mattered now. She didn’t want the job or the life that went with it. She just didn’t love numbers anymore. She didn’t even care. Sooner or later, she’d be fired for slacking anyway, or worse, she’d be caught masturbating at her desk. She might as well take the initiative and leave. Why not?
All she wanted, all she needed, was Blake. His child. With any luck, she was a day away from having both. She needed to apply herself if she wanted to prove to Blake that she was what he wanted. Needed. She was positive now that they were meant to be. Designed for each other.
Quickly, before she had time to change her mind, she tucked her potted cactus under her arm and reached for her briefcase. The rest she didn’t care about. She hurried toward the door, a plan forming in her mind.
49
Alyssa Brooks
If she was going to romance Blake, she needed to get sexy—to vamp up her wardrobe, her house and her life. Right away. Tonight.
Time was short and she needed to hurry. All that mattered to her was Blake, a baby and living a simpler, more fulfilling life. From this day on, she planned to focus on just that.
* * * * *
The Mexican Hat Dance tune of his cell phone was barely audible under the loud music playing in his Mustang. Because it was in his duffel bag and he was almost home, he let it ring.
He’d check his messages after he got the cold shower he was in desperate need of.
Claire’s phone call had left him in bittersweet hell. He needed to chill out and fast—it was that or erupt in his pants.
Reaching to swipe the sweat from his brows, he tilted back the wide brim of his Stetson. His thoughts remained wrapped around Claire as visions of what he planned to do to her tonight—and the future they might have together—flashed through his mind.
Swept into a fantasy, he forgot all about the fact that he was driving. He never noticed the red light or the Volkswagen directly in front of him or the cars stopped ahead. Not until it was too late.
The accident happened all at once, the sudden realization, the loud, jolting crash, the air bag exploding into his face.
* * * * *
Legs crossed, Claire sat at the table dressed in the negligee she’d bought this afternoon. The plug was still driving her insane, but somehow, it didn’t seem as acutely noticeable now—if she sat the right way.
50
Desperate Seduction
She stared at the dinner she’d prepared. The rosemary lambchops were cold, the chilled, vinaigrette-dressed avocados now warm. The oysters were likely bad. And forget the silky smooth chocolates. She’d eaten every last one. And consumed the entire bottle of wine. By herself.
She’d been sitting there that long.
All afternoon had been spent researching aphrodisiac foods in an effort to create a romantic meal to share with Blake. She’d bought a flimsy black negligee and curled her hair. Even her once bland bedroom was now covered in red, from silk sheets to a velvet comforter.
She’d thought it was the perfect plan. To turn the table on Blake, to wine and dine him, to show him how much she really cared about him. How much she loved and enjoyed this newfound sexuality between them.
Perhaps she’d made a huge mistake.
Claire stood, cleaning off the table with abrupt motions. She dumped everything on top of the stupid lamb, not caring if thirty bucks went straight into the trashcan. When he hadn’t responded to her call, she figured he’d get the message and simply come over. But he hadn’t. She knew Blake. He checked his messages. Besides, as far as she could tell, he hadn’t even come home, despite the fact that originally he’d been expecting her.
Walking to the kitchen, she dumped everything into the trash. Forget eating. If things looked any more negative, she’d throw up.
Why the hell had he gone from hot to cold? What had she done to turn him off?
Had it been the masturbating? The phone call? Maybe Blake didn’t like forward women. Maybe he wanted her timid…shy…
No way. Not
All she wanted, all she needed, was Blake. His child. With any luck, she was a day away from having both. She needed to apply herself if she wanted to prove to Blake that she was what he wanted. Needed. She was positive now that they were meant to be. Designed for each other.
Quickly, before she had time to change her mind, she tucked her potted cactus under her arm and reached for her briefcase. The rest she didn’t care about. She hurried toward the door, a plan forming in her mind.
49
Alyssa Brooks
If she was going to romance Blake, she needed to get sexy—to vamp up her wardrobe, her house and her life. Right away. Tonight.
Time was short and she needed to hurry. All that mattered to her was Blake, a baby and living a simpler, more fulfilling life. From this day on, she planned to focus on just that.
* * * * *
The Mexican Hat Dance tune of his cell phone was barely audible under the loud music playing in his Mustang. Because it was in his duffel bag and he was almost home, he let it ring.
He’d check his messages after he got the cold shower he was in desperate need of.
Claire’s phone call had left him in bittersweet hell. He needed to chill out and fast—it was that or erupt in his pants.
Reaching to swipe the sweat from his brows, he tilted back the wide brim of his Stetson. His thoughts remained wrapped around Claire as visions of what he planned to do to her tonight—and the future they might have together—flashed through his mind.
Swept into a fantasy, he forgot all about the fact that he was driving. He never noticed the red light or the Volkswagen directly in front of him or the cars stopped ahead. Not until it was too late.
The accident happened all at once, the sudden realization, the loud, jolting crash, the air bag exploding into his face.
* * * * *
Legs crossed, Claire sat at the table dressed in the negligee she’d bought this afternoon. The plug was still driving her insane, but somehow, it didn’t seem as acutely noticeable now—if she sat the right way.
50
Desperate Seduction
She stared at the dinner she’d prepared. The rosemary lambchops were cold, the chilled, vinaigrette-dressed avocados now warm. The oysters were likely bad. And forget the silky smooth chocolates. She’d eaten every last one. And consumed the entire bottle of wine. By herself.
She’d been sitting there that long.
All afternoon had been spent researching aphrodisiac foods in an effort to create a romantic meal to share with Blake. She’d bought a flimsy black negligee and curled her hair. Even her once bland bedroom was now covered in red, from silk sheets to a velvet comforter.
She’d thought it was the perfect plan. To turn the table on Blake, to wine and dine him, to show him how much she really cared about him. How much she loved and enjoyed this newfound sexuality between them.
Perhaps she’d made a huge mistake.
Claire stood, cleaning off the table with abrupt motions. She dumped everything on top of the stupid lamb, not caring if thirty bucks went straight into the trashcan. When he hadn’t responded to her call, she figured he’d get the message and simply come over. But he hadn’t. She knew Blake. He checked his messages. Besides, as far as she could tell, he hadn’t even come home, despite the fact that originally he’d been expecting her.
Walking to the kitchen, she dumped everything into the trash. Forget eating. If things looked any more negative, she’d throw up.
Why the hell had he gone from hot to cold? What had she done to turn him off?
Had it been the masturbating? The phone call? Maybe Blake didn’t like forward women. Maybe he wanted her timid…shy…
No way. Not
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