Buch lesen: «In The Boss's Bed»

For Mom. You’ve always been my biggest fan and supporter, no matter what wacky thing I’m up to. I love you.

And Brian, my fierce, loyal, alpha-protector with beautiful hands. Thank you for supporting me, and being my first reader, my sounding board and my all-around favorite guy. Even though I didn’t use your idea for Dylan O’Driscoll: Gentleman Rake, I appreciate all of your input.

To my friends, who always understand when I say I’m writing and can’t leave the house.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

Extract

Copyright

1

I REALLY SHOULDN’T be here. The phrase looped through Maya’s brain. I really, really shouldn’t be here. The ice cubes in her glass clinked together as she stirred her vodka-cranberry drink and took a sip. The deafening, bass-heavy music and many sweaty bodies pulsed around her as she quickly crossed the dance floor to return to the booth where her best friend and roommate, Abby, was sitting alone, waiting for her. Feeling a headache coming on, Maya frowned and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead.

“Could you at least pretend you’re having a good time?” Abby leaned in and yelled against her ear to be heard over the music. “This is the hottest club in Montreal, we both look fabulous and we’re getting a ton of male attention tonight.” As if to make her point, she waved to a group of men at a nearby table who were looking in their direction.

“I’m sorry,” Maya yelled back. She really wanted to go home. But she also didn’t want to ruin her friend’s night. Abby had put a lot of effort into dragging Maya out. Earlier that evening, at home, Maya had spent far too long styling her hair into waves, although the end result was supposed to have looked as though she hadn’t spent any time styling it. While constantly reloading YouTube tutorials, she had studiously worked until she achieved things called smoky eyes and contouring. It was then that Maya had decided it was all too much work, and was about to change into yoga pants and a tank top and curl up on the couch when Abby had selected her littlest black dress and strutted into Maya’s room proclaiming it the one.

“Maya, every guy in that club is going to be drooling over you in this,” Abby had assured her.

“Great,” Maya had replied, without much enthusiasm. “I hope all that saliva comes out at the dry cleaners.”

But she was forced to admit, thanks to Abby’s instruction and help with styling, makeup and hair techniques, Maya had never looked better.

“I’m getting such a headache. And I should really get home. Finals are coming up. And we’ve got that early class tomorrow—” Maya grasped for any reason to not be at Swerve Nightclub on a Thursday night.

“God, you’re practically agoraphobic!” Abby huffed in frustration.

“I’m not agoraphobic. I’m an introvert, and it’s super trendy right now. Thank-you-very-much.” It’s cute to be introverted, she thought defensively. Words she wouldn’t dare say to her friend. There were an abundance of articles and listicles online proclaiming such a thing. It’s good to have some mystery about you. And who is more mysterious than a girl who never leaves her house?

“Either way, you’re not going anywhere!” Abby pulled on Maya’s wrist until she was seated at the table with her. “Don’t worry about class. Dr. C. invited in some guest speaker, so it’ll just be some long-winded, ancient colleague of his. They’ll turn down the lights and we can nap in the back.”

Maya opened her mouth, but Abby plowed over her, running her fingers through her own flawlessly styled, bleach-blond pixie haircut. “We’re here to have fun. For the past few years, I’ve watched you lock yourself in your room, hibernate in the library and never take a minute to look up from your books. We are graduating in two weeks—” she reached out to grab Maya’s hands in her own “—and I need to see you act like the beautiful, exotic, sassy young thing that you are before we part ways, become old hags and never see each other or have any fun ever again.” Abby took a long pull on her beer. “We need to act young and stupid, this one last time,” she pleaded. “Be irresponsible. Live a little with me.”

Maya laughed. “Hey. I have fun.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Staying home on Friday night and binge-watching Orange Is the New Black on Netflix isn’t the type of fun that a single twenty-five-year-old woman should be having. Especially a complete knockout like yourself. When was the last time you had sex?”

Maya’s mouth dropped open, shocked that her friend would even go there. “What?”

Abby smirked. “That’s what I thought.” She relented. “Okay, when was the last time you were even kissed?” Maya remained silent. “Your last date?”

