was endless but useless. Cameron was exquisitely sensitive to the female body and perhaps—
She tried to stop the thought. It was just too depressing.
Perhaps it was like that with him and every member of the fairer sex. Perhaps what happened last night was the normal drill, so to speak, for the sexually brilliant Cameron Black.
No wonder he'd had any woman he wanted. The only thing that puzzled her was how his fame hadn't spread to Europe and beyond.
That was depressing. Cameron plus any woman equals a white-hot combustion. A sexual meltdown. A chemistry so intense she could barely breathe and she was lying in a bathtub full of bubbles just remembering what had happened, for God's sake!
She tried to blank her mind and found she couldn't. She kept remembering sounds and sighs and smells, touches and soft moans, deep breathing, strong hands, a sure touch, a slow hand –
Determined to forget, Michaela pulled the plug with her toes, then stood in the bathtub, slid the glass door shut and turned on the cold water.
Full blast.
* * *
That night with Cameron was harder to forget than she thought.
Five days after L'affaire de l'hotel, or L'affaire de le Stoopid, as she preferred to call it, Michaela found herself in Cameron's office going over yet another contract.
"Are there any loopholes?" Cameron demanded. "Any way that they can back out of the merger once they've signed?"
She'd gone over the contract countless times, as both Cameron and Julian were ruthless negotiators. You didn't get to be a millionaire by being Kris Kringle, even if you did own the biggest and most successful toy company in the world.
"None. It's airtight."
"Good."
She was gathering papers into her briefcase when he gestured her to sit. Cameron had always had a sort of natural arrogance that she actually found quite appealing. But now everything he did set her nerves on edge. She wondered what he was going to do.
"Can I ask you something?"
She nodded her head.
Then the miraculous occurred. Cameron Black, San Francisco's answer to Christian Grey, actually blushed.
Blushed!
She stared at the dark color slowly seeping up his neck and into his face.
She swallowed. Bit her lip. Dug her nails into her palms.
This is it. He knows. Talk about unprofessional business behavior—
"It’s rather...personal," he said quietly.
Oh, like personal matters when you've had my legs up over your shoulders—
"Mike, why would a woman want to totally forget an incredible sexual experience?"
For one awful moment the office went totally still, then darkened. The air seemed heavy, too heavy, it hurt to draw it into her lungs. She thought she was going to pass out from total shame until she took one quick peek at his face and realized he had no idea what had happened that night.
None at all.
Zip.
Nada.
Michaela took a deep breath and felt a measure of sanity return.
"Why, whatever do you mean?" she replied.
"It's just... we had this agreement, but..."
She was one sick cookie because she encouraged him.
"You can tell me, Cameron. I won't tell anyone. I'll consider this a . . . business conference, and therefore confidential."
The road to hell in a handbasket was paved with banana peels. Actions have consequences. What are you doing?
"I don't suppose it's any news to you that I came to this... marital arrangement with a considerable amount of sexual experience."
"Mmm." She nodded her head and tried desperately to curb the images flitting through her brain.
"I thought I would take things slowly with Nancy, perhaps even wait until her next...fertile period." He shot her an intense look. "Is this bothering you, Mike?"
Oh, not in the way you think...
"Not at all."
"But that night—"
"Yes?" She couldn't help herself. It was a compulsion. She had to know if what had happened in that hotel room had shaken him, emotionally devastated him, sexually enthralled him, as much as it had her.
"I—well, she—I thought for a moment that we weren't
She tried to stop the thought. It was just too depressing.
Perhaps it was like that with him and every member of the fairer sex. Perhaps what happened last night was the normal drill, so to speak, for the sexually brilliant Cameron Black.
No wonder he'd had any woman he wanted. The only thing that puzzled her was how his fame hadn't spread to Europe and beyond.
That was depressing. Cameron plus any woman equals a white-hot combustion. A sexual meltdown. A chemistry so intense she could barely breathe and she was lying in a bathtub full of bubbles just remembering what had happened, for God's sake!
She tried to blank her mind and found she couldn't. She kept remembering sounds and sighs and smells, touches and soft moans, deep breathing, strong hands, a sure touch, a slow hand –
Determined to forget, Michaela pulled the plug with her toes, then stood in the bathtub, slid the glass door shut and turned on the cold water.
Full blast.
* * *
That night with Cameron was harder to forget than she thought.
Five days after L'affaire de l'hotel, or L'affaire de le Stoopid, as she preferred to call it, Michaela found herself in Cameron's office going over yet another contract.
"Are there any loopholes?" Cameron demanded. "Any way that they can back out of the merger once they've signed?"
She'd gone over the contract countless times, as both Cameron and Julian were ruthless negotiators. You didn't get to be a millionaire by being Kris Kringle, even if you did own the biggest and most successful toy company in the world.
"None. It's airtight."
"Good."
She was gathering papers into her briefcase when he gestured her to sit. Cameron had always had a sort of natural arrogance that she actually found quite appealing. But now everything he did set her nerves on edge. She wondered what he was going to do.
"Can I ask you something?"
She nodded her head.
Then the miraculous occurred. Cameron Black, San Francisco's answer to Christian Grey, actually blushed.
Blushed!
She stared at the dark color slowly seeping up his neck and into his face.
She swallowed. Bit her lip. Dug her nails into her palms.
This is it. He knows. Talk about unprofessional business behavior—
"It’s rather...personal," he said quietly.
Oh, like personal matters when you've had my legs up over your shoulders—
"Mike, why would a woman want to totally forget an incredible sexual experience?"
For one awful moment the office went totally still, then darkened. The air seemed heavy, too heavy, it hurt to draw it into her lungs. She thought she was going to pass out from total shame until she took one quick peek at his face and realized he had no idea what had happened that night.
None at all.
Zip.
Nada.
Michaela took a deep breath and felt a measure of sanity return.
"Why, whatever do you mean?" she replied.
"It's just... we had this agreement, but..."
She was one sick cookie because she encouraged him.
"You can tell me, Cameron. I won't tell anyone. I'll consider this a . . . business conference, and therefore confidential."
The road to hell in a handbasket was paved with banana peels. Actions have consequences. What are you doing?
"I don't suppose it's any news to you that I came to this... marital arrangement with a considerable amount of sexual experience."
"Mmm." She nodded her head and tried desperately to curb the images flitting through her brain.
"I thought I would take things slowly with Nancy, perhaps even wait until her next...fertile period." He shot her an intense look. "Is this bothering you, Mike?"
Oh, not in the way you think...
"Not at all."
"But that night—"
"Yes?" She couldn't help herself. It was a compulsion. She had to know if what had happened in that hotel room had shaken him, emotionally devastated him, sexually enthralled him, as much as it had her.
"I—well, she—I thought for a moment that we weren't
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