In My Office, Now. Page 2

  "One of us has to."

  My retort didn't please Ethan; the harsh, angry lines on his face melted away to reveal a stony, blank expression even more frightening than his ire. I tried to remember to breathe, all the while praying my knees wouldn't give out. There was a familiar heat between my legs that somehow had something to do with the Dragon and I hated myself for admitting it.

  He really was very handsome, close up.

  Ethan took a step closer, blocking all else with the wide wall of his chest and bending down, whispered hotly in my ear. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me please."

  Cheeks burning, I pushed ineffectively against the hard, broad plain of his chest. Under the crisp fabric of his perfectly pressed shirt and expensive silk tie he was solidly muscled. I gasped.

  "Not bad for an old guy, huh?" His breath against my neck was making my knees weak; my heart beat so quickly I was sure he could hear it. I pushed against him again, and Ethan stepped back, the look on his face very clear: he'd let me go because he'd chosen to. Scowling, I ran shaking hands over myself, straightening my blouse and skirt and taking deep, calming breaths.

  "Asshole," I muttered, wrenching open the door of his office with more force than necessary. The cooler air of the great room beyond felt wonderful against my flushed face. I struggled to regain my composure; over the railing I could see Maddock waiting at my work station on the ground floor, he smiled jovially up at me.

  I stopped at the top of the stairs and glanced back, Ethan was standing in the doorway of his office, leaning casually against the jamb, his arms crossed over that surprisingly fit chest. There was a satisfied smirk on his face that made my blood boil. "That's it, run along," he chided, laughing coldly as I glowered at him; from the floor below I could hear Maddock call my name.

  ********

  I barely noticed when the room around me began to go dark and employees started filing past, calling out their good-nights as they left. I responded automatically, but my eyes never left the sketches laid out on my drafting table. Mrs. Kendall had called shortly after my meeting with Maddock had wrapped up; she was coming by the next afternoon to sign the contract and review the estimate, and could she see what we'd come up with so far? I'd agreed, of course, and grimly set to finishing the preliminary sketches as quickly as I could, knowing there was a long night ahead. Valiantly, I tried to ignore the wrenching, burning crick in my neck and the dull ache of fatigue behind my eyes.

  The prickly sensation of being watched crawled up my spine, and looking up I saw the Dragon, leaning over the mezzanine balcony, watching me work. He's shed his suit jacket and tie which served to make him look more relaxed, even younger. In one hand was a rolled up set of architectural plans, in the other two steaming mugs.

  "What do you want, Ethan?" I called up, averting my eyes back to my sketch, trying not to notice how striking the raven wave of his hair against his forehead was. Why did he have to be so cute? He'd be so much easier to deal with if he was unattractive. Harsh, but the truth.

  His progress down the stairs was swift, economical, and catlike; I watched him approach furtively out of the corner of my eye, trying valiantly to maintain an outward appearance of aloof disregard.

  Ethan unfurled the plans on the desk beside me and handed me one of the mugs. It was Earl Grey tea and the aroma was amazing. I eyed the offering warily. "It's not laced with strychnine is it?"

  Ethan's laugh was genuine, almost warm, although his expression held the familiar antagonism. "Just drink it," he grumbled.

  I took a tentative sip. Earl Grey, two sugars and a splash of milk, just the way I like it. In fact, it was the best cup of tea I'd had in ages.

  I glanced down at the plans Ethan had spread out beside me; they were preliminary working drawings, decidedly rough but composed of strong, definite lines. I recognized Ethan's handwriting, tidier than I'd seen of late. The plans were only rough, but there was a breathtaking simplicity to the lines that amazed me.

  "You drew these?" I asked in awe, tracing one dark pencil line with a pale finger. "They're good."

  "Of course they are," Ethan drawled; his eyes were on me, not the plans. "What do you think I do around here all day?" His tone was mocking but held a faintly teasing note.

