My Boss's Kiss Read online

  Actually, my new marital status confused me anyway. I’d been married forever. I’d never been single, never really noticed men. Or noticed that they noticed me. But now everything was different. Men were different. Adam was different, so different than what I’d always thought. Suddenly, I didn’t know how to behave. I got so much attention—attention I wasn’t used to—I found myself needing to hide.

  It was weird.

  Everything was weird.

  Learning that Adam didn’t hate me, that he actually liked me, left me feeling intoxicated, like I was on a roller coaster—up in the air and out of control. And though it was an exciting feeling, it was also scary. Had me nervous and feeling guilty. It made me sort of wish I didn’t know about Adam’s feelings. Though, truth be told, I still didn’t really know. I mean, did he like me just a little … or a lot? I wondered.

  A few days later, though, I sort of got an inkling. When I got to work, the girls pulled me aside.

  “Adam’s in his office,” Sharona said. “He’s really down.”

  “Brandy left him,” Megan explained. “Really, truly left. For good. Her lawyer brought in the divorce papers.”

  “And he’s sad?” I didn’t realize Adam cared. It kind of made my heart sink a little.

  “Yeah,” Sharona said. “So, we figured maybe you could go in there and cheer him up.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. He likes you—a lot,” Sharona said. “Here take off your shirt.” She started unbuttoning the crisp white blouse that we all wore as part of our restaurant’s uniform, stripping me down to the tank top I wore underneath. “He likes you in your tank top.”

  “Yeah,” Megan agreed with a little laugh. “He stares at you after closing when you’re cleaning in it. He like, drools.”

  “He does?” I don’t know what astounded me more, learning this, or the way Megan and Sharona were acting, as though we were all dear friends. I mean, usually they were griping at me and swiping my orders.

  They put my hair down and fluffed it up, then Sharona led me to Adam’s office. I froze in front of the closed door. “What am I supposed to say?”

  “Don’t say anything.” Sharona grinned. “Just show a little leg.”

  Megan knocked on the door, then both she and Sharona ran off, leaving me holding a soda.

  “Come in,” Adam called.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “I heard about Brandy,” I blurted out as soon as I entered his office. I said it really quick and loud as I was flustered because Adam looked so surprised to see me. I mean, I never, ever go up to his office, ever. “Adam, I’m so sorry. Here, I brought you a soda. Do you want me to order you a burger or steak or something?”

  “No. I’m okay. Thanks.”

  He didn’t sound okay. Or look okay. He looked and sounded hurt. I sprang over to him and started rubbing his shoulders. He has super nice shoulders. I didn’t actually realize how much I liked them until I started rubbing them. Then I was like, Oh!

  “Hey, Jones, unless you’re planning to have sex with me, you should probably stop.”

  I jumped away from him, my heart ricocheting.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I said really loud as I was flustered. And a dork. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”

  “Yeah. Well, thanks for the Coke … and the tank top.”

  Gasp, he noticed!

  “Do you want me to help you with that?” I asked, referring to the stuff he was working on at his computer. “You can tell me the numbers and I’ll punch them in.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, working?”

  I sat down beside him, angling the monitor toward me. “No. Everyone’s got me covered. They sent me in here. We’re supposed to be making out.”

  Adam just stared at me, maybe wondering why we weren’t, maybe not, I don’t know. I just stared at the computer, waiting, ignoring any awkwardness. Finally, Adam started reading off the numbers. When we were finished, everything balanced, which seemed to impress Adam, which was, you know, nice.

  We sat around talking a bit. I was jabbering away about my kids. That always seemed to make him smile, and I was supposed to be cheering him up, so I went into one story after another. Adam listened with a grin, looking all interested and enchanted, so that only encouraged me.

  “Look, Jones,” Adam said after a few hundred stories, “I’m going to start making moves on you in a second. So, unless you want that, you should probably go out there and start waitressing.”

  My heart started thumping all spazzy.

  I bit my lip.