Maya sighed. Abby was right. It had been so long since she’d been on a date, or gone to a nightclub, or even let herself focus on anything but school. But she was so close to the end. She’d spent every waking moment of the past five years working diligently toward her goal, completing her master’s degree in Business Administration. For the entirety of her short adult life, it was her dream to pursue a career in hotel management, running an upscale resort hotel. Probably on a beach. Most definitely somewhere hot. She dreamed of a life in Miami, or the Bahamas, or any other exotic location in the Caribbean. She could only smile at how close she finally was to that life.

Abby continued, pressing her argument, at which she was so talented. “We’re part of the hospitality industry. And in order to be successful we need to monitor trends to stay on top of our game. And at least one small part of that, my friend, includes visiting nightclubs and having fun! Trying new drinks, networking, schmoozing a little and learning to talk to people to get information about things they like and things they don’t. Getting a sense of what’s hot and what’s not—and this place is hot, by the way. Don’t you want to be at the top of your game, Maya?” Abby finished with a smile, obviously proud of herself for putting their girls’ night out in terms of their studies, knowing Maya would respond favorably. Really, it was her only hope of getting her to stick around.

Maya smiled back at Abby. She loved her friend dearly, despite the fact she sometimes wanted to maim her. “You wench,” she said with a laugh. Once again, Abby was right. Maya sighed and brought her glass to her lips and drank back a fortifying gulp. When the glass was empty, she slammed it down on the table. “Fine. You win. Let’s have fun.” Then she stopped and looked at Abby quizzically. “How do we have fun?”

“We start with me getting us more drinks.” Abby stood, picking up Maya’s empty glass and her own empty bottle. “That round did not last long enough.” Abby straightened her crop top and smoothed her hands down over her skinny leather pants and she made her way back to the bar.

Maya pulled out her phone to check her email, seeing nothing new, she opened her Facebook app. She flicked through the pictures that some of her friends had posted, people her age going out to clubs and having parties. They somehow managed to juggle their studies and their social lives. She scrolled lower and lower and saw more friends having drinks at pubs and eating in restaurants, hiking, playing paintball and riding on party buses. She tapped on the icon to view her own profile. There were no pictures, and at no time had she ever ridden on a party bus. Was Abby right? Had Maya let a good part of her twenties escape her without getting out there and doing wild things? Maya, you’re twenty-five. You’ve never gone skinny-dipping in the park or drunk a bottle of wine by the ocean. She looked in disgust at her mostly pathetic Facebook profile and grimaced. No more, Maya. You’re going to have some fun tonight even if it kills you.

“And it just might,” she whispered to herself, as Abby walked back to the table, holding two fresh drinks for them.

“That was quick,” Maya remarked, accepting her glass.

“Yeah, but I schmoozed the good-looking bartender earlier, so when he saw me walking up, he skipped everyone else at the bar to serve me.” Abby smiled.

“That’s awful. But nicely done.” Maya proffered her glass in salute and Abby clinked it with her beer bottle. “So what are we going to do?” she asked.

Abby pursed her lips, deep in thought. Maya watched her as she scanned the club, searching for inspiration. “How about a little truth or dare?”

“What?” Maya scoffed. “We aren’t twelve anymore. I’m not going to tell you who I like.” She giggled. It seemed that the vodka in her cranberry was working its way through her brain.

“Okay, how about dare, then?”

“Mmm, Abby, I don’t know...” Maya hesitated.

“You said you wanted to have fun,” Abby pleaded. “Come on, I’ll do anything you dare me to do.”

“Well, that’s easy for you,” she said, smiling broadly as she put a comforting hand on her friend’s arm, “because you have no shame.”

Abby laughed. “Even so.” She continued scoping out the club. “Oh, I’ve got it.”

“What?”

She pointed to the bar. Well, she was actually pointing to a gorgeous male specimen who was standing next to it, chatting with the bartender. “See that guy?”

Am I blind? How could I possibly miss a man like that? “Yeah, of course I do.”

Abby pasted on her most devilish smile and directed it at Maya. “Good. Because you are going to walk up to him, wrap your arms around his neck and you’re going to kiss him like you’ve never kissed a man before.”

“I am absolutely not doing that,” Maya insisted.

“It’s a little harmless dare. What have you got to lose?”

“My pride, my dignity...” Maya trailed off. She looked at the man. It looked as though he had left work and came to the nightclub. He wore tailored pants that showed off his very nice, round behind. He had unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and had rolled up his sleeves. She watched him laugh as the bartender said something to him. What could it hurt to walk up to him and kiss him? It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, a city this size...

