Free Girl Gear 5: Wicked Games by Alison Kent Page A

lobby with Doug.
    "Whoa. Talk about a whirlwind. Ray certainly knows how to get things taken care of, doesn't he?" Kinsey turned and walked back toward her office, assuming Doug would follow. He did, and his warmth at her back was nicely comforting. "I thought you were catching a flight out this morning."
    "I was." Doug stood just inside her doorway as she straightened her desktop and logged out of the computer network, shutting down her PC for the night. "But I called Marcus West first thing, and he wanted a lunch meeting. I wasn't about to say no. And then Anton told me about the fire when I stopped by the office afterward. Is everyone okay?"
    "The structure's a total loss, but no one is hurt. We're working on fund-raiser ideas." Or idea, singular. One she did not want to tell him about yet. "So, how'd the meeting go?" She loved how they had already settled into discussing one another's days. "Things better between you two now?"
    Doug nodded, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb. Today he wore black-pinstriped suit pats and a dress shirt just this side of rust. He looked very continental in the buttoned-up, sans-tie combination, and Kinsey had to force herself not to drool. "Marcus bought new property at the edge of downtown's Westmoreland district."
    "And he wants you to design his space," she said, grabbing her purse from a drawer in the credenza behind her desk.
    Doug grinned. "You know, Kinsey, you really are getting into a bad habit of finishing my sentences for me."
    She grinned from the inside out. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
    "What would you call it?"
    Shrugging, she checked her purse for her keys, not quite ready to agree that she'd unconsciously done exactly what he'd claimed. "I'm merely making conversation."
    "Good."
    "Why so worried?" She frowned.
    "No worries. Not really. Just making sure we're on the same wavelength here."
    "And what wavelength is that?"
    He pushed away from the door and strolled toward her, taking his own sweet time as he rounded the side of her desk.
    She stayed where she was, keeping the lacquered-mahogany workstation between them. The desk was wide and broad, giving her tons of space on which to work, but the open design offered absolutely nothing behind which to hide.
    Not that she was hiding. She just liked the idea of Doug having to chase her before she gave in. And he did, sort of, rounding the end of her desk and stalking her as she backed up into the credenza.
    She'd gone as far as she could go, yet he kept on coming, stopping only when his body was pressed to hers so completely that she could feel muscles and buttons and his belt buckle and his thick sexual package beneath.
    He trapped her by bracing his hands on the credenza on either side of her hips, trapped her further when he bent to nuzzle the side of her neck there at the spot she loved—the one he never missed and nuzzled oh, so well.
    He even managed to nuzzle as he mumbled against her skin. "The wavelength that says no one in this office is going to be getting married and doing that sentence-finishing thing on a regular basis."
    "Please." She lifted her chin to give him better access, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady when she felt the strange urge to slap him silly. "The only reason I'm here with you is to get back my stolen bikini bottoms."
    "I've been thinking about that."
    "Oh, yeah?"
    "Yeah." One hand moved from the credenza to her waist, slipping beneath the crop top of orange-and-avocado silk she wore over matching ankle-length pats. "I've been thinking a deal is in order."
    "What sort of deal?" she asked, though the minute his skin touched hers, she was afraid she'd agree to anything.
    "A bet." His hand cupped her rib cage, sliding upward until the heel of his palm brushed the full curve of her breast. He groaned, and she did the same.
    "What sort of bet?" She sounded like a CD on repeat, but thinking of a witty response was out of the question. In fact, thinking at all had become damn