LITMIR.BIZ

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      Rock solid, she thought, giving his butt a discreet once-over while he wasn’t looking at her. His very male ass had those hollows at the side that she preferred, and curving muscle that would be great to hang onto while he gave her a hot, hard fuck.

      From behind. Or on top of her, spreading her legs really wide so he could go deep. No. Making her spread her legs wide. For him. Mmm. Oh yes. He would have the upper hand—she wanted him to. It was a fantasy she’d always wanted to explore.

      But not with any of the lethargic college dudes she’d dated. As for the stockbrokers and traders in Chicago, they didn’t cut it either. In general, they were too obsessed with themselves and their career trajectories. And a lot of them were too into coke, for that matter, and not the kind that was served over ice. So she was a virgin when it came to her deep, dark fantasies. Lara blushed.

      He straightened and looked at her. “Hot in here,” he said conversationally. “You’ve gone a bit red in the face.”

      “Have I?” Lara managed a prim little smile.

      “I’m really sorry about this, Lara,” he said, thoroughly exasperated. He folded his hand into a fist and slammed it against the panel. “Fuck!”

      “You can use the intercom to call the guard.” She pointed to the panel and a circle of holes in the polished steel that she assumed was an intercom.

      Adam scowled and jabbed the red button underneath the circle, speaking into it. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? The bloody fucking lift broke down—hello?”

      There was no reply. No electronic beep or boop. Not even the crackle of static.

      “Guess that’s broken too,” Lara said.

      He uncurled the fist and flexed his fingers. He’d used his left hand, so Lara noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, for what that was worth. Maybe Englishmen didn’t. But married men didn’t always bother with rings, in her experience. That was a park she definitely didn’t play in.

      Lara sighed and leaned against the wall, looking in her purse for her cell phone, then remembering that she hadn’t bought a sim card for it before she’d left. She had the phone but it was useless and she guessed that he didn’t have one on him, since he’d only come down to get her. She couldn’t very well pull out the laptop in her bag and e for help.

      It was getting hot in the stuck elevator, but at least her hair wasn’t so frizzy now. She patted it back into a semblance of a style, then straightened her skirt and pulled down her jacket.

      He looked at her while she did.

      His hazel eyes seemed to get darker, shadowed by the thick lashes. His gaze was restless and thoughtful at the same time, as if he was thinking about…the same thing she was thinking about. Adam Bowlin was totally masculine and incredibly sexy. She didn’t have to be trapped in a five-by-five foot space to appreciate just how sexy, of course, but it didn’t hurt. The outside world had effectively vanished and it was just the two of them, alone together. Her. Him. Behind closed doors.

      Lara pressed her thighs together, aware of the aroused moisture trapped by her panties. He could pull them down and taste that female sweetness with one big finger. He could move on and up to her nipples, which were straining against the sheer bra under her demure blouse. He could kiss her with passionate roughness and pull her skirt up so she could writhe around his mighty thigh and make herself come while he treated her to a bare-bottom spanking for being so bad.

      He could do anything he wanted to her. Fantasy was so fabulous. The absolute reverse of real. Standing up, she thought about being tied down and made to mind her manners; fully dressed, she thought about getting her clothes ripped off. She smiled at him, not so politely.

      They both straightened when they heard a distant clank.

      “There,” she said encouragingly. “Any minute now.”

      Adam scowled. Still somewhat lost in thought, he looked her over again…then reached out and gently tucked a lock of still-straggly hair behind her ear. “You’re very pretty, Lara,” he said with a smile.

      The elevator started with a jerk and she stumbled. He took her arm and kept her on her feet. The action was gentlemanly, but his firm touch sent a sensual thrill right through her. He held on until she was balanced and then let her go.

      They reached the uppermost floor at last without saying anything more, but Lara was completely flustered. She let out a ragged breath and smoothed her hair nervously as they exited.

      “You look fine, don’t worry. In fact, you look fantastic. Sorry I couldn’t see you until late, by the way. The day’s almost over, but my assistant had me scheduled for too many things. She’s waiting in my office.”

      “Oh.” He had an assistant—well, of course. But did it have to a female one? How unfair. Lara braced herself to be condescended to again. Unless Adam was really very intelligent and had a plain-looking assistant so he could get his work done without distraction.

      Lara didn’t particularly want to meet whoever it was at the moment. This was her interview, her big chance to impress Adam Bowlin, her opportunity to—just shut up. There had to be plenty of women buzzing around Adam Bowlin.

      “I’m looking forward to seeing the inner sanctum,” she said brightly. “Lead the way.”

      “Are you?” He gave her a lazy grin. “Fair warning. It’s a shambles.” He held the door open for her, and Lara entered a vast executive suite paneled in more steel. Or wallpaper that looked like steel. There was a block of glass that served as a table with, yup, steel beams for legs. So industrial.

      Something that resembled a sofa in that it was long, and looked like robots would find it comfortable, was at the center of the room. Its space-age upholstery was picked out with steel rivets. There was a matching chair next to an enormous window with a drab view of crowded buildings. No paper in sight. She didn’t know quite what she’d been expecting—stacks of money, maybe.

      “Cozy, isn’t it?”

      Lara just looked at him.

      He laughed. “I call it the Hostile Takeover room. It’s meant to intimidate.”

      “Who?”

      “Venture capitalists.” Adam grinned. “Investment bankers. CEOs and CFOs. And anyone else who needs intimidating.”

      She didn’t know whether to laugh or shiver. “Does it work?”

      He nodded. “So far, yes. But it’s rather oppressive, really. I don’t work in here. Come this way.” He motioned her around a projecting wall and into a much smaller space surrounded by glass brick.

      “Penelope?” He looked around, then smiled at Lara. “I expect she’s gone out for a tick.”

      “Oh.” This room looked like where a man like Adam would work. Lara took in a bank of monitors displaying real-time information from stock markets and exchanges all around the world. Above those were wall-mounted flat-screen TVs with talking heads spouting financial news from different nations in different languages.

      Bewildering. And hypnotizing. Where she might be working with Adam if she were lucky. At up close and personal distance.

      She glanced at the peach-colored copies of the Financial Times strewn around. She’d read the London-based paper in Chicago and the Wall Street Journal every damn day. Part of her job as assistant to Jason Pratt III was cutting down the major articles to a few lines for him, and Jason had a short attention span.

      So she’d stayed on top of US and international markets, and learned the ropes day by day. Numbers and analyses were only part of it. Financial movers and shakers operated on animal instinct, howling out trades and calls in the pit and even at their computers, getting lathered up over the stupidest shit and pawing the ground everywhere they went.

      Big, swinging dicks, one and all, to the glee of lawyers who specialized in high-profile sexual harassment

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