  For all the work I'd put into the project over the past three weeks, I hadn't even considered that Ethan was doing the same.

  "Are we ready for Mrs. Kendall tomorrow?" I asked weakly, half afraid of Ethan's answer. I knew instinctively that he wouldn't lie and I wanted desperately to hear him say something positive. One look at his drawings had me feeling very amateurish; he had been right, I was indeed a tiny, little fish swimming in a very big pond.

  Ethan leaned over me, rifling through the sketches spread across my drafting table. To me they seemed suddenly like silly fluff; idealized doodles of the building as it might once have been, and more embarrassingly, a few drawings of my personal vision for the restoration. I'd even added color and faint outlines of landscaping where it seemed appropriate.

  My intention had been to make the project goals easy for Mrs. Kendall to grasp, and Maddock had seemed amenable that afternoon when he'd seen them. So why couldn't I help feeling that it was the Dragon's opinion which mattered most?

  "This is fairly good," Ethan pulled a sketch of the rear elevation of the house to the top of the pile and smoothed it down carefully with his large hands. I watched the process wordlessly, feeling an unexpected warmth in my belly; whether it was from his almost complement or his closeness, I couldn't be sure.

  I only half-heard his dissertation on gables and dormers; I'd never seen the truly professional side of Ethan Anderson, and I had to grudgingly admit that it was impressive. He certainly knew his stuff; but it was the warm stirring of his breath in my hair and the strong length of his arm bracing his weight against the drafting table beside me that had me thinking.

  I closed my eyes and leaned away from him, taking another series of deep, calming breaths. This was Ethan freaking Anderson I was getting hot and bothered by, for crying out loud; the man who had me shaking with fear one moment and then calling him childish names the next. I didn't even like the guy, so what the hell was wrong with me?

  Ethan stopped speaking mid-sentence and I opened my eyes to find him watching me warily.

  "You alright?" He asked stiffly, while something akin to concern flashing in his grey-blue eyes.

  "Yeah," I mumbled softly, averting my gaze, afraid those silver eyes of his could see right through me. "Just tired."

  "No wonder," Ethan snapped, the old familiar edge in his voice. "You've worked yourself up over this project for nothing."

  I opened my mouth to defend myself but Ethan's hard glare shut me up.

  "Look Emma, I've seen a million clients like Mrs. Kendall; she’ll bitch and make demands and have you jumping through hoops if you'll let her, but in the end she'll agree to whatever we've proposed." There was a hint of distain in his voice, but for once it wasn't directed at me. "They're all the same."

  "The ignorant masses, huh?" I teased, intrigued by this little peak into the Dragon's mind.

  "I don't really care that they don't know shit about architecture," Ethan growled, "at least this biddy is trying to do something good; I hate when they bulldoze significant buildings for more parking spaces."

  I smiled, more to myself than him. How many times had I thought the very same thing?

  "Um, Ethan? About this afternoon..." I didn't know what to say, wasn't really sure just what I was sorry for.

  "Don't disappoint me by apologizing now," the Dragon snarled, an almost teasing glint in his eye. "I was just starting to think you had a backbone."

  Surprisingly, I laughed. "I wasn't going to apologize for what I said. But the other thing..." I trailed off blushing.

  Ethan stared down at me, his solid chest resting against my shoulder, the heat of him going right through me. He smirked. In true Dragon fashion, he wasn't goin
g to make it easy for me. His steel blue eyes darted down to my lips and I had to fight to keep from smiling.

  Slowly his gaze wandered back to meet my own; there was a challenging glint in his eye that both irked and intrigued me. He knew damn well the effect he had on me, the only consolation to my wounded pride was knowing it wasn't a one-sided attraction.

  "Ethan, I think we should talk about..."

  "Oh shut up, Emma," Ethan growled, and just as I was about to argue again he leaned in and kissed me: hard.

