Private Pleasures Read online

  Looking at the caller id on the display, he decided to let the call go to voicemail. Call him conservative, but Drew felt that major life decisions were made without your balls swinging in the breeze.

  He pulled on boxers and shorts and dialed the caller, the chairman of the board of a fast growing software company based in Boston.

  By the time the call was over, Drew had made a decision that ensured whatever connection might exist between himself and Wendy would never make it past the starting gate.

  Chapter 8

  2 Weeks later

  How was it, Wendy mused as she settled back into her office after a marathon day of meetings, that she could spend nearly an entire year looking forward to a vacation and mere days after it was over feel like it had happened a hundred years ago. It had taken less than forty-eight hours for whatever relaxing effects she might have gained from her stay at Holley Cay to disappear into the ether. Immediately she'd gone right back into the grind, working fourteen hour days, going home only to sleep and shower and sometimes not even then. The two merging high tech companies had finally agreed on terms, with concessions made on the opposite side that had won her glowing praise from the clients.

  But there was no time to rest on her laurels as the other partners, impressed with her performance, immediately started squabbling over who got to take over her time.

  Of course Wendy was hugely flattered.

  Not to mention, in an environment where several of her friends and coworkers had been laid off in the past two years, Wendy was all about being in demand. And it of course boded well for her partnership bid at her annual review.

  She tried to remind herself of that as she rubbed her eyes and tried to shake off the exhaustion that had dogged her ever since she'd settled back into her regular routine. Though the work was as interesting and stimulating as it had ever been, she didn't remember being this tired before she'd gone to Holley Cay.

  At first she'd chalked it up to jet lag. But two weeks in, her jet lag was long gone, and every day at about five o'clock, when the meetings finally ended and she could actually sit in her office and get work done, she felt like she was going to fall sound asleep in her chair.

  She took another swallow of the ever present cup of coffee on her desk to stave off the sleepiness for a few more minutes.

  As she pulled up a licensing deal she was working on up on her screen, a little voice in the back of her head whispered that she damn well knew why she was tired.

  It was because of the dreams.

  Though she'd managed to avoid him from the time she'd fled from his villa, Drew had starred in her dreams nearly every night since. Dreams that left her drenched in sweat, entire body aching with unsatisfied lust. Dreams so vivid she'd wake up, reaching for him, crying out in protest when she found he wasn't there.

  During the day she didn't allow herself to think about him. Didn't allow herself to speculate what he was doing in his office less than a mile from hers. How he was spending his evenings or with whom.

  Didn't let herself remember how his big hands had felt on her bare skin, how his mouth had felt on the sensitive tips of her breasts and her sex. Or, God help her, how his long, thick cock had felt, sliding deep, deeper than anyone else had ever been, stretching her, filling her. Building her pleasure until she thought she'd die if he stopped and die if he didn't.

  All day every day she threw herself into her work and didn't allow her thoughts to stray to Drew.

  But at night... as soon as her conscious brain switched off it was like the floodgates opened, and all of the thoughts and fantasies she'd worked so hard to keep at bay came out to play. Actual memories of what they'd done mingled with fantasies of what they hadn't. Wendy had told herself all she needed was that one wild weekend in Holley Cay to satisfy her inexplicable craving for Drew. Yet her subconscious abounded with a thousand other scenarios, throwing her body into an agony of need that inevitably led to her waking up in a fever and having to take the edge off with her own hand.

  Wendy had never had a problem with masturbation, but what was happening lately had become depressingly mechanical.

  All the more so since Drew was here, in San Francisco, working and living in the same forty-seven as she.

  And he hadn't called.

  Which was good, she reminded herself. She didn't need him calling, didn't need him interested. And that stabbing feeling in the general region of her chest wasn't hurt, it was run of the mill feminine pique.

  Even if she had no interest in rekindling their fling—and she didn’t, or she would have called him—after the mindblowing orgasms they'd given each other, she would have like tot think it was worth it for him to at least try to get her back in bed.

  An overture she would, of course, decline.

  Why would he bother chasing you down when he probably has every straight woman in the San Francisco Bay area waiting for a taste of what you had?

  There was a tight ache at the base of her throat. Must be getting a cold, she thought, from all that dry air on the plane. She got up and went to the break room to make herself a cup of tea.

  Tea in hand, she settled back in and worked straight through the next several hours, all thoughts of Drew relegated to the background as she focused on royalty terms for a technology licensing deal she was working on.

  By the time she left it was after eight. The cube farm in the middle of her floor was dark, but there was still light shining from one of the conference rooms and several of the other associates’ offices.

  She felt a little prick of unease. She didn't like seeing other people working when she wasn't. Maybe she should stay.

  She took half a step back to her office before her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't had anything but coffee and tea since breakfast. You got everything done you needed today, and besides, you can't do anything on the deal until you get comments back from their side.

