The Elliotts: Bedrooms Not Boardrooms!. Maureen Child

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groaned. “Details, please.”

      She hesitated so long Liam feared the game he’d anticipated since last night was over. “Long with spaghetti straps and a lace bodice. There are sheer bits on my—”

      “Wait,” he groaned. His control wavering, he took another sip of wine. “Let me savor that much before you send me into overload with more.” He closed his eyes and pictured Aubrey dressed as she’d described, in a puddle of black filmy fabric lying on his cream-colored sheets, waiting for him. And he ached. His body pulsed and throbbed, growing heavy with need. A saner man would take a cold shower or take matters into his own hand. “I’m ready. Where are the sheer bits?”

      “Guess.”

      Her answer surprised a laugh out of him. “I need a hint. High or low?”

      “High.”

      “If I were with you, could I see your breasts? Your nipples?”

      “Yes.”

      Liam fisted his hand in his hair and took an unsteady breath. “You definitely fight dirty.”

      “What are you wearing?”

      “Boxers. Silk. Blue.” And they’d suddenly become tight. Very, very tight.

      “No thong?”

      He grinned, opened the nightstand drawer and extracted the garment. He stroked the smooth satin between his fingers. “No. That’s in my hand. It smells like you, but your skin is softer, warmer.”

      Her gasp filled his ear. “You’re good at this obscene phone call business.”

      “I could get better with practice.”

      “Are we going to practice?” Was that a hopeful note in her voice?

      Should he continue this insane game, continue to lose sleep and drive himself to the aching edge of need again and again? “I’d like to.”

      “Me, too.”

      If he didn’t change the subject he was going to lose what was left of his sanity and the call would go from sexy to raunchy. “Was today better than yesterday?”

      “You mean at work?” Her sigh carried over the phone lines. “Not really. Sometimes I wonder if I should quit and find a job where I don’t have to work so hard to prove myself.”

      The frustration in her voice came across loud and clear. “What happened?”

      Seconds ticked past. “My father assigned me a task. I called a staff meeting and explained what I needed. But no one listens to me. They all think I was given my job because of my father and not because I earned it.”

      “I don’t have to worry about that with EPH. Patrick made each of us pay our dues by working our way up through the ranks.”

      “I’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean to ruin your call by whining.”

      “You’re not whining, and I needed to change the subject before I asked you to take off your nightgown and touch yourself the way I would if I were there.”

      A half-choked sound carried over the line. “And would you return the favor? Touch yourself the way I want to?”

      Desire churned thick and hot through his veins. He cursed. “Yes. Anywhere you want.”

      “Next time, then.” And then he heard a click followed by the dial tone.

      Next time. The words energized him, filling him with an anticipation for tomorrow that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

      Aubrey floated through her workday in a cloud of excitement, unwarranted by her position as VP of single copy sales. She’d breezed through phone calls with uncooperative distributors and meetings with the other circulation department staff. None of the usual daily irritations had brought her down or driven her for a double Mocha Frappuccino, her help-I’m-losing-it drink.

      If only every day could be this enjoyable. She felt a twinge of unease. It was really pitiful that she sought, from a voice on the phone, the approval she couldn’t get at work.

      Since arriving home she’d showered and shampooed, given herself a manicure and pedicure all in preparation for her hot date with the telephone. She’d set her alarm for midnight, but she hadn’t needed the annoying beep to wake her because there was no chance she’d drift off to sleep with this overdose of adrenaline flowing through her veins. She’d been watching the clock for what seemed like hours.

      She stepped into the sexy teddy she’d darted out to purchase at lunchtime, tied the ribbon bows on each shoulder and brushed her hands over the lace covering her. The regret that Liam would never see the seductive garment dampened her excitement a little.

      Finally it was time to call. Her heart raced and her mouth dried. She took a sip from the bottle of water on her nightstand, settled back against her mountain of pillows and dialed.

      “Hello.”

      Goose bumps raced over her skin at the sound of Liam’s voice. “This is an obscene phone call. Hang up if you don’t want to listen.”

      Liam snorted. “Are you kidding? Do you know any guy who would hang up if he had a beautiful woman promising to talk dirty to him?”

      A smile twitched on her lips. His comment erased much of her nervousness. “I bought something very special for you today. I’m wearing it.”

      “She goes for the kill on the first line,” he muttered in a barely audible tone. “Describe it for me,” he said in a louder voice.

       “It’s lacy and sheer and very brief.” I can’t believe you’re doing this, A.

      “Tell me more.” His pitch was lower, huskier.

      Her nipples beaded and desire tangled low in her belly. “It’s cut very high and very low. My legs are bare. And it’s sheer and red. A teddy with a bow on each shoulder. One tug on each ribbon and …”

      He groaned. “You’re killing me, Aubrey.”

      Her inner rebel relished this brief interlude of feeling sexy and desirable and wanted. She’d never have the nerve to act as brazen face-to-face. “I want to talk about fantasies tonight. Tell me, Liam, in your secret fantasies where is the one place you’d like to make love but haven’t?”

      “At a Mets game,” he replied without hesitation.

      That jarred her right out of fantasy land. She’d never attended a baseball game, but she couldn’t imagine finding a private place in Shea Stadium. “A Mets game.”

      “You?”

      She shook away the disturbing image of crowds, stale beer and peanut shells. Did she dare confess her secret? “An elevator.”

      She heard the whistle of his breath. “That could be arranged.”

      “I know, and I think about

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