Unzipped? Page 7

  She was throwing him a bone.

  Some things never changed. There were goddesses and there were dorks. He might be a dork with money and prospects now, but he was still a dork.

  “Did you hear me?” Shannon asked.

  He realized that he’d been off in mental space and hadn’t responded. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Thanks?” She seemed taken aback.

  He nodded.

  “What are you…can I ask what you’re thinking?”

  You can ask. “Oh, I’m just preoccupied.” True. “About an information leak in my company. I’m worried about it, and whether it will affect the IPO. And it pisses me off that I can’t find the source. I don’t know where it’s coming from.”

  “Is someone hacking in?”

  “They’d have to be really, really good to get by my security. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely. And I can’t find a trace of the hacker.”

  “Could it be a corporate spy? Someone on the inside?”

  Hal thought about it. Was Declan the culprit? No. The taciturn Irishman was honest to a fault. He filled out time sheets to the minute. Was it Trent, his marketing guy? Doubtful. Trent wanted to protect his job and his stock holdings in the company. He’d have no reason to betray Hal, since he’d be sitting pretty after the IPO.

  Again, Hal’s thoughts turned to Ryan. He hated to think that someone he knew and liked and trusted would sell him out. Ryan didn’t really have a motive…except for envy, perhaps. A couple of years ago, he’d been part of a business venture that had gone belly-up. He’d lost a lot of capital.

  Ryan knew more than the average attorney about computers. He had a key to Hal’s offices. He’d had the access.

  Hal pushed the thought away. Ryan was his best friend. He wouldn’t sabotage Underwood Technologies. Would he?

  “Well,” Shannon said. “I can’t say that I know much about corporate theft. I can tell you what a spy should wear, but not how he would go about his business.” She shrugged.

  Hal blinked at her. “What a spy should wear? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Yes, I’m kidding. Is anybody lurking around your office in the stereotypical trench coat, black turtleneck and dark glasses?”

  He laughed. “Now that you mention it, my receptionist, Tina, does own a shiny pink raincoat. She favors low-cut tops instead of turtlenecks, though.”

  “There you go. It’s obviously Tina.” Shannon smiled. “Now that I’ve solved your mystery, I’d better be off to Goodwill with my lawn-and-leaf bags.”

  “My lawn-and-leaf bags,” Hal grumbled.

  “Nope. Mine. I brought them, remember?”

  “Yeah, but my entire closet’s in those! And you’re about to give them away.”

  “Not your whole closet,” said Shannon, eyeing the jeans he wore in a highly suspect way. “Just most of it.”

  Was it his imagination, or were her fingers twitching? She reminded him of a tiger, circling her prey.

  “You cannot have my pants,” he said.

  “Mwah ha ha ha.”

  “No! This is my favorite pair of jeans and you’re not getting them off my body.”

  Shannon rubbed her hands together evilly. She raised an eyebrow. “What if I made it worth your while?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What would you like me to mean?”

  Was she offering him sex if he took his pants off for her? His cock twitched at the thought. “Well, a guy can always fantasize,” he said, before he could stop himself.

  “So can a girl,” she purred. “But the reality is so much more satisfying, don’t you think?” And she whipped off her top.

  She is not doing this. I have died and gone to heaven. I have met a crazy blond nympho with a taste for nerds!

  Hal sprung a woody in two seconds flat. He wet his lips as his torturess unsnapped her bra and her truly magnificent breasts fell free.

  “I figure we’ve known each other for twenty-eight hours now,” Shannon said, “so we’ve gotten acquainted.”

  “Whatever you say,” Hal agreed. Her pink, sultry nipples had wide aureoles that just begged for his mouth. They hardened under his gaze and he wanted to suck them until she cried out for mercy.

  He wanted to rip off her remaining clothes and set her hot little ass on the ceramic cooktop, where he’d bring her to a fast boil and then stir her up all over again. Then he wanted her thighs pressing against his ears as she called his name and he tasted her, rolled her on his tongue like vintage wine, and swallowed her essence.

