Penthouse Perfect: BBW Erotic Romance

Penthouse Perfect

By

Carolina Moon

Copyright © 2013 ButtonFly Books

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief (200 words or less) quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Penthouse Perfect

Lia Davies was staring blankly at herself in the mirrored elevator walls when the chime sounded, interrupting her thoughts. Blinking, she realized that she was going up instead of down. She sighed and curled her fingers into loose fists, then tried in vain to loosen the muscles in her shoulders.
What next? I’m already twenty minutes late for work because of this damned elevator.

No wonder there was never anyone else on this elevator. It was faster to walk.

She and the maintenance guy Tim had tried to get her car battery to charge, to no avail, so she’d had to run back upstairs to change out of her grease-stained dress and call her boss to warn him of her impending but momentary absence. The problem was that this stupid elevator was so. Freakin’. Slow. By the time she got to her home phone, she was already ten minutes late.

And now, instead of going down to her bus ride – the car didn’t start at all – she was headed up.

Part of the problem was the size of the building. It was fifty-two stories in all, and she had inherited her Gran’s apartment on the twenty-first floor. It was a lovely apartment, but very far from the ground. Gran had loved it, because of the view, but then Gran hadn’t had to get to work on time every day.

At least it’s
got
an elevator.

Why? It wouldn’t hurt you to climb a few stairs.

HA! On the twenty-first floor, that would be three hundred and fifteen stairs. No thank you, brain.

You could do that. In fact, you should - twice a day. You could be a size ten in no time.

I could be crippled, too. Or dead of a heart attack. Remember – if I die, you die.

Her brain had no answer for that.

Just as she began to gloat over her silent victory, the chime announced the penthouse, the smooth doors slid open and Joel Cortran stepped inside, looking through some sort of leather book. Today he was wearing a black suit with a silk dress shirt, but the jacket was thrown carelessly over his arm.

Sigh-worthy.

Definitely.

I’m glad we agree.

Like it matters.

The man was so far out of her league that he was playing a different game altogether.

She fervently wished that she was wearing something a little sexier, or not. She wasn’t fat, exactly, but she wasn’t a size three, either, and revealing clothes made her feel naked. Still, the plain blue dress must offend his very eyes. At least her black heels were sexy.

Lia swallowed hard, mumbled hello, and stared at the floor…the softly lit buttons…her hands… Anywhere but at him. She felt her face turn red and gave up breathing altogether. Which was good, because whatever delicious aftershave he was wearing made her knees instantly weak.

It wasn’t because of him – the couple of times that she had spoken with him, he had been a perfect gentleman. He had even invited her to his housewarming (
penthousewarming?
) party, but she had been too flabbergasted by the invitation to actually go. It was cowardly, but she couldn’t help it.

So, no, it wasn’t him. It was all those fantasies she’d had about him. Night after night she had imagined them in exotic locales making sweet, sweet love. She imagined running her fingertips through the dark, too-long hair that feathered around his collar and glinted with reddish highlights. She imagined reaching up to caress the hard chest that resided just under the silk shirts he wore. She imagined slowly peeling off the suits that cost more than her car, piece by piece, until he was glistening and naked under her hands.

She imagined that he shared his secrets with her and made her feel precious. She imagined that he would croon his devotion to her and then sweep her up in those beautiful, strong arms and carry her to their room for a wild night of passion in front of a roaring fireplace.

Yeah, right,
her brain piped up.
This guy can afford to have someone carry
him
around if he wants – can’t really see him carrying you around.
She sighed. Sometimes her brain was a pain in the ass.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, then immediately realized that she’d said the words aloud. She bit her lip and jerked her head up to see if he noticed.

He looked up at her movement and noticed her noticing, then seemed to realize that she’d spoken. “Are you OK?”

“Yes. Sorry. I’m fine.” She looked back down at the floor and willed the elevator to fall. Or explode. Anything to get his penetrating gaze off of her. No such luck, though – the dratted thing ticked and hummed quietly and slowly toward the main floor.

“Your name is Lia, right?”

She nodded, tried hard to say yes and be flattered, but she just couldn’t. Instead, she swallowed and nodded.

He stuck out one perfectly manicured hand. “We’ve met once or twice before. It’s nice to see you again.”

Her own fingers stiffened, and she forced them to relax before taking his hand.

Instead of shaking it, though, he turned it gently to the soft underside and looked at her wrist. “You have a little something…”

She glanced down to see grease streaked up her inner arm. “Oh, yeah. I was…I had some car trouble this morning. Dead battery.”

He was touching her.

Oh God, he was touching her.

On purpose.

A tickle of electricity ran along the trail of his finger, and she leaned back against the glass, sucking in a quiet breath. For just a second, she saw something in his eyes shift, and thought that maybe he felt it, too – that small spark.

With a shake of her head, she pulled her arm away. No – he was a rich and powerful man, as seen in the celebrity mags that were her guilty pleasure. Men like him didn’t have sexy reactions to women like her.

Grateful for something to do, she snapped open her purse and began to dig for the disinfectant wipes she always kept there. Of course, they were deep inside the last dark pocket she tried, but she finally pulled them out and ripped the little package open with shaking fingers.