  Skillful and intense; that was my first impression as Ethan took without asking. I had a brief, fleeting of idea of resisting until his hand came to rest gently on the back of my neck; the gesture was so un-Ethan-like that I gasped, and masterfully Ethan took advantage, slowing the kiss down, drawing the moment out until I was leaning heavily against him, dizzy with desire.

  Ethan's tongue was questing and inquisitive; learning the corners of my mouth with practiced flair; drawing adroitly from me noises I didn't know I was capable of making. Tentatively I reached up to wrap my hand around the solid anchor of his arm and was rewarded with a deep growl of pleasure from the Dragon.

  For a time it seemed like kissing Ethan was the only thing in the world; the only noise the rough rhythm of our breathing into one another, the only taste the faint flavor of tea in his mouth, the only sensation the hot slide of our lips and tongues against each other.

  This is the Dragon! My mind screamed over and over, a litany of protest when I had no willpower to move. What the hell are you doing? But my body betrayed my common sense greedily, hungry for the possibility Ethan was offering.

  "Offering" perhaps wasn't the right word; Ethan's technique was a more mercenary, 'take-no-prisoners' method which was new to me; it was a little like standing on the edge of a tall cliff: thrilling and terrifying at turns. I'd never experienced anything like it and it left me feeling very young and naïve.

  Unexpectedly, Ethan became more frantic, kissing me harder, making my head swim. There was only one question to ask.

  I broke the kiss reluctantly, watching warily as Ethan's silver eyes came back into focus, a faint flicker of hesitation disappeared before I could be sure I'd really seen it.

  "Ethan, I..."

  He held up a hand of warning, silencing me. "Emma," his voice was a deep, raspy growl. "For once, please don't say anything." There was a scowl on his handsome face which somehow seemed less fearsome now.

  I reached up to trace the furrow between Ethan's eyebrows as he frowned and I smiled up into his eyes softly. "Your place or mine?”

  I broke the kiss reluctantly, watching warily as Ethan's silver eyes came back into focus, a faint flicker of hesitation disappeared before I could be sure I'd really seen it.

  "Ethan, I…"

  He held up a hand of warning, silencing me. "Emma," his voice was a deep, raspy growl. "For once, please don't say anything." There was a scowl on his handsome face which somehow seemed less fearsome now.

  I reached up to trace the furrow between Ethan's eyebrows as he frowned and I smiled up into his eyes softly. "Your place or mine?"

  The smile that lit his face was breathtaking, the transformation remarkable; the Dragon looked ten years younger. He leaned down to plant another dizzying kiss on me. "I live around the corner."

  Nodding, I wordlessly scooped up our drawings and my purse and followed Ethan from the building, waiting patiently with trembling knees as he locked up.

  In the parking lot he eyed my beat-up old Jeep with trepidation before reaching out his hand towards me.

  "What?" I asked guardedly.

  "Keys," he growled.

  "What about your car?" I looked around the empty parking lot questioningly.

  "I walked. Keys."

  "Fine." With a sigh of frustration I handed them over.

  Ethan drove my temperamental Jeep like he'd been doing it for years, getting the hang of the sticky clutch before we'd gone a block. I wondered vaguely if he tackled everything in life with the same smooth, effortless skill.

  My blood began to cool slightly, leaving my mind racing; panic began to creep in at the edges. Was I actually going home with the Dragon? I glanced sidelong at Ethan; he was stonily composed, nothing showing on his handsome face. What the hell was going on in his head?

  "You're over-thinking this, aren't you?" Ethan asked with a sarcastic drawl, arching an eyebrow inquiringly.

  "N-no," I sputtered defensively, feeling very young all of a sudden. I'd never gone home with a guy I didn't know, never mind an older co-worker who I could have sworn hated me an hour ago; but the quivering anticipation didn't dull even as we pulled to a stop and Ethan shut off my Jeep. He turned towards me to hand back my keys; our eyes met and the desire flared again in a wave so strong it stole my breath.

