Not Quite Crazy (Page 40)

“Is that some kind of issue?” Jack asked.

“She works for us,” Trent told him.

“In marketing.”

Jack glanced at the women. “How are the other employees taking it?”

“They don’t know yet.” And Jason didn’t care what people said.

Someone close by snapped a picture of the three women.

Trent patted him on the back. “That’s about to change.”

“Jealousy runs thick, my friend. Watch her back,” Jack said.

Jason’s gaze ran over the back of her dress, what there was of it. “I plan on it.”

A few minutes later, the band switched tempo, and Jason decided to find out if Rachel liked to dance.

He took the glass from her hand and put it down on a nearby table. “Excuse us, ladies,” Jason told Monica and Jessie. “Rachel promised me a dance.”

Rachel looked at him. “I did?”

He pulled her onto the dance floor and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I haven’t touched you for ten minutes, I was having withdrawals.”

She leaned her forehead into his shoulder and giggled. “I think there are at least three people from the management team at this party,” she said. “Everyone is going to be talking on Monday.”

“Let ’em. I don’t care.”

He could tell she was thinking too much about it.

He spoke in her ear. “I will never let you and Owen down.”

She rested more comfortably in his arms as he moved them around the dance floor. When the music changed, he kept on dancing, swinging her around, making sure she was breathless. Twice he saw her adjust her dress so she wouldn’t fall out of it.

The outside air instantly cooled them off after they stopped dancing. The patio was full of people, some smoking in a far corner, others taking in the view. He took his jacket off and put it around her shoulders.

“Look at the streets.”

There were shoulder to shoulder people, the noise from the party below echoed up every building. A distant firework cracked with someone celebrating the new year a little early.

“This is a different view than when I went out with Julie,” she told him.

“We can grab our jackets and go down there if you like.”

She leaned back and let him hold her. “No. I like it up here.”

“Are you glad you moved here?” he asked.

“I am. Two months ago I would have given you a different answer.”

“What changed your mind?” he asked, fishing.

She held his arms, which wrapped around her, and kept her gaze on the skyline. “I started to get into the pace at work. Owen met a few kids he hangs out with . . .”


“I met this guy. A little cocky. Pushy, even.”

“Is that right?”

She laughed. “Yeah, but he’s cute, so I’ll give it a try.”

He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck.

Rachel shivered.


“Yeah?” he whispered in her ear.

“What are the chances of us getting a room in this hotel tonight?”

He hummed in her ear. “I already have one.”

She smiled up at him. “I suddenly have the desire to lie down.”

“Was it the helicopter ride?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t.

“No. It’s the fireworks.”

Chapter Seventeen

They didn’t make excuses, they simply slipped away.

Rachel kept expecting nerves to rush to the surface, but they didn’t.

Jason directed the elevator down two floors and walked her to a room. The corner suite offered a similar view as the party going on upstairs. The room itself was composed of a separate bedroom, a sitting area that included a dining table, and a complete minibar. A bottle of champagne was chilling on a coffee table, along with a snack tray with cheese, nuts, and fruit.

“Someone has been planning this,” she said.

“Since the night we met,” he confessed. “The hotel was a last-minute choice.”

“Last minute?” She set her coat down and turned to smile at him.

“Okay, last week.”

She gathered her purse. “I’m going to use the restroom.”

Taking a moment to herself, Rachel offered herself an out. Pros and cons of sleeping with the boss.

Pros . . . those were obvious. The sighworthy man treated her well. She assumed the sex would be worth every breath she took. He wanted her in a way she didn’t think she’d experienced before. He was gorgeous, and Rachel needed his touch more than she needed to eat.

Cons . . . her job. But it was too late for that even without intimacy. Feelings were already involved, so the damage was done. She’d come to that conclusion the night she’d found him in her bedroom, painting it.

Rachel turned to the mirror and messed with her hair.

When she finished with the bathroom, she took a fortifying breath and opened the door to her destiny.

Jason had taken off his jacket and tie and opened the bottle of champagne.

Her stomach fluttered.

He crossed the room and handed her a glass. “Nervous?” he asked.

“A little, I guess.”

“We don’t—”

“Speak for yourself.”

Jason smiled, clicked his glass to hers. “To us.”

She watched him over her glass as she drank.

He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. “I want to say something profound, but all I can think of is how beautiful you are and how lucky I am that you’re here.”

Rachel set her glass down and reached to take his. “Show me.”

Jason didn’t need any more encouragement. He reached for the back of her head and ran his thumb along her lips. He watched his slow, methodical movements.

The rough texture of his thumb pulled her bottom lip down the slightest bit, her tongue touched the tip, and her breath caught.

“I dream of these lips.”

He moved closer but didn’t take the step to kiss her. “Have you dreamt of me?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Tell me,” he said, his mouth close to hers, his hands firmly on her face, holding her.

She dared to look in his eyes, the heat in them matching the fire he was provoking in her stomach.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Rachel?”

Again, she nodded.

“Then tell me your fantasy.”

She licked her lips, found her voice. “We were in your office.”

Jason trailed one hand down her neck and over her shoulder.

“What were we doing in my office?”

“I was wearing a skirt.”

He trailed his hand down her back and over her hip. “Like this dress?”

“No. It was different. Office attire.”

“What was I doing with your skirt?” His fingers slowly crawled over the edges of the material she wore, gently pulling it up.

She attempted to kiss him, but he pulled back slightly.

“What was I doing?”

“Reaching under it.”

“I wasn’t taking it off?”

“No. We kept our clothes on.”

The coolness of the air brushed against her thighs as Jason did the things she described.

“Was I inside of you in this dream?” His voice was low, the image he brought to mind shot fire into her belly.


“On my desk?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “On your desk. Against the wall. In your chair.”