Taking Care of Business

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He arched a brow and attempted a wink. “I can work with that.”

She winked back. It was a quick movement, almost unnoticed because she was turning away from him. But he saw it and he liked it. A woman who winked. And then she pushed the Stop button back in. Except, of course, the elevator didn’t move. His phone was in control of the lift.

She pulled the button out again, then pushed it back. Nothing happened. “So,” she said, “how do I start the elevator back up?”

“Hold on.” He’d been scanning the area for his phone, finally sighting it on the floor next to the first glass panel. He picked it up and thumbed it to life. A few taps later, the elevator hummed into motion.

“And here I thought it was the Stop button,” she said, her voice laced with humor.

“You have no idea how hard that was to arrange,” he returned.

Her musical laugh was the last thing he heard before the doors dinged open on the garage floor. She stepped out. He would have followed but she stopped him.

“No need,” she said, pointing to her beat-up Camry. “I’m right over there.”

She didn’t want him following her. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, but he still thumbed the app on his phone. The elevator froze open.

“I’ll just wait here to make sure you get into your car okay.” He shrugged. “I want to be your only stalker tonight.”

She nodded again, and he saw relief in her expression. “Thanks.”

Then she turned away and crossed to her car. He watched her the whole way, waiting until her car pulled out of its spot and drove down the ramp.

Three weeks. There was a lot he could do in that time. But only if he got busy right now.

5

JULIE PIROUETTED IN HER apartment. There was almost no room between her bed and the walls, but she did it nonetheless, loving the feel of her skirt swirling out from her legs. In truth, this was a spring dress meant for being flirty and fun. Bold white-and-red flowers covered the light cotton material. It was definitely not intended as a work outfit in the fall. But she paired it with a severe red jacket—which made it warm enough—and do-me red pumps which made it perfect for her promise to Sam.

She stopped her spin, and her skirt twisted back down around her legs. It took only a moment for the fabric to settle, but it took her mind a lot longer.

Was she really doing this? Was she really going to have hot office sex without thought to a relationship? To the man?

Yes! Or rather … maybe. After all, she did know something about Sam, even if she was trying to pretend that he was anonymous Elevator Man. Beside the obvious physical attributes—tall, strong, pecs of steel and extremely nimble fingers—she knew he was thoughtful enough to bring condoms and make sure she got to her car okay. She knew he was employed at a regular job, and that he had the sexiest smile—half challenge, half predator. When they’d met in the elevator—not just last night, but for the last seven weeks—he’d been there looking for her.

It wasn’t PC. From one light, she could think of it as creepy. Except that she had invited him to stalk her. She had wiggled against him, let him touch her breasts, and then shared a great deal more long before last night’s events. And boy was last night an event! God, she’d never orgasmed so intensely or so long in her life!

And then there was that other moment. It was bizarre, but she couldn’t forget when he’d looked at her face, touched her cheek and said, “You’re so beautiful.” It sounded like a line, but it hadn’t felt like one. His eyes had been wide, as if he were looking at her for the first time, and there had been surprise and awe in his voice. Awe. For her!

If only she had the time to get to know him better, to find out if they could have more than just hot times in the hallway. But the minute she thought that, she mentally shied away. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. In fact, she wanted the polar opposite. She wanted a distraction from her life, from the fact that her glorious foray into big-city advertising had ended in inglorious defeat. Web Wit and Wonder had failed. All that was left was to gather up her broken dreams and go home.

Under those circumstances, who wouldn’t want a wild, meaningless fling in the elevator? Especially if it resulted in orgasms that went on forever! But she couldn’t forget that it was only a distraction. That as fun as it was to wear do-me heels and a flirty skirt, she still had to cancel her accounts, close up the office and pack up her things.

Her eyes teared at that thought. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at her cell phone. She had to call her parents. She had to tell them she was coming back home and ask if she could sleep in her old bedroom. She had to confess to all and sundry that little Julie with the big dreams was really only suited for writing hardware store ads and sale announcements for the quilting society.

Her step was a lot less jaunty as she left her tiny apartment. By the time she had made it to her Camry, though, she was thinking of other ways to drum up business. Was there more marketing work somewhere? Their company was web based, specializing in internet advertising. But maybe there some print work to do. Maybe someone would hire them for newspaper advertising. By the time she pulled into her spot in the garage, she had to sit for ten minutes jotting down a list of places to check and things to do. If it weren’t for the click of her heels on the garage floor, she might even have forgotten Sam.

She glanced at her watch. She was behind her usual schedule because of the extra time she’d taken to dress. The elevator doors swooped open, and she quickly scanned the interior. He wasn’t there. Just three men in business suits and one jeans-clad engineer from the robotics company. The sight of his faded denim and loose tee made her flash on Sam’s attire last night and she smiled. Then she was surprised as the engineer gasped and colored all the way up to his ears.

Oops. Apparently, thinking sexy thoughts had made her into a walking sex kitten. She consciously toned it down, turned a blank face to the closing elevator doors, and tried to think about her to-do list. If nothing else, that would sober her right up.

But she couldn’t do it. Instead, her mind wandered over what she and Sam had done in this very elevator. Weirdly, she didn’t linger on the waves of ecstasy, but on the moments leading up to orgasm. There was power in his voice. Or maybe the better word was self-assurance. As if he daily commanded people to do things, and they automatically obeyed. She certainly had. Sure he’d made jokes about being in the service industry, and he certainly dressed the part of building maintenance, but truthfully, the job didn’t fit the feel of the man.

Sam had a strength about him, a confidence in his ability to arrange the world to his choosing. She responded to that power in him. She liked that he was masterful and that he had chosen to master her.

