Contemporary Romance
Date Published: June 23, 2017
Tara Johnson's sacrifices are about to pay off: a senior executive at thirty-five at a Fortune 500 company, she's one of the two finalists in line for a Managing Director position. Unfortunately, her rival of fifteen years, the charming, infuriating Richard Boyd, is just as qualified, and unlike her, he's willing to cross pretty much every line to get what he wants.
Of all the things Tara stored in the attic to make it to the top, it's her personal life she misses the most. That is, until she starts a steamy affair with sex god Aidan, her direct report. Interoffice relationships with a subordinate can mean the end of a career, and when Richard finds out, it's the perfect opportunity to take his high-heeled nemesis out, especially since he's still nursing a grudge against Tara for rejecting him years ago.
But Tara's increasingly domineering lover has his own dark secrets, endangering more than just her career. As her liaison spirals out of control, salvation will come from the man she always thought she hated, and perhaps the only one to truly understand her.
About the Author
Katerina Baker is a lucky gal who still attempts to have it all: full-time project management job that she enjoys, crazy family of four (with the ongoing threats of getting a pet to upset the family equilibrium) and writing.
Although on some days she is much more successful at managing her life than on the others, she still claims that she doesn’t want it any other way.
Katerina is represented by Sharon Belcastro from Belcastro Agency, and has a contract with Lachesis Publishing, who will be publishing her Romantic Suspense novel Under the Scrubs.
Contact Links
Twitter: @KaterinaBaker
I
sauntered to the elevator with my well-practiced “confident” walk, stretched my
arm to push the button—
And my
high-heeled sandal slipped.
My knee
gave in, and I grabbed onto the first thing I could reach to prevent me from
the total embarrassment of ending up on the floor in front of everyone. I
turned to thank the helpful soul…and came face-to-face with Richard and a lazy
twist of his lips settled in the corner of his mouth. I continued to squeeze
his arm and my chest brushed his side. But it was more than that; he placed his
other arm on my lower back to support me, and I felt a slight tug. The bastard
pulled me closer to him in front of everyone watching and my space was suddenly
invaded by the scent of his cologne. By Richard.
My
insides tightened, and my lips pained as I was still trying to keep them in a
semblance of a smile in front of everyone.
“You
okay there?” he asked, his expression no less mocking than it was earlier. “You
seem flustered. I understand. You finally get to see my place.”
The
following moment was the testament to the long road that got me to that point
in my career. All the brutal hours I’d slaved in the office, the hard work,
missing friends’ events because of last-minute urgent assignments, working
through my own birthdays—it all came down to that. My self-control to not kill
Richard when every inch of my body believed spending the next twenty years in
prison would be well worth it.
I
smiled into his snake-green eyes, pushed his arm away and stepped into the
elevator. Just as the doors closed separating us, as he thankfully decided to
stay with the next group, I managed to think of an appropriate response. But it
was too late.
----
I
needed to regroup, figure out what I really wanted. I wanted…something. But
hooking up with a random guy definitely wasn’t it.
A woman
had other ways to satisfy her sexual cravings. Mine came in trendy silver, with
an electronically operated, “modest-sized” device designed specifically for
”her” pleasure. It was there for me when I needed it, it didn’t require any
work on my part to get it ready, and it didn’t ask to rank our latest adventure
when we were done. “Tara, sweetie, how was it? I feel like this one was
at least a solid eight.” My Adam & Eve had a bit more common sense
than that.
Today,
our ”date” started just like it always did—a quick steamy shower to get my
limbs soft and ready, and a little spritz of perfume (hey, I knew my date
wasn’t real, but I was trying to get in the mood). I dropped onto my silk,
thousand-thread-count sheets, and…nirvana.
Only
the ordeal didn’t go according to my plan. The moment I closed my eyes, I saw
Aidan’s face. Grinning and looking at me with a devilish smile on his face. His
arm with the snake tattoo that went all the way up and around his bicep slid
under my blouse and reached for my breasts. Hang on a minute. Why
had Aidan invaded my intimate session with my vibrator? Why did he think he was
welcome?
I
needed a restart.
Some
more perfume, extra pillows behind my back.
There,
much better.
Ahh, it
felt so good.
Aidan,
that time bare-chested, showed me exactly where that tattoo disappeared. In the
masculine curve between his hard bicep and his shoulder blade.
Damn
it.
I
wouldn’t be masturbating to the image of Aidan stripping in front of me. He was
exerting himself for me at work, not for my climax. We might have shared
burritos, but it still didn’t give him the right to turn into my made-up,
perfect man who helped me release my tension at the end of a busy day.
