One Little Indiscretion. Joss Wood

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them on the hall table. “I won’t feel offended if you toss these.”

      It was obvious Carrick seemed to want the same distance she did and she should be glad. There was absolutely no reason to feel disappointed or frustrated. She had to cut this crap out.

      Carrick’s expression was implacable as he bent down to brush his lips across her cheekbone. She took the gesture for what it was, a polite thing to do, a small thanks-for-a-great-evening. It didn’t mean anything more...couldn’t mean a damn thing.

      “I’ll see you when I see you,” he told her.

      His cashmere coat was an expensive heap on the floor and he picked it up and pulled it on. He jammed his hand into the inside pocket and pulled out his phone. Then he winced.

      “I’ve missed a dozen calls already. See you around, Sadie.”

      Sure. But not for a day or two. Or seven.

      Sadie had five minutes to make her meeting in the conference room, a sleek, edgy room at the end of the hallway of the iconic, international and world-renowned auction house of Murphy International. It would only take thirty seconds to walk down the hallway, so she could hide out here in the bathroom for a little longer.

      She’d do anything to avoid being alone with Carrick Murphy.

      Sadie looked at her reflection in the mirror above the basin and rubbed a tiny speck of lipstick off her teeth. She’d spent the past week avoiding Carrick and, because they hadn’t spent any time alone since the evening he’d stayed over, she knew he was avoiding her, too.

      And that suited her just fine.

      When she opened her door to Carrick hours after her near-death experience, she should’ve stripped the roses of their thorns instead of stripping the Murphy boss man of his clothes.

      She wanted to blame her uncharacteristic behavior on seeing a white light or hearing angels sing except that she hadn’t seen God or heard celestial choirs so that was a weak excuse.

      Fact: Carrick Murphy was a great-looking man with a rocking body and she’d felt reckless and impulsive, desperate to celebrate being alive.

      And, yep, doing Carrick Murphy, and having him do her, was exceedingly life-affirming. So were the multiple orgasms...

      She couldn’t be blamed for spending a few hours each night reliving that amazing evening, wishing he was with her again, touching her with those broad, long-fingered hands, kissing her with his sinful mouth.

      But...

      Like sailing to Antarctica on a tall ship, or catching the Orient Express, sex with Carrick was an indulgence, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

      Stunningly wonderful but never to be repeated.

      Pity.

      But she’d done this before and, as a result, knew that she had to slam her foot on the brakes. She’d fallen into the arms of a sexy man and, within a few weeks, fallen in love. She’d wanted to believe that Dennis was a good man, a man worth marrying.

      Five years later, a marriage and ugly divorce later, she was stronger and wiser and fully understood that the same man who made you quiver and sigh could also make you cry. A pretty face could easily hide a cold heart, and malice could live under a charming facade.

      Dennis had a lovely face and buckets of charm but under it all, he had the personality of a psychopathic honey badger. And from what she’d heard from Carrick’s ex-wife and Beth, one of Sadie’s oldest friends and her virtual assistant, so did Carrick.

      Sadie hadn’t been believed when she tried to tell her friends and family that Dennis was verbally abusing her and subjecting her to emotional torture that was both cruel and cunning. So when women she respected talked about their men, she listened.

      But damn, why was she a magnet for bad boys?

      And she wasn’t talking about those cute, trouble-finds-me-but-I’m-a-good-guy-at-heart men. One of those she could handle. No, Sadie was attracted to bad bad boys. The ones who played games, lied, used...

      Abused.

      As had happened with her ex, nobody would suspect Carrick Murphy—a business phenomenon and a hell of an operator in the art world—of being a dick, but she’d heard enough from Tamlyn via Beth to understand that women should go into any relationship with him with their eyes propped open.

      Not that that was what she was doing.

      Sadie glanced at her watch again and, after readjusting her bag on her shoulder, she headed out, her heels clicking against the tiled floors. This was the first time she would be meeting Carrick’s important clients and she wished she could definitively tell them that the painting was a lost Homer.

      Not only because that news would set the art world alight—authenticating a “sleeper,” a previously undiscovered painting, would be a kickass star on her résumé—but also because her job would then be over and she could remove herself from the temptation that was Carrick Murphy.

      But she was many weeks, possibly months, away from submitting her final report. There was still so much data outstanding, including the results of the paint analysis. She was tracking down leads with regard to the labels on the back of the painting and she’d yet to receive any replies from the many galleries where Isabel and her family routinely bought art.

      Establishing an artwork’s authenticity took time. Sadie hoped Carrick’s clients understood this.

      Reaching the door to the conference room, Sadie lightly knocked and stepped inside. Because she was currently enjoying the luck of a blind mouse in a cattery, the room was empty except for Carrick, who stood by the large window, looking down onto Boston Common. He turned, that lethal smile flashing, hinting at that shallow dimple in his left cheek, and Sadie’s heart kicked up a beat. Yep, there went her blood to that special place low in her womb, and heat meandered through her body.

      Chemistry was a hell of a thing.

      “Sadie.”

      Her name, rumbling out of Carrick’s mouth, had never sounded sexier. Sadie sighed and just managed to stop herself from putting her hand on her heart.

      Pulling her eyes off him, she placed her bag and her folders on the conference table and managed a quiet “good morning.”

      “Isabel’s heirs are running late. They should be here in fifteen minutes or so.”

      Damn. What would they talk about while they waited? The weather? The painting? How amazing, strong, powerful and masculine he felt when he slid inside her...

       Slade! So not helpful!

      Thinking that she had to aim for sophistication or, at least, to act her age, Sadie walked over to the window, keeping a healthy distance between her and Carrick. Because, you know, chemistry...

      Sadie saw him cast a glance over her outfit as she walked across the room and wondered if her boldly patterned red and orange dress was too arty and too bohemian for the conservative, upmarket offices

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