  Hal was so hard now that he figured he was in danger of drilling a hole right through his pants. He set his beer down and moved purposefully toward her, removing his own shirt.

  She’d unfastened the button to her jeans and slid them down her lean hips. She stepped out of one leg of the pants but he reached her and bent his head to her lips before she got the other foot out.

  Shannon swayed into him, her breasts brushing against his chest hair, and it drove him wild. He licked into her mouth and devoured her, cupping her breasts and running his thumbs over her nipples at the same time. She moaned.

  Through the fog of utter lust, he still couldn’t quite believe that this goddess was giving herself to him again. He bent her back in his arms and took her left breast into his mouth, sucking hard and insistently, communicating his desire with every pull. He pinched the right nipple, then caressed the smooth globe surrounding it before switching his attentions to that breast.

  He worked his knee between hers and brought it up to the juncture of her thighs, where she was hot and wet through her panties. She pressed against it and writhed, turning him on even more.

  She reached out and cupped his cock through the jeans while he groaned. “Off,” she said. “Take them off so I can feel you in my hands.”

  He ditched them in record time, along with his boxers, and felt her hands caress the length of him, squeeze him at the root, rub her fingers along the sensitive, engorged underside. He was afraid he’d lose control and come right then.

  Hal took her hands away, over her murmur of protest, lifted her bodily so that her knees went around his waist and drove into her, helpless with lust. She was tight and hot and deliciously, sinfully wet. He contracted with sheer pleasure, shaking with the force of it.

  She was making unintelligible noises, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her mouth open and plump and willing. He pulled out a few inches and drove back in, panting with physical exertion and restraint. He wanted to draw it out, make it good for her, even though every nerve in his body screamed for a primal, uncivilized pounding.

  Hal wanted to screw her into next week, next month, next year. The suction and muscular stroking of her inner walls on his erection was finally too much. He was going to either come or pull out. Gritting his teeth, cursing under his breath, wanting to stay in so badly that his decision was actively painful, he withdrew.

  “No,” she panted. “Please.”

  “I want this to be good for you.”

  “It couldn’t possibly be better….”

  Hal turned her back to him so that he could have full access to her breasts while inside her. They took two steps and he bent her over his granite kitchen counter. He smoothed his hands over her backside, found her lower lips again and drove solidly, thickly between them while she gasped and almost sobbed.

  Then he took her breasts in each hand and began to slowly torture and tease her nipples again as he moved his penis in and out, in and out, in and out. Her breath became ragged and she whimpered, cried out, then convulsed around him.

  The sight of her climax, her no-holds-barred pleasure, made him come, too. He buried himself to the hilt and let the waves of sensation pull him into ecstasy.

  10

  SHANNON VAGUELY became aware of reality. The cold granite pressed against her breasts, and her hot client pressed against her backside, his arms encircling her and his big hands covering her own. He kissed the top of her h
ead.

  “Woman,” said Hal, “you’re going to kill me.” He backed off her and dropped to the floor, panting.

  She turned and pushed the hair out of her face, still breathless herself, still humming with the rush of sensation. Unfortunately that faded fast and left her just naked and vulnerable and embarrassed by her complete response to him. What happened to her cool around this guy? And she was supposed to be teaching it to him.

  Cool, hip, image-conscious people didn’t bite and claw, whimper or moan or scream with delirious pleasure.

  God sure must get a good laugh when He looks down and sees human beings having sex. Shannon found her panties and pulled them on, wincing at that bird’s-eye visual.

  Well, at least they’d used his kitchen for something. And she’d gotten those terrible jeans off him.

  “Damn, but you’re beautiful.” Hal lay spread-eagle, still half-erect, and stared up at her. “I could get used to this.”

  Warning bells went off in her head. She’d heard those words before. Truth to tell, she’d heard them many times. Another man, responding to her sexually but not really in any other way.

  She forced a smile, though. And a little laugh. She found her bra.

