Like any old day?
Nothing special at all?
A quick fix in the morning to get him happily through his work hours?
Somehow she mustered the strength to lift her eyelashes enough for her to see his face while still veiling any tell-tale expression he might seize on for making some other crass comment.
He was beaming with the kind of elated energy one associated with winning a million-dollar jackpot in a lottery. Macho male scooping the pool. Lucy’s mind went clickety-click through a series of thoughts that raised her sense of vulnerability to an all-time high.
He’d had her.
She’d fallen to him.
Game over.
He’d won.
She was just another woman who’d provided him with a kick-start to the day.
Never mind that the desire had been every bit as mutual as she had craved, Lucy’s heart was wounded and her pride unbearably stung. A vengeful rebellion surged across her mind, firing up a drive to puncture his pride. And his smugly male satisfaction in having done what he wanted with her also needed to be dealt with.
‘Is that it?’ she asked, the need to shame him clawing through her.
He looked startled, astonished. His beaming face tightened up. His eyes narrowed into piercing challenge. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t get off on it, Lucy.’
‘Oh, I did. It was great!’ she conceded dismissively, hating him for reminding her how easy she’d been. An absolute pushover. She picked her hands off his shoulders and rolled her stretchy top back over her breasts, settling it down to her waist in a clear demonstration she was not on offer any more.
Her mind furiously sought ways to take the edge off his triumph. She was sitting on the edge of the desk. He was still standing between her legs and her skirt was crumpled against him, hiding his vital parts, but the unzipped zipper sparked wicked inspiration—a reason for being so easy for him. Words tripped out before she could have second thoughts.
‘Buffy told me…’
No, she couldn’t say it. She hated anyone being reduced to a lump of meat. It was wrong. Even though he considered her his starter for the day, retaliating in kind was beneath her.
‘What did Buffy tell you?’
‘Oh, nothing. It was just woman stuff,’ she quickly excused.
His expression relaxed into smug indulgence. Probably priding himself on what a great lover he was, serving Buffy on Friday night, her this morning—and no doubt Buffy had told him he was great, too! A violent jealousy erupted in Lucy.
‘You and Buffy were talking woman stuff?’ he commented, obviously amused by his two women connecting.
If he went back to Buffy tonight…she couldn’t bear it. The come-hither model was just using him. The way she’d gone after Josh, she certainly wasn’t in love with James. She just liked having what he could give her, especially in the sex department, while Lucy yearned for much more.
‘Like what?’ he prompted, curiosity dancing with amusement.
Could she say it? Would he see how shallow his relationship with Buffy was?
‘Come on, Lucy. Out with it,’ he pressed. ‘I want to know what you two found in common.’
You…but not after this, she thought vehemently. She would not be the starter of the day and let Buffy be the finisher. She would do the finishing herself. Right now!
‘Buffy told me you had a big…’ She still couldn’t say it.
‘A big what?’
Why was she hesitating? It would re-arrange his thinking, wouldn’t it? Make him see how crass he’d been. Buffy, too, in labelling him like that.
‘That you’re really built…where it counted to her,’ she blurted out.
‘What?’
He looked utterly floored. Some protective instinct rose to the fore and he hastily achieved a respectable appearance, his face quite red as he tucked himself under cover—red from embarrassment or anger she couldn’t tell until he raised savagely glittering eyes.
‘She discussed me with you…in those terms?’ he growled.
Definitely anger.
Goodbye, Buffy, Lucy thought, feeling no regret whatsoever at ruining the other woman’s playground. Besides which, if James had only been using the swimsuit model for sex, he deserved to have that smacked in his face. He probably thought of Buffy in similar terms—big boobs. At least, he couldn’t think about her like that.
‘Some women do talk about their lovers,’ she explained, furiously justifying what she’d done, though beginning to feel agitated about it. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs, nervously needing more respectability herself. ‘Buffy considers big important,’ she explained further.
His eyebrows beetled down. ‘Do you?’
Desperately hoping he felt more than an impulsive lust for her, she earnestly declared, ‘I consider lots of things important, James.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said grimly. ‘Though apparently you didn’t mind hearing intimate details about me.’
‘I didn’t ask for them,’ she defended.
Seething disbelief glared back at her.
Her heart jiggled uncertainly. Somehow this was all rebounding on her, making everything tacky. She didn’t know how to extract herself from it. The truth spilled off her tongue.
‘Buffy offered them, wanting to dig out details about Josh, if you must know.’
His eyes glittered. ‘Did she get his details?’
‘No, she didn’t. I really don’t think of people like that,’ she strongly asserted.
‘But you have been thinking of me like that or it wouldn’t be still in your mind right now,’ he retorted fiercely. ‘What else did she say about me?’
It was getting worse, not better. She desperately wished she hadn’t started this. Jealousy was a terrible thing. She shook her head in shame. ‘I’m sorry. Please…can we just let this go?’
She slid off the desk, onto her feet, intending to side-step away from him.
His hands clamped on her shoulders, halting her attempt at escape. ‘Tell me!’ he commanded.
‘I must go and tidy up. Truly I must,’ she begged, squirming to get out of the black hole she’d dug herself into.
‘I’m sure you can spell it out in very brief terms,’ he bit out relentlessly.
Apologetic appeal was her last resort. ‘I don’t think you want to know, James. I seem to have said too much already. Sorry…’ She wriggled out of his grasp and grabbed her bag from her chair, hoping to make a fast exit.