  Hmm. Moves on me from Adam, or waitressing? I was feeling sort of adventures, and excited. And I’d never been kissed by anyone but Jason, ever. Also, Adam just signed divorce papers, his split was now legal and official, and he was maybe sad. Plus, this was Adam Baker. Adam Baker! The guy I’d been fantasizing about night after night for weeks.

  I swallowed. “Moves? You have moves?”

  Adam grinned. “Yeah. I have a couple.”

  He came in close, sounding genuinely surprised, but also seductive. “Do you want to see some of my moves?” His face was so close to mine, our lips brushed.

  “Do you, Ash?” His sexy, soft, pink lips hovered over mine, teasing me.

  “Just a couple—a sample,” I murmured in a small voice, my heart about ready to pounce out of my chest.

  His lips were so soft, so tempting. I closed my eyes, hungry to have them crash against mine, hot and passionate—for real.

  Slowly, slowly, he backed me against the wall, bringing his warm hands up to either side of my face, gentle, gentle. Then slowly, tenderly his hot mouth pressed against mine, soft and sweet. I felt tingles all the way down to my toes.

  In the back of my head niggled the astonishing thought—This is Adam. I’m actually kissing Adam!

  That in itself had me on fire. But his kisses—oh my! They were so perfect, so warm and tender. Things heated up quickly, though—went from toasty warm to sizzling. Adam tangled his large hands in my hair, his lips becoming passion-filled as he drew me closer still, his seductive velvet tongue entwining, searching, tantalizing. His kisses growing with intensity until I was sure my heart was going to explode.

  Heat rushed through my whole body. This experience was so intense and awe invoking. Strong, cocky Adam turning tender and passionate—it had me weak in the knees. Before long, he had to hold me up to keep me from toppling to the floor, since every part of me melted into a puddle from his heat.

  Yowza, yowza! The boy had moves!

  The whole time we were kissing, I kept thinking: Wow! I’m kissing Adam!

  Purrr.

  He was a very smooth mover. I’m not even sure exactly how it happened. One minute we were kissing upright, but then, somewhere, somehow, we weren’t. Adam was on top of me on the office couch, whispering how nice I smelled, how soft I was, his hot mouth tantalizing mine, giving me all sorts of oral pleasures that were making me wiggle and—okay—moan.

  At one point Adam pulled away. “Jones, you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I tried to catch my breath, “… just … good moves.”

  He grinned, his hands going back in my hair and his mouth once again finding mine. Passion, heat, yum!

  I might have been getting a little too into it, I’m not sure, because he murmured, “Do you want to go to my house?”

  The thought was sort of alarming. Sex? Actual sex?

  I sprang up, jumping away from him as though he was on fire. “Um … no … uh, I should probably get back to work.”

  Adam rubbed his chin, silently watching me scurry away from him.

  His gaze flitted to the space I’d put between us, then up into my eyes. He cleared his throat, running his hands through his hair. “I think I’m done for the day.” His lips quirked. “I need a cold shower.”

  Yeah, I knew the feeling.

  CHAPTER 3

  That office escapade with Adam was too much for me. It re
ally was. Now every night I would go to bed and have fantasies involving Adam—crazy, weird, freaky fantasies. So, work became embarrassing. Whenever I saw Adam I’d blush and stutter and drop things. It was pathetic. It made me avoid him, just like he used to (well, actually, still did) avoid me.

  So, it was incredibly awkward when the air conditioning went out in the kitchen of the restaurant, because all of my fellow co-workers enlisted me to motivate Adam to get it fixed. Again, they had me take off my uniform shirt and fluff up my hair. Also, they flung water on me—and the bosom of my tank top—strategically, to make it look like sweat.

  “No, that looks too sexy.” Tony—our restaurant’s hot, 22-year-old bartender, eyed me up and down critically, yet somewhat flirty—I think. “He’ll never fix the heat if you send her in looking like that.”

  “No, it’ll work,” Sharona insisted.

  “You guys,” I protested for the hundredth time. “You don’t need to do this. He’ll fix the air conditioner. He’s not a mercenary.”

  “He’ll fix it—eventually. We want it fixed now, though, tonight. I’ve been pleading with him all day. He keeps saying Tuesday. I can’t wait until Tuesday,” Sharona moaned. “I’m sweating like a pig.”

