calculator sidekick, perhaps?
“Mind if I come in?” Damien asked.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Chloe called out.
Damien entered and chuckled at the sight of Chloe. Her bare feet were propped on her desk and her hands folded behind her head. Damien looked every bit the hot, refined professional in his herringbone blazer, windowpane-patterned blue shirt and slim khakis. “I just finished up,” Chloe announced, “and was putting my feet up. I feel like I finally earned my place here, if you don’t mind me saying so. You, Damien Walters, are now a financially organised small business owner. And I’d like to offer my congratulations on a hugely successful nightclub and therapy practice. You are solidly in the black.”
“Excellent.” He nodded. “You’re a fast, dedicated worker, Chloe. I knew it was a smart move hiring you. You’ll find a project bonus in your next pay cheque in appreciation for your efforts. Hang on just a sec, I’ll be right back.”
Chloe heard his footsteps enter his own office across the hall, pause a few moments as he rustled around, then return to her office.
He held a chilled bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. “I know it’s only three thirty,” he said, grinning wickedly, “but this seems like a good reason to celebrate, don’t you think?” He popped the cork with a practised hand. “Besides, I know the owner here. He’ll let it slide this time.” He poured two glasses and handed one to Chloe.
She sipped and let her head fall back against the cushioned headrest of her chair.
Damien moved a chair beside her and placed his flute on the table after taking a sip. “I really am grateful for your hard work, Chloe,” he told her. Chloe wondered if he felt, as she did, the strong, invisible magnet that pulled them together. Even gravity worked against her—she felt the room tilt so that the only direction she could move in was towards the inviting warmth of his chest. Chloe’s mouth went dry and her nipples tightened. She leaned towards him, breathless with hope that he felt a reciprocal pull towards her.
Damien’s face darkened in colour and his breath quickened. Chloe wanted to do a fist pump and a victory lap. He feels it, too! I know he does!
He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, then dropped his gaze down to Chloe’s full lips. The corners of her mouth curved up. Damien looked away sharply towards the desktop, where Chloe’s feet were propped.
“Something about you, Chloe, is making me want to bend my rules about mixing business with pleasure.” He swallowed, eyes fixed on Chloe’s delicately boned ankles. “And about, ah, touching.”
“The boss makes the rules, you know,” Chloe whispered. “And you’re the boss.” She rubbed her bare feet together, letting her toes trace a seductive trail down her other foot’s arch.
Damien cleared his throat and shook his head. He picked up her right foot and gave it a soft squeeze. “Can I reward you with a foot massage?” he asked.
Chapter Eight
Chloe’s lips—and every other part of her—screamed silently in disappointment, but the delicate skin of her foot gave a resounding ‘Hell, yes!’
“I think you’re breaking your rule here and not just bending it,” Chloe teased. “I’m pretty sure that champagne plus a foot massage will involve some pleasure, in addition to some serious touching.”
Damien stroked the arch of her foot with the practiced pad of his thumb. “But it will be me giving pleasure to you, right? I’m okay with delivering some pleasure for a job well done, if you’re game. I want it to be all about you.” Chloe blushed and nodded her assent. Obviously, it was wildly inappropriate for her boss to give her a foot rub. Emily Post would be aghast. But then, Emily Post would be aghast at so many things that happened there at Volare…
Damien immersed two hand towels in hot water from her bar and squeezed them to remove excess water. He then wrapped her
“Mind if I come in?” Damien asked.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Chloe called out.
Damien entered and chuckled at the sight of Chloe. Her bare feet were propped on her desk and her hands folded behind her head. Damien looked every bit the hot, refined professional in his herringbone blazer, windowpane-patterned blue shirt and slim khakis. “I just finished up,” Chloe announced, “and was putting my feet up. I feel like I finally earned my place here, if you don’t mind me saying so. You, Damien Walters, are now a financially organised small business owner. And I’d like to offer my congratulations on a hugely successful nightclub and therapy practice. You are solidly in the black.”
“Excellent.” He nodded. “You’re a fast, dedicated worker, Chloe. I knew it was a smart move hiring you. You’ll find a project bonus in your next pay cheque in appreciation for your efforts. Hang on just a sec, I’ll be right back.”
Chloe heard his footsteps enter his own office across the hall, pause a few moments as he rustled around, then return to her office.
He held a chilled bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. “I know it’s only three thirty,” he said, grinning wickedly, “but this seems like a good reason to celebrate, don’t you think?” He popped the cork with a practised hand. “Besides, I know the owner here. He’ll let it slide this time.” He poured two glasses and handed one to Chloe.
She sipped and let her head fall back against the cushioned headrest of her chair.
Damien moved a chair beside her and placed his flute on the table after taking a sip. “I really am grateful for your hard work, Chloe,” he told her. Chloe wondered if he felt, as she did, the strong, invisible magnet that pulled them together. Even gravity worked against her—she felt the room tilt so that the only direction she could move in was towards the inviting warmth of his chest. Chloe’s mouth went dry and her nipples tightened. She leaned towards him, breathless with hope that he felt a reciprocal pull towards her.
Damien’s face darkened in colour and his breath quickened. Chloe wanted to do a fist pump and a victory lap. He feels it, too! I know he does!
He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, then dropped his gaze down to Chloe’s full lips. The corners of her mouth curved up. Damien looked away sharply towards the desktop, where Chloe’s feet were propped.
“Something about you, Chloe, is making me want to bend my rules about mixing business with pleasure.” He swallowed, eyes fixed on Chloe’s delicately boned ankles. “And about, ah, touching.”
“The boss makes the rules, you know,” Chloe whispered. “And you’re the boss.” She rubbed her bare feet together, letting her toes trace a seductive trail down her other foot’s arch.
Damien cleared his throat and shook his head. He picked up her right foot and gave it a soft squeeze. “Can I reward you with a foot massage?” he asked.
Chapter Eight
Chloe’s lips—and every other part of her—screamed silently in disappointment, but the delicate skin of her foot gave a resounding ‘Hell, yes!’
“I think you’re breaking your rule here and not just bending it,” Chloe teased. “I’m pretty sure that champagne plus a foot massage will involve some pleasure, in addition to some serious touching.”
Damien stroked the arch of her foot with the practiced pad of his thumb. “But it will be me giving pleasure to you, right? I’m okay with delivering some pleasure for a job well done, if you’re game. I want it to be all about you.” Chloe blushed and nodded her assent. Obviously, it was wildly inappropriate for her boss to give her a foot rub. Emily Post would be aghast. But then, Emily Post would be aghast at so many things that happened there at Volare…
Damien immersed two hand towels in hot water from her bar and squeezed them to remove excess water. He then wrapped her
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