  “Wait,” Hal said. “Is it strictly necessary for you to put your clothes back on?” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled himself upright. “I’ve gone from boner to temporarily boneless…but I’ll recover soon.”

  She laughed again, as expected. Just like a man. The guy wanted more sex. She needed distance.

  On the one hand, it was nice to be sexually attractive to him. On the other, she was desperate to be seen and desired for herself, and not her face, legs and breasts.

  Hal staggered toward a half bathroom near the kitchen. “I’ll be back.”

  “Okay.” She stared after him and then caught sight of herself in the reflection of the microwave. She was standing butt naked in her client’s kitchen after screwing his brains out. Her reflection was squat and distorted, so that she looked like a squished, chubby, blond troll.

  As the water went on in the bathroom, and her emotions continued to swirl and conflict, she made a quick, unconscious decision to get the hell out of there. She jumped into her clothes, opened the door, grabbed her purse. She remembered the lawn-and-leaf bags and dragged them out after her.

  She cast a paranoid glance back at the kitchen to see if Hal had emerged yet, and saw those awful jeans of his lying on the floor. This was probably her only chance…. Shannon hesitated. Then she stole them and ran.

  HAL WAS UTTERLY unprepared for the reactions of his co-workers on Monday morning to the New Him.

  He was still mystified by Shannon’s behavior and outraged at the loss of his favorite jeans, but Hal was trying to turn over a new, cool leaf.

  So instead of just slouching by with his nose in his coffee, he said hello to the bent, brunette head of Tina, his receptionist, as he bypassed her on the way to his office.

  “Hey…” she muttered back, from inside a file drawer. “Uh, you’ve got several messages already. Your mom, a reporter from—” She broke into silence. “Hal? Is that you? Oh, my God!”

  “What?”

  “Your hair! Your…face. We can see it. Wow. You look…amazing.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other in his ancient, dirty gym shoes, pleased despite himself. “I do?”

  “Yeah. Wait, come ’ere, lemme get the piece of tissue off your chin. Spoils the effect.” Tina emerged from behind her desk. She wore business attire, but as usual it appeared sprayed on. Her blouse was cut so low it was a millimeter from indecent, and her navy skirt clung to her behind like a surgical glove. She was also in her stocking feet, since she habitually wore painful shoes.

  Hal didn’t care if she was barefoot, as long as she answered his phone and kept him organized.

  “Oh, that. I cut myself shaving this morning. I’m not used to it.” What he didn’t add was that it was a damned nuisance to have to shave every morning. Much easier to roll out of bed, into the shower and out the door without bothering.

  “Where are your glasses?” Tina asked as she stared up at him and pulled off the tissue. Was it his imagination, or had she come closer than necessary?

  “Well, uh. This image consultant woman I saw over the weekend—she didn’t seem to like them too much.” Speaking of her, Hal frowned. The naked blond thief! Somebody was probably paying ten bucks for his jeans right now. Unless he could make a run over to Goodwill and snag them back?

  “You don’t say.” Tina snapped her gum and blinked her big dark eyes with a little too much innocence. “So you got contacts?”

  He nodded. “Yup. These soft ones are really comfortable. You can sleep in them! I never knew. And we ordered a new pair of glasses from some snooty designer in Los Angeles…” He took the corner of tissue from Tina’s fingers. “I’ll throw that away, thanks.”

  Her gaze had shifted down to his attire, frayed baggy jeans and a grayish T-shirt under an open, white, long-sleeved button-down. “Is this, uh, image lady going to take you shopping?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He rubbed his hand protectively over the gray T-shirt. Miss Evil hadn’t dumped out his laundry hamper, thank God.

  “Good.” Tina nodded. “Listen to her. She obviously knows what she’s doing.”

  Hal barely restrained a snort. “What did my mother want? And you mentioned a reporter?”

  “Your mom wants you to come to her open-mike poetry reading at some club.”

  Hal groaned.

  “And the reporter is with Business Today. Get this, they wanna do a feature on you and Underwood Tech! Isn’t that fab?”

