Maddy Collated: The Complete Trilogy (6 page)

“
Maddy
,” he murmured, “
have
people said that to you?”

“What do you care?” she snapped. “You just want me to stay away from Sam so he won't end up in the tabloids.”

Chet shook his head. “No, that's not it. Although,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “it's probably very, very bad for the CEO to date an employee like that. We could get in big trouble.”

Maddy
hadn't had a date—a
real
date—in almost a year. If Sam wanted to take her out on a date, she was going to pounce on that opportunity. She would just bet he knew some great restaurants. “Then we'll just have to be quiet about it,” she said.
“
If
he actually wants to date me and not just fuck me.”
She wouldn't mind that either, though it would be harder to guard
herself
against getting hurt if that were the case.

Chet pressed his lips together, clearly unhappy. “
Maddy
,” he said, “I swear, I'm not trying to warn you off from Sam because of appearances. Sam is not...” He appeared to search for the word. “Good relationship material,” he finally said. He looked faintly embarrassed, as he should have, because that was the lamest excuse in the world.

“So what?”
Maddy
asked. “What makes you think I want a relationship with him?”

Chet scowled at her. “Nothing!” he said. “Nothing makes me think that, I just... wait, why am
I
on the defensive, here?”

“I don't know,”
Maddy
said primly. “Maybe you have something to be defensive about.”

He leaned across the table, the full force of his icy glare turned on her.
Maddy
could see why he intimidated just about everyone in the business world. Too bad it didn't prevent her from having the same reaction. She tried to shrink into her chair.

“I have nothing to be defensive about,” he said, his voice so low she could barely make it out. “I am merely trying to keep you from getting hurt. You don't know Sam. He's a man who enjoys women. He makes people love him without even thinking about it, sometimes without them even knowing they're falling for him. He will draw you in and break your heart, and
god
fucking
forbid
I actually like you enough to tell you that.”

Her heart tripped a little at that, which was pretty pathetic.
Maddy
hated feeling
pathetic,
and she grasped desperately for a way to diffuse the feeling. She tried to make a joke. “Oh?” she said. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

That was the wrong fucking joke.

Icy fire blazed in Chet's eyes and his jaw clamped shut as his nostrils flared.
“That's ridiculous,” he spat.
“Why would I be jealous of
you?”

It took a second for his words to sink in because she was busy watching her life pass before her eyes, but when they did they were quite a shock. “I... I didn't think you
would
be jealous of me,” she said. Her mouth fell open. “I mean...
are
you?”

Panic flitted across Chet's face, so fleeting that if she had blinked she would have missed it. “Of course not!” he said, but his eyes darted to the side, and it suddenly hit her.

“Oh,” she said.
“Oh.”

Chet was in love with his best friend.

That's what had been passing between them last night.
That
was the dark, heavy presence in the air between them. Chet wanted Sam, and Sam hadn't known, and Chet had taken the opportunity she had presented to indulge his unrequited love. If she hadn't been the one standing between them, it would have been tragically romantic.

As it was, it was more awkward than anything.

“Forget it.” Chet stood, tossing his napkin down. “Forget I said anything at all.”

A pang hit her in the chest. “Chet,” she said, “I'm sorry. I won't say anything.”

“There's nothing
to
say,” he snapped at her. “I have to go.” But he didn't go anywhere, simply stood there and ran his hands through his hair as small group of people entered the coffee shop.
Maddy
glanced at them, then back at Chet. If they hadn't already noticed Chet, they would at any moment. Their conversation was over.

Maddy
stood up, too. “All right,” she said quietly. She groped for the right words. “If you want me to try to... I don't know, feel him out and see what he thinks about,
er
, our previous meeting, I could...?”

He didn't look at her. “No,” he said. “He won't even look at me now. So just go. Do whatever you want. It was stupid of me to say anything. You were
right,
it's none of my business. If you want to...” His eyes darted to the group of people who were now whispering fiercely to each other and trying to be sneaky about it. He had been spotted. “...If you want to work with Sam on this, you have my blessing.”

She didn't. She could see that. Her heart ached for him.
And also for herself.
She'd liked Sam. She'd liked Chet, too.

“All right, Mr. Taylor.” She paused,
then
decided to take the plunge. “For what it's worth, I really enjoyed our meeting last night. Thank you.”

He looked at her in surprise, but she felt they had bared their souls to each other enough for one day. She smiled and ducked her head, then turned and walked out of the coffee shop.

The elevator was just around the corner, and she was relieved when it opened immediately when she pushed the button. There was a whole gaggle of businessmen inside, higher-ups that no doubt worked fifteen floors above her and who were clearly annoyed at having to stop for a lowly peon on the second floor. They flashed her looks of irritation tinged with disgust as they shuffled out of her way. She stared at the floor and got in, trying to make herself as small as possible.

A large hand slapped against the elevator door.
Maddy's
heart picked up as Chet pushed the doors open and glared at the people gathered inside.

Silence reigned.

“Who here doesn't know my name?” he barked.

No one answered.

“Then all of you get out, or you're fired.” Those icy blue eyes caught hers.
“Except you, Miss Marcos.
You stay.”

