Free All He Really Needs by Emily McKay Page B

right for the company or what
was right for her man. Or maybe it wasn’t her gut doing the talking at all.
Maybe this was unfulfilled sexual tension speaking. Because once she found the
heiress, maybe she could justify getting back in Griffin’s bed.
    She looked at him, trying not to appreciate his broad shoulders
or the little bit of stubble scattered across his jaw. Since taking over as CEO,
he’d traded in his rugged jeans for twill slacks and his linen shirts for crisp,
pressed cotton. Somehow the fact that he still left the shirts untucked until
right before he went into meetings made the look that much more appealing. The
result was that he always came across as just a little rumpled and disreputable.
It lent an air of intimacy to the office. And, frankly, it made her want to rip
his clothes off.
    To keep her hands occupied—and off his buttons—she flipped the
lid off box number nineteen. “I’ve been at this for days now. I’m not even
halfway through these records. And so far, all I can tell you is that your
mother spends too much on shoes and your parents’ accountant pays the bills on
time.”
    “I could have told you that,” he said with a smile.
    “We’re never going to make any progress here.”
    “You think the information is buried too deep?” he asked.
    She picked up a sheaf of papers. Printouts from the early
eighties. Old reams of accordion-style paper. The ink from the dot-matrix
printer was faded and damn near impossible to read. In addition, the pages were
so damn musty, she was pretty sure an entire colony of dust mites was
vacationing in her sinuses. She lifted the bottom edge of the stack with her
thumb and let it fan through the hundred or so pages.
    “I’ve been through every page of your parents’ household
records. From the year Laney was born and for two years in either direction,
just to be sure. There is no mention of anyone named Vivian. Not anywhere in
these records.”
    Griffin was watching her in that way he had, quietly attentive.
The way that made her think he caught all the subtleties going on beneath the
surface. That he knew that her eyes ached from staring at the blurred ink. That
her back twitched from sitting too long. And, most especially, that every time
she’d gotten sleepy from just sitting there going through the pages, she’d given
herself a two-minute break to fantasize about locking his office door and doing
crazy things to his body. And about the way he liked to drive her completely
crazy with lust before taking her. And the powerful way he drove into her. And
the way he hooked her ankles up over his arms so her hips were at just the right
angle.
    And she knew, instantly, that she should not have let that
image flit through her brain because she could feel her cheeks heating up. And
damn it, now he would definitely know what she’d been thinking, even if he was
only guessing before.
    Hoping to distract them both, she pushed her chair back and
stood, walking over to the water cooler beside the credenza on the far side of
the conference room and pouring herself a tiny cup of water.
    But when she turned back around, it was to find him watching
her. His gaze was hot and she could feel the weight of it against her skin as
potent as a physical touch. Crap, she’d distracted him all right, but not in the
way she’d meant to.
    She swallowed most of the water in one gulp, nearly drowning
herself.
    “Is it too hot in here for you?” he asked, his voice pitched
low with innuendo. “’Cause I could turn the air-conditioning back on for
you.”
    “No, thanks. I know right where the air-conditioning controls
are.”
    “Oh, I know you do.” He grinned wickedly and she knew he was
thinking of the time he’d all but begged her to pleasure herself while he
watched. The resulting earth-shattering sex was no doubt seared into both of
their minds. “I was just offering to take care of it for you. If you wanted me
to.”
    Damn, but she did want him to take care of