“I want more nights like last night,” Sam said
He knew he was probably a sucker for trying to nurture something that had “short-term fling” written all over it, but Kasey had turned him inside out in the space of twenty-four hours.
Heat flashed in her eyes. “But you’re…you’re a client.”
“I’ll stay completely out of your office. You’ll take care of the account and no one has to know that we’re having mind-blowing sex at the same time. That will be our little secret,” he promised.
Her breathing quickened. “You really won’t tell anyone?”
“No one. We’ll just get together to discuss the PR campaign and have great sex, and no one will be the wiser.” Although that wasn’t the way he would have preferred it, Sam could tell the concept excited her. Now, if only his suggestion was convincing enough to get her back into his bed. “What do you think?”
“I think you’d better take me back to the office.”
His heart sank. “That’s a no?”
She smiled. “It’s a yes. And if you don’t take me back to work immediately, I might jump you right here….”
Dear Reader,
Whoops, I blinked and twenty years went by! How is that possible? It seems like only yesterday that I sold my first Temptation novel. Back when I was just a child. I guess that cliché about time flying when you're having fun must be true, because I’m having so much fun that time hasn’t merely flown by—it’s traveled at the speed of light!
And the fact remains, no matter how I flip the calendar around, that my first book, Mingled Hearts, Temptation #9, came out in May 1984. Writing for Temptation was a good thing then, and it’s an even better thing now.
So consider this book you’re holding as the official beginning of my next twenty years. Happy birthday, Temptation!
Warmly,
Vicki Lewis Thompson
Old Enough to Know Better
Vicki Lewis Thompson
The book is dedicated with gratitude to all the Temptation editors who for twenty years have helped make my books the best they can be, with special affection and thanks to Claire Gerus, Margaret Carney, Lisa Boyes, Susan Till, Birgit Davis-Todd and, of course, Brenda Chin.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
1
“HOTTIE ALERT!”
Kasey Braddock glanced up. While the two guys in the office made remarks about female chauvinists, all the women hurried to where Gretchen Davies, a gutsy woman with a great laugh, had her nose pressed to the glass of the second-floor window. Moans of appreciation sounded in chorus.
Deciding from everyone’s reaction that the view was worth checking out, Kasey punched the save button on her computer and walked toward the window. She’d been working on a PR campaign for a lingerie shop that wanted to shift its image—more Victoria’s Secret, less Frederick’s of Hollywood.
Hours of careful research on the subject of lace teddies and thong underwear had reminded her that she’d been seriously neglecting the goal she’d set for herself: to become the woman she’d always wanted to be. Sure, she’d worked on her appearance but she had yet to launch her personal campaign to act as sexy as she now looked. The nerd that still lurked inside seemed to be giving orders to the babe she’d become on the outside. Maybe ogling a fine example of Phoenix manhood would jump-start the new Kasey.
“Okay, my turn.” She approached the cluster of five women blocking her view. “Two of you aren’t eligible, anyway, so give a single girl a break.”
“I was only saving you a good spot.” Brandy Larson’s fiancé, Eric Lassiter, was out of the office on an appointment, and she looked suitably guilty as she moved aside to make room for Kasey. “Try not to drool on the window,” she murmured.
“Hey, Brandy, I’m telling Eric.” Ed Finley leaned on the watercooler and observed the commotion.
“Don’t go being a tattletale, Ed.” Kasey gave him a warning glance, hoping he wasn’t serious.
“Aw, I’m just kidding, Kase.” Ed flashed her a peace sign.
“Glad to hear it.” Kasey held her own in this boisterous office, but she wondered if that would still be the case if everyone knew she was only twenty. She’d finished college at eighteen. After thoroughly evaluating all the PR firms in the Valley, she’d targeted Beckworth, landing the job before her nineteenth birthday. Only the big boss, Mr. Arnold Beckworth himself, knew her age. She wanted to keep it that way, so she’d continue to be treated as an equal.
“Ten bucks says he takes his shirt off in the next five minutes.” Gretchen clutched a file folder to her ample chest as she stared outside.
Kasey finally took a look. “My God, it’s Tarzan with a chain saw.” Right at eye level, a really cute dark-haired guy stood balanced in a large mesquite tree. As the pruned branches toppled to the ground fifteen feet below, a couple of other workers cut them into smaller sections and loaded them into the back of a trailer.
His square jaw clenched, safety goggles making him look seriously macho, Trimmer Guy gripped his chain saw and made precision cuts. His muscles bunched under a sweat-stained T-shirt.
“I’ll take that bet,” said Amy Whittenburg, a forty-something divorcee with very red hair. “That’s a company logo on the back of his shirt. Ashton Landscaping probably requires their employees to keep the shirts on to promote the company.”
“I have to say he’s promoting that company in a mighty fine manner,” said Myra Detmar, the receptionist. “Mighty fine. Look at those shoulders. Too bad he’s wearing gloves. We can’t check out his ring finger.”
“There you go again, making a sex object out of some poor slob,” called Jerry Peters from his desk across the room. “If a bunch of guys acted the way you women act, we’d be crucified.” Balding and on the pudgy side, Jerry always chimed in with a dose of indignation during a Hottie Alert.
“Oh, bite me,” Gretchen shot back. “Between the insulation and the noise of his saw, he can’t hear a word we say, and with the reflective coating on this window he can’t even see us. It’s like watching a movie.”
“More like Candid Camera,” Jerry said. “I think I’ll wander out there and ask him if he knows there’s a huddle of rabid females on the other side of the glass pretending he’s the star attraction at Chippendale’s.”
Gretchen turned to glare at Jerry. “You do and you’ll never get another double chocolate espresso on my coffee run, bub.”
“Well, Tarzan’s adorable,” said Robbi Harrison, who’d returned from her honeymoon a week ago, “but I’m so spoken for. I’ll have to leave him for the rest of you.”