Temp Read online

  She snorts. “Good luck with that. You think you’ll be able to do it?”

  “No,” I mumble dejectedly. “Probably not. And what’s worse is he has this executive retreat tomorrow through Saturday at this fancy retreat center at the beach, and I have to go with him.”

  “What? Really? Oh my.” Her green eyes have gotten very big. “That’s going to make it hard not to be tempted.”

  “I know. But he’ll be in meetings all day. I’m just going to take notes and help him put together any last-minute materials he needs. The other assistants will be there too, so I can hang out with them. It’s not going to be... intimate or anything.” I’ve been telling myself this over and over again since Monday morning when Liam announced that he’d like me to go to the retreat with him if I could manage it.

  I’ll get paid extra, and my mother found a friend to spend the night with her for the two nights I’d be gone, so I agreed.

  I’ve rigorously avoided letting my imagination wander into daydreams about what might happen while we’re out of town.

  It’s work. Just work.

  For now, that’s all it can be between us.

  IT’S A GOOD THING I’VE been mentally training myself to expect nothing to happen between Liam and me at the retreat because it’s not fun at all.

  The retreat center is a three-hour drive from Milford. I was planning to drive myself because I like the freedom and security of having my own car available, but Liam makes it clear at the end of the workday on Wednesday that he’s expecting me to ride out with him.

  If I were as strong and wise as I’d like to be, I’d ask if it was okay if I just drive myself. But part of me—a secret, swoony part of me that I’ve never shown to the rest of the world—wants to make the trip with him, so I don’t make an alternate suggestion.

  So on Wednesday morning, I sit in the passenger seat of Liam’s expensive but five-year-old sedan as he drives us to Virginia Beach. We don’t have any good talks or personal interactions. I don’t have any fun at all.

  He wants me to go through his email the whole time, reading them out loud to him and either deleting them, filing them, or writing up responses on his phone.

  It’s tedious. And annoying. And I get a little headache after a while from trying to focus on words on the phone for so long. Liam hasn’t been really nice or soft with me since that moment we almost kissed, and his abrupt, professional manner—although it’s characteristic for him—feels now like a slap in the face.

  I’m not in a good mood two hours into the drive when I announce to him that I need to go to the bathroom and get a Coke.

  He scowls at me. “Why? We’re just an hour out.”

  “I need to pee right now. You can make me hold it for another hour if you want, but I can’t guarantee that your passenger seat will come out intact at the end of the journey.” My voice is much cooler than normal.

  He rolls his eyes, but I can see his annoyance is habitual rather than genuinely peeved. He’s not actually mad at me. “Fine,” he grumbles. “We’ll stop at the next exit. We’re not going to waste time lollygagging though.”

  “Lollygagging? You really think I’m prone to lollygagging?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  I’m already tired, and it’s only ten o’clock in the morning, and the truth is I’m disappointed in how this road trip has turned out. Plus I still find Liam ridiculously attractive with his chocolate-brown eyes and his broad shoulders, even though I currently feel like shaking him. “You should know by giving me a little credit for understanding that this is a work trip. You really think I’m going to browse through hundreds of knickknacks and enjoy a four-course meal?”

  He snorts. It’s a laugh. A dry one. “Guess not.”

  So that’s evidently something he can do to me. I move from exasperation to a melting kind of pleasure in about two seconds flat.

  THE RETREAT IS AS NO-nonsense and professional as I kept telling myself it would be (and secretly hoped it wouldn’t be). There are ten top-level directors at Milford in attendance plus the president and quite a few assistants. As I expected, I spend most of my time listening at the meetings and taking notes and the rest of the time chatting with the other assistants.

  All day on Thursday and for most of Friday, I have no alone time with Liam at all.

  And it’s fine. It’s better that way. It’s far safer.

  I’m getting paid extra for this trip, and nothing messy is going to happen between Liam and me.

  The two days drag on until it’s Friday evening and the last session of the day is over. I’ve heard more than I ever wanted to hear about the financial health and enrollment goals and strategic planning for a small liberal arts college. There’s one session on Saturday morning after breakfast, and then we can all go home.

  I’m looking forward to being done with this. I’m tired and bored and restless and ready to watch TV in my room before going to sleep when Liam says he’s changing his presentation tomorrow morning and he needs my help in putting it together.

  I’m so surprised by this development that it takes a minute for my mind to catch up. I blink up at him. “Oh. Oh. Okay.”

  He frowns down at me. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure. Of course.” I manage to pull myself together. “Where do you want to work?”

  The image of Liam and me working alone in his room sends me into another tailspin. I don’t know if he has the same thought or not. He glances away. Sticks his hands in his pockets. “Uh, yeah. I don’t know. Maybe we can find a corner down here.”

  The retreat center has a lot of comfortable seating areas on the ground floor. It will be far wiser for us to find a table and a couple of chairs in a public venue. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure we can. Can I take a few minutes to run to my room and call my mom before she goes to bed?”

  “Sure. I’ll find us some place to set up down here. Take your time.” He turns away before he mutters over his shoulder, “Give her my best.”

  “I will.” I’m smiling rather dopily as I start toward the elevator.

