Taking Over (Like a Boss Book 2) Read online

  “Want to go for a drink tonight?” I ask her.

  She lifts her gaze to mine, puzzled. “What? I just told you I’m off the market.”

  “I know. A guy can have a drink with a girl without it leading to a long-term relationship.” Does she know what I’m hinting at?

  She studies me a for a long moment. There’s a touch of heat in her eyes, simmering away beneath the cautiousness. Oh yeah, she knows. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “Okay.” I push off the counter. It was worth a try. “No hard feelings, eh?”

  “No.” She gives a shy smile. “I’m very flattered you asked me.”

  “All right. Have a good afternoon. I’d better get back to work.” I leave her at the counter, and walk back toward the conference room.

  My lips curve up as head back to my seat. All is not yet lost.

  Chapter Three

  Gabriella

  “What was that about?” Colette gives me a curious look as we carry the unused documents and folders back to the marketing department. “You two looked all cozy over there.”

  I debate whether to tell her. It’s not a big deal and I don’t want her to make a fuss. But I can’t deny that talking to him has lit a flame inside me. “He asked me out for a drink tonight,” I admit.

  Her mouth forms an O, and she looks as if she’s about to squeal.

  “I’m not going,” I add hastily.

  Her look of triumph turns into incredulity. “What? You have to go!”

  “I really don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of, oh my God, where do I start? I keep telling you, I don’t want a relationship. I’m leaving soon. And he’s… well, you know.”

  “Gorgeous? Sexy? Loaded?”

  “Well, yes, but he’s also one of those men.”

  She frowns and punches the button to call the elevator. “What men?”

  “Come on, it’s obvious. The type who use women. Who sleep with them and then don’t call them the next morning.”

  “If you don’t want a long-term relationship, why do you want him to call you the next morning?”

  I stare at her. She just shrugs. The elevator dings, and we go into the carriage. There are a couple of young guys already in there, but they move aside to let us in. Colette pushes the button for the floor below, and the doors close.

  “Anyway, just because he’s rich and good looking, it doesn’t make him a bastard,” she continues as if there’s nobody in there with us. The guys exchange amused looks. I blush and glare at her, but she either doesn’t see the glare or doesn’t care. “He’s nice, Gaby. Cocky, yeah. Totally focused on work, just like Sebastian. They get impatient, these men, because the women they meet in the clubs have no idea how hard they work and expect too much from them. These guys are feral, you know? You can’t tame them, and you’d be an idiot even to try. But they will come up to you and eat from your hand if you offer them the right tidbit.”

  One of the young guys chuckles. I think he works in the mailroom. “Not you, Jack,” Colette states as the doors slide open. “You need to start shaving first.”

  He gives her the finger, and she laughs and walks out.

  I follow her down to the large marketing office, and we place the folders on the table. Colette starts sorting them into piles, and I help her.

  “So?” she asks.

  “Sew buttons.”

  “So… are you going out for a drink with Harry?”

  “No!” I slap a folder onto the pile. “Absolutely not. Well, probably not. Maybe. Possibly. I’m thinking about it.”

  “I’m glad you’ve made your mind up.”

  I give her a pained look. “I can’t. It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Aw, come on, you can talk to me. I won’t tell anyone.”

  I hesitate and square up the folders. I’ve lost touch with most of my girlfriends since leaving high school, and I’ve changed jobs a few times, so I haven’t developed any lasting friendships. I’ve told Colette that Alex cheated on me, and that’s why I broke up with him. I haven’t told her the worst part—I haven’t told anyone. But she’s probably the closest I’ve got to a confidante, and it might be nice to talk.

  “Don’t laugh,” I tell her, “but Alex is the only guy I’ve been with.”

  She stares at me. “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-six. But I was only sixteen when I met Alex. I’ve never dated anyone else. I thought he was The One, you know? I thought I was going to be with him for the rest of my life.” I swallow hard. When will I stop feeling as if someone’s stabbing me in the stomach whenever I think about him?

