Page 3 of Forbidden Temptations

Hidden, waiting, daring him to find it.

So, he’d begun to dig, looking deeper, trying to solve a mystery that common sense screamed didn’t exist, but that the small voice in the back of his mind refused to let go, like some naughty schoolboy playing truant to go on a great adventure in the land of Narnia.

Sooner or later though, the boy needed to go back through the wardrobe, and if the Managing Director had his eye on Richard...

So far, every money trail had turned up empty and by itself, mere professional curiosity wasn’t worth losing a job over. Or, worse still, becoming the next punchline in one of walrus face’s jokes.

Baleful blue eyes glared up at him, chunks of blue ice burning bright against a sea of soft beauty. Richard forced a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll have them on your desk Monday.

“Good”

That single word was like a storm passing to unveil sunbursts. She beamed with the radiance, her golden skin lighting up with a warmth that chased any hint of chill away as those luscious pink lips curled into a smile.

“See that you do, or else I might just have to give you a spanking.” She winked.

Richard gawped, not sure whether to believe his own ears. Had she really just said that?

To anyone who might have glanced their way, the gesture would have appeared innocent. Yet her eyes lost none of their intensity as she watched him, and her playful tone sent a warm, involuntary shiver coursing up his spine. What the fuck?

He remembered all the stories he’d heard people at work gossiping about the people who’d told them and the wide range of vague, outlandish details that seemed to grow more and more extraordinary with each retelling.

It was all hearsay. Mostly just the petty vindictiveness of someone who’d been put out, or thought her job should have been theirs, or just the usual rambling talk that always seemed to blossom around a famous name.

There had never been any proof, and until now, Richard had barely given them much thought. But that look in her eyes made him ready to believe every word.

He’d seen it on the cats he sometimes saw stalking city streets on his morning drive to work. There was the same confidence, the same purpose and… hunger.

She watched him the way a stalking cat would observe a bird pecking in the mud, utterly fixed in its own world and ripe for the plucking, and the thought had him instinctively averting his gaze. Whatever this game was, he didn’t want a part of it.

However, knowing she was waiting for him to say something, he opened his mouth to agree but the words that should have come caught in his throat and all he could do was nod in acknowledgement.

Heat blossoming across his cheeks, he swallowed, his mouth so dry it felt like forcing down a lemon. Goddamnit, he needed a drink.

Her eyes flashed, victorious fire dancing over cool blue ice. Then, as if only just realising she was making him uncomfortable, her smile faltered for a moment and turned apologetic.

“Awww don’t worry, Dick. I was only kidding,” she cooed like he was a small child or pet dog. “I think you better have another drink. If your face gets any redder, they might mistake you for Rudolph and hang you on the wall.” She giggled, the sound all girlish and mocking. “It’s already a rather striking likeness. Maybe with a pair of antlers-”

More relieved than embarrassed by her dismissal, Richard turned back to the refreshments before Scarlet had finished speaking.

With the Styrofoam cup still in hand and grateful for some much-needed space between him and the teasing wench, he reached out for the jug of squash. To his horror, the hand was shaking.

No! God, get a grip man. Don’t let her get to you.

As if she knew his thoughts, Scarlet stepped in close enough for him to inhale her perfume. Something sharp and expensive.

“Here, let me,” she offered. Brushing his hand aside, she seized the handle and, despite it being almost full, raised the jug one-handed.

With a slight pivot of her hips to face him, she filled his cup almost all the way to the top, her gaze unwavering, boring into his with that look of predatory glee, seeing through him, into him. It was unnervingly similar to the look Alice shot him whenever she suspected he was up to something.

“There.” She put the jug down before finally breaking the contact to give the drink a quizzical look. “Just orange? You don’t want to mix it with something a little stronger?”

“N-no thanks. I’m driving.” Barely able to get his tongue around the words, Richard had to fight the urge to immediately knock the drink back.

Fuck, where the hell was Alice? What could Samantha have to say that couldn’t wait for tomorrow?

He looked down at the orange in his cup, wished, though he’d never been much of a drinker, that it could be something fermented, and added under his breath without thinking, “Alice would kick my arse if she found out I’d been drinking.”

The moment he’d said them, he regretted the words. Beaten, he surrendered and chucked the juice back in almost one big gulp. It was deliciously refreshing and eased the knots in his gut in a single rush of watered citrus.

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