Bared to You

everything,
Richard. That’s
the problem.” I dropped my napkin on the table. “I
have to get back to work.”
I turned away, striding toward the door to get
out as quickly as possible. I retrieved my purse
from Stanton’s secretary and left my cell phone on
her desk. Clancy, who had been waiting for me in
the reception area, followed me, and I knew better
than to try and blow him off. He didn’t take orders
from anyone but Stanton.
Clancy drove me back up to midtown, while I
stewed in the backseat. I could bitch all I wanted,

---

but in the end I wasn’t any better than Stanton
because I was going to give in. I was going to
cave and let my mom have her way, because it
hurt my heart to think of her suffering any more
than she already did. She was so emotional and
fragile, and she loved me to the point of being
crazy about it.
My mood was still dark when I got back to the
Crossfire. As Clancy pulled away from the curb, I
stood on the crowded sidewalk and looked up
and down the busy street for either a drugstore
where I could get some chocolate or a cellular
store where I could pick up a new phone.
I ended up walking around the block and buying
a half-dozen candy bars at a Duane Reade on the
corner before heading back to the Crossfire. I’d
been gone just about an hour, but I wasn’t going to
use the extra time Mark had given me. I needed
work to distract me from my crazy-assed family.
As I caught an empty elevator car, I ripped open
a bar and bit viciously into it. I was making strides
toward filling my self-imposed chocolate quota
before I hit the twentieth floor when the car
stopped on the fourth. I appreciated the added
time the stop gave me to enjoy the comfort of dark
chocolate and caramel melting over my tongue.
The doors slid apart, and revealed Gideon
Cross talking with two other gentlemen.
As usual, I lost my breath at the sight of him,
which reignited my fading irritation. Why did he
have that effect on me? When was I going to
become immune to his hotness?
He glanced over and his lips curved into a slow,
heart-stopping smile when he saw me.
Great. Just my crappy luck. I’d become some
kind of challenge.
Cross’s smile faded into a frown. “We’ll finish
this later,” he murmured to his companions without

---

looking away from me.
Stepping into the car, he lifted a hand to
discourage them from following him. They blinked
in surprise, glancing at me, then Cross, and then
back again.
I stepped out, deciding it would be safer for my
sanity to take a different car up.
“Not so fast, Eva.” Cross caught me by the
elbow and tugged me back. The doors shut and
the elevator glided smoothly into motion.
“What are you doing?” I snapped. After dealing
with Stanton, the last thing I needed was another
domineering male trying to push me around.
Cross caught me by the upper arms and
searched my face with that vivid blue gaze.
“Something’s wrong. What is it?”
The now-familiar electricity crackled to life
between us, the pull made fiercer by my temper.
“You.”
“Me?” His thumbs stroked over my shoulders.
Releasing me, he withdrew a lone key from his
pocket and plugged it into the panel. All the lights
cleared except for the one for the top floor.
He wore black again, with fine gray pinstripes.
Seeing him from the back was a revelation. His
shoulders were nicely broad without being bulky,
emphasizing his lean waist and long legs. The
silky strands of hair falling over his collar tempted
me to clench them and pull. Hard. I wanted him as
pissy as I was. I wanted a fight.
“I’m not in the mood for you now, Mr. Cross.”
He watched the antique-style needle above the
doors mark the passing floors. “I can get you in
the mood.”
“I’m not interested.”
Cross glanced over his shoulder at me. His
shirt and tie were both the same awesome
cerulean as his irises. The effect was striking. “No

---

lies, Eva. Ever.”
“That’s not a lie. So what if I’m attracted to you?
I expect most women are.” Wrapping up what was
left of my candy bar, I shoved it back into the
shopping bag I’d tucked into my purse. I didn’t
need chocolate when I was sharing air with
Gideon Cross. “But I’m not interested in doing
anything about it.”
He faced me then, turning in a leisurely pivot,
that ghost of a smile softening his sinful mouth.
His ease and unconcern aggravated me further.
“Attraction is too tame a word for”—he gestured
at the space between us—“this.”
“Call me crazy, but I have to actually 
like
someone before I get naked and sweaty with
them.”
“Not crazy,” he said. “But I don’t have the time or
the inclination to date.”
“That makes two of us. Glad we got that cleared
up.”
He stepped closer, his hand lifting to my face. I
forced myself not to move away or give him the
satisfaction of seeing me intimidated. His thumb
brushed over the corner of my mouth; then lifted to
his own. He sucked on the pad and purred,
“Chocolate and you. Delicious.”
A shiver moved through me, followed by a
heated ache between my legs as I imagined
licking chocolate off his lethally sexy body.
His gaze darkened and his voice lowered
intimately. “Romance isn’t in my repertoire, Eva.
But a thousand ways to make you come are. Let
me show you.”
The car slowed to a halt. He withdrew the key
from the panel and the doors opened.
I backed into the corner and shooed him out
with a flick of my wrist. “I’m really not interested.”
“We’ll discuss.” Cross caught me by the elbow