  It's not all about face time, Alan's frustrated voice rang in her head. It was a scolding he'd given her several times, trying to drive home the point that sitting around the office looking busy was an inefficient use of her time and that when it came to making partner it was going to be based on the quality of her work, not the quantity of time her ass spent in the leather chair behind her desk.

  Maybe he had something there, she thought, her mouth pulling down at the too little, too late realization. Here she was, leaving the office before most of the world went to bed, and it was to go to an empty apartment.

  Or you could call Drew, a sly little voice whispered. I don't have his number, she firmly told the voice. Like you couldn't get it. The voice whispered back. Wendy took the elevator down to the parking garage, mentally listing why calling him would be a hugely bad idea. First and foremost, a guy like Drew was no doubt otherwise occupied. If he picked up at all - chances were she'd end up leaving some pathetic voicemail and spend the rest of the night telling herself she wasn't waiting on pins and needles for him to call her back - there would just be some awful, awkward conversation where it was obvious he was trying to get off the phone without hurting her feelings.

  No, scratch that, Drew would tell her point blank he was with someone else and hang up.

  No, the night ahead would be just like every other night since she'd returned. Go home, catch up on emails in front of the TV for a few hours before bed. Then she'd haul her ass up at an ungodly hour to catch up on a few hundred more emails before she got to the office around seven.

  It was a routine that had never bothered her before, so why did it seem so depressing now?

  Because you know what else is out there, the sly little voice reminded her again. Now you know exactly what you're missing when you curl up with a stack of papers every night and then take yourself to bed... alone.

  She shook off the thought as she reached her car and thumbed the keyfob to unlock her BMW.

  "Wendy!"

  She'd know that voice anywhere, deep, raspy, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She turned, a
nd there he was, striding toward her. Just the sight of him, dressed in the standard California businessman outfit of gray slacks, dark shoes and a wool peacoat in deference to the weather, was a enough to send a shot of heat straight to her core. Her fatigue vanished as though she'd been shot with straight adrenaline.

  She could deny it all she wanted, but as she felt her mouth pull into a wide smile, there was no getting around the fact that a big part of her was very happy to see him.

  A sentiment he seemed to share, she noted with a little flutter in her stomach as she took in his own grin and look of what could only be delight on his face.

  Drew, delighted to see her? What was going on here?

  As he jogged the last few steps to her, his smile never wavering, Wendy was hit with an inexplicable wave of nervousness.

  What did she have to be nervous about, she inwardly scolded herself. They'd already been naked together and she'd made it clear there were no expectations on her side.

  Still, that didn't stop them from staring at each other for several seconds, his big smile never leaving his face, his happiness at seeing her warming her from the inside out.

  "I was hoping to catch up with you," Drew finally said.

  "What are you doing here?" She replied, finally managing to untangle her tongue.

  "I had a meeting with Martinez," Drew said, referring to one of the partners in her firm. "One of our portfolio companies needs help with a patent issue and we're hoping he can help out."

  Wendy nodded, breathing a mental sigh of relief that Martinez hadn't won the fight to get her assigned to his team earlier that day. If she had, Wendy not only would have been in that meeting, she would have been obligated to reveal that she and Drew had been involved, regardless of the fact that nothing was going to happen beyond their two night stand.

  "Anyway, when we set up the meeting over here, I was hoping I'd run into you."

  Wendy cocked her head to the side. "You know, I've been back at work for two whole weeks. You could have called me."

  The fluorescent lights of the parking garage cast his features in shadow, but she could see the subtle tensing of his jaw. "With the way you avoided me the last day at Holley Cay and left without so much as a 'thanks, it was great,' I figured the only way I'd get you to see me was if I caught you off guard."

  There was no mistaking the edge in Drew's voice, and it took her several moments to process everything. One, that Drew wanted to see her again. Two, he seemed genuinely upset that she'd left without saying goodbye.

  Looking back, she felt a little pinch of shame. Sure, she didn't need or want this to go anywhere, but if the shoe had been on the other foot, wouldn't she have at least expected a goodbye? "I'm sorry, that was shitty of me to leave without even saying goodbye. But I didn't think—"

  "What?"

  "Didn't think you'd really care."

  He gave a humorless laugh and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "Yeah, well I was as surprised as you were."

  "Well, I'm sorry. That was very rude of me."

  The tension faded from his face, the cocky grin replacing the scowl as he stepped closed. "Yeah it was, and now you owe me. Big time."

  Wendy tightened her fingers around the handle of her briefcase in a desperate attempt to steady herself as dark promise in his voice sent pulse of heat between her thighs. "Oh yeah? What are you thinking?"

  He stepped closer, close enough she could smell the subtle scent of his cologne, something clean and woodsy that tempted her to bury her face against the patch of his throat left exposed by his coat. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she couldn't keep her tongue from darting out to lick her lips, as though she could still taste him there. "I think you know exactly what I have in mind."

  "Tell me." She tilted her chin up in challenge.

  He leaned down, and her lips tingled in anticipation of his kiss. "Dinner."

  "What?" she said, startled.

