Hypnotic Seduction (The Seduction Series) (10 page)

A few minutes after three, a knock sounded on the door separating his office from the boardroom. “Yes?”

Hannah stepped inside, gnawing on her lip. “
Uhhh
, everyone’s here if you’re ready.”

He stared at her swollen mouth and the rosy flush in her cheeks, and his tongue thickened. She should only know how ready she had him. The ravenous look on her face earlier had gotten him stiffer than an overdose of Viagra. If she’d just quit all her lip-chomping, maybe he could think straight.

“Th-thanks.” He took the copies of the meeting agenda from her and held the sheaf of paper in front of his straining zipper as he stood. “You’ve still got a lot to do for the board presentation. I can handle the meeting alone today.”

Or so he thought.

Several times in the next hour, he had to ask his VPs to repeat themselves after his mind drifted back to Hannah. Every time he recalled the way she’d licked her lips and stared at him, his groin throbbed.

It made no sense. He gritted his teeth and shifted back and forth in his seat, trying to alleviate the discomfort of his tight fly. He’d never been the sort of man to allow his libido to reign over his life. And yet here he sat about to explode in his shorts.

That would be a great sight for his employees to behold—him popping his cork in the middle of a staff meeting, all because he couldn’t stop fantasizing about his assistant’s luscious mouth on his....

Damn it. Even if Hannah weren’t his secretary and even if his grandfather had no interest in her, he could never get involved with her, anyway. He liked her way too much to hurt her as he inevitably would. She was the epitome of a nurturer, meant to become someone’s wife and mother—two things he could never give her.

Maybe it was why she seemed to touch a chord in him. Why he couldn’t stop thinking about her and actually looked forward to coming to work each morning. The nurturing way she took care of him made him feel cherished. Something he’d never gotten from the woman who’d given him life.

A psychiatrist would have a field day analyzing him. His subconscious association between his mother and the woman he ached to sleep with was the granddaddy of all Oedipus complexes, making him a true Freudian mess.

Toward the end of the staff meeting, Bryce leaned toward him and muttered, “What the hell is with you today? You haven’t heard a word anyone’s said, and you’re squirming like you have a severe case of hemorrhoids.”

If only it were that simple. At least Calder made a cream to shrink those.

~*~

Finally. Hannah blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes and printed the handout sheets relating to the PowerPoint presentation for Jordan to review.

“Jordan?” She tapped on his doorjamb. “You told me to give these to you as soon as they were finished.”

He glanced up from the papers he was reading and reached for the quarterly report she extended. “Thanks. He scanned the first page with the pie chart and nodded. “This looks great.”

When he turned to the spreadsheet, his forehead creased in a deep furrow. “Half of these figures are wrong.”

“What? They can’t be. I just proofread them twice.”

“I don’t care if you proofed them a hundred times.” He stabbed his finger at a number in parentheses. “I think I’d know if the Baby Care division is operating in the red.”

He laid the typed spreadsheet next to the handwritten photocopy he’d retained and began checking off each number that was different.

Hannah leaned over his shoulder and frowned at the half dozen typos he’d already marked. She might not have been the fastest to graduate from her typing classes, but she had the distinction of being the most accurate. She didn’t normally make many mistakes. Could she have been that flustered after seeing Jordan
get so turned on
?

Callie’s warning echoed in Hannah’s mind, making her stomach churn.
JC’s a fair man, but he’s not afraid to fire someone who makes too many mistakes or spends her days drooling on his mail.

Two for two. Lord, she couldn’t afford to lose her job.

He flipped to the next page, and his pen continued slashing.

One thing was certain. The next time Edward took her to lunch, she wasn’t drinking a single drop of anything but water.

Assuming she still had a job next week.

Jordan leafed through the rest of the report. “More typos. What the hell is going on here, Hannah?”

“I-I don’t understand how I could’ve missed all that.”

“Do you have any idea how incompetent I’d
seem
if I presented this to the board?”

“You think I’d purposely try to make you look like a fool?”

His silence told her the possibility had crossed his mind.

“I can’t believe you think I’d do something like that.”