She thought of her sad, little, unexciting Facebook profile and Maya slammed her glass down, sloshing some of the pink liquid over the edge and onto her fingers and the table. What the hell? Abby was right. It had been a long time since she’d done anything other than what was expected of her. “Okay.” She looked determinedly at the man. “I’m going to do it.”

“Yay!” Abby raised her arms giddily in celebration as Maya walked away from the table.

* * *

JAMIE SELLERS TOOK a satisfied look around his packed club. As the owner, if there waS one person to thank for the popularity of Swerve Nightclub, it was him. In fact, he owned all twelve Swerve nightclubs located throughout the country, from Vancouver to St. John’s. His clubs were frequented by celebrities and professional athletes, and even some royalty graced his establishments. And quite often, his picture was posted on gossip blogs right alongside them, with headlines like “Jamie Sellers Lands a Princess”, “Sellers and the Heiress” and “Nightclub Mogul Parties Hard with Hockey Team.” Jamie shook his head, chuckling at the latest story linking him with the daughter of a prominent local politician.

He was young, single, rich and good-looking. That’s what people saw when they looked at him. When people saw a picture of him standing next to a beautiful woman, he was automatically sleeping with her. If he’d actually slept with every woman that the so-called press had reported he did...well, he certainly wouldn’t have time to be the nightclub mogul they proclaimed him to be. While it would be nice if he found himself frequently in the beds of actresses and celebutantes, it simply, sadly, was not the case.

If a picture of him holding a beer bottle or a glass of whisky surfaced? Automatically, he was portrayed as an alcoholic, a chronic drug user, a degenerate who partied too hard every night. At first, he found it easy to laugh at how inaccurate the stories were—any press is good press, right?—but it was starting to wear thin. The fifteen-hour days that he typically put into his work were starting to exhaust him, and the extreme workdays had gotten far more frequent and longer since his assistant quit. Typically, he found only just enough free time in a day to eat, shower, hopefully hit the gym and maybe get a few hours of sleep.

Sure. Maybe ten years ago that reputation would have been warranted. Jamie had grown up with nothing and his first taste of success had been sweet. He had admittedly overindulged in his youth, in alcohol, women, wild antics. But it was local reporter scumbag John Power who had been the catalyst for his turnaround. Power had gotten a hold of a picture of Jamie with a model enjoying a, ahem, private moment, and then he uncovered more and more of Jamie’s bad deeds. He’d dredged up the details of Jamie’s less-than-ideal childhood, with an absentee father and a drug-addict mother, a past that Jamie had guarded carefully. To say it was embarrassing was an understatement. Jamie had been cannon fodder for the reporter, who seemingly made a career of gathering information on him.

Since then, Jamie had kept it clean. He no longer overindulged. He never partied. He focused on business and it had paid off. Jamie had enjoyed an unimaginable level of success. Still, no matter how many nightclubs he opened, how much he gave to charity or how often his company showed up on lists of preferred employers, people still saw him as the millionaire, bad boy womanizer.

“Not bad for a Thursday,” Jamie remarked to Trevor—one of his best friends, and definitely the best bartender he had ever met—sipping the cola Trevor had handed him.

Trevor finished pouring a pair of martinis and handed them off to a waitress. “Yeah, it must be the warm weather. Normally the end of semester makes the students hunker down, studying. But this place is clearly bumping tonight,” he said, throwing an appreciative glance over the scantily clad women dancing against each other on the dance floor.

“Keep it professional, Trev,” Jamie warned with a glare, before laughing. He knew that he had nothing to worry about with his friend. Trevor was a pro and would never overserve a guest, or use his position to take advantage of the young women who patronized the club. But it didn’t stop him from appreciating the female beauty that was in front of him.

Jamie bit back a yawn, and Trevor regarded him carefully. “Why don’t you go on home? I’ve got this.”

“I know you do. But I’ve got a few things to finish up tonight. It’s been crazy since Martin left.” Jamie frowned at the thought of his former assistant. “I’ve got a couple of early morning meetings tomorrow and then I have to head to the university and give a talk with some graduate class about entrepreneurship, and entertainment, and hospitality, and yada yada yada.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like something you would normally do,” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like somebody is hot for teacher?”