---

and gently, but insistently, urged me out.
I went along because I liked the charge I got
from being around him and because I was curious
to see what he had to say when afforded more
than five minutes of my time.
He was buzzed through the security door so
quickly there was no need for him to break stride.
The pretty redhead at the reception desk pushed
hastily to her feet, about to impart some
information until he shook his head impatiently.
Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at me as
we passed at a brisk pace, her eyes wide.
The walk to Cross’s office was mercifully short.
His secretary stood when he saw his boss’s
approach, but remained silent when he noted that
Cross wasn’t alone.
“Hold my calls, Scott,” Cross said, steering me
into his office through the open glass double
doors.
Despite my irritation, I couldn’t help but be
impressed with Gideon Cross’s spacious
command 
center. 
Floor-to-ceiling 
windows
overlooked the city on two sides, while a wall of
glass faced the rest of the office space. The one
opaque wall opposite the massive desk was
covered in flat screens streaming news channels
from around the world. There were three distinct
seating areas, each one larger than Mark’s entire
office, and a bar that showcased jeweled crystal
decanters, which provided the only spots of color
in a palette that was otherwise black, gray, and
white.
Cross hit a button on his desk that closed the
doors; then another that instantly frosted the clear
glass wall, effectively shielding us from the view of
his employees. With the beautiful sapphire-hued
reflective film on the exterior windows, privacy
was assured. He shrugged out of his jacket and

---

hung it on a chrome coatrack. Then he returned to
where I’d remained standing just inside the doors.
“Something to drink, Eva?”
“No, thank you.” Damn it. He was even yummier
in just the vest. I could better see how fit he was.
How strong his shoulders were. How beautifully
his biceps and ass flexed as he moved.
He gestured toward a black leather sofa. “Have
a seat.”
“I have to go back to work.”
“And I have a meeting at two. The sooner we
work this out, the sooner we can both get back to
business. Now, sit down.”
“What do you think we’re going to work out?”
Sighing, he scooped me up like a bride and
carried me over to the sofa. He dropped me on
my butt; then sat next to me. “Your objections. It’s
time to discuss what it’s going to take to get you
beneath me.”
“A miracle.” I pushed back from him, widening
the space between us. I tugged at the hem of my
emerald green skirt, wishing I’d worn pants
instead. “I find your approach crude and
offensive.”
And a major turn-on, but I was never going to
admit it.
He contemplated me with narrowed eyes. “It
may be blunt, but it’s honest. You don’t strike me
as the kind of woman who wants bullshit and
flattery instead of the truth.”
“What I want is to be seen as having more to
offer than an inflatable sex doll.”
Cross’s brows shot up. “Well, then.”
“Are we done?” I stood.
Wrapping my wrist with his fingers, he pulled
me back down. “Hardly. We’ve established some
talking points: We have an intense sexual
attraction and neither of us wants to date. So what

---

do you want—exactly? Seduction, Eva? Do you
want to be seduced?”
I was equally fascinated and appalled by the
conversation. And, yes, tempted. It was hard not
to be while faced with such a gorgeous, virile
male so determined to get hot and sweaty with
me. Still, the dismay won out. “Sex that’s planned
like a business transaction is a turnoff for me.”
“Establishing parameters in the beginning
makes it less likely that there’ll be exaggerated
expectations 
and 
disappointment 
at 
the
conclusion.”
“Are you kidding?” I scowled. “Listen to yourself.
Why even call it a fuck? Why not be clear and call
it a seminal emission in a preapproved orifice?”
He pissed me off by throwing his head back
and laughing. The full, throaty sound flowed over
me like a rush of warm water. My awareness of
him heightened to a physically painful degree. His
earthy amusement made him less sex god and
more human. Flesh and blood. Real.
I pushed to my feet and backed out of reach.
“Casual sex doesn’t have to include wine and
roses, but for God’s sake, whatever else it is, sex
should be personal. Friendly even. With mutual
respect at the very least.”
His humor fled as he stood, his eyes darkening.
“There are no mixed signals in my private affairs.
You want me to blur that line. I can’t think of a
good reason to.”
“I don’t want you to do jack shit, besides let me
get back to work.” I strode to the door and yanked
on the handle, cursing softly when it didn’t budge.
“Let me out, Cross.”
I felt him come up behind me. His palms
pressed flat to the glass on either side of my
shoulders, caging me in. I couldn’t think of my own
self-preservation when he was so close.