“I’m sorry. Please understand experience has given me reason to be cynical when it comes to women. You wouldn’t be the first one to work me over.”

“Believe
me,
I realize how important it is for you to make a good impression on the directors.”

“I know you do.” He handed his photocopy and the printed report to her. “Please accept my apology and correct this.”

Shaking her head, she wandered back to her desk and glanced at the clock. It was already six-thirty. She couldn’t spend precious time agonizing over why or how she’d messed this up.

She sank in front of her computer and keyed in the revisions, checking each number individually against the photocopy Jordan had given her. When she finished, she read it over several times to be sure there were no additional mistakes.

“Are you nearly finished?” He strolled out to her office and leaned on the side desk of her L-shaped workstation, casting a shadow over her and the computer.

“I’ve double-checked it,” she said and handed him the printout. “But you’d better proofread it to make sure I caught all the mistakes.”

“Let’s do it together,” he suggested, leaning in so close, she could smell his spicy aftershave. “You call out the figures I gave you, and I’ll check them.”

After rattling off the first column of numbers, she paused. “I’m not going too fast, am I?”

She glanced up and found his nose inches from her hair and his attention trained on the nape of her neck rather than the page he was supposed to be checking. Their gazes locked for several tense moments. The office was so quiet, she was certain he could hear her heart hammering. Or was that his?

Finally, he broke the deafening silence. “You—” His husky voice cracked like a pubescent
boy’s
. He cleared his throat and started again. “You smell nice.”

“Th-thank you.” She glanced up at him. “But you don’t seem to be concentrating.”

He straightened and tossed the printout onto the desk. “This looks good. I’m confident you fixed everything.”

“You really should review the actual presentation in the conference room.”

“Isn’t it the same as what’s on these pages?”

“Not exactly. Those are the handouts that correspond to it. I’ve added some graphics and special effects that I think you’ll like. You might want to practice what you’re planning to say in conjunction with each slide to perfect the timing.”

He nodded and stared at her mouth, not uttering a word.

“Jordan? Do you want a preview?”

Raking his gaze down her body, he breathed out a nearly inaudible, “Hell, yeah.” He blinked and lifted his gaze to hers. “Umm, sorry. Can you stay a little longer and set it up?”

Did she dare? All afternoon she’d kept picturing Jordan naked. If she were intelligent, she’d go home and drown her libido in wonton soup and watch a Hugh
Jackman
movie to help push her boss’s muscular body out of her mind. Instead, she said, “Sure. No problem.”

Okay, so her IQ must lean more toward idiot than genius.

As Hannah followed him into his office, he loosened the top button on his shirt, and she held her breath in anticipation. She had to get a grip on herself. “It’s better if we finish up tonight. I’ll undoubtedly be busy Tuesday morning preparing for the meeting, so you’d better take advantage of me now while you can.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered and tugged off his tie.

“Huh?

“Ignore me. I’m just so
horn
—hungry I’m talking to myself.” He sauntered to the bar and opened the freezer. “What’s your pleasure? Beef stroganoff or chicken
Marsala
?”

Her pleasure? How about him tearing off her clothes and ravishing her? She mentally pulled herself up short. She was really losing it.

When her stomach growled, she glanced at the clock, surprised it was almost seven-fifteen. “They both sound great.”

“Okay. I’ll heat one of each, and we’ll share.” He dug two small glass casseroles out and peeled the frosty rubber lids off them. “Our housekeeper, Elaine, packs up leftovers for the freezer here, so I have something to eat when I work late.”

“You said
our
housekeeper. Who—”

“Edward.” Jordan placed the first casserole in the microwave and started it.

“I didn’t realize he lives with you.”

“Technically,
I
live with
him
.” He pulled a bottle of merlot from the wine rack. “When your grandfather lives in a mansion with five garages on a thirty-seven acre estate and has live-in servants to take care of him, it seems a bit ridiculous to buy a condo.”

Even after a whole month of working for Jordan, she still didn’t know much about his personal life other than he’d dated and sent flowers to at least six different women in four weeks.