Jamie was almost too tired to smirk at the quip. “It’s nothing like that, smart guy. The professor is Dr. Carmichael.”

“I see.”

“So, I owe him. It’s really the least I can do.”

“Oh, of course.” Trevor nodded. “Dr. C. And you’re doing this at the expense of any sleep you might get tonight?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Jamie took another sip of his drink and turned to survey his nightclub.

A packed club was always good news for Jamie, and there had been plenty of that as of late. All of his nightclubs were outperforming expectations on a nightly basis. But his brain was always working, knowing that he had to keep the guest experience fresh in each of his clubs to keep people coming back. Every time he looked around, he saw areas for improvement. Ways to make the continuous lineup to the front door more efficient, an enhanced VIP experience, flair bartenders and entertainers, A-list DJs and performers, the list was always growing.

It was while he was surveying his domain, rolling through his mental to-do list, that he noticed a stunning woman walk toward him. She wasn’t just stunning; she was actually the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, and a little black dress highlighted legs that seemed to go on forever. She was looking straight at him, making a beeline for where he was standing at the bar. He sighed quietly. She obviously knew who he was. She wanted to cozy up to the single, rich owner of Swerve. Even though he was a fan of her beauty, he was exhausted and he didn’t have time for the attention of groupies tonight, no matter how gorgeous.

When she was close enough to him, he extended his hand to her and put on his most cordial smile. “Hi, can I help—”

His words were stopped in his throat when her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him forward until his lips found hers. His eyes widened as she kissed him. But they soon closed when he felt her tongue stroke his bottom lip. He stifled a moan and opened his mouth, to let himself be taken over by the feeling of this mysterious women in his arms.

Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed so fiercely by a woman. Everything else seemed to disappear. There was no music, no flashing lights, no crowd of thirsty patrons lined up at the bar, no Trevor, who was surely staring at them, agog.

It was when his hands found her hips, the spell broke and the sounds and lights of the club and all of the people around them came rushing back. She broke away from him. Still standing just inches apart, he saw the flush that stained her face and felt her breath on his chin. He got a good look at her and the thing that stood out most was the frightened, guilty look in those amazingly dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was a second from hightailing it away from him, out of his life, and he knew it. He wanted to ask her name, maybe buy her a drink, anything to make her stay.

After a beat, she shook out of her trance, mumbled an “I’m so sorry,” and did exactly what he thought she would. She turned on her heel and walked away, almost running, disappearing in the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

Jamie was rendered speechless for a moment, before he turned to Trevor, bewildered and out of breath. “Do you know who she was?”

Trevor laughed heartily. “I have no idea. You didn’t know her? It definitely seemed as if you two were familiar. Wait a minute!” Trevor snapped his fingers in a moment of inspiration and turned to the computer behind the bar and consulted the names of the customers who had started drink tabs. “Maya Connor is her name. She’s here with a friend, she’s drinking vodka-cran and the friend is a light-beer girl.”

Jamie ran a hand through his dark hair and checked his watch. “I’ve got to head back upstairs.” He turned to go, but stopped and faced Trevor again. “Take care of their tab, will you? Make sure they get whatever they want.”

“Will do, boss,” Trevor replied with a smirk.

* * *

WHEN MAYA RETURNED to Abby, it seemed that her friend had made a friend of her own. Maya watched Abby as she talked to a gentleman who had taken up residence at their booth. Maya scooted in on the far side and looked at the stranger.

“Beat it, bud.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder and scowled. When he left with a confused shrug, she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe I kissed him!” Realizing that her own glass was empty, she reached across the table and snatched Abby’s beer bottle from her hands.

“Hey!” Abby yelled, attempting to take back her drink. Maya assumed that she was more upset about her stolen drink than she was about the newly vacated seat next to her.

“I can’t believe you dared me to do that.” Maya looked back at the bar and saw that the man she had kissed was gone, but the bartender was still there. She was suddenly parched, and she certainly couldn’t go back up there. She didn’t think she could even face him again. How was she supposed to get another drink? Or even pay her tab when they were ready to leave? She’d thought of none of those things when she had made the stupidest, most impulsive decision of her life in kissing the stranger at the bar. “Oh, God, I need another drink.”

“So get your own drink.” Abby snatched back her bottle. “I cannot believe you actually kissed him! I’m superimpressed.”

