Dirty Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

exclamation, even though she’d stopped believing years ago.
     
    For what it was worth, the realization seemed to have run him straight through as well. “You’d better sit down,” he said. “Let me get you a drink.”
     
    Sitting was good. “No drink,” she said. “The last thing in the world that I need is a damn drink.”
     
    “I’m having a drink,” he said, as she flopped into the chair on the other side of his desk. “Coffee? Water? Anything? Please. Let me do something.”
     
    “Coffee,” she said, without much thought.
     
    “Milk? Sugar?”
     
    “No, thank you,” she said. He had one of those foul, trendy, automatic coffee makers on the same wall as his row of decanters. He popped a pod in and pressed brew, then poured himself two fingers of amber liquid. Still, as offensive as the brew method might be, the smell of caffeinated gold was delicious, and when he passed her the cup, she took it without complaint. He leaned against the edge of his desk.
     
    “Well,” he said, after a while. “Just how awkward will this be?”
     
    “Excuse me?”
     
    He shook his head. “You’re here to write a gossip piece on me, aren’t you? Your editor wasn’t specific, but the mag has a reputation that I’m sure you’ll uphold. Should I expect a tell all on our event last night?” His dark eyes were cold, all the sparkle gone.
     
    “What? No. Of course not.” Marie had been extremely clear, and Helen had backed up the zero-tolerance policy of the club. And besides, if she didn’t to be known as the hack who broke the story about the Subway Wanker, she really didn’t want to be known as the tramp who got famous by fucking the Blankenship heir. “Andy, you have my word on that. Last night—was amazing. But private. I won’t share that with anyone.”
     
    He studied her for a long moment, but it was nothing like Brianna’s calculating stare. He wasn’t ranking her in comparison to himself, and he wasn’t even considering her as a friend or foe. He was just—seeking the truth. And she had a funny thought, all of a sudden, that he was smarter than he let on, and much more aware than people gave him credit for. She thought that not much got past him at all. “Alex,” he said, after a little bit. He gave her a small nod, and his arms uncrossed, his hands settling on the edge of the desk. “They call me Andy at the club, but I’m Alex. Always have been.” He held out a hand again.
     
    She slipped her fingers into his, carefully pushing the frisson of interest to the back of her mind, where it couldn’t bother her. “Zoey,” she said. “Zoey Gardener. From the Downtown Voice. ” Dammit, he knew that. “I’m sorry to hear about your recent loss.”
     
    “Did I leave bruises?” He hadn’t let her hand go yet, and his index finger trailed out and caressed the sensitive skin inside her wrist. She fought to keep her shiver strictly internal.
     
    “I’d like to talk to you about your father’s influence on AEGIS. With Philip gone, how do you think the direction of the company will be affected?” Her voice was shaking. She had to look away from his eyes. She’d never felt lust rush through her like this, especially not with someone who was essentially a stranger. And he was still holding her hand, still tracing her wrist with his fingertip. She’d worn sensible panties today, but they were going to be soaked inside a few minutes at this rate.
     
    “I ask, because you’re squirming. Just a little bit. Does it still hurt?”
     
    She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat. “I woke up with the marks of your fingers in technicolor all over my ass and thighs, and I loved it so much that I considered finger fucking myself in the shower just so I could think straight. Okay? The readers of the Downtown Voice are desperate to know if the unfortunate passing of your father means that you’ll be under pressure from your board to settle down and get serious about the