Beautiful Distraction (44 page)

“We’re at work,” was the lame excuse my mind came up with.

“So?”

My pulse spiked. I brushed my hair off my face, outraged. “People
could hear us.”

“I guess we’ll have to be quiet.” Jett’s fingers trailed
down my shirt to my skirt and he began to pull it up in slow motion, sending my
imagination into overdrive. His hot lips moved to the soft patch of skin
beneath my ear and he began to nibble gently. His deep moans resembled the soft
moans suddenly escaping my mouth.

My breath hitched in my throat as his hands cupped my ass
and lifted me onto the desk. His strong thighs wedged between my legs. As he
started to kiss my shoulders, the bulge in his slacks began to rub deliciously
against my sensitive lust bud.

“Jett,” I whispered. My fingers clawed at his shoulders as I
pondered whether to push him away or draw him closer so he could do all the
unspeakable things his eager hands promised to do.

“You smell so good.” His hand prodded my panties
and in one swift motion, he pushed them aside before I
could protest. I moaned when his talented fingers started to rub my clit gently
until I felt my juices gathering between my legs. I wanted nothing but him
and...his invasion. “So wet. I love it when you’re like this, for me,” he
whispered in my ear. His deep voice quaked through me. His kiss sent another
delicious pull in the deepest pits of my sex, taking my arousal to new heights.
“I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Think that’s enough time to make you
come?”

I loved it when he whispered.

“Seriously? You think it’d take you fifteen minutes?” I
laughed briefly. If he kept talking in that sexy voice of his, he’d make me
come in two.

“You’re right. That’s enough time to make you come twice.” For
a brief second he lingered over my clit, and then ever so slowly he pushed a
finger into me.

Oh God.

He inserted another finger, increasing the speed as he
thrust in and out of me, while his thumb circled my pleading clit, sending new
sensations through my sensitive spot. No one had ever touched me with such a
rugged intensity that made me want to scream for more. My sex clenched and
burned from the almost painful pleasure. His finger moved faster and harder,
pushing in and out until I thought I might just pass out from the unnatural
torture.

“Please. I can’t take it.”

Throwing my head back, my mouth searched his in the hope of
finding the mercy that comes with release. Jett’s lips pulled back, unwilling
to give me what I wanted. His heavy breathing matched mine as his
eyes—two dark pools of devilish desire—bore into me, watching me
like a hawk would watch a prey.

“Come for me, baby.”

His hot breath burned my parted lips. The pressure on my
clit intensified, making me gasp from the strong waves of lust that carried my
body. A hiss escaped my mouth a moment before a mind-blowing orgasm sent me
into a trembling frenzy. With the last wave, I slumped against his hard body.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I could watch you, and
only you, for the rest of my life.”

Was it the sex talking, or did he mean everything he said? I
didn’t ask because the moment was magical, and it just wasn’t the right thing
to say. But his words tugged at my heartstrings and overwhelmed me with a need
to wrap my arms around him and keep him close forever.

Exhausted and content, I looked up into his gaze mirroring
emotions I couldn’t decipher. Warmth. Lust. Trust. Even before he unbuttoned
his slacks, Jett’s wicked grin declared he wasn’t finished with me yet.

I wet my lips nervously as he pushed his slacks down his
thighs. My hand moved down his flat torso and gripped the thick base of his
manhood to return the favor, when his hand stopped me. In spite of the fact
that I was depleted, my heart skipped a bit as his hard shaft throbbed against
my opening, demanding to be let in.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to take more.” My eyes begged
him to understand my still clenched muscles couldn’t possibly accommodate his
generous size.

However, I would be more than willing to please him in a
different way.

“You said that the last time. Yet, I still made you come,”
he whispered. A dimple appeared in his right cheek as he removed my panties,
leaving me exposed to the air conditioning and his appreciative gaze. “Now,
bend over.”

He pushed me forward, bending me over his desk. His rough
tone left me in both fear and anticipation, eager to find out what he’d do
next. His shaft found its way deep inside of me and I winced from pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling out of me instantly and
turning me around. “I won’t hurt you. I never would.” Deep in my heart I knew
he meant every word of it.

“Don’t stop. I want more,” I said, grinding against his hard
erection. My legs parted to invite him in. I wanted him and everything he could
give. His body, for now, and maybe one day his heart.