Go
away, Aidan.
Another
attempt.
Total
failure.
I was
doing something wrong here. As a method of last resort, I tried to bring up the
images of a real bad boy I’d met during my trip to Buenos Aires many years ago.
Our one real night was steamy, but it couldn’t be compared to the many fake ones
when I’d used those memories to help my battery-operated assistant.
Yet, no
matter how hard I tried to work my tricks, the images of a bad boy came with a
sexy tattoo on his arm, a set of mischievous dimples, and there was nothing
remotely Hispanic in those sexy blue eyes.
Fifteen
minutes later, orgasm-less and totally frustrated, I threw my vibrator aside
and climbed under the covers.
——
I
turned and saw an impeccable suit and a sarcastic grin on the face of its
owner. I stood up straight and gritted my teeth.
“Richard,”
I hissed. “Have you spoken to your shrink yet? Why are you here?”
“The
shrink gave up on me long ago.” He smirked. “I enjoyed your presentation. I
almost forgot how inspiring you could be. Nice job. Wanna invite me as a guest
speaker next time?”
“Is
there a reason you came to listen to a Women’s Network
event?”
“Why
not? You wouldn’t want to exclude me just because I’m a man, would you?”
“No,
I’d want to exclude you because you’re a jerk,” I countered and instantly
regretted it, seeing his turned up lips and a smile soaked with sarcasm.
Calling my “partner” a jerk wasn’t exactly what I’d call professional, but it
was Richard, and I’d had a stressful day.
“By the
way,” he said, “How come you aren’t married with two point five kids by now?”
I
glared at him. “I chose not to. Why aren’t you?”
He
folded his arms across his chest and slanted against the wall. “If you insist
on rejecting me, I can always marry a twenty-year-old ten years from now.”
I
advanced toward him, hands on hips. Of course, he never failed to turn our chat
into utter travesty. “A twenty-year-old? How predictable.”
He
smiled, and I hated that smile. It reminded me of him trying to pursue me
during the training program when he thought I’d never say no to his
less-than-smooth pickup techniques, which I knew he used on another girl that
same evening.
Luckily,
we heard footsteps, sparing us the continuation of our verbal insults, which
would’ve likely lead us to lose our tempers, raise our voices, and turn the
conversation into something else entirely. Briefcase fights. We’ve resorted to
those. I hit him with my red purse in the midst of a passionate argument,
forgetting it had my laptop. Richard survived; my laptop didn’t.
----
My
mouth dropped open at what I saw.
Colorful
ink formed a tattoo of a snake that twisted around his arm. A tattoo. It
started from the middle of his forearm and disappeared into the sleeve at his
elbow.
Wait a
minute. Tattoos were taboo, a part of a bad-boy image. Bad boys—at least not
those whose badness was openly displayed in the form of body art—did not hold
leadership jobs at Fortune 500 companies. I once knew a CEO and I wouldn’t
mention his name, so as to not cause him any embarrassment, who flew to Bermuda
to get his tattoo removed. It was a tiny image of a skull on his back and
nobody would have found out that he had it, if only he weren’t planning a New
Year’s Eve bash. Which, at the insistence of his girlfriend, was going to
happen at a spa where all the guests would be in their bathing suits. Needless
to say, the CEO had flown as far away from New York as possible to guarantee he
wouldn’t run into anyone he knew and got rid of the forbidden skin art and his
reputation was saved.
So, as
we dug into our burritos, I kept glancing at his tattoo. Trying to imagine how
high up his arm the snake ended. Would it be covering his entire bicep or end
just above his elbow? Perhaps I was staring a little too openly, but the
discovery was a bit too shocking.
---
“How’s
Jake, Martha?” Richard asked. “Got any new photos?”
Martha
shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glancing from Richard to me and
back. I sighed. I mentally promised to tell her later I wasn’t mad that she’d
shared her grandson’s photos with Richard. Actually, I was mad, but not at her.
Was it unreasonable to be angry that my nemesis knew about my admin’s family?
She
muttered something under her breath and left, and I turned to Richard. “Well?”
“I
didn’t know I had to make an appointment to work on the project that John
entrusted to the two of us, Tara.”
“If
you’ve got nothing better to do than wait for me, I s’pose that’s okay. It’s
eleven, must be coffee break hour for you.”
He
shook his head, as if he were finding me quite troublesome. “I checked your
schedule, and I knew you’d be back from your morning meeting by now.”
“Could
you be any creepier?”
He
wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m resourceful.”
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