Concealed Desire Read online

  Table of Contents

  ~ Look for these titles from Eden Summers ~

  Copyright Warning

  ~ Dedication ~

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  ~ About the Author ~

  ~ Also by Eden Summers ~

  ~ More Romance from Etopia Press ~

  ~ Look for these titles from Eden Summers ~

  Now Available

  Sneaking a Peek

  “Phantom Pleasure” Halloween Heat V

  Concealed Desire

  Eden Summers

  Copyright Warning

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published By

  Etopia Press

  1643 Warwick Ave., #124

  Warwick, RI 02889

  http://www.etopia-press.net

  Concealed Desire

  Copyright © 2013 by Eden Summers

  ISBN: 978-1-939194-63-3

  Edited by Rachel Firasek

  Cover by Valerie Tibbs

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Etopia Press electronic publication: January 2013

  ~ Dedication ~

  To my supporters, the friends, family, and even complete strangers who take the time to ask about my writing. I wish you could understand how much a simple question, tweet, or e-mail means to me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  And last to my husband. Even though your favorite band is Aqua and you like Nikki Webster a little more than seems healthy—I still love you more than life.

  Chapter One

  “Beth, you’re a great asset to the Sutherland & Son team, but I’d like to make you more than that.”

  Beth Graison raised a polite brow at her boss, watching the man old enough to be her father lean back in the plush seat, his fingers pitched over his chest. Pasting a soft smile on her lips and a thoughtful look on her face, she tried to convey a calm she didn’t feel.

  This had to be a joke. Surely any minute now he would slap his hand on the desk, burst out in laughter, and say, Beth, I’m joking. I wasn’t serious when I propositioned you to be my mistress.

  She studied the gentle wrinkles of his indifferent expression. He scrutinized her, his head cocked, eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. Fear bubbled deep in her belly, multiplying and turning until her stomach threatened to revolt.

  “Umm…” She considered his features, taking in the firm set of his mouth, the slight raise of his chin. Oh, God. He was serious.

  She didn’t need time to consider whether she wanted to be his dirty little concubine. The answer was a no-brainer—a resounding hell no—but she needed to handle the situation with care.

  Her heart hammered as the walls closed in, her panic shrinking the room to a tiny box. The distance between them now felt uncomfortable and intimate, even though he still sat on the opposite side of his desk.

  Blood rushed in her ears and her chest threatened to explode. She needed to take a step back, clear her head, and wade through the crazy. She couldn’t think under this pressure. “Can we sleep on it?”

  Max’s aged jaw fell open a crack. His blatant shock made her pause and do a quick rewind of what she’d said. Holy crap. “Me! I meant me…alone! I want to sleep on it—not both of us sleeping together.” She pointed at her chest, trying to reiterate what her flustering couldn’t seem to get across. “Not that I’m opposed to sleeping with you…”

  She needed to breathe, but her throat began to constrict. Her cheeks burned, and she hung her head in humiliation. Where was her calm-under-pressure business persona? She tried to find it, to paste on another smile and steady her gulps of air, but sadly, it seemed to have fled the building. Twelve years of city life and she still didn’t relate to the loose virtues and low sexual standards of her city counterparts.

  “I realize this is out of the blue, Beth, and I don’t expect you to answer straightaway, but please take my offer into consideration. I think the arrangement would be mutually beneficial.”

  Mutually beneficial? Not likely. Out of the blue? Really? Beth wanted to flick her wrist and wave away his comment. No way, I receive similar offers from men old enough to be my father on a daily basis. Instead of voicing the sarcasm, she nodded like a bobblehead on speed. “O-OK, Mr. Sutherland. I will definitely think about it.”

  Beth stood, taking an extra second to steady her tingling legs before she retreated from his office, her footsteps bordering on a sprint. Down the hall she passed Steve, her second in charge. When their gazes met, an instant, scorching heat flooded her cheeks. She gave him a tight smile, unable to hold eye contact, and rushed to her office. It felt as though the sordid details of the meeting were tattooed on her forehead for everyone to see.

  The office door closed behind her, and she sighed in relief. As soon as the breath left her lungs, she waited for calm clarity to ease in…and waited…and waited. Knowing she was a little delusional, she gave it another try. A large inhale expanded her lungs, and then she counted to ten, letting it out.

  Damn. Not even breathing like a Zen master would calm her down. She needed to leave work. Boarding the crazy train wasn’t something she wanted to do in front of her colleagues. The team she worked with were friends, but the bastards stored up humiliating memories like they were lost treasures of Atlantis. At every available opportunity they would bring them out to share.

