she could be brazen and call him up to invite him over. Then she could seduce him. Maybe in the shower. Definitely near a bed.
But not until then. Really.
So this was just a business-related event. Sure, an extra fancy one, but nothing else had changed.
Except for that kiss. That towel.
Those fantasies.
She was in so much trouble.
Her hair fixed into a sleek twist, Serena stood in her bedroom in her bathrobe and stared at the gowns like they were menacing her. All three were hung on her closet door.
With the price tags still on them.
Somehow, she’d managed to avoid looking at the tags in the store. The fabulous Mario had probably been working overtime to keep them hidden from her.
She had tens of thousands of dollars worth of gowns. Hanging in her house. Not counting the “necessary accessories.”
The one she wanted to wear—the one-shoulder, cornflower blue dress that paired well with the long, dangly earrings? That one, on sale, cost as much as a used car. On sale! And the earrings? Sapphires. Of course.
I can’t do this, she decided. This was not her world and she did not belong. Why Chadwick insisted on dressing her up and parading her around was beyond her.
She’d return the dresses and go back to being frugal Serena Chase, loyal assistant. That was the only rational thing to do.
Then her phone buzzed. For a horrifying second, she was afraid it was Neil, afraid that he’d come to his senses and wanted to talk. Wanted to see her again. Wanted frugal, loyal Serena back.
Just because she was trying not to fall head over heels for Chadwick didn’t mean she wanted Neil.
She picked up her phone—it was a text from Chadwick.
On my way. Can’t wait to see you.
Her heart began to race. Would he wear a suit like he usually did? Would he look stiff and formal or...would he be relaxed? Would he look at her with that gleam in his eye—the one that made her think of things like towels and showers and hot, forbidden kisses?
She should return these things. All of them.
She slipped the blue dress off the hanger, letting the fabric slide between her fingers. On the other hand...what would one night hurt? Hadn’t she always dreamed about living it up? Wasn’t that why she’d always gone to the galas before? It was a glimpse into a world that she longed to be a part of—a world where no one went hungry or wore cast-off clothing or moved in the middle of the night because they couldn’t make rent?
Wasn’t Chadwick giving her exactly what she wanted?
Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Just for the night?
Fine, she decided, slipping into the dress. One night. One single night where she wasn’t Serena Chase, hardworking employee always running away from poverty. For one glorious evening, she would be Serena Chase, queen amongst women. She would be escorted by a man who wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her—a man who made her feel beautiful.
If she ever saw the fabulous Mario again, she was going to hug that man.
She dressed carefully. She felt like she was going too slowly, but she wasn’t about to rush and accidentally pop a seam on such an expensive dress. She decided to go with a bolder eye, so she spent more time putting on eyeliner and mascara than she had in the last month.
She’d barely gotten her understated lipstick into the tiny purse that Mario had put with this dress—even though it was a golden yellow—when she heard the knock on the door. “One moment!” she yelled, as she grabbed the yellow heels that had arrived with everything else.
Then she took a moment to breathe. She looked good. She felt good. She was going to enjoy tonight or else. Tomorrow she could go back to being pregnant and frugal and all those other things.
Not tonight. Tonight was hers. Hers and Chadwick’s.
She opened the door and felt her jaw drop.
He’d chosen a tux. And a dozen red roses.
“Oh,” she managed to get out. The tux was exquisitely cut—probably custom-made.
He looked over the top of the roses. “I was hoping you’d pick that one. I brought these for you.” He held the flowers out to her and she saw he had a matching rose boutonnière in his lapel.
She took the roses as he leaned forward. “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear.
Then he kissed her cheek. One hand slid behind her back, gripping her just above her hip. “Simply amazing,” he repeated, and she felt the heat from his body warm hers from the inside out.
They didn’t have to go anywhere. She could pull him inside and they could spend the night wrapped around each other. It would be perfectly fine because they weren’t at work. As long as they weren’t in the office, they could do whatever they wanted.
And he was what she wanted to do.
No. No! She could not let him seduce her. She could not let herself be seduced. At least, not that easily. This was a business-related event. They were still on the clock.
Then he kissed her again, just below the dangly earring, and she knew she was in trouble. She had to do something. Anything.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. Immediately her face flushed hot. And not the good kind of hot, either. But that was exactly what she’d needed to do to slam on the brakes. Pregnant women were simply not amazing. Her body was crazy and her hormones were crazier and that had to be the only reason she was lusting after her boss this much.
Thank heavens, Chadwick pulled back. But he didn’t pull away, damn him. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “In all these years, Serena, I’ve never seen you more radiant. You’ve always been so pretty, but now...pregnant or not, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She wanted to tell him he was full of it—not only was she not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she didn’t crack the top one hundred in Denver. She was plain and curvy and wore suits. Nothing beautiful about that.
But he slipped his hand over her hip and down her belly, his hand rubbing small circles just above the top of her panties. “This,” he said, his voice low and serious and intent as his fingers spread out to cover her stomach, “just makes you better. I can’t control myself around you anymore and I don’t think I want to.” As he said it, his hand circled lower. The tips of his fingers crossed over the demarcated line of her panties and dipped down.
The warmth from his touch focused heat in her belly—and lower. A weight—heavy and demanding and pulsing—pounded between her thighs. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep going until he was pressing against the part of her that was heaviest. To feel his touch explore her body. To make her his.
If
