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getting screwed silly.
    There was a muted groan and his left hand disappeared beneath the table. Good to know, Reardon Dade Boone handled and dressed to the left.
    I guessed he’d gotten to my Hobbies: Tantric Yoga.
    I knew the moment he reached Motivations because he hissed a curse and curled his fingers into the Office Depot linen-weight stationery: To know the feel of a man who wants me, preferably in my mouth.
    Those Bonerfides were folded precisely and placed in his pants pocket.
    “Enlightening.” His fingers walked across the desk, tangling with mine. “I appreciate your candor, Miss Greer.” He kissed each fingertip until my knees buckled. “You are an undeniably sexy woman.”
    Releasing me into a puddle of do-me-goo, he shuffled through another file and fed a handful of paper into a shredder. It droned silently. Unlike the engine of my car. Most likely still farting in the parking lot next to the Cadillac Escalade sneering at my ride.
    Reardon rubbed his mouth for a moment and I suspected he was hiding his drop-dead-and-give-him-head grin.
    Great.
    Strong fingers folded beneath his chin, he announced, “Now then, there’s the matter of your responsibilities.”
    “Yeah, it’d help to know when you expect me to saddle up, because I ain’t sure I’m ready to put out the Open for Business sign just yet.”
    Ooh, I earned his icy look, and Jesus, Mary, God-damn if his glare wasn’t a turn on too. I felt it all the way to my insides, the ones strengthened by my daily Kegels. Screw the daily Psalms, I had my own religion to worry about.
    “You want to negotiate?”
    “No, I wanna play hardball.” Duh.
    “That’s exactly why I’m hiring you. I’ve just destroyed my usual job description. It’s clear I’ll need to think outside the box with you.”
    Hopefully not outside my box.
    “Shall we play it by ear, Miss Greer?”
    Miss Greer. That right there got on my last nerve because if he was asking me to be his mistress he ought to at least forego the good southern-bred manners. “Can you refrain from callin’ me Miss Greer? It reminds me this is all wrong.”
    “How would you like me to address you?”
    Damn, did he need a memo? Because that was a no-brainer. Sexy goddess, hot vixen, love slave...obviously. “Shay, Mr. Boone.”
    “Of course, if you’ll call me Reardon.”
    Rat Bastard would be my little secret, then . “Agreed.”
    “Let’s start with this . Your main duty will be to provide me company and allow me to pleasure you.”
    I drank half my glass of water and about choked on its cold course before blurting, “But you wanna fuck me, right?”
    His jaw flexed, and his eyes dropped to my tasteful tease of cleavage as soon as I swore. Excellent. He liked a little dirty talk, duly noted for future teasin’ and torture .
    “Eventually, yes.”
    “Eventually?”
    Did you expect him to ravage you on your first day? My conscience rolled her eyes.
    “I’m not a barbarian, Miss Greer.” Entertained by our conversation, he sent me a wicked smile.
    “Miss Greer again? We agreed. Me, Shay , You, Reardon .”
    His deep laughter settled a delicious throb between my thighs. “Shay.” He leaned forward. “I will spoil you first . ” He stood and made his way to me, dipping a fingertip along the crests of my breasts. “Make you desire me.” His grand finale followed, his finger grazing my lips. “I’ll seduce you.”
    I barely quelled the urge to roll over and beg.
    “Why?”
    “Why?” He repeated, taken aback.
    “You’re successful, sexy, smart.” I paused when his cheeks flushed pink beneath the swarthy tan. Bless him, Mr. Boone was bashful too? “And I think y’all got a sense of humor hidin’ in there somewhere. You really gotta pay for pussy?” I made no attempt to sugar coat my potty mouth.
    “I’m interested in a sexual relationship without the additional baggage.” He got over the choirboy routine real quick, answering me head-on.
    “Baggage?”
    “Hurt feelings,