A Week To Be Wild / Legal Seduction. JC Harroway
reached for the towel he’d thrown over the handrail, using it to the wipe the sting of sweat from his eyes. He preferred to run in the Oxfordshire countryside, or along the banks of the River Thames. But on the nights when he stayed in the city his office treadmill just had to suffice. And today he needed to push himself twice as hard to outrun the restlessness.
Despite his forty-minute workout, thoughts of the enigma that was Olivia Noble had dogged his every step.
Briefly checking his phone for urgent messages, he clicked off the TV that dominated one wall of his spacious office, silencing the business news, and headed for the en-suite shower.
Alex ducked his head under the pounding spray, ignoring the flicker of interest from his cock—a renewed flicker brought on by the curvy, sophisticated brunette. He’d admired her enough from afar, but in person she’d blown him away. Sassy, shrewd, cutting through his bullshit, as she’d no doubt call it.
He closed his eyes, recalling the sexy timbre of her husky voice. She spoke as if she had a bad case of laryngitis or a lifelong smoking habit. She didn’t have either. He’d scoured every detail he could find about her on the internet, filling in the blanks with his vivid, slightly perverted imagination.
An imagination inspired by the thick, glossy dark hair she wore fastened at her nape in an elegant ponytail, by the provocative curve of her rounded hips concealed by the figure-hugging pencil skirts she wore and the tiny glimpse of pale, creamy cleavage he’d seen that morning when she’d moved away from him, her blouse tugging across her breasts and revealing just enough to make him hard for the rest of the day.
Of course their verbal spat on the phone hadn’t helped either.
He scrubbed shampoo into his scalp, his fingertips punishing. He’d never had to work so hard to entice someone to work with him. His employees loved him. He gave them stellar health insurance cover, more holidays than were legally required and fat bonuses for a job well done. He even offered his top software designers and their families a week’s stay a year at his boutique winery in Oxfordshire as a loyalty inducement. Consequently, he retained his best staff in what was a highly competitive global industry.
Olivia Noble had almost sounded insulted when he’d discussed her fee. Surely she wasn’t that naive? Like it or not, money made the world go round—any good businessperson knew that. And, from his research, Olivia certainly deserved the title—something that doubled her allure in his mind.
She had graduated first in her year with a Bachelor of Commerce degree, had a master’s degree in marketing, and in four years had taken her company from a start-up to one of the top ten marketing firms in New York. Her work on the high-profile Kids Count charity had dragged her from obscurity to his attention.
Did her reluctance have anything to do with the sparks of chemistry that seemed to arc between them? Did she feel it too? That almost frenzied pull?
He soaped himself more vigorously, turning the dial on the shower down to tepid, to cool the blaze she’d evoked.
She’d wanted nothing to do with him earlier today. He’d planned to woo her to work with him over the lunch put on by the Business School. But she’d acted as if she couldn’t get away quickly enough. Straight talking, no simpering or inane flattery.
And hadn’t that been a big fucking turn-on? Another point in Ms Noble’s favour.
Most women he met struggled to conceal the spark of excitement in their eyes, as if in meeting him they’d been handed a winning lottery ticket. Sadly, regardless of how attractive they were or how much they shared in common, he could never quite be sure their interest was in him the person or him the young entrepreneur listed on Forbes.
Not that Olivia had been able to fully conceal the flush of her chest or the rapid flutter of the pulse in her neck. He’d felt it too. The immediate slug of fascination that had had his head swivelling in a double-take the minute she’d stepped onto the stage to deliver her speech to the packed auditorium of keen undergraduates.
And close up… He’d had to discreetly adjust his cock in his slim-fit trousers as she’d walked away from their frustratingly brief interaction, trailing a light floral scent in her wake. He’d wanted to follow her, his nose to the ground like a bloodhound, sniffing at her sexy four-inch stilettos.
Roughly towelling himself dry, he analysed their arduous phone conversation. Why was the delectable Ms Noble so reluctant to take the account? He’d seen her body of work. She was amply capable of running both the Able-Active marketing strategy and that of Lancaster IT. The majority of her current client base was situated in the States. Surely she saw the benefits of expanding globally? And why had her initial refusal stung his modest ego? Lancaster IT ranked in the Financial Times ‘Global 500’, so it couldn’t be his professional credentials.
He slipped into jeans and a clean shirt, selecting a blazer from the supply he kept at work. He grabbed his phone, frustration mounting. He’d grown accustomed to getting what he wanted, and if things went against him, he made them work. Refused to give up.
Perhaps Olivia’s aversion was to him personally.
No, that didn’t make sense. She hadn’t been able to hide her body’s unconscious reaction any more than he’d been able to hide his. She must share his personal interest—her reluctance was for mixing the two. But they were similar in many ways. Driven. Career-focussed.
He’d just have to convince her they could have the best of both worlds. That they needed to scratch this itch and then put it aside and focus on the important work ahead. Rewarding work. Work that would make a real difference and allow him to put some of his wealth into creating change. Or at least help him atone for Jenny…
He swallowed, forcing his mind away from a well-worn, unwanted path. He had to move forward. Use past mistakes to make good future decisions.
He blew out a slow, controlled sigh, his mind returning to Olivia. She’d eventually relented, her manner turning brisk, putting him in his place.
His cock twitched again, and impatience urged him to fire a brief text to his driver.
By the time he was seated in the back of his car, speeding through the streets of London, now devoid of rush-hour traffic, he’d formulated a charm offensive.
If a lucrative business deal couldn’t tempt out her reluctant smile, he’d have to find other inducements.
Libby sighed. Her fingers absently swirled the stirrer in her martini and the general hubbub of the hotel bar behind her faded to background noise.
She’d longed to sleep, to enjoy the luxurious tub in her deluxe room and put today behind her. But, jet-lagged, fractious and horny from her encounters with Alex, sleep had drifted further out of reach with each passing minute. The alcohol wouldn’t help—not with the sleeplessness or the horniness—but sitting in the impersonal confines of her beige room, thinking about Alex and his offer, wasn’t an option.
It was a good offer. Before meeting him she’d have jumped at it. But now…?
The more time she spent with the captivating business man, the greater the risk of her succumbing to her attraction to him. An attraction as alarming as it was alluring. Alex Lancaster wasn’t the type of man to take no for an answer, and her yes wasn’t given lightly these days.
Someone invaded her personal space.
‘Why don’t you drink that so I can buy you another one?’ the man in the suit said, leaning too close and wafting her with beer-fume breath.
Great, this was the last thing she needed. She looked up, unsmiling. Why did guys assume a woman alone in bar must clearly be waiting for them? He was cute enough, if you ignored the leer and the breath, but her body couldn’t muster one drop of enthusiasm for the predictable stranger.
The same body that had spent the entire day lusting after Alex Lancaster. The same body that still reminded her with soaked panties and chafed nipples that it had been three long years since she’d sought pleasure with another. Perhaps