She couldn't breathe. She barely felt the movement of bodies around her as the rest of her fellow passengers shuffled quickly out of the elevator. When it was empty except for her, Chet stalked inside and smashed his hand against the button, sending the doors sliding closed again.

The second they were alone, Chet was on her.

“Oh,”
Maddy
said, but it was swallowed by Chet's mouth. His full lips worked against her own, his teeth nipping at her, begging entrance, and a swell of desire rose up in her, bearing her up into him. She opened before him, her whole body blooming under his touch. His hands brushed roughly over her jaw, catching her hair and holding her to him as he slowly backed her against the wall. His hard body pressed into her softness, and
Maddy
felt faint.

Memories of the night before surfaced, the feel of him against her back, the roughness of his cock pushing into her ass, the way he rode her, the way his tongue—now warring with hers for dominance—had licked and suckled her clit, had laved her slick folds until she came around his questing fingers. Warmth and moisture flooded between her legs, and
Maddy
moaned, distantly grateful that both his hard, muscled body and the wall of the elevator were there to hold her up. She was melting in his arms like wax.

Beneath her fingers his suit jacket was fine, and she grabbed it and pulled him closer, needing to feel him. Against the softness of her belly, the softness she had always hated, the hard length of his erect cock pushed insistently. His hips moved, a slow, languorous thrust into her, and Chet groaned into her mouth.

Then, abruptly, he broke away.

“No,” she told him. Her hands, of their own accord, skated down and around his body and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer. His cock rubbed against her again and he shook in her arms, putting a hand out against the wall to hold himself up.

“Jesus,
Maddy
,” he said. Hastily he took a step back and she let go with reluctance. It was a good thing she did, too, because the elevator doors opened. She hadn't even noticed they were at their destination.

Shit.
Why couldn't she have worked on the thirtieth floor instead of the eighth?

He was breathing hard, matching hers, but within seconds, before he turned and held the door for her, he had regained control.
Mostly.
His breath still came ragged, but he spoke evenly.

“I hope you'll consider what we talked about, Miss Marcos,” he said.

Maddy
couldn't even talk. She just ran her hands through her hair and adjusted her purse, hoping she looked presentable. “I hope
you
will, Mr. Taylor,” she shot back. Head held high, she marched out of the elevator and onto her floor.

“Miss Marcos.”

She turned.

He glared at her. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he swallowed. “Maybe a little jealous of him, too,” he said, and let the doors slide closed.

*

Sam Lake had a problem.

This was not ideal, as Sam Lake usually had no problems, only opportunities, and that was good enough for him. Sam Lake did not like problems. The only thing he liked about problems was that if he ignored them long enough they usually went away. Or Chet handled them. Problems were Chet's territory.

The problem was that Chet
was
the problem, and since Sam usually dealt with his problems by ignoring them he was now forced to ignore Chet. Which was kind of a problem in and of
itself
since they worked together.
And talked all the time.
And usually did lunch.
And sometimes dinner.
And clubbed together.
And went to each others' family Thanksgiving dinners, and played
raquetball
together, and so on and so forth, and really, if he was going to have to ignore Chet, he was going to need to find a substitute for all those things and
that
just made him want to put his head in an oven.

So, upon consideration, he most likely had two problems.

Sam winced at his reflection in the glass of his office window. See? Just by dwelling on his problem instead of ignoring it, it had somehow multiplied from one to two. That's what he got for thinking about things.

Turning away from the window, Sam glanced at his clock again.
Still before eleven.
Damnit
.
He was having lunch with
Maddy
—and hopefully more than lunch, if he could get away with it—and he was looking forward to it. In fact, it was pretty much the only thing he had to take his mind off of his problem.
Pro
blems
.
Even though, he supposed, she had inadvertently caused the problem in the first place. The problem he wasn't thinking about.
Because it was...

Confusing.

Well, shit,
Sam thought. Turning away from the window he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away his exhaustion and confusion. He spotted his decanters and crossed the room to them, pouring himself a finger of scotch and swallowing it in one gulp.

He looked at the clock again.

Barely ten forty-five.

“Fuck
this,”
Sam said aloud to no one there, put his empty glass down, and strode to the door of the office. Reaching out, he flung it open.

His assistant, Anna, dropped the glossy magazine she had been reading and started frantically typing on her computer, trying to look busy. Sam ignored her and stalked down the hall to the elevators. Mashing his hand against the button, he waited for it to answer his summons.

He was going to go get
Maddy
right now, he decided, and they were going to go out for lunch. Or go out to fuck, and then get lunch. Or go out, get lunch, fuck, then have a snack. And fuck again.

If she was up for it, that is, but, given last night and her easy acceptance of his invitation this morning, she probably would be. She was...
different.
Just thinking about her made his dick twitch with remembered desire. Her luscious curves had filled his
hands,
her sweet soft body had consumed him. Her breasts—delicious and huge and completely real—had closed around his cock and milked it dry as she writhed under him.

God, she had been so willing last night, but in a way that lacked the desperation of his more recent conquests. As if she just wanted to enjoy
herself
and wasn't thinking of their drunken screw as an audition for the part of girlfriend. It was refreshing, to say the least.