  “In that case,” Colette declares, “you definitely need Harrison Grant to screw you senseless.”

  “Colette!” Just the thought of it makes me feel faint. To let Harrison kiss me, touch me, take off my clothes and see me naked… Mustard seeds, paprika… I blow out a long breath. “I couldn’t! Men like Harrison go out with women who do stuff.”

  “Stuff?” she echoes, amused.

  “You know, sexy stuff. Girls who are Experienced with a capital E, who’ve had multiple partners, who’ve learned how to please a guy a thousand different ways.”

  “It only takes one way,” she says, “but I think I know what you mean.”

  “I’m just not that kind of girl.”

  “You don’t like sex?”

  “I love sex!” I say it a little too loud, and a couple of the marketing assistants look over with a grin. I lower my voice hastily. “It’s like I’ve only ever had vanilla ice cream. Being with Harrison would be like standing in front of a hundred different flavors, with twenty different sauces and fifty toppings. How the hell would I know which ones he’d like?”

  “He’d like all of them,” she advises. “He’s a guy.”

  “Colette…”

  “Alex only liked vanilla?”

  “Well, you know, maybe he’d occasionally like a bit of strawberry or Rocky Road. But when I suggested chocolate sauce, it freaked him out, and as for sprinkles…”

  Colette tries not to laugh. “Sweetie, you’re overthinking it. Normally, guys enjoy showing you what they like. They find it a turn on. It appeals to the Neanderthal inside them. You know—me man, you woman, me show you how to bend over…”

  At the thought of bending over for Harrison, I feel dizzy and flop into the nearest chair.

  “Jesus, you’ve gone as white as a sheet,” Colette says with alarm. “Put your head between your knees.”

  I do so, taking deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I must sound like such an idiot.”

  “Of course not.” She drops to her haunches beside me, and to my relief, her eyes are kind. “I think it’s terribly romantic that you’ve only been with one guy—it just sucks that he turned out to be such a fucking orangutan.”

  I laugh. “That’s an insult to the great apes.”

  “Yeah. What I mean is, it’s not a problem. You really think Harry’s going to say, ‘you’ve only been with one guy—jeez, get away from me’? Of course he isn’t. You tell him that you want him to show you what he likes, and his head will explode.”

  “I’d like to believe you…”

  “Do you like him?” she asks.

  I straighten in the chair. “Yes.”

  “Do you think sleeping with him sounds like something you might enjoy?”

  “Let me think about it while I hyperventilate into a brown paper bag.”

  She laughs. “Why don’t you let me go and see him for you? I’ll set you up on a date. Remember, you don’t have to do anything. If you go for a drink and you decide you can’t go through with it, you just say thanks for a nice evening and go home.”

  “Won’t he be angry if he’s expecting more?”

  “Harry doesn’t do angry. He’s a pussycat. Okay, he’s more like a big cat, a tiger, or a panther, but honestly, he’s one of the good guys. He wouldn’t mind.”

  I chew my lip. Dare I go through with it?
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br />   I think of Alex. I gave him my heart, and he took it, spat on it, then threw it on the floor and stomped on it. I don’t owe him anything.

  I have the chance to have sex with the most gorgeous guy in the office, if not the city, if not the world. He likes me. He wants to sleep with me. Am I really having to think twice about it?

  “All right,” I say cautiously. “Tell me I’m not going to regret it.”

  “Ohhh,” she says with a triumphant smile, “I’d bet every cent I own that regret would not be one of the emotions you’d feel if Harry took you home.”

  Chapter Four

  Harrison

  The conference ends at four thirty, and it takes another thirty minutes of discussion before everyone finally leaves the room and heads for the elevators.

  I collapse into a chair, and Seb, Caleb, and Elen, the other directors of Hearktech, do the same.

  “That was a long day,” Elen says, “and it’s only five p.m.”

  “Good though,” Seb replies. “It went well, don’t you think?”