  "Let me take you to dinner."

  That tight, nervous feeling was back. "You don't need to take me to dinner."

  "Have you eaten already?"

  At that moment, her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud rumble.

  "Guess I have my answer," Drew said, his laugh echoing off the walls of the garage.

  Wendy shook her head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

  His laugh faded and his dark brows pulled together in a familiar frown. "I need to eat, you need to eat. What's the big deal?"

  "Because it feels too much like—" a date. She cut herself off before the words could pass her lips.

  "Like what?" Even though he asked the question, she could tell he knew what she was going to say. "It's just two people sharing a meal."

  "With plans to have sex afterward." She snapped her mouth closed too late—she'd actually said that out loud.

  This time Drew's grin had that cocky edge that used to set her teeth on edge. Now it made every cell in her body come to shimmering life. "I didn't say that."

  And until she'd said the words aloud, Wendy didn't acknowledge that from the second Drew called her name, she'd known that the night would end with them in bed together. Wendy crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip, one eyebrow raised.

  "I'm not saying it's not a brilliant idea."

  He leaned in closer, his eyes so full of heat she could practically feel her skin sizzle. "But based on that roar your stomach just made, and the fact that I haven't eaten in hours, it's not a bad idea for us to get our strength up."

  Still Wendy hesitated.

  "Think of it as a training meal," Drew said, his voice light, the look in his eyes anything but.

  Chapter 9

  "Okay," Wendy conceded.

  Drew mentioned a place a few blocks from her apartment. Wendy nodded.

  "Don't you have a car?" Wendy asked as Drew went around the car and opened up the passenger side door.

  "I took Muni," he said, referring to San Francisco's public bus system.

  "Really? A guy like you slums it on Muni?" Wendy asked as she slid into the driver's seat.

  "What do you mean, a guy like me?" Drew asked, but instead of offended, he sounded genuinely interested in whatever her answer might be.

  Wendy thought for a moment as she navigated her way out of the parking garage. "Successful, wealthy," she began. "I mean, you can afford to have a car in the city, and most guys in your position use the car as a status symbol to show off their success."

  "Is that why you shell out for expensive German engineering when you live less than two blocks from the bus stop?"

  "Touché. All I know is, most men I know in your position—Alan for example—wouldn't be caught dead taking the bus." She cringed as she said it, realizing how shallow that made Alan—and her by association—sound.

  "I think we've established that despite working in the same office I'm nothing like Alan."

  "No, I guess you aren't," Wendy said as she pulled out onto the street. As she negotiated the late evening traffic, she snuck glances at Drew's chiseled profile. No denying it, he was the opposite of Alan in so many ways. His hair dark to Alan's light. His features bordering on harshness, Alan's open and boyish. Drew tall and heavily muscled like a prizefighter. Alan rangy and slim like a golfer.

  And then there was the way they acted in bed. Alan so solicitous and polite, constantly asking what she liked, if that was okay.

  Drew didn't ask. He just knew. And he just took.

  Suddenly the temperature inside the car seemed to go up about ten degrees.

  "There's nothing wrong with the bus," Drew continued, oblivious to the lusty scenarios running through Wendy's head. "It's cheaper and more practical than driving around here, and I could give a shit if anyone cares about what I do or don't drive."

  Though she was loathe to find more things to like about him, she couldn't deny she was impressed. She got it, choosing the bus over a car wasn't a Nelson Mandela like sacrifice, even for a man who was worth over half a billion dollars. But she realiz
ed now that what she'd always read as cockiness was actually supreme self-confidence, the kind that didn't need outside validation.

  The kind she still didn't possess, and it meant that despite her success, she spent a lot of time worrying about how people saw her, how she was perceived by her peers and colleagues. After twenty-nine years and nearly a decade of practicing law, it was getting pretty exhausting.

  "How self actualized of you," she said, wincing at the peevish tone in her voice.

  "Nah, more like caring what people think about me was beaten out of me at a pretty young age. That's what happens when your mom leaves and your father has to work two jobs to keep a roof over your head. It doesn't leave a lot of time for self reflection."

  Though his voice was flat and emotionless, Wendy couldn't keep from her mind the image of a young boy with dark hair and gray, serious eyes wondering why his mother had left him.

  "Wow, I had no idea you came from that kind of background." Though it had given him the drive and determination to succeed beyond what most people could barely dream—while still riding the bus—she felt something in her heart crack open for the little boy he'd once been.

  He muttered something she couldn't quite make out but that sounded suspiciously like a curse. "Yeah, well, they're not exactly fond memories I like to bring up," he said, his tone clearly indicating he wanted the subject closed.

  Though her brain was spinning with questions, she knew better than to press him.

  By that time they had pulled onto the street where the restaurant was located. As expected, there wasn't an empty parking spot in sight. Rather than valet parking at the restaurant, Wendy parked in the driveway of her half of the split Victorian that housed her apartment, figuring they could walk the rest of the way.