Page 9 of Tempt

Well that explained the fondness.

Childhood friends.

Bollocks.If I was going to live in London, I was gonna start using their words. This was totally a bollocks moment. Theo being a mysterious genius was one thing, but friends with my boss? That was a major conflict of interest.

Chapter 5

Two weeks later the plans for my side project were on Margaret’s desk, as asked. I hadn’t seen or heard from Theo once. There were no more odd elevator sightings, no hidden dance clubs, no stray emails.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about him everyday despite telling myself that fantasizing about Theo, a.k.a. my boss’s childhood friend, a.k.a. the unhappy recluse, was a terrible idea.

He crept into my dreams and thoughts whenever I let my guard down. Maybe I had read too many romance novels, but I’d kinda hoped that an email would ding into my inbox courtesy of the eccentric billionaire upstairs and a hot, torrid affair would ensue.

But as much as I wanted it to, my physical attraction didn’t disappear simply because he was friends with Margaret. I couldn’t turn off the way I lusted for him, just like I couldn’t shut off my brain. Theo fascinated me. The way my friends described him seemed so completely different from the man I’d spent time with.

Looking him up hadn’t helped either. The more I learned about him the more I wanted to know. Article after article discussed his work and his work obsession, but nothing mentioned a personal life. There were no pictures (aside from the one with Margaret) that showed him happy or having fun.

Who was the real Theo Sutherland? The man in the papers, or the man who spun me around a dance floor with a wicked look in his eyes?

I liked to think he was different with me, but that was probably the romance fan in me talking. I shouldn’t be spending my valuable time fantasizing about Theo. Or hot sex.

Except that was exactly what I was doing.

Every night in my bed and every morning over my coffee.

Apparently my subconscious had come up with a compromise. If I wouldn’t allow myself to think about Theo, and I was going to keep pushing aside silly dreams about falling for the mysterious stranger that I’d probably never have, then my dreams were going to focus on the basics.

Sex.

My fantasies ranged from quick and simple to quite ornate. This morning, for instance, I sat at my breakfast bar sipping coffee and munching on a very large croissant. I had Imagine Dragons playing from my iPad as I read the morning news. There was an article in the business section detailing Sutherland Industries changes in the current quarter.

I imagined Theo striding in and taking the iPad from my hands. He wanted to distract me with sex, naturally. He yanked my old t-shirt over my head and tore off my panties. Then he bent me over the breakfast bar and slowly pushed inside me.

Since I didn’t have anything to base sex with Theo on—not even a kiss—I got to imagine him however I wanted to. He was an amazing dancer, comfortable with his body and the way it moved in time with mine. That alone was enough to fill my fantasies.

In this version of my fantasies, my breasts brushed the cool, smooth surface of the counter in quick, biting strokes. My body stretched to accommodate what I could only imagine was a sizeable cock to go with his strong, muscular body. And once he was buried as deep as he could go, he brushed my long blonde hair over one shoulder so he had something to hold on to. His fingers bit into my shoulder as he slammed into me over and over again. It was rough, passionate, needy sex.

The kind Ineededto feel for myself.

Unfortunately my imagination and hand would have to suffice.

As I sat at my desk staring at my computer, that breakfast fantasy kept popping back up in my mind. No man had ever captured my attention so completely, but then again, no man had ever been so inaccessible to me either. If I wanted someone, I could have them.

But not Theo.

He really was like a ghost—every so often I saw signs of him, but for the most part it was like he didn’t exist at all.

My phone buzzed, promptly ending my daydreaming. “Hello Margaret, how can I help you?”

“Can you meet with the client before dinner?”

I cleared my throat and sat a little straighter. She’d had the plans on her desk for less than an hour. “Of course. I take it my design was agreeable?”

“I believe they will be precisely what Nolan Industries is looking for. I’ll send you the information in a moment. And please, don’t fuck this up.”

She ended the call before I could reply.

Don’t fuck this up.How on earth would I do that? I was damn good at my job and she’d already agreed that my work was on pointe. All I had to do was be charming when I met with the client. I had this handled.

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