  TWO HOURS LATER, I’M still awake. Still working. And honestly getting kind of annoyed with Liam.

  He keeps finding things to change about his presentation for tomorrow morning, and none of the changes seem meaningful or necessary. I can’t imagine why he’s bothering to reword the subheading titles or fuss over the details of the charts.

  I’m exhausted and bored and annoyed with him. Plus I still find him far too attractive. The whole situation seems created specifically to drive me crazy, and I’m not sure how long I can hold on to my patience before I lose it.

  What form my losing it will take is a mystery, but whatever might happen will not be good.

  Liam is looking particularly rumpled and sexy at the moment. Sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow, displaying masculine forearms. Brown hair and short beard slightly mussed from pushing his fingers through them. He hasn’t been wearing suits on the retreat, and the collar of his blue shirt is open a couple of buttons. I can see the tendons of his neck. A hint of chest chair at the V. His brown eyes look just as tired as I feel.

  He looks like he might have just rolled out of bed, and that’s really not what I need to be thinking about at the moment.

  I try to focus on making the adjustments to the chart we’re working on, and for a minute I think he’s finally done. He leans back in his chair and glances away. He’s not relaxed. I can see that his shoulders are held tensely, and one of his hands is clenched on the table. But he’s quiet for the moment. He seems lost in thought.

  I wait with bated breath and try not to reach over and smooth down one side of his beard he’s been tugging.

  Then he turns back. “Maybe we should look at—”

  “Oh my God, Liam!” The words burst out of me as my patience breaks. “Why the hell are you still fiddling with it?”

  He jerks slightly and turns his eyes to rest on my face with a bad-tempered question.

  “Sorry
,” I mumble, my cheeks reddening as I realize what I just said to my boss. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “If you’re tired, you can go on up to bed.”

  “No, it’s fine. If you really think it needs more work, then we can keep working on it. But none of these changes seem worth making. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  “It’s fine,” he says, sounding more exhausted than anything else. Just a little grouchy. “I’m not mad. Why don’t you think they seem worth doing?”

  Since he asks directly, I tell him. “They just don’t seem that important. It feels more like you’re just doing them to be doing them. Like you’re stalling for some reason.”

  His posture tenses even more. “Why would you think I’m stalling?”

  “I don’t think you’re stalling. There’s no reason for you to be stalling, unless for some reason you don’t want to go to your room.” I’m starting to feel flustered. Rattled. I’m losing my habitual composure.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to go to my room?” He’s sounding grumpier than ever now, and he’s scowling at me.

  I sigh and take a deep breath, forcing myself to relax and speak clearly rather than babbling out the first things that come to my mind, which would no doubt be embarrassing. “I’m not saying you don’t. I’m just saying that’s what it feels like since these changes don’t seem important. But you know a lot more about them I do, so I have no right to question you. Go ahead with whatever you were saying you wanted to change.”

  He exhales so loudly it’s almost a groan and slouches down in his seat. “No. No, you’re right. None of this is important. Close it down. We’re done.”

  I hesitate since I don’t like the resignation in his tone. I’m used to being able to read his moods better than this, and I don’t understand what he’s thinking and feeling right now. I don’t like not knowing. “You’re sure? Because I can stay—”

  “No, no. You’re right. We’re done.”

  I close out the document and then email it to him before I turn off my laptop and slide it into my bag. I’m starting to stand up when I stop halfway. He hasn’t moved. “Aren’t you going up to your room now?”

  “What? Yeah. Yeah, I will eventually.” He makes a strange move—like he’s started to stand up but then immediately changed his mind. “You go on.”

  I’m frowning as I gaze down at him. Something is weird. Something is wrong. I don’t like this at all.

  Without thinking, I reach over and smooth down the tuft of hair in his beard that’s sticking up in the wrong direction and has been bugging me for ten minutes now. “Are you okay, Liam?” I murmur.

  His eyes turn to meet and hold mine. I can’t look away.

  I can hear a faint murmur of voices from the bar and deck area, but it’s too far away to make an impression. We’re alone in a quiet corner. It feels like we’re alone in the world.

  Like nothing in the world matters except Liam and that strange, unnamed tension I’ve been sensing in him all evening.

  He freezes, not a muscle in his body moving for a little too long. Then he leans his head very slightly into my hand. “I’m fine, Polly.”

  I jerk my hand back as I realize what I’m doing. “Are you? Because you seem...” I trail off, not wanting to finish the thought.

  He stands up. His tone is as hushed as mine. “I seem what?”

  I shake my head and drop my eyes. “I don’t know. Anyway, it’s late. We should call it a night.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, we should.”

  That seems to resolve the weird conversation, so we walk to the elevators and ride one up to our floor. Our rooms are across from each other, so we turn together down the hall to walk toward them.

  My heart is racing as we approach our rooms. I have no idea why. It’s like my body knows something is approaching that my mind hasn’t realized yet.

  Liam is unnaturally silent. Still way too tense.

  As I pull my key card out of the front pocket of my bag, I glance up at his face. I catch an expression there that’s so painfully torn that I gasp. “Are you okay, Liam?”