  Ethan lived in an amazing art deco high-rise, but his firm grip on my elbow propelled me forward before I had time to gawk at the luxurious exterior or sumptuous lobby. There was an attractive, blond man who got on the elevator with us; he looked to be about thirty-five and judging by his expensive suit, successful. Of course, to live in Ethan's building I was thinking you'd have to be.

  He smiled flirtatiously at me before turning to Ethan. "Anderson." His greeting was short and dripped with contempt.

  "Mallory." Ethan answered, not even looking at the man, but keeping his eyes firmly glued to the elevator door as we lurched into motion.

  "Who's your friend?"

  Ethan still had his hand on the back of my arm and he squeezed it reassuringly; his thumb rubbed distractingly across my skin, but he said nothing. I didn't like the way the other man was eying me, but Ethan's silence pissed me off; I wasn't sure if he genuinely didn't care to enlighten the blond man, or if he was ashamed of me.

  "I'm Emma Kovacs," I held out my hand and the blond man shook it, flashing me with another bright, but ineffectual smile. "Ethan and I work together."

  "Lawrence Mallory." He let his gaze run up and down my body and I fought to suppress a shudder of disgust at the blatant appraisal. "I didn't know you had a secretary, Ethan."

  Ethan's eyebrow shot up and he turned to Mallory with a sneer. "She's not my secretary. She's an architect, and a damn good one." His voice was low and dangerous.

  The other man seemed nonplussed and dismissed Ethan with a wave of a manicured hand. "Sure thing, Anderson; whatever you say."

  Beside me I could feel Ethan tense, his nerves drawn taut. The elevator door binged cheerfully and came to a smooth stop on the eleventh floor. Lawrence Mallory shot me another flirtatious smile and passed me his business card. I scowled.

  "Anytime you want to get together with a real man Sweetheart, you just give me a call."

  Ethan took a threatening step forward, but the elevator door slid closed as Mallory chuckled. Ethan whirled around to face me, his expression stormy. "You should not have spoken to him."

  "I beg your pardon?" I asked sardonically, still affronted by Lawrence Mallory's cheek. "You're actually going to tell me who I can and cannot speak to?" Personally, I had no desire to ever see the blond man again, but Ethan's possessiveness irked me; he had no right.

  Ethan stood towering over me, his grip on my upper arm becoming painful. "I do think I know what's best," he growled.

  "You can't be serious! I'm a grown woman Ethan, despite what you may think. And I can take care of myself."

  "Not if you're going to call that prick." Ethan snapped, his eyes flashing silver. He grabbed the business card from my hand and tearing it in two, threw it over his shoulder.

  "Thanks, Ethan. But I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions." I could feel my temper spark at the Dragon's arrogance.

  Ethan moved even closer, his mouth hovering over mine, his face was twisted with anger, but it made him look more handsome knowing I was the cause of this little bout of jealousy. It gave me a small feeling of power, knowing how irritated Ethan was that another man had shown interest in m
e. I smiled coyly, tilting my chin up further. "I wonder if he's busy later tonight? Maybe I will call Mr. Mallory…"

  The look on Ethan's face told me immediately that I'd gone a step too far; his anger melted away to reveal the stony, blank expression I'd seen in his office earlier that day and it was infinitely more intimidating than his anger ever was.

  "Like hell you will," he spit out; and grasping the back of my head forcefully, Ethan kissed me.

  Every cell in my body seized up, winded by the ferocity of Ethan's kiss and the sudden jolt of desire that raced through me. I moaned loudly and held on to his arms to keep from falling. He plundered recklessly, his tongue hot, his breathing ragged; as if from far away I could feel the elevator slide to another stop. A musical bing preceded the opening of the door and the faint chill of air from the hallway as it rushed into the stifling heat of the small space of the elevator. Ethan and I broke apart as a small, elderly woman stood open-mouthed in the doorway.