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misconception. I thought the droit du seigneur went out of style a while ago.”
    His gaze sharpened even more, and the smile was gone. “Was I exercising that right?”
    “I don’t know.” I kept my voice level with a major effort. “Weren’t you?”
    I could see the smile now, not just a hint of it. “Reckon you could think so.”
    “Ah.” I tried to steady my breathing. “Yes. Well. I did think so.”
    “Mm. You’re very perceptive.”
    “Really?” I widened my eyes at him. “Does that take a lot of perception? You aren’t exactly subtle.”
    This time, I surprised a bark of laughter out of him. “Oh, I don’t know. I suspect you didn’t know everything I was thinking all the same.” 
    “And I suspect that I had a pretty fair idea.” 
    “And that idea isn’t…appealing to you.” 
    His deep voice was velvet over steel. He wasn’t a wolf, I decided. He was a tiger. With eyes that held his prey mesmerized during that sure, soft-footed approach. And, finally, the lunge and the killing blow. 
    Well, I was tired of waiting to be pounced on. Deer could fight, too. “Why did I get this job?”
    A flicker of the brown eyes at that. “Because Martine chose you.”
    “Why?” 
    “Because I told her she should.”
    “Oh.” That knocked the wind out of my sails a bit. “Why?” I managed to say.
    “Because I want to fuck you.”
    My notebook fell from my hand onto the carpet as I stared back at him. The tiger had pounced. 
    Everything inside me had turned to liquid. Everything but my spine. It had me standing up, and him rising, too. And then, before he could say anything, my right arm was hauling back as if in slow motion and coming forward fast. 
    I slapped the CEO across the face. 

    I was reacting as soon as she walked in the door wearing a pencil skirt that emphasized the slimness of her waist, cut so close to her body that it forced her hips to sway even more, giving her that irresistible wriggle. The reason we designed them that way—at least, the reason I did.
    The sweater framed her tender young breasts beautifully, offering them up like precious little cupcakes and asking me to take a bite. And giving every man who saw them that same tantalizing moment of delicious imagination. 
    That sweater was absolutely not appropriate.
    That sweater was in my fall line. But she still shouldn’t be wearing it. Not while she was walking around without me. 
    The delicate color was high in her porcelain cheeks, her mouth had parted a little, and I could almost hear her panting. Her eyes held mine, and I saw the glaze in them. Nerves, or desire, or a mixture of both. 
    I’d never had a woman on my desk, but I was going to have this one. 
    I didn’t mix business with pleasure. I lived my life based on two principles: discipline and control. On the other hand, it would give me so much pleasure to use a bit of both on her. I was going to show her what we both needed. And I was going to show her hard. 
    And then, of course, she slapped me.

Special Delivery

    I wanted to run. But I didn’t.
    Hemi stood looking at me, the print of my small hand standing out on his cheek. I stood, my breathing unsteady and clearly audible in the quiet room, and stared back at him. Something had happened to my peripheral vision. It had narrowed so I saw only him, through a red mist of something very much like rage.
    Slowly, he raised his hand to his cheek. And smiled.
    “So,” he said. “That didn’t go exactly the way I’d planned.”
    I was so surprised, I laughed, a short, angry sound that bounced off the hard surfaces of the office. “Well, if you go around saying things like that to women, a fair number of them are going to slap your face.”
    “You might be surprised.”
    “And again, that wouldn’t be my first choice of answer.”
    He tilted his head the smallest bit. His hand had dropped again, and once more, he was still.
    “If you’re trying to make me feel special,” I elaborated, “here’s