The elevator doors slid open and she had to walk down the long hallway to her office suite. The place was well lit, the security cameras hung discreetly high. It was one of the reasons she’d picked this building. The security was first-rate but still unobtrusive. So unobtrusive, in fact, that she usually forgot all about the cameras.

But she looked at them now with new eyes. Was Sam using them to watch her? Was he sitting in his coveralls, his large hand wrapped around a coffee mug, while he followed her on some monitor? The very idea gave her a little thrill.

She glanced up and down the hallway. At the moment, there was no one here. Very well then. He had left her high and dry in the elevator this morning, perhaps she’d get a little revenge. She walked until she was in perfect alignment with the camera nearest her office door. Then she “accidentally” dropped her purse.

She took her time leaning down to pick it up. She bent from the waist, keeping her legs straight and her butt high. The camera would have an excellent view of her bottom, long legs and do-me pumps. And then, when she picked up her purse, she let the edge of it catch the fabric of her skirt. As she lifted up the bag, her skirt went with it.

She waited a moment, straightening equally slowly as she pretended to root in her purse. Inch by inch, her full thigh was exposed to the camera. It went all the way up to the edge of her thigh-high hose and the red lace garter that matched her do-me heels. Then she pretended to discover her mistake. A shift and a wiggle later, and her skirt fluttered back down in place. Show over. Except for one thing.

She twisted to look directly up at the camera and winked. Then she strutted—yes, strutted—her way into her office. Sure, she had a mountain of details to mow through. Sure, she had a daunting pile of bills and a tiny pile of possibilities. But for this moment in time, she felt silly sexy. Who knew flashing a security camera could be so much fun?

SAM STARED AT THE MONITOR, his morning coffee forgotten amidst the press of his sudden, rock-hard erection. He’d meant to just glance at the monitors. He’d meant to drink his coffee, wait for Julie to get to work and then prepare his notes for this morning’s meeting. Nothing earth shattering.

He hadn’t counted on her doing a bend and wiggle right in front of the camera. How had she known he’d be watching for her? He’d been doing so for weeks. She’d never before given any indication that she even knew the camera was there.

Well, she had now! And he had the boner to prove it. He pressed the button to rewind the recording. He shouldn’t torture himself, but he couldn’t stop. In superspeed, she backed up out of her office, retrieved, then dropped her purse, then backed into the elevator. Another button push and she was moving forward again, this time in slow motion.

Step. Step. Pause. A glance at the camera. Right there was when she’d figured him out. And then … the show.

Oh, God, she was even more glorious in slow motion. And what was that on her creamy thigh? He froze the image and zoomed in. Red lace. His mouth went dry and his hands clenched with the need to touch her. He was going to drag that lace down her leg with his teeth!

“Welcome to the depressing Thursday report,” Roger said as he sauntered into the lab.

Sam slammed his hand down on his keyboard, instantly shifting the screens to CNN. He’d tied his personal bank of computers to the security system after his very first elevator encounter with Julie. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be caught peeping by his CFO. His Everest-sized hard-on was a little more difficult to hide, but he swiveled in his chair and pulled in tight to his desk. Let the paper-strewn monstrosity cover his own monstrosity.

Pasting on a fake bleary-eyed look, he peered over his coffee mug at his best friend. “You really ought to find a better way to greet your boss this early in the morning.”

Roger was undeterred. Dressed in a gray suit, red power tie and Italian leather shoes, he grabbed a lab stool and hauled it over. But he didn’t sit. Instead, he snagged a rag and wiped off the metal spinning disk before gingerly setting his briefcase down on it.

“I’ve got reports, more reports, and then just for fun, some paperwork for you to sign,” he said as he pulled out thick packets of stapled papers. “All of them say one thing: I do not like this economy.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t think you’re alone in that.”

“We’ve got to do something about it.”

“The whole economy?”

“Just our little slice of it.” Roger pulled a black pen out of his pocket and passed it to Sam. “Sign here and here and here.”

Sam frowned and reached up to the huge, lighted, magnifying glass that swung above his desk. It was meant for people to use when doing detailed circuit board work, but Sam needed it for more than just that.

“Why don’t you get glasses like a normal person?” Roger asked.

Sam started scanning through the pages. “I have contacts.”

“That need reading glasses instead of that huge monstrosity.”

“This is bigger. Can’t lose this or sit on it,” he responded as he flipped a page in the contract, doing his best to concentrate as he read.

“You’re a multimillionaire,” Roger groused. “You should get stylish lenses that make you appear sophisticated and—”

“Geriatric.”

“Better than a doofus.”

Sam didn’t answer. He had a rare eye condition that left him visually impaired. Fortunately, technology and medicine had advanced enough that he could read a monitor and see distance objects with the aid of hard contact lenses that reshaped his eyeballs and magically filled in the ripples in his cornea. Close-up work, however, required a shift in magnification or a different pair of lenses. That was one of the reasons why he’d first started working on circuit boards so long ago. Everyone needed to use a lighted magnifying glass to do that, so he hadn’t felt handicapped.

Right now, he had on his distance lenses so he could watch Julie on the monitor. That meant he needed help to read the contract. Instead of reading glasses that made him feel like an old man, he chose to use the massive wall-mounted contraption that made him look like an engineer.

Sam sighed and scrawled his signature on the appropriate lines, then leaned back in his chair. He had to get his mind off of Julie and back onto his company. “So, do you really have Thursday-morning depression to report? More than a general I-hate-this-economy?”

Roger swooped up the signed contract and popped it into his briefcase. “Sadly, yes. We’re not selling enough robots.”