Runaway Vegas Bride / Vegas Two-Step. Liz Talley

of her.

      “Your secretary’s coming back with first aid supplies, remember?”

      “No. Not until you reminded me.”

      “And besides, I don’t have sex with men on the sofas in their offices,” she said, then feared she was sounding prudish again.

      Did women often have sex with men in their offices? Was that a requirement of non-prudishness, too?

      “Am I supposed to?” she asked.

      “Supposed to what?” Wyatt questioned, carefully climbing off her and sitting on the edge of the sofa.

      “Have sex with men on their sofas?”

      “Not unless you want to,” he told her, running his hands through his hair, hair she thought she might have mussed up herself a moment ago.

      Jane sighed. It was all so bewildering. What was normal and what was not? What was expected? In her admittedly not abundant experience, men wanted a lot these days. They expected a lot. Quickly. Very quickly.

      “I’m sorry,” she said.

      He frowned. “Why? You’re right. Lucy is coming back. I told her to. And I know you’re not the kind of woman who’d be comfortable having sex in my office on a sofa during business hours.”

      She got worried. “But does that—”

      “That doesn’t make you anything except who you are, Jane, and there’s nothing wrong with who you are. Any man who tries to tell you there is is an ass and probably just out to get whatever he can get as fast as he can.”

      “But you. I know you. I suspect you…wouldn’t really have a problem with…something like this.”

      He shrugged. “Maybe every now and then, for some-thing quick and different. But the thing I like best…is someplace totally quiet and private, no time constraints at all, no interruptions. And nothing to do with sharing.”

      “Really?” she asked in wonder.

      He nodded.

      “Oh.” She was thinking about pulling him back down on top of her on the couch. He knew it, too. She could tell by that flare of heat in his eyes as he watched her watching him.

      She sighed, took his tie in her hand and gave it a tug. Grinning like the no-doubt wicked man he was, he happily lowered his mouth to hers once again. If she was going to be wicked herself, she might as well start right now with the time they had until his secretary did get back.

      “You’re just trying to mess with me now,” he said stopping with his lips a breath away from hers.

      “Yes,” she admitted.

      “You know Lucy’s coming back, and you know I know, so you think you’re perfectly safe here with me. That I’m not going to really do anything.”

      “Yes,” she agreed.

      “That is so bad of you, Jane,” he said, still not kissing her. “And you’re supposed to be such a good girl.”

      She’d been watching his eyes, his mouth, waiting for it to descend that last inch and kiss her again, and she hadn’t been paying attention to anything else. It wasn’t until she felt cool air on her chest that she realized he’d unbuttoned her blouse.

      He took the tip of his nose and skimmed it along the line of her bra as it rose and fell over her breasts, nudging it aside here and there. Then he started playing with her skin with his tongue, his warm breath heating her nipples as he got closer and closer to them.

      She gasped, ran a hand into his hair and grabbed on, trying to pull him away, but in the end, not having the will.

      He nibbled on her collarbone, on the side of her neck. She just melted when he did that to her neck and was starting to rethink the whole sex-in-the-office thing.

      Who would ever really know? Jane could be quiet. At least, she always had been, before Wyatt. She didn’t think Wyatt would be particularly quiet, though, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she could be.

      She was whimpering already.

      “Can you be quiet?” she asked him. “Really quiet?”

      He jerked back, just enough to stare down at her, as if he couldn’t believe she had just said that. “No, but I can throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of here. I live right down the street. We can be in my bed in ten minutes flat.”

      She got a little scared then.

      He laughed. “Didn’t think so.”

       Oh, she’d ruined it! “I’m sorry.”

      “I’m not. I don’t think you’re quite ready for this, Jane. And I can wait.”

      “Really?”

      “Well, I don’t want to, but I’m capable of it. I’m actually looking forward to talking you into it.”

      “Talking?” she asked, not feeling so bad after all.

      He grinned. “Whatever it takes.”

      He nearly had her blouse off by the time Lucy got back, because Jane did feel safe, she was truly enjoying herself and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other and honestly, why should they?

      Lucy just waltzed right in, saying, “I got antibiotic cream and. Oh, sorry. I—”

      Jane gave a little yelp, face flaming. She really had forgotten, there at the end, exactly where they were.

      “It’s okay, Lucy,” Wyatt said, sitting up and keeping his broad back to her.

      Jane couldn’t see her, and she figured that meant Lucy couldn’t see Jane as she buttoned up her blouse, wondering just how many times Lucy had walked in on a scene like this between her boss and some woman.

      No, she wasn’t going to think like that. She would just think about Wyatt and that wonderful mouth of his, those talented hands, the way he smelled, the wicked things he made her want to do.

      “I’ll just leave this stuff right here and leave you two alone,” Lucy said, then whispered to Wyatt. “You know, your door has a lock on it.”

      “Sorry, Luce.”

      But he didn’t look sorry. He looked like a man who was very happy with himself. Of course, why wouldn’t he be?

      “I bet you get every woman you want,” Jane said, not upset, not mad, just…marveling that she could ever actually think about getting involved with a man like him. Even if it was nothing but sex. Great sex.

      Surely a woman was allowed to have one highly satisfying, purely sexual relationship in her life. She’d decided Wyatt would be hers.

      “You really want to talk about me and other women, Jane?”

      “No, actually, I don’t.”

      He nodded. “Good. I’d rather talk about you and me. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I’ve been dying to see you in something other than one of those little power suits.”

      “You don’t like my suits?”

      “I do. I think they’re adorable, which I know isn’t the image you’re going for. But I can’t help it. You’re just so cute.”

      “You’re sounding less desirable to me with every word that comes out of your mouth,” she warned.

      “Because I like the way you dress?”

      “Because I am not cute. Kittens are cute. Puppies are cute. Little girls are cute—”

      “So I guess you wouldn’t consider dressing up as a Catholic schoolgirl for me? Or maybe in a cheerleader outfit?”

      Her mouth fell open, and she was just about to get really mad when he burst out laughing at her.