  She snatched her handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk and contemplated the additional time needed to shut down her computer, then decided against it. Seconds were passing and she didn’t want to risk another encounter with Max today.

  Mind-set in James Bond mode, Beth poked her head into the hall, taking a peek to the left and right. The coast was clear. She yanked her handbag onto her shoulder and stepped from her office on silent feet, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Pivoting on her toes to move down the hall, she gave a routine glance into Dean Sutherland’s office directly across from hers, a ritual she couldn’t seem to quit.

  “Shit.” She froze. His frowning gaze focused directly on her as he sat behind his desk biting the end of his pen. Damn it. The only Friday in history the boss’s son hadn’t left work early.

  Not willing to be distracted, she gave him a startled wave and hightailed it to reception. Her muted footsteps moved from the carpeted hall to echo in the tiled waiting area, causing the receptionist�
�s back to stiffen, her fingers madly clicking to close the pages on her computer.

  “Looking at porn again, Ange?” Beth slowed long enough to fluster her too observant best friend. Better flustered than noticing her distress.

  Angela turned with a mock glare and pushed the headset microphone away from her mouth. “For starters, it’s not porn. I’m looking at still images of the naked male form in all its blazing glory. I consider it art. And secondly, you know I hate how you sneak down the hall. You’re the only one here that doesn’t walk like a baby elephant.”

  Beth wanted to laugh but worried the sound would come out as a sob, so she smiled instead. “I’m heading home early, but I’ll call you over the weekend, OK?”

  A crease marred Angela’s brow. “Everything all right?”

  No, not at all. There were images of her boss flashing through her mind, unwanted images of Max’s naked body as he gave her a come-hither glance. She looked up to him like a father figure…and now there were dirty pictures of him bombarding her senses. She shivered, trying to dislodge the horror. It was equivalent to catching your parents having sex—disturbing and emotionally scarring.

  Could a man his age actually get it up without chemical intervention? Christ. She would need to scrub her brain with a toothbrush and bleach if she ever wanted her libido back.

  Beth reached the elevator and pressed the Down button. She needed more distance from Angela’s perceptive gaze before she turned back to answer.

  “I’m fine.” She beamed, cringing at the unnatural, animated tone. Great, now her friend would know without a doubt something was wrong. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  A ding sounded before she could display more of her deplorable acting skills. Stepping into the elevator, she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to the gods of impeccable timing before she pressed the button to the lobby.

  * * *

  The plan had been to go home and drown herself in an expensive bottle of wine—the type to cause memory loss—because forgetting this afternoon sat high on her agenda. But twenty minutes later, Beth was still in the building, seated on a stool at the sports bar located on ground level.

  The world resembled a much better place. In the space of a few quick shots, her awesomely crappy day flittered away like a leaf in the city wind. All the troubles of the past week faded, moving from her mind with each drink until they became snagged on thoughts of her boss.

  Beth swiveled her stool and surveyed the room to keep occupied. Small groups of people mingled, laughing, drinking, and taking food off trays located along the polished bar. In a few hours, the majority of Sutherland & Son employees would be here, enjoying the tradition of Friday afternoon drinks. She needed to leave before they arrived, but at the moment none of the patrons paid her attention. The only person to acknowledge her since she’d walked in had been the bartender.

  Beth turned back to hover over her empty shot glass. She stared into space and wondered why her life had taken such a bad turn. Her career had always been demanding. Every day brought new issues to deal with, another task which required urgent attention, and she loved the thrill of the fast-paced environment. It was hard work, plain and simple. Being product manager of one of the biggest electrical appliance manufacturers in the country wasn’t meant to be easy. The sexual harassment was just another hurdle to overcome, a new “bonus” to her workplace agreement. She wasn’t about to let the drama ruin her fast track to success by suing the company. But that didn’t mean she was going to sleep with the old man either.

  A deep breath filled her lungs, alleviating some of the stress as she exhaled and slumped her shoulders. Time for another drink.

  She glanced along the bar and lifted her glass to gain the attention of the bartender. Moments later, he slid a filled glass toward her, a presumptuous smile tilting his lips. Her heart skipped a beat at his interest. It would be easy to smile back, to take him up on the offer in his eyes, except she didn’t do casual sex. Every one of her sexual experiences held an emotional commitment, some form of bond between her and her lover, and no matter how much of a hunk the bartender was, a simple smile wouldn’t cut it.

  Beth ignored his interest, ordering a chaser of vodka and Coke instead. Her mind still craved enough alcohol to make her incoherent, but her body started to hum a warning to slow down. The way she swayed on the stool was a great indicator she should listen. Four shots—three more drinks than her weekly average—and she was already close to tanked, yet the image of Max Sutherland’s hands on her naked body wouldn’t quit. She couldn’t stop reliving the meeting, analyzing it, cringing over it.