  “You smell like one too,” Megan teased, fanning herself with a menu. “I’m going back out in the seating area. It’s nice and cool out there—spoiled customers.”

  Sharona humphed. “You can bet if the air conditioning broke in the dinning room he would have it fixed in a heartbeat.” She dabbed some more water on my chest. “There. Perfect.”

  Of course I should have objected more. Here I was letting my co-workers pimp me out. But the thing was, they were usually so mean to me. It was lame, but I liked their attention—everyone suddenly being so nice, plotting for me to be their hero. Though admittedly, they had been being a lot nicer to me these days, anyway. And they’d had a right, sort of, to hate me in the beginning. Since right from the start Adam had given me special treatment, an awesome work schedule and the best tables. I would have hated me too, probably.

  Anyway, somehow, I found myself at Adam’s office door again, my palms sweating, from nerves or heat, I wasn’t sure which. But since I was shaking as well, I figured it was mostly nerves.

  When Adam saw it was me at the door, he did a double take. I sort of blushed, wanting my uniform top back on. The way Adam stared—it wasn’t like when I caught him looking at me in the restaurant; he didn’t look away. He just kept staring.

  His gaze had me confused, filling me with mixed emotions, making me want to run and hide, but at the same time, fall into his arms and pant, “Take me, baby!” After all, I’d fantasized night after night about him looking at me just the way he was—full of want.

  But I didn’t run away or jump in his arms. Instead, I just stood in the doorway, trying to remember what Sharona had instructed me to do. “Look sexy.” I could remember her saying that, but the way Adam was staring, I was pretty sure I had that covered.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Is there something you need, Jones?”

  “Uh, yeah. I need next Saturday off—Jillian has a dance recital, and Cory has his first soccer game.”

  Okay, I realize this wasn’t what I was sent in to ask for. And I realized it at the time as well. But I did need next Saturday off and it was way easier to ask for that than the new air conditioner. I mean, Adam knew we needed a new air conditioner. And everyone had already been nagging him about it. All of a sudden I just felt dumb coming to his office to bring it up again. I mean, he already knew.

  “Okay. Done,” he said.

  Well, that was easy.

  “Oh, thanks.” I tried to smile, but it was hard because I knew what was coming next and it was lame.

  I trudged into his office, but tried to be sexy about it. I perched myself on his desk, showing off a little leg. Adam watched me with great interest, then studied my legs as though lives depended on it.

  My heart pounded hard. It had me sort of confused, yet breathless—my new found power.

  “Want to grab some lunch?” I offered.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.” I dabbed lightly on my sweaty chest, just as Sharona had instructed, then flung my hair. “It’s so hot in the kitchen. I’m dying.”

  Adam flinched his jaw, gazing from my sweaty tank top, back to my legs, then up into my eyes. “Do you really want to play this card?”

  My stomach dropped. “What card?”

  “The one you’re playing, Jones. ‘Cause I’ll give you what you want. You want Saturdays off to be with your kids, you want an air conditioner?—I’ll give them to you. But don’t mess around with me, Jones. You mess around with me and you’re going to have to back it up.”

  As if to prove his point he lightly skimmed my legs with his rough, hot “Adam” hands, making me jump off his desk with a yelp.

  The move had my pulse racing and my heart jerking all spastic and wild, but he totally only instigated the move to make a point. And he made it. Loud and clear.

  “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry,” I said all contrite and stuff, only then added kind of whiny, “But, Adam, it’s hot.”

  He opened the door for me. “Work, Jones.”

  The weird thing was, not much later that night, a delivery man came in with a brand new air conditioner. Everyone patted me on the back and gave me free drinks and called me their hero, but I wasn’t even sure the air conditioner had anything to do with me. For all I knew, Adam had already ordered it. He probably had. Still, I accepted their gratitude and sat with a group of them huddled in a booth—at their request (shock!)—when my shift was over.

  Tony, The Hot Bartender (that’s what we called him, since we also had Tony, The Not-Hot Assistant Manager), squeezed into the seat beside me.