Maya measured the distance between herself and the bar and caught the eye of the bartender, who was watching her with curiosity. “I can’t go back up there. He was talking to the bartender like they were friends or something. I just can’t do it.”

Abby pushed herself up from the table. “Fine, I’ll get you something. Vodka? Or do you want something a little crazier in celebration of your turn as a woman who kisses strange men in a bar?”

Maya brought her forehead to the table. “Vodka’s fine,” she muttered.

With Abby gone, Maya had a chance to think about what she had done. What if the man wasn’t single? She hadn’t seen a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean anything. He could have taken it off—which would make him the scummiest guy in the world—or maybe he had a girlfriend. Does that make me a home wrecker? Not if I haven’t actually wrecked his home. And she wasn’t going to do that. She had no intention of actually seeing him again.

And, holy shit, she had basically assaulted him! Maya began to panic as the thought overtook her. If a man had walked up to her and just kissed her, forcing his tongue in her own mouth, she would be outraged! He would definitely be rinsing her pepper spray from his eyes and icing his groin all night. How dare you, Maya? If she ever saw him again, she would definitely have to apologize, grovel even. She felt awful. This would be the absolute last time she “lived a little.” She didn’t understand how Abby could do whatever she wanted without worrying about the consequences of her actions. But it certainly wasn’t how Maya chose to live her life. Not by a long shot.

She was almost shaking with panic when Abby came back to the table with their drinks and pushed the pink one toward her. “The cute bartender Trevor poured you a double. He figured you needed it.”

“Oh, my,” she sighed. She took a drink and grimaced at the taste of the extra alcohol. She drank again, and this time the beverage slid down her throat more easily. She wasn’t a big drinker, but with the strength of the drink, plus the two or three she’d had earlier, she started to feel her uneasiness and panic slip away. A warm sensation rose from her belly and she felt herself relax a little.

“So,” Abby said, taking a sip of her beer. “Tell me about the kiss.”

The kiss. Maya could still feel his lips on hers, and the coarse stubble of the five o’clock shadow that covered that strong, broad jaw grazing roughly against the soft skin of her face. She could smell his cologne, a blend of citrus, sandalwood, innate maleness. And she heard his groan, which had vibrated through her when his lips parted and his tongue found hers. Maya recalled the sense of loss she had felt when she’d pulled away. Kissing him was wrong, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to feel the dark, handsome stranger all over her body.

And Abby wanted her to tell her about the kiss? How could she put it into words? Were there any words to describe the feeling of being pressed against him? She struggled to find them, to come up with anything that would even come close to relating the experience to another person.

“It was good,” she said simply, knowing that good didn’t even come remotely close to describing the kiss.

“‘It was good,’” Abby repeated, clearly unconvinced. “Just ‘good’?”

“It was really, very good,” she said with a shrug.

Abby laughed. “The way you looked when you came back to this table told me that it was more than just ‘really, very good.’”

Maya flushed, suddenly warm. From the temperature of the club? The alcohol? Her reaction to the man? “What does it matter?” Maya finished her drink in one long swallow, dismissing it. “He’s a great kisser. But in this city? It’s not like I’m going to see him again.”

Abby smirked, pursing her cherry-red lips. “Montreal might be the second largest city in the country, but I think it’s smaller than you think. You just might encounter him again.”

Maya leaned back in the booth, the back of her head resting on the plush leather upholstery. She inhaled deeply. Yeah, the alcohol was definitely pumping through her veins. She quickly put the gorgeous man at the bar out of her mind. She was now ready to have fun. When a song she loved drove through the speakers of the club’s sound system, she stood quickly. A little too quickly, as evidenced by her slight wobble. She grabbed Abby’s hand.

“Come on, we’re dancing!”

Abby’s mouth dropped in surprise and she squealed with glee. “It’s about time, Maya. I love the new you.”

At that moment Maya did, as well. The music pumped, as did her body to the beat. She focused on nothing else but how she felt at that moment. She dismissed all thoughts of her upcoming final exams and her 9 a.m. class, and she allowed Abby to pull her into the center of the dance floor. But neither her mind nor her body could forget the handsome stranger. In an attempt to shake his image from her mind and the feel of his lips burning on her own, she danced harder. But it was no use; he wouldn’t leave her. Perhaps instead of just kissing him, she should have talked to him, asked him his name, gotten his number.