Her Boss and His Client

by Tamsin Flowers

Genres: Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

When Dana Lewis starts her new job at a prestigious London advertising agency, she vows to herself that she won't sleep with her new boss - a mistake that got her fired from her last job. But that was before she was allocated to work on Jack Brent's team, writing copy for the most devastatingly handsome man she'd ever met. And when he starts playing footsie with her under the table at lunch on her first day, she knows it's only a matter of time . . .

Nathan Drake is a travel tycoon and he expects the very best from the agency he employs to create his advertising campaigns. Jack puts Dana on the job and Nathan makes it clear he likes what he sees, whisking her away to his country retreat.

Before she knows it, Dana is burning the candle at both ends - and her new lovers are complete opposites in the bedroom. Nathan is as calm and controlling as Jack is fiery and tempestuous... However, she doesn't want to risk being caught as a two-timer, so she knows she needs to make a decision. But which man should she choose?

Release date: March 6, 2014

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 70

Sample

Chapter One

I stopped on the pavement, and stared up at the Art Deco office. The headquarters of DBBD Advertising and, as from today, my new workplace. Sex should have been the last thing on my mind at that particular moment. But it wasn’t. While I stood in front of the vast, imposing corporate phallic symbol, digging up the nerve to walk inside, I had only one thing on my mind.

Cock. A certain cock I knew oh so intimately but which I wasn’t expecting to see again anytime soon. If ever. It was a handsome cock and I had liked it very much. Good length, wide girth, velvety soft skin … I could almost taste it in my mouth now. But a difference of opinion with its owner had resulted in me standing here, about to embark on a new job and a new life. The handsome cock’s owner had been my boss up until a month ago, and when things didn’t quite go according to plan – in other words, his wife started taking an interest in why he kept working late – he showed me the door.

I took a deep breath. I was turning over a new leaf. I was going to work hard and that was all I was going to do in the office. No involvements with my new boss or my new colleagues. I pushed the memories of hot store cupboard sex out of my mind, determined to be more professional.

But my mind is an expert at playing dirty little tricks on me. As soon as I decided not to think about it, I was transported back to the last time we’d done it, he and I. We were in the office – of course, we usually were – and he’d just told me his wife had threatened to divorce him. That was the moment when I should have left the room and the relationship. But he’d unzipped his trousers and let them drop to the floor.

‘One for the road, Dana?’ he’d whispered, in that voice he knew I couldn’t resist.

I’d gone round to his side of the desk and pushed him down into his chair.

‘You know you’re a bastard, Steve, don’t you?’

I’d straddled him, biting his bottom lip so hard I almost drew blood. He smelt so good, so familiar and musky, my breath caught in my throat and my cunt clenched in anticipation. He pulled up my skirt, pushed my G-string to one side and then – ahhh – the incomparable sensation of being stretched open by a determined cock. I gasped and anchored myself with a handful of his hair.

‘Babe,’ he murmured in my ear, ‘so wet, so ready for me. I don’t want it to end. Maybe we could …’

I hadn’t bothered answering. What was the point? I ground my hips backwards and forwards with his cock deep inside me. In my anger, I almost wanted to break it off. He kept thrusting, moaning low in his throat, and I knew he was close to coming. I pulled one of his hands between my legs and he knew what I wanted. He found my clit and took control, driving me out of the here and now …

‘Are you actually going inside or are you studying the architecture?’

I snapped back to the present with a gasp and stepped to one side.

I’d been blocking the way of a tall man in tight jeans and a black biker jacket, but by the time I’d focused my attention on him, he was pushing his way into the central revolving door.

With a dry mouth and clammy palms, I launched myself into the door segment after his and emerged three seconds later onto the shining marble floor of DBBD’s lobby. The space was vast, three floors tall at least. Big enough to fit my entire house inside, with room for a garden. The walls, floor, and furnishings were all bright white, except for the splashes of modern art on the walls. The air was cool and smelled faintly of peppermint. Mr Leather Jacket disappeared into a lift, far away on the other side of the expanse.

Stumbling slightly as one of my heels slipped on the ice rink of the floor, I headed for the reception desk. It didn’t look good, I knew; the receptionist’s chilly stare confirmed I had already failed to make the grade. In her eyes, at least.

‘Can I help you?’ She had a high, nasal voice. She probably thought I’d arrived at the wrong building.

‘I’m Dana Lewis,’ I said.

She looked at me blankly.

Oh God. Nothing like a blank look to make you feel about three feet tall. And that wasn’t a good feeling to get at a moment like this. Fear kicked in big time and my stomach started churning.

‘I’m starting work here today.’

‘Which department?’ she said, making it clear with just those two words that she couldn’t have been less interested.

‘For Niall Mason.’

She punched buttons on her keyboard and spoke through the side of her mouth towards the tiny microphone resting on her cheek.

‘Shannon, got a newbie for Niall.’ She looked back at me. ‘What was your name?’

‘Dana Lewis,’ I said.

She repeated it into her mike.

‘Go and wait over there.’ She gestured towards a curve of white leather sofas.