  We chat for another fifteen minutes, glad for the time to relax. While we’re having one last cup of coffee, Colette comes in and tidies up the table, collecting the unused documents and folders, and putting everything else in the trash.

  Eventually, Seb rises, stretches and yawns. “I’ll just nip back to the office and then we’ll head home, shall we?” he asks Colette.

  “Sure.” She smiles, and he kisses her on the cheek, then leaves. Elen gathers her stuff and follows soon after.

  I finish sending an email on my laptop, then close it before realizing with some surprise that Colette’s still in the room, perching on the table.

  “Sorry,” I tell her. “Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

  Her blue eyes dance. “I understand you asked Gaby out for a drink.”

  I give her a wry look. “Girl talk? Did she also tell you she turned me down?”

  “Yeah, about that. She’s had second thoughts.”

  I grin, and my spirits lift. “I hoped she might.”

  “Can I tell her you’ll meet her at Atomic at, say, seven thirty?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Okay.” She hesitates. “One more thing. And she doesn’t know I’m about to tell you this.”

  “All right…”

  “She’s a bit nervous.”

  “Aw. Did you tell her I’m a pussycat?”

  “I did, as it happens. But it’s not just that. You know I said she’d just broken up with her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s been going out with him since she was sixteen.”

  “Wow. I didn’t realize people still did that.”

  “Me neither. So you see, the thing is, she’s only been with the one guy.”

  I stare at her. For a girl in her mid-twenties, that’s almost as unusual as being a virgin, in the circles I mix in, anyway.

  “I think you can see what I’m getting at,” Colette says. “It doesn’t sound as if her ex was dynamite in bed, so you’ll have to, you know, show her the ropes.”

  “Hmm.”

  She grins. “I told her the idea would turn you on.”

  “Did you, now?”

  “Just be gentle with her, Harry. If you like her, take it slow, all right? Or she’s likely to run a mile and you won’t see her for dust.”

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  Her teeth tug on her bottom lip, and for a moment I think I see a touch of a blush in her cheeks. Colette Holmes, blushing! I raise my eyebrows.

  “I hope you didn’t mind me saying,” she says. “It’s just… I like Gaby. She’s nice, and she’s had a tough time. She deserves better.” Her eyes twinkle. “But I could only find you, so you’ll have to do.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She laughs and walks to the door. “So, seven thirty?”

  “That’s fine.”

  She nods and walks out.

  I put my feet up on the table, ankles crossed, and think about what she’s just told me. It’s not what I expected. After we both stated that we weren’t looking for anything long-term, I suggested having a drink to Gabriella with the idea that we chat over a glass or two of wine, then go back to her place—or my place, I’m not fussy—for some hot sex.

  Most of the girls I meet know their way around the bedroom. It makes for uncomplicated fun, and I know it’s not just me who has a great time then walks away without looking back. Gone are the days when every girl was sitting at home waiting for you to phone her, and I’ve never had a crying female turn up on my doorstep demanding to know why I haven’t returned her calls. I’ve discovered that women like sex as much as men—thank God—and therefore I’m not ashamed to say it’s purely a physical act for me. When girls have tried to turn it into something more, it’s not taken me long to back out of the relationship. I like being free.

  And yet now Colette’s telling me that I need to be gentle, and to take it slow with Gaby. I rub at a mark on the table top. Is that what I want? To have to spend time talking her into it, and to ‘show her the ropes’, as Colette put it? I’m not quite sure what she means. Gaby’s obviously not a virgin. Even if her ex was unimaginative, she said they met at high school, so he’s around the same age as her, relatively young. They must have… you know, experimented.

  Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe he just thrust away in missionary, and if she had an orgasm it was more by luck than anything else. I find it difficult to believe there are still men out there like that, but I’ve had enough girls tell me I’m great in bed to convince me that even my meager talents are something worth celebrating.

