Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(78)

Hey, Marla. She hadn’t locked Jerome’s door or brought back his keys because she’d been running for her life from a bloodthirsty villain. Accompanied by a sex god commando who was meeting her this very night to ravish her in a hotel room. Who had begged her not to notify the police, or else she’d die a grisly death. Uh-huh. Yes. Of course.

She had a sneaky premonition that juicy, colorful tale wouldn’t be quite the thing to guarantee her continued job security at the club.

“Hmph,” Marla huffed. “I certainly hope that the lapse is momentary. And that it won’t happen again. I would be justified in firing you for what happened this past week. The reason I haven’t done so yet is because you’ve always been reliable before, and you’ve been through a great deal, what with that awful situation with that scum ex-fiancé of yours. But I don’t give third chances. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Becca said tightly. “Quite.”

“Good. I want you at your best for that banquet tonight. Shay will have her hands full with the birthday party this afternoon in the Blue Salon, so don’t expect backup from her. The florist has arrived with the table centerpieces, or haven’t you noticed? And have you checked the PA system? How about the sound setup for the jazz trio? And what about the signage?”

“Ah…I haven’t had a chance yet to—”

“Please do so. Now. And put your cell phone in your purse. This constant checking for messages is annoying the hell out of me.”

Becca stuck her tongue out at the woman’s retreating back before she could stop herself, and held her phone down below the edge of the desk, surreptitiously rereading the text of the last message she’d sent to Nick. She suppressed the urge to giggle at her own silliness.

got virginal lingerie 2 go with glasses. hair 2 short for bun, but that’s ur fault. love, the formerly frigid sex bomb secretary.

The phone chimed. Omigod. He’d already gotten back to her. She made sure Marla’s back was still turned before she clicked to open.



cannot f*cking wait

Oh God. She could actually see his gorgeous, sexy grin, creasing up the grooves around his mouth, the gleam in his seductive dark eyes.

She practically choked on the giggles backing up inside her. She was having so much subversive fun today, more than she’d ever had in her life. And Nick was playing along. Egging her on, even. Of all things she’d expected from him, goofy playfulness wasn’t one of them.

She’d never had a wild secret affair before. It just wasn’t the kind of thing that ever happened to her. And with a guy who made her feel…oh, wow. Her posterior ached from being spread so wide, ridden so long and hard. And as for her private parts, well. They were definitely feeling the effects of vigorous, prolonged use.

And even so, every time she thought about him, she instinctively squeezed her saddlesore thighs together around the tingle of heat. It was making her giddy, distracted. Working her into a lather of unprofessional titillation. A naughty nymphomaniac who could think of nothing but Nick’s fierce dark eyes, his clever tongue, his dazzling smile. His volcanic sexual heat. His big, thick…oh dear, oh dear.

She needed a fan in the worst way. Whew. She was sweating.

For heaven’s sake. She would fire her too, if she were Marla.

But oh, it was lovely. She hadn’t had anything to feel euphoric about since…well, she had been dazzled for a while after Justin’s proposal, and full of hopeful dreams of domestic bliss, but that was nothing on this. No fiery sexual component, no life or death drama.

It had taken her over a half hour to find the cell number that he had programmed into her cell, because he hadn’t put it under N for Nick, or even W for Ward. After combing through her whole address file, she finally found it under M. For Mr. Big. That clown.

Time to check with the caterers, take delivery for table decorations, and triple check the settings and the gift presentation table. She forced herself to make a mental To-Do list. Very difficult to do while her brain ran amok, jumping and squeaking. What a morning. Up before four A.M., dragged into the shower with Nick, with yet another explosive erotic outcome. To say nothing of the flood that had stretched down the bathroom corrider to soak the living room rug.

Then, after he’d left, the frantic destruction of her entire closet system while she tried to figure out what to wear for a sexy midnight tryst. A suitcase was stowed in the back of the rental car out in the back lot, with a few changes of clothing, makeup, toiletries, her prettiest dress, her only pair of f*ck-me shoes. She’d even dug around in her bathroom until she found the diaphragm she’d gotten a couple years before. Like the shoes, it had never gotten much use. Hardly any, actually. The affair she’d gotten it for had petered out embarrassingly quickly.

For some reason, she’d never thought to propose its use to Justin, even after they got engaged, and a damn good thing, too. Maybe she’d known, on some level, that he was going to fool around on her.

The thought of using it with Nick, of having that electric, bare-skin-to-bare-skin contact with his gorgeous, um, member aroused her almost to the point of fainting. Yeah, and Marla would really love it if she did.

She glanced down at the glossy, striped-pink shopping bag that held her lingerie, and on impulse, she rummaged in her drawer for a different bag, something plastic and anonymous. She shoved the frilly nothings into the bag and slipped out of the office, heading straight for the ladies’ room. She was going to put that stuff on. Right now.