Fuck. Life here was going to be fun if everyone was like that. I wondered about the possibility of Steve’s wife divorcing him, so I could go back to the old place. No, no looking back. Things would be fine here. My new boss, Niall Mason, headed up the creative department in DBBD’s UK division and had achieved legendary status in the small, incestuous London advertising scene. I was thrilled to get the chance to work with him. And there were no worries about anything untoward going on; Niall Mason had a husband and wouldn’t be the least bit interested in me. I had a good feeling about this: a great new beginning.

‘So the student architect came in from the cold.’

I looked up to find the guy in the leather jacket smiling down at me, wry amusement dancing in gold-flecked chestnut eyes. Curly brown hair flopped across his forehead in a way I’d always liked. And a wide grin showed off straight, white teeth of the sort I liked to explore with my tongue. Whoa, girl, I told myself, get a grip.

I stood up. That’s when I realised how tall he was. I’m tall for a girl, and I’m used to men being about the same height. But I still had to look up to talk to him.

‘You’re not Niall Mason.’

‘Hello, you must be Dana. Nice to meet you too,’ he said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

‘Sorry. Yes, I’m Dana Lewis.’ I shook his hand. Warm skin and a strong grip. I felt a surge of heat where I shouldn’t have, and a tiny, excited flutter passed through me. ‘But I was expecting Niall – he’s my new boss.’

‘No. I’m your new boss, actually, and Niall is my boss. I’m Jack Brent and you’ll be joining my team.’

‘Oh.’

I was still holding onto his hand and I let go of it awkwardly.

‘Is that a problem, Dana Lewis?’ he said, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read my expression.

‘No, no problem at all,’ I said, going for breezy and confident.

But it was going to be a problem. That much I knew from one touch of his hand. Oh God, was it going to be a problem.

‘Come on,’ he said, turning away from me. ‘No point hanging around down here. There’s plenty of work you need to be getting started on.’

I followed him towards the lifts and, instead of concentrating on the tight arse and narrow hips his jeans showed off to perfection, I tried to appreciate the modern art on the walls. I failed and the arse won. Things were going in the wrong direction fast, so I repeated my good intentions under my breath to try and make them stick.

‘I will not get involved with co-workers or bosses. I will not …’

‘What was that?’ he said, as I joined him in the lift.

‘Nothing,’ I muttered.

His caramel eyes burned through me; my insides started to melt. My head was shrieking “no” but my pussy danced a little dance deep inside. The lift was hot and airless, close: just the two of us in a confined space. In the mirror, under its heavy fringe, my face looked flushed. The way it looks right after sex. Bright eyes, pink cheeks, red lips glistening, black bob a little tousled. Jack Brent stared at my reflection too, so I smiled at him. My good smile, the one I save for Sunday best and hot boys.

‘Just show me where to get started.’

Like any first day in a new job, it was all a bit of a blur. Loads of new faces to remember and names to be attached to them. New technology to get to grips with, passwords to set up, an hour with HR having a picture taken for my office pass and filling out forms, completing questionnaires and handing over bank details. I didn’t set eyes on Niall Mason, the man who’d interviewed me and employed me, but I did meet the rest of Team Brent.

Jack was a creative director in the company and commanded – and I do mean commanded – a team of eight, made up of two copywriters, me and a girl called Shannon, and various designers and production assistants. He had a spacious corner office with a panoramic view over Soho; we had an area of a similar size outside his office where the rest of us rubbed shoulders and desks in the cosiest possible way.

After HR had finally seen fit to let me back to the department, Jack called me into his office and gave me my first assignment. No time to settle in and get familiar with the team or their work. Just straight into things.

‘The client’s a luxury travel company – super-luxury, in fact – and very discreet. We need to work up a couple of concepts for a meeting with them next week. They want under-the-radar advertising that will hit their small target audience and strike a nerve.’

He handed me a file.

‘What’s this?’

‘Those are the ideas they’ve already rejected from other agencies. Show me what you’ve got by one o’clock and then we’ll go for lunch.’

Right. Lucky I hadn’t already made plans for lunch. Like a date with Steve. But oh no, that wasn’t going to happen again, was it? That was the past, and apparently, lunch with Jack Brent represented my future.

‘Well, get going, Dana. Campaigns don’t write themselves.’

Whoops.

I went back to my desk and flicked through the file. Jack had been telling the truth. Drake Travel positioned itself at the super-luxurious end of the market. Private jet? No problem. In fact, no other way to travel as far as they were concerned. Fully staffed castle – at your disposal. Because you wouldn’t want to stay in anything as commonplace as a hotel, would you? Private yacht the size of a cruise ship for just the two of you. Wow! This was the life …

I had to tear myself out of a beach hammock with Jack Brent and fire up the laptop or I wouldn’t have anything to take back to him by lunchtime. But a small part of me languished in the hammock and it doesn’t take rocket science to guess which part. Why was the bad part of me so much better at its shit than the good?

Meanwhile, the creative side of my brain took a look at the file of rejected ideas. And they weren’t all turkeys. Something told me Drake Travel was the most demanding client Jack had, and throwing me onto it on the first day had to be some kind of test. So I made up my mind to come up with something spectacular.

Lost in my task, I didn’t notice the r. . .