  I flip my pen through my fingers. I could ring Colette now and tell her to call it off. But the thing is, it doesn’t mean Gaby doesn’t like sex. I saw that heat in her eyes, and I hope that by now I can tell when a girl looks at me as if she’s trying to guess whether the size of my feet correlates to the size of another piece of my anatomy. Gaby might be shy and nervous at being with someone new, and she might need me take it slow. But she wants me. I can feel it, and anyway, she wouldn’t have agreed to meet me tonight if she wasn’t at least interested in taking it further.

  I think about taking it slow, for once. Teasing her. Watching her eyes light up with surprise and shock as I show her things she’s not done before.

  Hmm. Yeah. Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad after all.

  My lips curve up, and I rise and grab my stuff with the intention of heading for home and getting ready for my date.

  Chapter Five

  Gabriella

  At seven thirty, I walk into Atomic and pause just inside the door.

  I’m shaking like a leaf that’s about to be eaten by a ginormous caterpillar. I can’t believe I let Colette talk me into this. I don’t need a man! Men are outdated. I don’t want to go steady, and I don’t want to get married. If I ever want a child, I’ll visit the local fertility clinic, request the sperm of a rocket scientist, and never have to think about pleasing a guy ever again. And as for sex, I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to fulfil her. I have a vibrator for that.

  So, what am I doing here?

  I glance around the bar, trying not to look like someone on a blind date who might have been stood up. It’s only now that I realize I’m not expecting him to be here. My nerves stem more from the fact that it’s going to be embarrassing turning around and walking out the door alone.

  But, to my surprise, he’s already here.

  He’s leaning on the bar, talking to the barman, but as my gaze falls on him, he sees me too, and he straightens and holds up a hand. Holy Jesus. He turned up. He really wants to have a drink with me.

  I try to recite the list of herbs, but not a single one comes to mind.

  My heart rat-a-tats on my ribs, and I feel queasy as I thread through the tables toward the bar. I should have had something to eat before I came out, but I was too nervous. I’d better not drink too much—it’s going to go straight to my head.


  He watches me walk across the room, smiling. I stop before him and look up into his dark brown eyes. I should have worn heels, not my Converses, because he’s quite a bit taller than me. I’m going to get a crick in my neck.

  “Hello,” I say. My voice comes out a squeak. I’ve only ever seen him in a suit, but he’s changed into jeans and a dark gray T-shirt beneath a black jacket. His hair is all ruffled, and he has a five o’clock shadow. He now looks like a bad boy, exactly the kind my mother warned me against.

  “Hi.” There’s real warmth in his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

  “You didn’t think I’d come?” I give a short laugh.

  He doesn’t say anything, just continues to smile, and then he gestures at his glass, which holds what looks like Coke. “What can I get you?”

  “Oh, um, a white wine, please?”

  “Chardonnay, Pinot Gris, Sauvignon?” the barman asks. “Or a sparkling?”

  “Sparkling, please.” I watch him walk to the fridge and extract the bottle, conscious that Harrison’s still watching me.

  The full realization hits me then. He came. He wants a drink with me. And, if all goes well, no doubt he’s hoping that it will lead to something more.

  He wants to have sex with me. With me!

  A giggle rises inside me like the bubbles forming in my glass, and I press my fingers to my mouth as his eyebrows lift. “Sorry. It’s nerves.”

  He chuckles. “Are you hungry? I’m starving and I haven’t eaten yet. I thought I might order a bowl of wedges or something.”

  Relieved, I nod, and he orders, pushes my wallet away and pays the barman, and then indicates an empty table over by the window. The sun has set, and there’s a candle on the table, spilling orange light across the surface. There’s also a tiny vase with a couple of pink flowers. It looks oddly romantic, and I wonder whether Harrison is going to baulk at the notion of this being too much like a date.

  But he just smiles and gestures to one of the chairs while he takes the other. I sit, trying to keep my breathing calm, and take a large gulp of my wine, then scold myself. Not too quick!