---

The strength and demand of his will exuded an
almost tangible force field. When he stepped
close enough, it surrounded me, closing me in
with him. Everything outside of that bubble ceased
to exist, while inside it my entire body strained
toward his. That he had such a profound, visceral
effect on me while being so damn irritating had
my mind spinning. How could I be so turned on by
a man whose words should’ve turned me
completely off?
“Turn around, Eva.”
My eyes closed against the surge of arousal I
felt at his authoritative tone. God, he smelled
good. His powerful frame radiated heat and
hunger, spurring my own wild desire for him. The
uncontrollable response was intensified by my
lingering frustration with Stanton and my more
recent aggravation with Cross himself.
I wanted him. Bad. But he was no good for me.
Honestly, I could screw up my life on my own. I
didn’t need any help.
My 
flushed 
forehead 
touched 
the 
air-
conditioned glass. “Let it go, Cross.”
“I am. You’re too much trouble.” His lips brushed
behind my ear. One of his hands pressed flat to
my stomach, the fingers splaying to urge me back
against him. He was as aroused as I was, his
cock hard and thick against my lower back. “Turn
around and say good-bye.”
Disappointed and regretful, I turned in his grip,
sagging against the door to cool my heated back.
He was curved over me, his luxurious hair framing
his beautiful face, his forearm propped against
the door to bring him closer. I had almost no room
to breathe. The hand he’d had at my waist was
now resting on the curve of my hip, tightening
reflexively and driving me mad. He stared, his
gaze searingly intense.

---

“Kiss me,” he said hoarsely. “Give me that
much.”
Panting softly, I licked my dry lips. He groaned,
tilted his head, and sealed his mouth over mine. I
was shocked by how soft his firm lips were and
the gentleness of the pressure he exerted. I
sighed and his tongue dipped inside, tasting me
in long leisurely licks. His kiss was confident,
skilled, and just the right side of aggressive to turn
me on wildly.
I distantly registered my purse hitting the floor;
then my hands were in his hair. I pulled on the silky
strands, using them to direct his mouth over mine.
He growled, deepening the kiss, stroking my
tongue with lush slides of his own. I felt the raging
beat of his heart against my chest, proof that he
wasn’t just a hopeless ideal conjured by my
fevered imagination.
He pushed away from the door. Cupping the
back of my head and the curve of my buttocks, he
lifted me off my feet. “I want you, Eva. Trouble or
not, I can’t stop.”
I was pressed full-body against him, achingly
aware of every hot, hard inch of him. I kissed him
back as if I could eat him alive. My skin was damp
and too sensitive, my breasts heavy and tender.
My clit throbbed for attention, pounding along with
my raging heartbeat.
I was vaguely aware of movement, and then the
couch was against my back. Cross was levered
over me with one knee on the cushion and the
other foot on the floor. His left arm supported his
torso while his right hand gripped the back of my
knee, sliding upward along my thigh in a firmly
possessive glide.
His breath hissed out when he reached the
point where my garter clipped to the top of my silk
stocking. He tore his gaze away from mine and

---

looked down, pushing my skirt higher to bare me
from the waist down.
“Jesus, Eva.” A low rumble vibrated in his chest,
the primitive sound sending goose bumps racing
across my skin. “Your boss is damned lucky he’s
gay.”
In a daze, I watched Cross’s body lower to
mine, my legs sliding apart to accommodate the
width of his hips. My muscles strained with the
urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact
between us that I’d been craving since I first laid
eyes on him. Lowering his head, he took my
mouth again, bruising my lips with a fine edge of
violence.
Abruptly, he yanked himself away, stumbling to
his feet.
I lay there gasping and wet, so willing and
ready. Then I realized why he’d reacted so
fiercely.
Someone was behind him.

---

M
ortified by the sudden intrusion into our privacy,
I scrambled up and back into the armrest, yanking
down my skirt.
“…two o’clock appointment is here.”
It took an endless moment to realize Cross and
I were still alone in the room, that the voice I’d
heard had come through a speaker. Cross stood
at the far end of the sofa, flushed and scowling,
his chest heaving. His tie was loosened and the fly
of his slacks strained against a very impressive
erection.
I had a nightmare vision in my head of what I
must look like. And I was late getting back to
work.
“Christ.” He shoved both hands through his hair.
“It’s the middle of the fucking day. In my goddamn
fucking office!”
I got to my feet and tried to straighten my
appearance.
“Here.” He came to me, yanking my skirt up

