“Everything is set. We’re just waiting for seven to roll around. The day is dragging. I thought stopping by would be a great way to pass the time.”
She slid her hand up my arm and rested it on my shoulder. “Did you talk to the guys about me tagging along tonight?”
“Yeah. They said that you can meet us at six thirty at the office and we’ll head out from there.” I was fucking lying through my teeth.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I lied again. I was going to have to do some major groveling later to make up for the bullshit falling out of my mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She leaned forward and gave me a kiss square on the lips.
As she started to pull away, I wrapped my arms around her waist and brought her body flush with mine.
“Where you going? I need more of that,” I murmured against her lips.
“Morgan,” she said, pushing against my chest, “I can’t get caught here at work.”
“Doesn’t everyone knock?” I asked, peering over her shoulder toward the door.
“Yeah, but—”
I cut her off, covering her mouth with mine and breathing her in.
She moaned into my mouth as she pulled the breath from my lungs. I pulled her tighter against me, wrapping her in my arms.
What the fuck was I doing?
I hadn’t gone there to fuck her, let alone kiss her. I wanted to drop by, say hello, have a quick chat with Natasha, and then make sure Race wouldn’t make the seven o’clock meeting tonight. But here I was, in a lip-lock with Race.
I broke the kiss. “I gotta stop.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” she asked with lipstick-smudged lips, panting.
“I just wanted to drop by and see how you were and tell you about tonight.” I licked my lips, savoring every drop of her left behind.
“That’s all you wanted?” she asked, backing away as she adjusted her shirt.
“Yep. That’s all,” I lied.
Three times I’d lied to her face. She’d probably have me by the balls later for it, but it was the right thing to do.
“Ms. True,” her secretary called through the door as she knocked.
“Fix your lips,” I whispered, touching my mouth.
“Shit,” she muttered, running to her desk. She grabbed a mirror and tried to fix her lipstick but failed. “Yes?” she called out.
Her secretary walked in, glancing between us as she walked toward Race’s desk. She gave me a quick wink before turning her full attention to her boss. “Natasha wanted to go over the notes for your meeting tomorrow before she leaves tonight. She asked me to give them to you and to have you phone her when you’re ready.”
Natasha. That was Tyler’s wife—and possibly an accomplice in his scheme to ruin Race’s career. I hadn’t told her about Natasha yet, and I still didn’t feel the time was right, but I had to warn her.
Race took the notes from the woman and flipped through the pages. “I’ll give them a quick read, Cara. Call her and tell her to come to my office in five.”
The woman nodded and turned on her heel to face me. “Are you sure you’ll be done?” Cara asked as her eyes raked over me from head to toe, and with a grin so dirty, I knew exactly what she had on her mind.
“Yes. We’re done here. Mr. DeLuca was on his way out.”
“Shame,” Cara whispered before she sauntered toward the door and left.
