that? I won't have to worry about digging into my savings for awhile." Her friend smiled at the good tidings. "That's great, girl. So, who's the donor?" "Who do you think?" Something inside of her, hope perhaps, awakened. It had to have been him. Jeremy. Who else knew about Uncle Leo's situation? Who else had the funds to send such a large amount? Dammit, she told him that she didn't need his damn money and, as usual, he'd done what he damned well please. She wanted to hate him for it, but only felt a tremendous sense of gratitude at the kind gesture. Even so, she knew he didn't want her back. He'd only wanted to ease his conscience somehow. There was no sense contacting the man like a fool. As if sensing her turmoil, her friend spoke up. "Do you love him?"

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Mira stilled. Should she tell her best friend the truth? That she was head-over-heels in love with the egotistical man. The admission was too much to bear. They spoke for a while longer, pretending to lose themselves in conversation about their college days. After Kelly left, Mira found herself sulking in misery. She growled in agitation. She needed to stop wallowing in grief. She needed to get off her ass and find a job. She fell asleep, dreaming of Jeremy. Jeremy was on the verge of punching his best friend Chad square in the face. Ever since he'd heard his cell phone's old messages, and learned that Mira had thought he'd paid her off like some John, he'd been putting his friend through the ringer. Though the other man had apologized profusely, citing that he didn't know Mira's duties extended to listening to his personal messages, he was still agitated about the entire situation. He didn't know who he was more upset at—Chad for leaving such an irresponsible message or Mira for believing it. "I'll fix this," offered Chad. "This can be fixed." "Don't worry about it." Chad blinked at him. "You've been walking around this station breathing fire because of that woman and you don't want me to fix this?" "What do you mean, breathing fire?" "I mean, you've been a dick. Yelling at Rick for putting too much cream in your coffee. Questioning Becky about the wall 67

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color. Telling poor Andrew to throw his mixed CDs off the roof." Jeremy didn't say a word. He knew his friend was right. He'd been a total prick the past week. But how could he concentrate on work when Mira occupied his thoughts every moment of the hour? In Daytona, he'd started to envision a life with her. A life where he'd wake up every morning to find her in his arms. A life where they could speak freely to each other about all matters, like they had that memorable night in her hotel room. A balanced life. A happy life. And then suddenly, everything had gone horribly wrong. She'd told him that he'd made her life miserable. And he'd said that awful statement about her and lousy dollar place holes. How much more of an ass could he be? Even so, he didn't want to see her. The fact that he'd been so hurt by her parting words had unnerved him more than he'd ever admit. He was determined to stay away from her. Determined to regain his control. There were plenty of women who enjoyed being with him. Plenty of females who thought he was a pretty good catch. All it took was a wink and smile to seduce one of them on the spot. Whatever he wanted, he could have. He was one of the most sought after bachelors in Atlanta, and he'd be shitfaced to blow it all for some pushy file clerk. His eyes shifted back to Chad. "I don't want you to fix this." His friend snorted. "Bro, I don't get you." 68

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Jeremy growled. He did not need advice from Chad this morning. He had a shitload of work to do. There were artists to book and people to supervise. He glared at the other man. "I'm not paying you to get me. I'm paying you to get back to work." When his friend left, he cursed loudly, feeling like the prick he most certainly was. The next morning, Mira searched the internet for jobs. There were positions for dog walkers, administrative assistants, note takers, substitute teachers, and lots more. When she saw an ad for a sales associate at The Dollar Place, she cringed. Hell nah! Been there, done that. She clicked on a search for personal assistant. Despite what she said to Jeremy in Daytona, she didn't mind the work of a personal assistant. It was kind of fun micro-managing someone's life. She pushed thoughts of her former boss from her mind as she applied for the position. When her doorbell rang an hour later, a slender, darkhaired man stood in the entranceway. He had brilliant green eyes and a friendly smile. He introduced himself as Chad Howard, one of the managers at the Hot 87.5. She immediately recognized his face and voice. He was the one who'd left the message. "You!" His eyebrows lifted. "Me?" "Don't try to play innocent, pal. You and that, that, man can go to hell!" She tried to shut the door in his face, but he held it open with a stubborn foot. 69

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"Believe me, we're already there. Please, Ms. Perrin, may I come in? I'd like to apologize." She opened her mouth to respond but didn't know what to say to that. Dammit. He looked truly remorseful. And it wasn't in her nature to rip into a man who was truly remorseful. She growled for him to come in and led him to the living room, dodging an onslaught of candy wrappers along the way. "I had a party," she explained, wanting him to know that she hadn't drowned her face in the sweets in misery, which she had. "Must've been some party." "Get on with it, Mr. Howard." "You know," he said with a small grin, "I really put my foot in my mouth. It's one of my worst qualities." He took a step forward, his expression contrite. "Jeremy didn't know about the message. It wasn't his intent to treat you like..." "A whore?" "Ye-yeah," he stammered. "I was only goofing around when I said that." "Hilarious," she snapped. She concentrated on cleaning the surrounding mess. "Did he tell you to come?" "No, he doesn't know I'm here." Mira sighed heavily. Why hadn't Jeremy come himself? Because he doesn't care, girl. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours? "Look, I appreciate you trying to make this right, but what's done is done. Now I must ask you to leave." "He cares about you, Ms. Perrin." 70

