Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(21)

No, he’d wait. And he’d do his stroking in private, after he had her bent naked in front of him, that pretty butt tilted up for his pleasure and hers. He wanted to hear Charlotte moan his name and then ask him to do dirty things to her, her prim little spectacles fogging up with heat.

“There!” Getting up, that stupid skirt sliding over the heart-shaped beauty of her ass to hover around her calves—what woman-hating designer had created that abomination?—she grabbed his tablet and tap-tapped once more. “All the files at your fingertips.”

Gabriel took the tablet, swiped through. “It’ll do,” he said, though he was seriously impressed at how she’d put everything together in a way that made it effortless for him to access what he needed.

He saw her hands curl into fists, but once again, she restrained her violent impulses. A pity. He’d have liked the excuse to tumble her into his lap when she took a swing at his jaw, that sweet ass coming down over his thighs.

Putting down the tablet on that pleasurable thought, he picked up the digital recorder he’d been using before she came in with the rose stems. “I want you to personally type this up.” He didn’t trust the pool of typists who handled most of the general data input, not with a document that needed to say exactly what he wanted it to say without him having to go over it ten times to make sure they hadn’t misplaced a comma or inserted a word.

“Of course.” Her eyes flicked to her watch after she checked the length of the recording. “Did you need it tonight?”

“Why, hot date with Ebenezer?”

Red cheeks again, her chest rising as she took a deep breath. “My personal life,” she said after she exhaled, “is none of the company’s business.”

No, but Gabriel was going to make it his damn business. He’d been trying to put the kibosh on her dating thing with Ernest ever since she became his PA—but though he hadn’t managed to cut that off, the man clearly wasn’t taking care of her. If he had been, she wouldn’t feel the need to wear calf-length skirts with white shirts that buttoned up to her neck or shift dresses two sizes too large. The clothes might be professional and absolutely unobjectionable from a business standpoint, but they totally overwhelmed her petite frame.

In point of fact, Gabriel was dead certain Ernest hadn’t made any kind of a move. Charlotte just didn’t act like a woman who was taken—and every time Gabriel called her late at night to check on something, she was at home. That meant Ernest was a dimwit, because what kind of man wouldn’t make a move on Charlotte if he had her?

Yeah, well, the dimwit’s luck was about to run out.

“Yes,” he said aloud, “I need it tonight.” It wasn’t a lie, not this time. “This agreement could significantly cut our transport costs, but we’re on a strict timetable.”

A quick nod. “I’ll start on it right away.”




CHARLOTTE SAT DOWN AT her desk, a desk no one in the company had ever expected her to possess, least of all Charlotte herself.

Just like she’d never have predicted she’d one day just grab her boss’s tablet and force him to move into the twenty-first century, but he’d been pushing and pushing and pushing until she couldn’t take it anymore. Using the headphones she preferred over earbuds, she connected the sleek black recorder he liked to use, and his deep voice filled her ears.

It still made her stomach flip, even after close to three months in his proximity.

Blowing out a quiet breath, she began to type, focused on getting the details exactly right. It was why she had this office, this position, despite her shortcomings… despite the fear that lived inside her even after all the other strides she’d made, a sinuous, mocking beast that still woke her some nights in a cold sweat.

Last night had been a bad one.

Heart pounding hard enough to make her feel sick, she’d had to get out of bed, check she was alone in the house before she could close her eyes again. But no matter the fear, she was living a good life. Maybe it wasn’t exciting, she admitted, and maybe her timidity and continued inability to not be afraid was increasingly frustrating… and maybe she’d never have the passionate connection Molly had found with her rock star, but—

“Ms. Baird.”

Jerking at the sound of Gabriel’s voice mixing with that on the tape, she removed the headphones to see him scowling at her. “I’m almost done.”

“Good. Once you finish that, I need you to find Finley and get his ass in here.”

Realizing the scowl hadn’t been for her, she finished up the document, proofed it, then printed it off and handed it to him. Simon Finley had left the office at five, was having a beer at home when she located him.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “That bastard has no life and thinks no one else does either.”

Hanging up on the other man after getting a promise he’d be in within a half hour, she knew Finley was wrong. As shown by the parade of red roses, Gabriel did have a life outside work, one filled with long-legged beauties who not only had va-va-voom bodies and faces but brains. Even the models Gabriel dated weren’t simple clotheshorses; they all had their own perfume or clothing lines, other business ventures.

Yeah, she was never going to be in that league, she thought, picking up the phone to answer a query from the security guard downstairs. “Charlie, delivery guy just dropped off takeout for the boss. I can’t leave my post right now with Steven on break—you okay to come grab it?”