  In all honesty, the shots were probably exaggerating her tension. Not that Max Sutherland was a horrible man. He ran his business in a fair and honest manner. His looks weren’t all that bad either, an older version of his son’s aesthetic perfection. She would probably consider him attractive if she went for older men…much, much, older men. But he was her boss…and twenty-five years her senior, for God sake!

  Max hadn’t even suggested the offer in a flirtatious or enthusiastic tone. He pitched it to her like a business proposal, as if outlining the benefits of the latest kettle on their assembly line. Maybe if the proposition had been stated in an enticing manner she would have felt flattered instead of disgusted. Right now her body cringed on all levels.

  She glanced up to say thank you as the bartender pushed a glass of vodka and Coke toward her, the suggestive smile and gleam in his eyes back in full force. Before she could open her mouth to say the words, his sight drifted to the low neckline of her blouse and stayed focused on the swell of her breasts. She gripped her glass and contemplated throwing the contents in his face while her blood began to boil.

  Taking pride in her appearance didn’t give men a free pass to ogle. She was blessed with an enviable metabolism which left her body slender yet curvy in the right places, and she knew how to accentuate her best features. Right now, Mr. Bartender appeared to be quite impressed with the hint of cleavage visible at the V of her white silk blouse. No doubt his laser vision seeped through to her cream lace bra. Maybe if she gawked at his zipper and the slight bulge in his pants continuously for the next half hour, he would realize the error of his ways. Scratch that. With the current sparkle in Mr. Pretty Boy’s eyes, he would probably consider it a come-on, and she didn’t have the focus to give him the verbal smack down he deserved.

  Clearing her throat, she tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows until his baby blues climbed to meet hers. Their gazes met, and he had the nerve to give her an arrogant smile before moving to serve another customer.

  Bastard.

  This was exactly why she didn’t enjoy drinking with the yuppies in the central business district.

  “Don’t hold it against him; they are quite impressive.” The familiar, husky tone had her back snapping ramrod straight. Her heart shot to her throat and her nerves tingled in hyperawareness. Through her periphery she watched Dean Sutherland take the stool beside her.

  Great, exactly what she needed. She didn’t bother to look at him, knowing in her current state she would stumble over the line of professionalism, plummeting headfirst over the cliff of lust if she focused on those dark chocolate irises.

  Beth closed her eyes and let out another deep breath. Tilting her head to the ceiling, she prayed for guidance. The air continued to leave her lungs as she grabbed her drink and threw it back in quick, choking gulps.

  Of all the people in all the bars in the entire city, Dean had to be the one to approach her. Admittedly the sports bar was located at the bottom of their high-rise office building, so it was inevitable that a colleague would spot her—but did it have to be him?

  The sexy, smart-mouth took pleasure in flirting with her, teasing and taunting her on a daily basis, reminding her of the feel of those sultry lips, although she tried to forget their one alcohol-filled embrace from last year. Now he sat beside her, talking about God knew what. She didn’t want him to see her in this state, swayi
ng on her stool and a complete mess.

  The cherry on top of her perfect afternoon was the inability to bitch to him about the scandalous meeting. Max Sutherland may be the managing director of the company, but Dean was part owner and a director himself. In professional terms, it didn’t seem right to bad-mouth the boss to his own son.

  “What do you want, Dean?” The agitated words came out with a tiny drunken slur.

  He raised his finger to the bartender, self-confidence pouring through the material of his expensive charcoal suit. “Scotch on the rocks, thanks.”

  The bartender gave him a nod and began to prepare the drink. Dean turned his body toward hers, the hardness of his knee bumping her thigh leaving a scorching trail along her skin. “You left the office in a hurry. I wanted to make sure everything went OK in the meeting with my dad.”

  Her heart fluttered even though she knew his concern was nothing more than idle conversation. Dean was a player, a self-assured man, proud of his womanizing ways. She had to keep reminding herself that there was no future with a man like him. He could make women pole dance in the palm of his hand with a mere glance. At one time she would have cherished the thought of him caring about her, but after months of watching him with countless women, she knew he was incapable of monogamy.

  Every time her hungry eyes glanced his way it made her insides boil. She should be repulsed by his behavior, yet she still tried to convince herself that one night with him would be worth it.

  Beth turned her head, reluctantly looking at him, needing the visual to confirm whether his words were genuine or a tease. His face held no humor; his usual casual appearance was now troubled with a set jaw and creased brow. The taunting amusement she heard in his voice earlier had disappeared from his expression.