---

again.
Furious at what I’d almost let happen when I
should be at work, I smacked at his hands. “Stop
it. Leave me alone.”
“Shut up, Eva,” he said grimly, catching the hem
of my black silk blouse and tugging it into place,
adjusting it so that the buttons once again formed
a straight row between my breasts. Then he pulled
down my skirt, smoothing it with calm, expert
hands. “Fix your ponytail.”
Cross retrieved his coat, shrugging into it
before adjusting his tie. We reached the door at
the same time and when I crouched to fetch my
purse, he lowered with me.
He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
My throat burned. I was aroused and mad and
thoroughly embarrassed. I’d never in my life lost
my mind like that. And I hated that I’d done so with
him,
a man whose approach to sexual intimacy
was so clinical it depressed me just thinking about
it.
I jerked my chin away. “Do I 
look
okay?”
“You look beautiful and fuckable. I want you so
badly it hurts. I’m dangerously close to taking you
back to the couch and making you come ’til you
beg me to stop.”
“Can’t accuse you of being silver-tongued,” I
muttered, aware that I wasn’t offended. In fact, the
rawness of his hunger for me was a serious
aphrodisiac. Clutching the strap of my purse, I
stood on shaky legs. I needed to get away from
him. And, when my workday was done, I needed
to be alone with a big glass of wine.
Cross stood with me. “I’ll be done by five. I’ll
come get you then.”
“No, you won’t. This doesn’t change anything.”

---

“The hell it doesn’t.”
“Don’t be arrogant, Cross. I lost my head for a
second, but I still don’t want what you want.”
His fingers curled around the door handle. “Yes,
you do. You just don’t want it the way I want to give
it to you. So, we’ll revisit and revise.”
More business. Cut-and-dried. My spine
stiffened.
I set my hand over his and yanked on the
handle, ducking under his arm to squeeze out the
door. His secretary shoved quickly to his feet,
gaping, as did the woman and two men who were
waiting for Cross. I heard him speak behind me.
“Scott will show you into my office. I’ll be just a
moment.”
He caught me by reception, his arm crossing
my lower back to grip my hip. Not wanting to
make a scene, I waited until we were by the
elevators to pull away.
He stood calmly and hit the call button. “Five
o’clock, Eva.”
I stared at the lighted button. “I’m busy.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“I’m busy all weekend.”
Stepping in front of me, he asked tightly, “With
whom?”
“That’s none of your—”
His hand covered my mouth. “Don’t. Tell me
when, then. And before you say never, take a
good look at me and tell me if you see a man
who’s easily deterred.”
His face was hard, his gaze narrowed and
determined. I shivered. I wasn’t sure I’d win a
battle of wills with Gideon Cross.
Swallowing, I waited until he lowered his hand
and said, “I think we both need to cool off. Take a
couple days to think.”
He persisted. “Monday after work.”

---

The elevator arrived and I stepped into it.
Facing him, I countered, “Monday lunch.”
We’d have only an hour, a guaranteed escape.
Just before the doors closed, he said, “We’re
going to happen, Eva.”
It sounded as much like a threat as a promise.
“Don’t sweat it, Eva,” Mark said, when I arrived at
my desk nearly a quarter after two. “You didn’t
miss anything. I had a late lunch with Mr. Leaman.
I just barely got back myself.”
“Thank you.” No matter what he said, I still felt
terrible. My kick-ass Friday morning seemed to
have happened days ago.
We worked steadily until five, discussing a fast-
food client and contemplating some possible
tweaks to ad copy for a chain of organic grocery
stores.
“Talk about strange bedfellows,” Mark had
teased, not knowing how apt that was in regard to
my personal life.
I’d just shut down my computer and was pulling
my purse out of the drawer when my phone rang. I
glanced at the clock, saw it was exactly five, and
considered ignoring the call because I was
technically done for the day.
But since I was still feeling shitty about my
overly-long lunch, I considered it penance and
answered. “Mark Garrity’s—”
“Eva honey. Richard says you forgot your cell
phone at his office.”
I exhaled in a rush and sagged back into my
chair. I could picture the handkerchief wringing
that usually accompanied that particular anxious
tone of my mother’s. It drove me nuts and it also
broke my heart. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

---

“Oh, I’m lovely. Thank you.” My mom had a
voice that was both girlish and breathy, like
Marilyn Monroe crossed with Scarlett Johansson.
“Clancy dropped your phone off with the
concierge at your place. You really shouldn’t go
anywhere without it. You never know when you
might need to call for someone—”
I’d been debating the logistics of just keeping
the phone and forwarding calls to a new number I
didn’t share with my mom, but that wasn’t my
biggest concern. “What does Dr. Petersen say
about you tracing my phone?”
The silence on the other end of the line was
telling. “Dr. Petersen knows I worry about you.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I think
it’s time for us to have another joint appointment,
Mom.”
“Oh…of course. He did mention that he’d like to
see you again.”