Scott Sinclair.
THE investors’ dinner went on and on. Scott took a five-minute break to check his work messages. Ah hell, why not admit it? He wanted to see if she’d called. His presentation that morning had gone off without a hitch, adequately explaining the issues causing Millennium Robotics’ downward financial trend in the last three reported quarters while at the same time keeping the company’s outlook upbeat, though that was a difficult line to walk. His part done, he’d sat through the other presenters, the questions, the discussion, yet he’d had to force his mind to stay on track. It wanted to wander to his mystery lady.
He had to smile to himself, because damn if he wasn’t hooked. Until halfway through the day, he hadn’t bothered to consider whether she even lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. After all, she’d been staying at a hotel, yet he hadn’t allowed it as a possibility that she was from out of town.
Outside the restaurant door, the cool evening washing over him, he punched in his voice mail. His heart started to beat faster the moment he heard her voice on the message, and he felt almost giddy, like a dorky teenager the first time he was absolutely sure he’d caught the head cheerleader’s eye.
“We’re going to have a hot, passionate, anything-goes affair. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you how it’ll work.”
She was a tease. His cock was damn near combustible. He’d forgotten how good it felt to want a woman this badly. With his blood rushing in his veins, he was completely jacked, totally alive. He loved the mystery, the tension of waiting, the fear she might not call again. She was his drug. He was her addict.
He had one major problem. She’d used the word affair . Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten to wonder whether she was married. In his mind, she couldn’t belong to anyone else.
But what if she did?
4
SCOTT Sinclair had the hottest voice. In fact, Trinity had called his number a second time last night to listen to his voice mail recording all over again.
Letting his voice play in her head was better than allowing the sound of Harper’s harpy to ring in her ears. Heh. Harper’s harpy. She liked the sound of that . It didn’t make her a bitter bitch. Well, yes, it did, but she couldn’t help herself.
After returning from Faith’s, she’d moved her stuff into the guest room. It might be pathetic, but she couldn’t stay in the master bedroom. And this morning, she was not one darn bit maudlin. Honest.
In the kitchen, the coffee was already dripping, scenting the condo with a rich aroma. She popped her usual half piece of bread into the toaster, and when it was done, she had it halfway to her mouth before she realized what she was doing.
“A real woman doesn’t have to live on half a piece of dry toast.” Throwing it in the sink, she turned on the garbage disposal and ground it up with malice aforethought.
A real woman didn’t need a man to give her great orgasms either. But having Scott Sinclair listen in on a few would certainly be extra stimulating. And if he watched again? Ooh.
Granola streamed out of the package, clattering into her bowl. She used the rest of Harper’s fresh blueberries and covered them in whole, honest-to-goodness vitamin D milk without measuring a half-cup serving. Regardless of calories, calcium was good for a woman’s bones.
God, she felt free as she carried her cereal and the phone into the family room. The berries and milk-soaked granola were damn near . . . orgasmic. Trinity closed her eyes and savored every single delicious bite.
Now, she had to take a bite out of life. For today, that meant a phone call to her favorite CFO, Scott Sinclair. That definitely had an ooh factor involved. Slipping in her Bluetooth—she wanted to be totally hands free for whatever naughty thing she
THE investors’ dinner went on and on. Scott took a five-minute break to check his work messages. Ah hell, why not admit it? He wanted to see if she’d called. His presentation that morning had gone off without a hitch, adequately explaining the issues causing Millennium Robotics’ downward financial trend in the last three reported quarters while at the same time keeping the company’s outlook upbeat, though that was a difficult line to walk. His part done, he’d sat through the other presenters, the questions, the discussion, yet he’d had to force his mind to stay on track. It wanted to wander to his mystery lady.
He had to smile to himself, because damn if he wasn’t hooked. Until halfway through the day, he hadn’t bothered to consider whether she even lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. After all, she’d been staying at a hotel, yet he hadn’t allowed it as a possibility that she was from out of town.
Outside the restaurant door, the cool evening washing over him, he punched in his voice mail. His heart started to beat faster the moment he heard her voice on the message, and he felt almost giddy, like a dorky teenager the first time he was absolutely sure he’d caught the head cheerleader’s eye.
“We’re going to have a hot, passionate, anything-goes affair. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you how it’ll work.”
She was a tease. His cock was damn near combustible. He’d forgotten how good it felt to want a woman this badly. With his blood rushing in his veins, he was completely jacked, totally alive. He loved the mystery, the tension of waiting, the fear she might not call again. She was his drug. He was her addict.
He had one major problem. She’d used the word affair . Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten to wonder whether she was married. In his mind, she couldn’t belong to anyone else.
But what if she did?
4
SCOTT Sinclair had the hottest voice. In fact, Trinity had called his number a second time last night to listen to his voice mail recording all over again.
Letting his voice play in her head was better than allowing the sound of Harper’s harpy to ring in her ears. Heh. Harper’s harpy. She liked the sound of that . It didn’t make her a bitter bitch. Well, yes, it did, but she couldn’t help herself.
After returning from Faith’s, she’d moved her stuff into the guest room. It might be pathetic, but she couldn’t stay in the master bedroom. And this morning, she was not one darn bit maudlin. Honest.
In the kitchen, the coffee was already dripping, scenting the condo with a rich aroma. She popped her usual half piece of bread into the toaster, and when it was done, she had it halfway to her mouth before she realized what she was doing.
“A real woman doesn’t have to live on half a piece of dry toast.” Throwing it in the sink, she turned on the garbage disposal and ground it up with malice aforethought.
A real woman didn’t need a man to give her great orgasms either. But having Scott Sinclair listen in on a few would certainly be extra stimulating. And if he watched again? Ooh.
Granola streamed out of the package, clattering into her bowl. She used the rest of Harper’s fresh blueberries and covered them in whole, honest-to-goodness vitamin D milk without measuring a half-cup serving. Regardless of calories, calcium was good for a woman’s bones.
God, she felt free as she carried her cereal and the phone into the family room. The berries and milk-soaked granola were damn near . . . orgasmic. Trinity closed her eyes and savored every single delicious bite.
Now, she had to take a bite out of life. For today, that meant a phone call to her favorite CFO, Scott Sinclair. That definitely had an ooh factor involved. Slipping in her Bluetooth—she wanted to be totally hands free for whatever naughty thing she
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