Then he did something that stunned her. If she had been telling herself this story, she wouldn’t have believed a word of it, but here it was: he took the small damp square from between her fingers, unfolded it, and took her arm again.

The chill of the thing rivaled the heat that bloomed through her skin. “Oh, Lord…”

He met her eyes and gave her a searching look, and she realized that she had said that aloud, as well.

The man must think I’m a blabbering lunatic.

You are a blabbering lunatic.

Shut. Up.

She met his eyes, but only briefly, because she felt like she was going to detonate, and murmured, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and she could still feel his eyes searching her face, his hand rubbing at the offending mark on her arm. The thought flitted through her mind that this was probably the only contact he’d ever had with dirt.

He was finished, just as the elevator finally came to a halt on the main floor. The doors swept open to reveal the plush burgundy carpeting and a sparkling chandelier that hung from the textured tray ceiling f the lobby. Traffic whizzed by outside the wide glass doors, but she couldn’t hear it at all. The room was deeply silent.

Dropping her hand, he reached out to hand over the crumpled wipe and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“So…did you get the car fixed?”

She blinked, surprised that he was even asking. “No. I, uh… Well, it looks like I’ll be taking the bus for a couple of weeks until I can buy a new battery.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.” His brow furrowed. “Can I offer you a lift instead? My car is pulling up right now.”

He gestured toward the doors and she followed his gaze to see a long black limo slide up to the granite steps outside. The car was as intimidating as the man.

“Oh, that’s nice. No, thank you, though. The bus is no problem, really, and I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”
What are you doing? Accept the offer, genius!

“It’s really no trouble at all. Where do you work?”

She really didn’t want to answer that question. Didn’t want to see the look of pity that she got from people whenever she answered it. She paused for so long that she heard him chuckle and then say, “What? Are you a secret agent? Lia Bond?”

Her eyes widened. “No. Of course not…” Then she realized that he was teasing her.
Way to go, Lia.
“I work for Bailey & Blake.”

The man winced. He. Literally. Winced. Then he said, “I’m so sorry.”

At least his eyes didn’t shoot laser beams of revulsion in her direction.

She gave him her standard explanation. “It’s a job, and I have to pay the bills.”

“I understand. I do. That was rude.”

Surprisingly, he looked embarrassed.

She wanted to say that she didn’t blame him for feeling that way. She felt that way, too, but her ridiculous shyness and unfamiliarity with the city made it hard for her to find another job that paid as well. Instead, she blinked and offered a smile.

“It’s OK. I get that all the time.”

“Do you… Do you like your job?” he asked, surprising her. No one had ever asked her that before.

Her shoulders fell and she shot him a wry grin. “Nope. But again, it pays the bills. I’ll change jobs when I get to know the city a little better.”

He didn’t answer her question except to nod. “So you’re new here. How do you like it?”

“It’s a beautiful city, but I haven’t really had time to explore.”

“Well, if you ever need a ride, my offer stands.” He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a business card, then flipped it over and wrote something on the back. “Here. My private number is on the back. Keep that to yourself, OK?”

She nodded because she couldn’t speak, but managed to take the card from his strong-looking hand without gulping. “Thank you,” she croaked. “I’ll keep it safe.”

***

Joel took one last long look at Lia, then gave her a small wave and pulled himself away. He didn’t want to; he wanted to spend the day getting to know the beautiful, skittish woman who had such an enticing personality, maybe showing her his city.

He wanted to tell her that she had beautiful eyes. That the blue just sparkled under those silky bangs, and that he’d been thinking about her since the day they had first met, here in the lobby. 
Way to be weird, Joel.

Sliding into the open door of the limo, he settled himself into the soft leather seat and opened his planner. Then he closed it again and just sat there in the dim light, watching the city creep past his reflection in the glass.

Even in that ugly dress, she had looked so enticing that he didn’t want to take his eyes off of her. He imagined that what was underneath was only part of her charm. Still, he couldn’t help but remember the feel of her silky skin under his fingers. She had smelled like peaches and felt like rose petals. He almost groaned at the memory, and wondered if she could be interested in him on a more personal level. A naked and loving level, even…

It was suddenly nine hundred degrees in the limo, and he shook his head to clear the images.

What was it about her – besides those eyes and that luscious body - that made him sit up and take notice? Was it the fact that she seemed so honest, so natural? Probably. The women he met were polished to perfection and completely useless when it came to real life. Their voices lowered to purrs when they discovered that he was single and they brushed against him too much for his comfort.

Lia hadn’t been that way at all. In fact, she seemed to prefer talking to herself more than to him. A smile creased his face. That little slip had embarrassed her, but he thought it was cute. A lot about the woman was cute, and she seemed oblivious to it. She was charming.

He felt a stab of disappointment that she had turned down his offer of a ride, but he understood, especially after the conversation about where she worked. He understood more than she realized about taking whatever job you could find and making do until something better came along. He understood the fear of hanging onto a paycheck, even if the time you spent earning it slowly killed you. He didn’t want that for her.

Before handing over the reins of their monstrous corporation, Joel’s father had made him work, and work hard, for his small allowance. Working in the mailroom, working with distributors – her had personally worked in every division of the company, hating every minute of it. His father had made him get an apartment, pay his own bills, the whole nine yards. He had learned a lot, though. Joel Senior had had the right idea.