The messages he’d dictated for the florist’s cards were always some variation of, ‘Thanks for a great evening,’ and the closing was always just Jordan—never
Love
Jordan or even
Affectionately
or
Warmest regards
. He’d left it up to Hannah to decide what kind of flowers to send but had stipulated that she should never order roses.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Are you allergic to roses, or do you just dislike them?”

“No.” He chuckled, easing out the wine bottle’s cork. “What I’m
allergic
to is the meaning women read into roses. Especially red ones. For some reason, they see them as a profession of love, and right away, they start talking marriage.”

Hannah removed a couple of plates from the cabinet and then two sets of silverware from the drawer. “I think Edward would be ecstatic if you sent a few roses. He’s concerned about the number of women you date.”

“That’s only because he wants great-grandchildren.” Jordan smiled at her sideways and slid two wine glasses from the rack under the cabinet. “You know, I don’t date as many women as everyone thinks. I’ve been seeing the same six ladies exclusively for over a year—each about twice a month.”

“Not so often that they might get romantic ideas about your relationship, huh?”

“Exactly.” He poured some merlot into a glass and handed it to her.

Breathing in the wine’s sweet bouquet, she tasted it and stared over the rim of her goblet at his sensual mouth sipping from his glass. How would his lips feel on hers? Coaxing? Tender? Demanding?

“Don’t look at me that way. It’s obvious what you’re thinking.”

She certainly hoped not. Clearly he thought she was wondering if he slept with all of them. And to be honest, she was. “And what would that be?”

He pulled the first casserole dish from the microwave and slid the second one in to heat. “
No
.” He shook his head. “The last thing I should be discussing with you is my sex life.” He spooned some creamy stroganoff onto each of their plates and snorted. “I don’t know why I even started this conversation.” He raised one hand. “No, wait. I do know why. It’s that disapproving little pout you get every time I give you a new address to send flowers.”

Her opinion of him mattered? A warm feeling swelled in her chest. “I didn’t think you cared what people thought of you.”

“I don’t.” A deep crevice split his forehead. “Usually. But just so you don’t think I’m a total creep—my dates all know I see other women, and I’ve told them about the nature of each of my relationships.”

“So none of them have any expectation of a long-term commitment down the road?”

“Nope. That’s part of the reason I continue dating them.” He sat next to her and dug into his meal, his spicy sandalwood aftershave mingling with the food’s heavenly aroma.

Hannah tasted the noodles smothered in a beef and mushroom sauce. “Mmmm, this is delicious. So what have you got against marriage?” Judging from what he’d said about
being worked over
earlier, it was clear at least one woman had betrayed him. “You sound like you put Holy matrimony on a par with capital punishment.”

fan•
ta•size
  v. 1. To portray in the mind; imagine. To indulge in fantasies.

Extreme caution
must be used
in fantasizing, lest one forces it into reality.

“More like Holy acrimony,” Jordan muttered as the microwave beeped. Why were all women so damn eager to see a man shackled? “Have you seen the divorce rate in this country?”

He might have been only eleven when his mother walked out, but he had a clear memory of the cold war that had raged between his parents.

“Yes, I have. At least sixty percent of the couples live happily ever after. And I recently read the divorce rate is actually dropping.”

Jordan raised his hands. “Hey, I was just kidding. I really don’t have anything against the institution of marriage. I think it’s great.
For other people
.”

The only way he would ever consider marriage would be if he could have what his grandparents had shared—something rare and special. Sadly, that would never happen.

Inasmuch as he liked the fairer sex and enjoyed women’s company, the shame his mother had heaped on him before abandoning him and the guilt and self-loathing his college girlfriend, Marcy, had saddled him with had left him incapable of ever trusting anyone enough to marry them.

“I’m really not a womanizer, Hannah.” In fact, he only slept with a couple of the women he dated since he had no interest in contracting an STD. His two lovers were just as careful as he was about getting tested and limiting how many partners they had. “I wouldn’t mind an exclusive relationship, except the whole world”—namely his grandfather—“and the lady involved might read some significance into it. I don’t want to give anyone false hope that we’re more than just friends.”