  He whispered in my ear, kind of seductive-like, “Can I buy you a drink?”

  I choked on the French fry I’d just popped into my mouth. Did I mention Tony was hot? And twenty-two?

  Now he was looking at me all: Why-hadn’t-I-ever-noticed-you-before? And: I-want-to-see-you-naked-like.

  I choked again and took a sip of my water. “Um, okay.”

  I was going to blurt out that I had three children and my husband just died and I wasn’t even near ready to date yet—or even think about dating yet—but I bit the words back, not really sure that conversation was quite relevant to the situation. Only, I kept wanting to gush about it anyway, as I was a little drunk and not used to drinking. But people were being so nice—so nice—and they were the ones buying me the drinks. I had trouble turning them down.

  At some point, Tony smiled, tilting his head. “Maybe you’ve had enough.”

  Only, he said that after he bought me a bunch of tropical drinks first, watching me slurp them down.

  He helped me out to my car—well, out to the parking lot.

  “Hey,” he coaxed, pulling me back to him as I started to stumble towards my Honda. “Don’t go over there,” he murmured. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Awww. That’s so sweet of you.”

  Coming to think of it, he had been sweet all night, buying me drink after drink, whispering in my ear, playing with my hair, and now he had his arm around me, holding me tight as he steered me toward his car.

  Then, from out of nowhere—

  “Hey, Tony, I got her.” Adam was at my side. He pulled me from Tony, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to keep me from falling.

  “You bought us an air conditioner.” I smiled up at Adam, snuggling into his warm shoulder, all affectionate and dreamy and slightly dizzy, totally amazed he was suddenly here, beside me, holding me. Nice!

  Tony slinked away, looking shamefaced for some reason.

  “Tony was being so sweet,” I told Adam. “He made me drinks and was going to give me a ride home.”

  “Yeah,” Adam sounded like an adult counseling a small child, “you probably shouldn’t let Tony give you drinks—or rides home. You should probably s
tay away from Tony.” He helped me into his car, fastening my seatbelt.

  Adam was being so sweet. I wanted to tell him that. But suddenly I was so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep, and probably snored, only waking when I suddenly felt sick.

  My head was spinning, my stomach too. The whole world—spinning. So bad. I knew what was going to happen, but it was too late to do anything about it. I puked in my lap. And all over Adam’s fancy car.

  CHAPTER 4

  Me puking in Adam’s car probably had nothing to do with him buying a new one only a few weeks later, but you never know. In any case, he was very pleased with his new purchase. He showed it off to all of us when he came in to work the next day. It was actually the first time I’d seen him happy since Brandy dumped him. It was weird that a car could have such an effect on a guy. But I was glad to see Adam happy. It made my heart feel lighter.

  “I have a friend coming down for the weekend,” I told Adam. “She’s really into cars. Could I borrow yours?”

  Adam shook his head, smiling. “No one is touching my car—not even you, Jones.”

  “I was just kidding!”

  I really was. I just wanted him to see I was impressed with his car—though really I wasn’t. Not very, anyway. I drove a beat-up old minivan. What did I know, or care, about cars? Nothing. A high point in my life would be to just get a new minivan—one with GPS would rock. I was impressed with Adam’s beach house, and the fact that he owned his own restaurant, and everything about Adam, actually. But his car? I wasn’t really into it. But he sure was. The others at work seemed mightily impressed with it too. So, apparently, I’m just kind of out of it. Or weird.

  When my friend, Krystal, got to the restaurant I was just getting off work. I took her out to the parking lot and showed her Adam’s car and she was all awed by it, just as I knew she would be.

  Then I took her into the restaurant and coaxed Adam into sitting with us while we ate. Krystal was pretty awed by Adam as well, more so than I’d expected. I had wanted the two of them to meet, and I’d wanted Adam to see I actually had a friend (since I didn’t have any here in New Hampshire, not since I’d moved back anyway) and I’d wanted Krystal to meet my handsome boss, and later I’d tell her how we made out in his office. I was hoping she’d be a little jealous. That was my plan.