  He nodded. As long as I can track down this information leak, it’s fab. “Uh, when?”

  “The guy wants to see you next Thursday if you can fit him in. Says he needs about two hours of your time.”

  Ugh. Sounded like a lot of small talk. And he’d need to be careful about what to reveal and what was off-limits because of the IPO. What the hell did you wear to meet with a reporter? This was all new territory for him. He’d have to ask Shannon—though he wasn’t sure he was speaking to the woman.

  “Oh,” Tina added, “I need you to sign these forms here and here—” she pointed “—and then Ryan needs to get with you on a contract before the ten-thirty meeting, and don’t forget that two o’clock conference call with All-Nation.”

  Of course…then there were the server issues to deal with, a couple of test runs on programs, and more. Another day, another dollar. He headed for his office, Tina’s forms in hand.

  “Hal?” she called after him.

  “Yes?”

  “Come ’ere again.”

  What now?

  “Bend your head down, you’re too tall—”

  He knit his brows in question, but did as she asked.

  “There!” She’d pulled something out of his newly short hair, a glob of gel. Yuck. Hal flushed, embarrassed, as she wiped it on a paper towel.

  “Honey, didn’t the girl at the salon teach you to rub it all over your hands like lotion? Then you smooth it onto your head.” Tina chuckled.

  “Oh. I’m not too good at this fashion stuff yet.” He thought about Enrique’s purplish face, mottled with rage when he’d left the royal premises. He hadn’t given any instructions with the plastic jar of crud he’d tossed after them.

  “Thanks, Tina.”

  “No problem. Your next project should be getting some pants that fit. You look completely buttless in those.”

  Buttless? Great. Hal sidestepped the question of why, all of a sudden, his receptionist was checking out his rear view. He went to go find Ryan instead.

  SHANNON STARED at the phone in her office and then at Hal’s work number. She had to call him in order to do her job and take him shopping. There was no other way around it.

  “Hey, Shan?” Jane’s voice traveled from the reception area. “Do you have any idea why the leg on this desk is cracked? Almost like someone heavy sat on i
t. And it’s sort of pushed to the side.”

  Yikes. “Oh, you’re kidding!” Shan exclaimed, injecting her voice with just the right amount of surprise. “No, I don’t have the slightest idea.”

  “I swear that this looks like a…butt-print. Ugh! It is a butt-print! What has the cleaning staff been up to in here? It’s bad enough that the desk was dusty, but this?”

  Shannon thought fast. “Well, that explains why my radio was tuned to a country-and-western station.”

  Jane was outraged. “I’m calling the janitorial service right now to complain!”

  Shannon felt lower than a worm. Because of her, some innocent person was going to get in trouble—possibly even fired. “Jane, hon, why don’t you let me call—I’ve lost an earring, too, and I’ll ask them whether anyone found it.”

  Her partner cocked an eyebrow. “You have four hundred pairs of earrings. Why would you miss one?”

  “They’re my favorite,” Shan lied. “You know, the ones with the peridots and amethysts?”

  Jane seemed to halfway buy it. “Fine. I’ll get you the number. But I want to know what the manager says.” She walked into Shan’s office brandishing a Rolodex card and hovered, waiting for her to make the call.

  Great. Shannon inhaled a breath and punched in Hal’s direct line instead. If she faked a number then Jane would hear the electronic operator’s voice.

  He answered in two rings. “Hal Underwood.”

  “Mr. Munson,” she said cordially. “This is Shannon Shane, with Finesse. How are you?”

  “I want my pants back,” growled Hal. “And who the hell is Mr. Munson? Did you steal his pants, too?”

  “Well, I’m fine, thanks. But I do have a small matter to discuss with you, if you have a moment.”

  “Nice of you to say goodbye.”

  “Yes. Well, it seems that one of your staff sat on our Queen Anne reception desk while cleaning over the weekend, Mr. Munson. Can you explain that?”

  “Yeah, a blond nymphomaniac attacked me in my truck, yanked me into her place of business and jumped me on the reception desk.”