“You’re Jones,” he said.
Libby was fairly certain she squeaked as she said a fervent prayer that perhaps he’d enough champagne that night not to remember her. Turning to look at him, her eyes wide and feeling like an idiot, she said, “Yes, sir. Libby Jones.”
“Liberty, if I remember correctly,” he said.
She could have groaned at that. “Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “How do you like working for me, Miss Jones?”
“I love my job, sir,” she lied. She hated her job. She loved the pay, but the work itself was about as challenging as a game of tic-tac-toe.
“Really?” he challenged. Libby saw the gleam in his eye. He knew she’d lied.
“Honestly,” she said, seeing that at this point fessing up was her only option, “I feel that I’m being under utilized. I would prefer to have more responsibility.” Satisfied that her answer was sufficiently businesslike, she tried to look anywhere but directly at him.
He didn’t respond, just kept his gray eyes trained on her, his expression inscrutable. Fearing she’d overstepped, or worse, been recognized, Libby added, “But, I am grateful to have a job. I’m paid very well for the work I do, and I’m hoping that in time, I can advance within the company and put my skills to better use.”
He smiled then. “What a diplomat you are, Miss Jones... Speaking of diplomacy, what is an appropriate way to address the sensitive topic of our first meeting?”
Libby closed her eyes. “I was rather hoping that we wouldn’t.”
“Liberty, you ran from me. Women never run from me. How could we not?”
Libby didn’t respond, in part because she didn’t have an appropriate response and in part because the elevator made a sound unlike anything she’d ever heard, before it came to a shuddering halt. “What was that?”
“I believe it’s called mechanical failure,” he said blandly. He’d intended to make some inane comment and turn the conversation back to the burning question of why the gorgeous redhead had bolted, but the look of absolute terror on her face stopped him. “It’s fine. The elevator has a fail safe breaking system that works independently of the engine. Just because it stopped doesn’t mean it will fall.”
“I know that,” she said. Her voice sounded thin and breathless. “I hate feeling trapped. As long as it’s moving, it doesn’t feel that way, but with it stopped--”
Gavin had no idea what to do. They were trapped. For him it was an inconvenience, for her it was a nightmare. Then she began to hyperventilate. “Libby?”
Libby couldn’t answer. She couldn’t speak, and she felt like her lungs were going to explode, but she was unable to stop drawing in the great lungfuls of air, even as her vision began to fade around the edges. Just as she was accepting it, giving into the fact that she was probably going to pass out, she felt him step closer, his hands seizing her upper arms. She looked up at him and his mouth was on hers. Stunned, she simply stood there as he kissed her. It wasn’t some horribly invasive kiss, where he shoved his tongue down her throat. In fact, he didn’t use his tongue at all. He simply melded his lips over hers, touching them softly, moving them expertly over hers in such a way that she forgot the elevator and everything else. The files she’d been clutching fell to the floor. The heat was there, blossoming between them just as it had before. His hands on her arms and his lips over hers were the only points of contact, but it felt as if her whole body had simply been set ablaze. A soft hum of pleasure escaped her, and she felt him smile against her lips. His hands coasted over her arms, until his fingers twined with hers and he raised her hands to his shoulders, bringing them closer, until their bodies skimmed lightly against one another, a teasing and tantalizing promise. Standing so close that she could feel the heat from his body, he lifted his mouth from hers and stared down at her.
“You kissed me,” she said, stating the obvious, but still sounding surprised.
“You were hyperventilating... and I don’t have any paper bags,” he said.
Libby had no idea what to say to that. Kissing as first aid? “Oh... thank you?”
He laughed. “Since, I’m probably going to wind up in court anyway, I’ll go ahead and say it... I enjoyed kissing you, just as I did at Carlton’s party. Just as I hope to again very soon.”
Seraphina Donavan is a hopeless romantic with a wicked & oh-so-dirty mind! Those things, combined with her love of writing, prompted her to take the leap and transform those fantasies into written words on a page. As a curvy girl herself, Seraphina has made it a point to celebrate those women with delicious curves with her work through writing and the hot men who love them.
She currently has 18 published books and one anthology and is working on many more..
Living in Central Kentucky, Seraphina spends her time rescuing stray animals, working for a non-profit agency and dreaming of becoming a best-selling author. She lives in a home that has more character than working parts and enjoys spending time with her fur babies. Feel free to contact her with any questions or thoughts on your mind.. She loves connecting with her readers & hearing from anyone!
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