“You were made for me, Brooke. I can’t get enough of you.”
His voice was filled with rough, but his fingers were surprisingly gentle as he
began to caress the nape of my neck. Once more, the slick tip parted my lips
and then he was inside, filling me with inch after inch of pure gloriousness as
the strong ridges heated up my core. His mouth stifled my delighted scream, his
tongue imitating the thrusts of his hips. The intoxicating scent of our
lovemaking hit my nostrils and blurred my vision as the telltale pull of
another approaching orgasm gathered deep in my belly.

My nails raked the hard muscles of his chest, pleading with
him to hurry his speed, to take me harder. As though he could sense the urgency
building up inside me, Jett cupped my ass and lifted me off the desk, allowing
him deeper access as he began to thrust with so much force I could feel him in
the most secret recesses of my sex. A delicious jolt of pain shot through me,
followed by a surge of hot pleasure, and a moan escaped my parted lips.

The room began to shift before me. My tongue flicked over my
parched lips as my brain fought to stay focused. I couldn’t be coming again,
not when his fingers had just made me climax, and yet I knew I was close. So
very close. And judging from the way his shaft twitched against my entrance so
was he.

“You’re perfect,” Jett whispered.

Biting my lip, I whimpered and fought back my sharp cries of
ecstasy. “Oh, god.”

“This is where you belong, sweaty and panting in my arms.”
His green gaze misted and his plunges slowed down. I knew what was coming even
before his hips undulated against mine, and he pulled out.

“Ready, baby?” His lips captured mine in a deep kiss. He
brushed the engorged tip, now slick with our moisture, over my sensitive bud,
before plunging back in, sending me off the edge into another mind-blowing
climax. With my name on his lips, his shaft tore into me, prolonging the
pleasure, as he released shot after shot of moisture deep inside of me.

Eventually, he pulled my shivering body into his arms and
engaged my lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

Wow, best sex ever.

“You’re so damn sexy, Brooke. I want to do this for the rest
of my life.”

There, he said it again. And this time
after
sex, meaning there had to be some truth to it. The
earnestness in Jett’s stunning eyes made me flush with pleasure. “I’d love
that,” I whispered, unable to contain my enthusiasm at the sheer prospect of
having him in my bed forever and ever.

His damp skin felt hot under my fingertips and as my sense
of reality returned, I wondered how the heck we could possibly hide the
physical signs of our lovemaking from our coworkers.

With a sigh I peeled myself off his glorious body and pulled
on my panties. I straightened my skirt as my gaze remained glued to his sturdy
chest. He was stunning. In spite of the soreness between my legs, I knew I
wouldn’t be able to resist if he desired another round. “Oh god. You’re
probably late for your meeting.”

He glanced at his watch with an amused glint in his eyes.
“We’re right on time.”

“People will be able to tell.”

“So?” His grin widened at my horrified expression.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Brooke.” His long fingers clasped my chin and pushed up
until I was forced to meet his electrifying gaze. “I don’t intend to keep us a
secret for much longer. But you’re right. The boss fucking the personal
assistant during working hours isn’t going to boost work morale, so let’s
freshen up. Want a quick shower?” He winked toward the door I had spied
earlier.

“You have your own bathroom?” Why wasn’t I surprised?

“I’m the boss,” he said sheepishly. “I can have whatever I
want.” His palm slapped my backside in case I failed to catch on to the not so
subtle meaning of his words. Grinning, I rolled my eyes in mock annoyance.

“You wish.”

His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against him,
my back rubbing down the front of his slacks. “Such a shame we don’t have time.
I’d love to give this glorious ass of yours a good spanking.” The dangerous
undertones of his deep voice hit a note with me and I found my nipples
straining against the silky fabric of my bra.

I groaned, irritated with myself.

Damn.

How the hell could he possibly have such an effect on me? It
wasn’t natural.

“You know who could really use a spanking? Your inflated
ego.”

“You didn’t just say that, Brooke. I warned you, baby. I
might need to cancel that meeting after all.”

Laughing, I dodged his grip and shot for the bathroom,
praying the sexy warning in his voice was nothing but a joke. Knowing Jett
Mayfield’s ego and his fondness of keeping a to-do list, he wouldn’t forget.
Secretly, I hoped I’d soon get what he thought I deserved.

Say tonight.

I was screwed.

Literally.

And the sad thing about it was that I couldn’t wait. For
him. For what he had to offer. For the way he made me feel. I loved every
minute we spent together.

I spent my first official day at Mayfield Realties following
Jett in and out of meetings, redirecting countless phone calls, and spurning at
least twice that many, while familiarizing myself with Jett’s important
accounts. Everyone’s eyes had been on the boss’s new personal assistant, so
naturally he kept his hands off me. By the end of the day, I had barely had
time to look at the newest developments in the Lucazzone case.
I wanted to tackle the case because the sooner I was
finished, the more I could prove that I deserved this position, and that Jett
had made the right decision by hiring me.

