* * *
“You should ask for her number,” Nate said later that evening, gesturing to the very pretty bartender at Speakeasy, the bustling midtown establishment where he and Ethan had knocked back a few beers and talked shop. Ethan was high up at Victoria Hotels, and had peppered Nate with some questions about how to tackle the image issues his company faced. The classy hotel was no longer cutting it on the gold-plated ambiance and needed to go younger, hipper, cooler, Ethan admitted. Nate offered his advice where he could, glad that the two were back in touch. They'd been work friends at The Luxe, but hadn't talked much when they were both candidates for the top job. That had been a tense few weeks, both men vying for one spot. When Nate had landed the coveted position after an exhaustive internal and external search, Ethan took him out to toast, but it had been a strained night, and the man had remained in a bit of a funk for the months that followed. Nate was glad that they'd both moved on now, and could chat again about work and women.
His friend peered at the woman behind the bar, pointing to a redhead with a round belly. He cocked his head to the side, looking at Nate as if he had grown horns. “The pregnant one? Pretty sure that belly means she’s taken.”
Nate laughed and shook his head. “Not Julia. The hot brunette who's been giving you the eye. Julia told me her name is Danya. She’s been taking on more hours, since Julia’s cutting back a bit in a few more months,” he said.
“You think I should just go right up to her and ask for her number?”
“Just talk to her. That's what I'd do.”
Ethan scoffed and pushed a hand through his blond hair. “I’m sure a beautiful bartender at a classy establishment in Manhattan doesn’t get hit on very much at all.”
“You never know if someone is game unless you try. I need to take off, so give it a shot,” Nate said, and when Ethan shrugged, rose and walked over to Danya, he wanted to pump his fist. She shot him a wide smile, and they seemed to fall into conversation easily.
“Need another?”
Nate turned to Julia, shaking his head. “Nah. Closing time for me. I’ve got a laptop calling my name for the next few hours,” he said, then slapped down some bills to pay for the drinks, leaving a sizable tip for her. He figured she deserved an extra twenty percent on top of everything else for managing a bar with a belly that big.
She scooped up the cash, and blew him a kiss. "Thanks for coming by. Don’t stay up too late working. I’ll tell Clay you said hi.”
“And let him know I'll follow up soon about Brent and his clubs. I've got a trip to Vegas on the calendar, so I'll meet him then.”
“Absolutely.”
As she moved to a new customer, his phone buzzed, and a kernel of excitement tore through him like a comet flaring across the night. When Casey’s name popped up in his inbox, his dick twitched, hardening instantly. Damn organ; her name already elicited a Pavlovian response in him. His dick saluted anytime she was near.
He tapped open the email, re-reading the note he’d sent her a few hours ago.
from:
[email protected]
to:
[email protected]
date: June 6, 6:57 PM
subject: Tomorrow’s Lesson
At some point tomorrow I will stop by your office. I will have a gift for you. I will expect you to not be wearing any panties. Do not disobey me.
from:
[email protected]
to:
[email protected]
date: June 6, 9:03 PM
subject: Practicing Now
Removed. Ready. Waiting.
Those three words alone made him groan. But what was most intoxicating about her response was the attachment. She’d sent him a photo of her red lace panties on top of her desk.
CHAPTER EIGHT
New York City, afternoon . . .
Thank God it was June.
Summer was an easier time to go commando than the cold months.
Thank God she was buried in deskwork today too, with the majority of her meetings of the phone variety. Casey liked to wear short skirts and heels, or short skirts and boots. Today she’d opted for a tight, knee-length skirt, since she didn’t need to perform any accidental Marilyn Monroe shows. She’d never dressed panty-free at work before, and she felt like she had a naughty little secret when she popped into the conference room to visit with the product team for a meeting. No one knew, of course, but the knowledge that she was bare had kept her thoughts on Nate all day long. Being naked down there also meant she was turned on all day. She was an electrical line, exposed and crackling, waiting to spark.
She’d even wandered past reception a few times, peering down the elevator banks for him. Each time, she struck out, and cursed under her breath.
The minutes ticked by, and she was sorely tempted to break out one of her products, to lock her door and spend a few minutes with The Wild One, since that magical device did the trick in mere minutes; sometimes in seconds. But she resisted. Even if no one would know, she didn’t want to be the CEO of a sex toy company who actually did get herself off at her desk. Better to be a woman in control at the office.