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"I'm just another one of his playthings." "No, you're not. Jeremy isn't like that. He has the reputation of being an uber-celebrity who sleeps around, but in reality he's just a normal guy. Surely you don't believe those tabloid rumors, Ms. Perrin." She wrestled with her hands, her confusion growing. "Look," continued the man, "if you want proof, didn't your Uncle receive something important in the mail recently?" "How do you know about that?" "I have my sources." Her heart leaped. Then it was true. Jeremy had been the mysterious donor. Of course he had. Hadn't he looked at her with such concern whenever she talked about Uncle Leo? Hadn't he made it clear that he didn't like the fact that she worked herself like a dog? He'd wanted to lessen her burden. To comfort her in some small way. Perhaps he hadn't done it just to clear his conscience. Maybe he really did care for her. She glowed with happiness, her love for him so strong. Even so, fear that he would never forgive her for how she'd behave held her back. "It's too late, Mr. Howard." Suddenly he was by her side, and she crying on his shoulder. "There's one thing I've discovered in all of my years of working in the entertainment industry," he said. "What's that?" "It's never too late for a second chance...for a comeback." Jeremy rubbed his red eyes as he sat in the sound room of his station. He hadn't worked the late night shift in over a 71

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year, but Chad had insisted that he deejay tonight since one of his employees was out sick and no one was around to pick up the slack. Feeling ashamed for his recent behavior toward his staff, he wanted to chip in and help. Even so, he was still in a bad mood. A dark cloud had hung over him throughout the day, and from what he could tell, it wasn't going to dissipate anytime soon. He frowned, thinking about how he'd behaved toward his sisters that afternoon when they'd stopped by to hang out. He couldn't seem to laugh when they'd made fun of the sports DVD comedies collection in his office, something they always did to cheer him up. Instead, he'd yelled at them about their overbearing silliness. It was all her fault. Why couldn't he forget her? He cracked his knuckles and growled into the microphone. The segment followed believers of the strange and unusual. For the past hour, he'd listened to stories about UFOs, government conspiracies, and ghosts. It wasn't his thing, but the listeners lived for it. On the other side of the screen, Chad waved that there was a new caller on the line. He clicked the yellow button and switched to his DJ voice. "Hello, you're listening to Hot 87.5, the midnight shift, what's your weirdness?" "Hello?" The woman's deep voice caught his attention. "What's your weirdness, ma'am?" "Am I on the air?"

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"You sure are, so tell us about the things that go bump in the night, the midnight freaks, the monsters under your bed. What's your weirdness?" "Well, I once worked at a store late at night—a dollar store." Jeremy tapped his fingers on the dashboard. Would the woman get to it already? "Yes, go on." "And well, one night this man came in and bought fifty pairs of ladies underwear." His heart stuttered. A slow smile unraveled across his face. It was Mira. An incredible sense of joy and relief ripped through him as he recognized her voice, which she had tried to hide by speaking as low as a bass drum. He chuckled. "Maybe the man was having a hell of a party, ma'am." "Maybe. But that's not the story I want to tell." "Go on." "Well, one night I worked there this guy came in and got me fired." She retold how they first met. Sweat trickled from his forehead as he leaned toward the microphone. "Do you forgive that guy for that night and any other stupid shit, um, stuff he might've done or said?" Her voice purred like a cat. "Oh, I most definitely do. You see, I've done some pretty dumb things myself." His hand gripped the sides of the dashboard. Mira...she was always too forgiving. "Sometimes a woman has to be smart enough to admit she's wrong." He growled into the microphone. "Where are you, Mira?" 73

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"I'm in the parking lot." Clicking on a commercial segment, he rushed to the door as Chad hollered that he would fill in for him with a knowing grin. Jeremy raced through the empty hallways. When he made it to the parking lot, Mira stood under the soft glow of the streetlight. She wore a simple black dress and silver sandals. Her braids fell around her face in soft rolls. She looked beautiful. My God, he loved this woman. When he took her in his arms, he felt whole, complete. Like everything he ever wanted was finally there for the taking. At the realization, he buried his head in the crook of her neck, shaken to his roots. After a calming breath, he untangled himself and looked into her dark, loving eyes. "I'm sorry for everything, Jeremy. I didn't mean what I said. I liked being your personal assistant. And I hated that I slapped you. I don't slap people! And when I found out what you did for Uncle Leo..." "Who told you?" "I put two and two together." "Mira, that thing about The Dollar Place...I was way out of line. You deserve so much more." She smiled, embracing him tighter. "All that matters is that we have each other. And guess what? I got a job. As a PR rep." "Congratulations, sweetheart." Jeremy stared into her smoky brown eyes. He'd finally found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. "I love you, Mira." 74

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"I love you, too." He chuckled. "You just enjoy parroting me, don't you?" She grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. "What do you plan on doing about it, sir?" "Any suggestions?" "I know," she whispered, placing her hand above his heart. "How about you give me a little overtime play? I think I've earned it." "Whatever you say, ma'am. Whatever you say..." [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author Kasey Moone's writing career began at age twelve when she wrote a story about a little girl traveling through a magic world with mythical creatures. She's been writing ever since. She lives, works, and plays in Atlanta and enjoys watching paranormal TV shows in her spare time. Her multicultural stories sizzle with strong feisty heroines and hot heroes. What more can a girl ask for? Visit Kasey Moone at www.KaseyMoone.blogspot.com [Back to Table of Contents]

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Also Available **** Night Moves by Hartlyn Holmes When Texas born and bred Chloe Mires agrees to trade places with her New York City friend for two weeks, she never dreams her two-year dry spell is about to come to a scorching end...thanks to the hunk across the hall. Will her midnight rendezvous turn out to be love at first 'light'? **** To purchase Hartlyn Holmes and other erotic titles, visit www.thewilderroses.com.

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