Although I loved spending time with him, I was thankful when
Jett announced he’d be caught in an early business dinner, and would have to
leave now to make it on time across town in the late afternoon traffic.

After kissing me goodbye, he promised to text as soon as dinner
was finished. I grabbed another cup of coffee, spent a few minutes chatting
with Emma, and then returned to my office and the file waiting on my desk. I
took a sip of my coffee, ready to get engrossed in my first multi-million
dollar project, when a red stamp caught my attention. I almost spit out my
coffee as I read the two words in capital letters: UNDER OFFER.

The old man had finally decided to sell. My gaze fell on the
price.

Forty million.

Holy shit.

Twenty million more than planned.

Luxury estates weren’t my specialty field, but even I could
see the estate wasn’t worth it. The company would make a loss so big it could
swallow up Alaska.
Why would Jett take such a risk? I took a deep
breath to steady the nervous flutter in my stomach.

It might not be my job to advise him on how to conduct
business, but I sure wouldn’t shut up and let him make such a brainless move.
The contracts weren’t signed yet, so we could still get out of it. Ignoring the
incoming call, I picked up my cell and speed-dialed Jett’s number. He picked up
on the first ring.

“Hey, pretty. What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepared my words. He was a
successful business mogul who’d take crap from no one.
After
pondering for two seconds, I decided being direct and to the point was the best
way to go. “I just had a look at the Lucazzone file and while I see the
estate’s potential, I feel it’s my duty to tell you that the price is too
high.”

Silence, then, “Brooke, the decision has been made. Leave it
at that.” His tone was sharp, leaving no room for discussion.

“But—” I brushed my hair off my face. This was the
real Jett Mayfield. The one that did as he pleased. But hadn’t he said he hired
me for my attitude? And did he not tell me he believed in me and in my talents?
Wasn’t that the reason why he entrusted me with the case in the first place?
“It’s too much, Jett. You’ll be in the red. Trust me on this one.”

He let out an annoyed sigh. “We need to get this deal, no
matter what.”

“But…you’re risking losing millions and I don’t understand
why. The place is not worth that much money.”

“You don’t need to. I’m giving the all clear and it’s
happening. That’s my final word. Anything else I can do for you, Brooke?” He
was brushing me off like an annoying fly. My temper flared, and I threw my
hands up in exasperation. Jett Mayfield was stubborn, I got that, but unless he
had a pretty good motive for moving forward with the acquisition, his obstinacy
was unfounded, and I was hell bent on making him aware of it.

“I was a realtor before you hired me. And a pretty good one,
you said so yourself.” I paused, waiting for his reaction—any
reaction—but it didn’t come. So I continued. “The airport is only an hour
away, meaning there’s bound to be some noise. The view is stunning but it’s
just
one
lake. You’d have to divide
the waterfront land into ten, which doesn’t leave much space for spreading out
your beach towel, let alone go water skiing and sailing, and what else rich
people do. It’s a mistake. It’s far too—”

He cut me off. “Brooke.” He wasn’t listening. How the hell
could I make him pay attention? I began to type furiously on my computer,
opening accounts to quote examples of asking prices so I could finally drive my
point home. I wasn’t willing to give up. Not in this matter. I wasn’t going to
lose the company forty million and risk sending them into a large black hole.

 
“I’m paying out
of my pocket,” Jett said so low, I wasn’t sure I heard him right.

My hand froze over my keyboard as my brain fought to grasp
the meaning of his words. He had that much money in his back account? And he
could part with it just like that, in the blink of an eye? I knew he was rich,
but I never realized to what extent.

I shook my head in disbelief at how easily he could throw
money out the window. It was his money, and he had a right to do with it as he
pleased, but still. There was no guarantee he’d make a profit. There wasn’t
even a fifty-fifty chance he’d earn his investment back. He was more likely to
make a loss than if he tried his hand at gambling.

“But why?” I tried to control my voice as I tried to rack my
brain for the best reason. “You’re acquiring a potential murderer’s estate.”

“My father wants it. Thinks he can make a fortune in Europe.
I have no choice.”

“Does he know you’re spending this much money?” I don’t know
what made me ask that question. Probably my desperate subconscious clinging to
any possible argument that could change his mind. The longer we talked this
over, the more he might be inclined to change his decision. Regardless of
whether our relationship lasted, I cared about him enough to try to stop him
from making stupid mistakes. And buying this place was a mistake, whether he
wanted to acknowledge it, or not.

