Secret Desire(3)

“Cynthia Lewis?” He stepped into her office before closing the door. The man’s broad shoulders were perfectly framed by the door behind him. Her eyes drifted down his body, lingered at the bulge in his pants, and eventually returned to his face. His lips clamped together, making the muscle along his jaw twitch. He walked toward her and didn’t stop until he stood in front of her desk. He towered above her, his fingers pressing the glass surface of her desk as he leaned over.



“Yes, I’m—” Christ, she almost forgot her own name.



The man’s gaze fell to her legs still carelessly strewn across her desk. Her heart thundered in her ears. Warmth from his sharp exhale caressed the skin at her ankles.



“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was demanding.



“Who are you?” His tone and the gleam in his eyes rooted her to the chair. On the brink of self-doubt, she pointedly reminded herself—she was Cynthia Lewis. A woman who wielded power in the world of publishing. Yet his complete command of himself drew her. This was a man who expected others to do exactly what he said. Nothing short of her complete fantasy warrior come to life.



“I’m from the twenty-seventh floor.” He straightened and raised an eyebrow as if that piece of information should mean something to her.



She hardly got out of her own office. What department was up there? Apparently totally alpha scorching studs. This was her chance, the reason she trudged out to the reception room and hovered around the front desk each morning. She bit her lip and decided—no regrets for trying “And?” She returned his mocking raised-brow expression in an eye-for-an-eye stare down.



“I’m Thornton Maxwell…your attorney.” He turned away, but not before she caught his look of displeasure. “God. Woman, do you even know what a mess you’ve got on your hands? We need to talk. A real pressure cooker is about blow.”



Cynthia froze. This wasn’t part of her erotic fantasy. What was he talking about? Should she just come out and admit she had no idea of what was going on or get him to divulge what demanded damage control?



She pretended unconcerned boredom in an attempt to buy some time to think. “Someone’s got his panties in a real twist.”



This wasn’t the first time she’d needed legal. But if he was her new go-to man, she was tempted to screw more things up.



This was a conundrum. He was too damn good-looking. This type of man didn’t appreciate a dumbbell. Did he know how hard she worked or that sometimes contracts needed to be bent? “Explored” is what she liked to call it. Wasn’t that why McGavock Publishing hired a boatload of first-year attorneys anyway? Shoot, he was probably upset because his weekend golf game was about to be rained out.



He paced in front of her desk while raking fingers through his thick, dark hair. Cynthia noticed the way he flexed and moved his arms, his muscles pumping and expanding. He stopped, spun around, and marched back to her desk.



“Lewis, when you cross out clauses and write your own notes into a publishing contract, we don’t have a legal leg to stand on in court when an issue is disputed. The things you’ve included to get an author to sign without consulting legal is tying us in knots. The next time you promise a writer the moon, you better consult me first and NASA second. Not whatever pops into that pretty little head of yours. You need my help with this lawsuit, and I expect your cooperation. You might as well know now that’s going to mean during office hours as well as evenings and weekends.”



His finger was pointed directly in front of her face. She imagined sucking the tip until her sex-crazed brain finally grasped his message.



What? She was floored. Her stomach felt punched, the fist of surprise still lodged in her ribcage. Her mind reeled. It wasn’t possible. She was being threatened with a lawsuit for a couple of silly additions to a contract, and now this man expected her to drop everything. Was he joking? Slowly she inhaled.



“I’m innocent.” She stared back at him. “Sure, I’m not beyond bending the rules, but a lawsuit? No, that’s not possible; it’s impossible. You’ve got to help me.”



“We definitely need a sit-down. Not your usual brush-off and expectation for legal to jump through a hoop. This one is serious.” His gaze swept over her face and downward. The space between them crackled with static energy. He was more than steamed. But he was ready to step in and help her. A spasm of pleasure trilled in her veins. He was her knight in shining armor. She wasn’t the enemy. Not his at least. With all that pent-up fury of his, it was a shame to let it go to waste. He was handsome beyond belief…another time, over cocktails or at a party, she’d not think twice about what her body wanted. His dark eyes weren’t all anger…passion brewed there, pulling the cords to her attraction, making her skin tingle. Oh, my. He wanted to school her good. But maybe she could teach him a thing.