  His mouth twists strangely as he reaches out a hand to cup my cheek. “No. No, I’m really not.”

  “Why not?” I’m barely breathing now. His palm against my skin is warm and solid. I love the feel of it there.

  “Because you were right.” His voice is hoarse. Sensual. “I was stalling. I should have stayed downstairs.”

  “Why?” I know what’s happening here. I know it. But my mind can’t wrap itself around the words.

  “Because if I’d stayed downstairs like I knew I should, then I wouldn’t be tempted.”

  Tempted.

  My brain finally lands on the words. He’s tempted just like I am. He feels the same way. He wants to touch me, kiss me, make love to me. I know it for sure. That’s what all this unnamed tension has been about. I can see it clearly in the smolder of his eyes and the clench of his hand.

  And the last thread of my control snaps. If he feels the same way, then there’s absolutely nothing that can stop me. I take a step to close the distance between us and reach up with both hands to pull his head down toward mine.

  I kiss him hard.

  There’s just a moment when he doesn’t respond. He’s perfectly still as my lips move against his. But then he lets go too, and it’s as thrilling as anything I’ve ever experienced.

  With a soft, guttural sound, he holds my head steady with one hand as he deepens the kiss, kissing me hungrily and pushing me back against the wall of the hallway. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as his tongue teases until I open for him.

  My head and my heart and all my female parts throb with pleasure as our tongues tangle and duel. His free hand has slid down my back until it’s cupping the curve of my butt. I wrap one leg around his thighs so I can rub against him even more.

  I’m out of control, and it feels like he is too. It’s like we’re devouring each other, right there in the hallway.

  When he starts to pull away, I whimper, “No, no, don’t stop.”

  He kisses me again and then brushes his lips against my cheek and the side of my neck. “I’m not stopping. But we can’t do this here.”

  “Oh. Right.” I fumble in his front pocket until I find his key card. In the process, I can’t help but notice that he’s already aroused. He’s hard in his pants. I can’t believe his body is reacting that way to me. “Room.”

  He takes the key card from my hand, swipes it, and opens his door. “Room is good.”

  We step inside, and then he’s on me again, kissing me up against the wall until I’m breathless and pulsing with bone-deep pleasure. His body is pressed hard against mine. I can feel him all over. He’s hard and hot and just as eager as I am. His hands are moving all over me, touching me everywhere.

  I keep trying to wrap one leg around him, but it’s not as easy as it should be. I’m so aroused now that I keep losing my balance. I cling to him desperately and grind my center against his thigh and completely ignore the discomfort of my shoulder blades being forced against the wall.

  He’s leaning over so he can suck on the pulse on my throat, and it feels so good I gasp and shudder. But my leg starts slipping down as I get distracted, and I whimper in frustration.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Bed!” I gasp, digging my fingernails into the back of his shirt. “We need the bed.”

  “Good idea.” He swings me up into his arms without any hesitation and carries me over to the large king-sized bed.

  I’m completely swept away by feelings as he lays me down. I probably could have listed all the reasons this was a bad idea, but none of those ideas could make even the slightest dent in my need.

  My need for this.

  He’s climbed on top of me and is kissing me again, and I’m desperately trying to wrap myself around him. Get him even closer. He’s just as urgent as I am. I can feel it in the way his mouth moves greedily against mine. The way his hands cup and grip all th
e softest parts of my body. The way he’s rubbing the bulge in his trousers into my middle. He’s making hungry sounds as we kiss, and they turn me on even more.

  “If we don’t get these clothes off soon, I’m gonna lose it,” Liam mumbles against my mouth.

  I feel the same way—like our clothing is a restriction, a boundary line holding us back. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s get them off.”

  He raises himself up, and we stare at each other for just a minute. His chocolate-brown eyes are hot. Wild. Then we both start working on our clothes, rushing through the stripping process until we’re both completely naked. I keep my socks on because it’s February and it’s cool in the room.

  Liam’s gaze moves over my naked body as I lie stretched out on my back. My first instinct is to be self-conscious. I’m not used to showing off my body, even in the context of sex. But it’s impossible to be anything but delighted by the expression of lust and admiration on his face. He really likes the way I look. There’s no way to believe otherwise.

  The thrill from his expression mingles with my carnal appreciation of his own naked body. It’s exactly as I imagined it—long limbs, broad shoulders, toned arms and thighs—except he has more hair on his chest and groin than I would have guessed.

  I love the look of him.

  Of all of him.

  He’s fully erect. Hard and thick and slightly darker than the rest of him.

  “Well?” Liam demands almost grumpily at my extended stare.

  I choke on a laugh and raise my eyes. “Very well. Nothing to complain about there.”

  His face relaxes into his almost smile, and he lowers himself back on top of me so he can kiss me again. After just a few seconds, however, he wrenches himself back up, supporting himself above me on straightened arms. “Shit. Condom.” He looks dazed, like he can barely think through what he’s saying.

  “Oh. Yeah. Of course.” I’ve been so wrapped up in what we were doing that it never even occurred to me. Grateful for his reminder, I nod toward the bag I dropped beside the bed as he carried me over. “I’ve got one.”