“Does he know, Jett?” I asked again.

He still continued to hesitate, and in that instant I had my
answer.

“Oh. My. God,” I said, burying my head in my hands. “You
haven’t told him.”

“My father wants this estate and I’m getting it for him. Apart
from you and my lawyers, no one knows how much I’m paying and I’d like to keep
the actual price undisclosed,” Jett said. “Look, I wish I could explain but can
we do this another time? I’ll take you to dinner tomorrow and then we can talk
some more.”

“But—”

He cut me off again. “No, Brooke. I’m in a meeting and the
clients are waiting. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” I whispered, but the line was already dead. I closed
the file and locked it away in my cabinet, my mind circling around the grave
edge in Jett’s tone.

The strain in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe he was
stressed, or maybe worried. Either way, he was being stubborn about the whole
situation. For the first time I wondered whether there was more to that estate
that Jett didn’t tell me.

***

I arrived at the café with ten minutes to spare and parked
near the entrance where I could both keep an eye on my car and make a fast exit
if need be. It didn’t surprise me that the place was empty. Most people were
either still at work or stuck in rush hour traffic. Signaling the barista to
take my order in a few minutes, I slumped into my usual spot at a four-seat
table and fished out my cell to place it on the table so I wouldn’t miss an
important call or text message.

Heart Strings Café opened in my first year of college. I
discovered it when Sylvie tried to hook me up with a blind date and the guy
invited me to meet him here. The place hadn’t changed one bit: it was small but
flamboyant, carrying the colored furniture and checkerboard tile floor
trademark of the retro sixties. I loved this place, not just the food but the
whole Night Fever atmosphere, and tried to come here often. Taking in the
vintage records on the vintage harvest gold colored wall, I realized this might
not be the right place to meet a lawyer from London.

Too late for that.

I spent the next few minutes in edgy silence, alternating
between watching my car through the window, and watching the door. At six
sharp, a tall guy carrying a briefcase walked in and stopped in the doorway to
scan the café. Given the fact that there was no one in here but me and an
elderly couple, my chances of being overlooked were pretty slim, and yet for
some reason I found myself standing and waving him over.

Jake Clarkson was a tall man in his forties with sandy hair,
a strong jaw, and sharp, gray-blue eyes. His tailored suit fit him to
perfection as he stretched out a manicured hand to greet me.

“Miss Stewart. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Brooke,” I offered, returning his confident smile, and
pointed at the seat opposite from mine. “Please.”

“Thank you. Please call me Jake.” He lowered himself into
the plush chair and undid the first button of his suit jacket, as though he
wanted to infuse a sense of ease into this meeting but not too much. My gaze
followed him as he pulled a few sheets out of his leather briefcase and placed
them neatly in front of him, resting an expensive-looking pen on top of them.

“Good,” he said by means of starting the actual
conversation.

The air was charged with foreboding, which I attributed to
the fact that lawyers scared the crap out of me. I knew my fear was unfounded,
and yet I couldn’t help the slight tremble of my hands.

The waiter appeared, and we ordered—a tall latte for
me, espresso for Jake—and then we waited in silence until our beverages
were served. I watched him take a sip of his coffee, indifferent to the heat
that would have burned my tongue. My people knowledge was pretty basic, but it
was good enough to help me draw the conclusion that Jake Clarkson was a tough
guy, and not just when it came to sipping hot beverages.

“My firm has been trying to get in touch with you for two
weeks, Brooke.” The thin skin beneath his eyes crinkled, but I didn’t quite
feel his amusement.

“I was away on business. Europe.”

“Ah.” He nodded sympathetically, as though he knew exactly
what I was talking about.

“I gather you had a nice trip?”

“I did, thank you.” My cheeks flamed up at the sudden memory
of lazy days in Jett’s arms. You said you flew over from London?”

He nodded. “Yesterday morning. Your roommate told me when
you’d be back, and I decided it might be the best way to share the news.” His
gray-blue gaze flickered to life as he pulled out a sheet of paper. My
curiosity killing me already, I peered over the rim of my cup.

“Did I win the lottery? Because if I did, I can tell you it
must be a mistake. I don’t do lotteries.” I laughed to mask the nervousness in
my voice.

“No, Brooke.” He pushed the sheet of paper toward me so I
could read it. “It’s a testament.”

“A what?” I frowned, grabbing the paper. My eyes almost
jumped out of their sockets as I read the title, and all of a sudden, my vision
blurred and I almost fainted. It couldn’t be. But there in front of me, it
said: The last will and testament of Alessandro Lucazzone.