Under His Touch
Under His Touch
By Jeffe Kennedy
Amber Dolors knows better than to get involved with her boss. Devastatingly handsome in his sharp suits and sexy beyond belief, he possesses an air of command that fuels her darkest fantasies. But she’s worked too hard to get this job, and keeping it will lead to a brilliant future. She won’t cross that line—even if his way of giving orders and demanding her best performance gives her delicious warm shivers.
Alexander Knight prides himself on his integrity and self-discipline. After all, he hasn’t risen to the position he enjoys by indulging his whims over ambition. He also isn’t blind. He’s certainly noticed his sharp, young assistant is hot as hell. His self-imposed sexual hermitage doesn’t stop him from watching her. And endlessly fantasizing.
The day Alec’s cool reserve cracks and Amber catches a glimpse of something simmering beneath his apparent indifference is the day everything between them changes. Alec gives her what she’s been looking for sexually—as masterful in the bedroom as he is in the boardroom. He finds himself in the grip of an affair that tests even his boundaries, while Amber’s new role as willing student pushes them both past any consideration other than mutual longing.
86,000 words
Dear Reader,
Happy New Year! As always, I’m eschewing any sort of formal resolution because I know it would be abandoned within a month (and probably by January 2nd). Instead, every year, I promise myself that I’ll continue to read widely and generously, across publishers, authors and genres, and that I’ll never apologize for either what I read, or how much time I spend doing it. I hope you’ll all join me in promising the same to yourself this and every year!
This month, Washington, D.C., power couple Sam and Nick are back in Marie Force’s romantic suspense Fatal Scandal. This is a series it’s never too late to dive into and find out what thousands of readers rave about. Pick up Fatal Scandal today or go back to the beginning with Fatal Affair.
Joining Marie in the D.C. setting is Emma Barry with Party Lines. In this contemporary romance, as a presidential campaign rages and a reckless affair becomes a relationship, a cynical Democrat and an ambitious Republican will have to choose between party loyalty and their hearts. Recommended for those who love Scandal, opposites-attract romances, or a book where a happy ever after seems impossible because the lives of our characters are just too different.
Looking for a hot alpha male and a smart, self-sufficient heroine in a cracktastic contemporary romance read? Meet Metal: he’s trained to kill and to heal. So when a beautiful, wounded woman falls into his arms, he can save her and defend her against the ruthless enemies after the secrets in her head. Midnight Promises by Lisa Marie Rice delivers a sexy, page-turning read!
Speaking of sexy, Jeffe Kennedy’s Under His Touch is sure to heat things up. Unable to resist each other, a reserved Brit and his much younger colleague defy common sense and convention to indulge in a very kinky secret affair in this erotic romance.
For mystery fans, Shirley Wells is back with Dead Simple, which sees P.I. Dylan Scott put his personal problems aside to hunt down a killer and find justice for an old friend. See how the Dylan Scott Mysteries started in Presumed Dead.
In Anna Richland’s paranormal romance The Second Lie, when an immortal Viking thief tries to scam a California wine merchant, he discovers he picked the wrong woman to rip off. Stig knows escaping their kidnappers won’t be easy, but gaining Christina’s trust is even harder.
Also in paranormal romance this month is Broken Shadows by A.J. Larrieu, in which a telekinetic who’s lost her gift finds new purpose as a supernatural neutralizer—if only the man she loves wasn’t susceptible to her altered powers.
Historical romance fans will be happy to see a new offering from Susanna Fraser. In Freedom to Love, a British officer wounded at the Battle of New Orleans is rescued by a mixed-race Creole beauty—and when he discovers she has dire troubles of her own, his honor as a gentleman demands he rescue her in turn.
Last, we say goodbye to a beloved character and series in Transmuted, the last installment of Karina Cooper’s St. Croix Chronicles. She might have won the battle, but Cherry and her companions will risk it all to see the Karakash Veil’s threat finally ended. Don’t miss this wonderful conclusion, or start the journey now with Cherry and pick up Tarnished, available from Avon.
Coming in February 2015: the first in a new erotic romance trilogy from Lynda Aicher, and three incredible new authors bring us Russian skaters, post-apocalyptic love and a fresh new adult mystery.
Here’s wishing you a wonderful month—and a wonderful year—of books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
Dedication
In memory of my stepfather, Leo, who actually lost a bet about a port in Oklahoma for oceangoing vessels.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the Human Resources manager at my day job. Mary Raynard is not only a terrific asset to our company and a lovely human being, but also took the time to listen to my story idea and help me work through the hypotheticals of a workplace romance. Her timely and thoughtful assistance made all the difference at a time I needed it most.
Del Dryden gets a very special thank-you for making a serious exception for me and talking to me on the phone. She assisted with this story at a very early stage when I still needed to talk it through with far too many vague details—and managed to give me exactly the insight I needed.
Heartfelt thanks to critique partners Anne Calhoun, Carolyn Crane and Marcella Burnard, who read fast and under fire, as I screeched under the wire for this deadline. Their input, as always, is invaluable. Anne, in particular, bore the brunt of angst for this book, urging me to forge ahead through my angst and trust in the story. She was so totally right.
Additional thanks to Anne for lending me her trans-jestered story and for NYC authenticity and fact-checking.
Hasna Saadani and Miranda Neville, two of my favorite Brits, read closely and exhaustively to make sure Alec’s language met the test of authenticity. Any remaining errors are either a result of my mistake or my obstinacy. Flip a coin on that.
Thanks to Alexander Pierce who answered my Twitter call for help and suggested Rainbow Dash for Amber’s overnight bag. Perfect choice.
Thanks also to Tahra Seplowin—@calixofcoffee—for timely and perfect help on NYC details.
Much appreciation, always, to my wonderful editor Deb Nemeth and the team at Carina Press for all they do to make my books shine.
Love to David and my family, who are all so good to me.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seve
n
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
Amber scratched her temple, but Kiki didn’t see the signal. Probably on purpose.
Her roommate and bestie appeared to be wrapped up in her half of the pair of guys currently chatting them up over cocktails in the never-ending quest for sex, romance and happy ever after.
Pretty much in that order—from easy to impossible.
Kiki looked fully into her guy, flirting outrageously, if the vigorous swing of her blunt-cut Bettie Page bob gave any hint. With her black hair and exotically slanted black eyes, Kiki tended to draw attention. Amber often joked that, when she was out with her friend, all the guys made eye contact with her about a foot to the right—or wherever Kiki happened to be standing. Not that Amber couldn’t hold her own, but more as girl-next-door than glam.
She tried catching Kiki’s eye again as she sipped her second martini, but her friend gave no indication a mutual-bail might be in her future. And their pact prohibited Amber from leaving alone. Too much could happen. She was well and truly stuck.
“So what’s it like working on Wall Street?” The guy gave her what he probably thought was a winning smile. What was his name again? Mark. Steve. Dave. Why did they all have to have monosyllabic names?
“Actually, we’re in Midtown.”
“But is everyone totally ruthless and cutthroat to make money?”
Resigning herself, Amber tried to return the expression and leaned in. “Totally. I carry a shiv to the office.”
He didn’t quite get the joke and frowned. “Really? I didn’t think the neighborhood was that bad.”
Kill me now. Bored senseless, she couldn’t help toying with him a little. She widened her eyes and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Oh, it is! Just last week one of the partners went berserk and attacked her assistant for using the wrong account code. Blood everywhere.”
“Wow, really—did you Vine it or anything?” Then he pointed a finger at her, flashing yacht-club white teeth. “A joke, right?”
“Caught me! You’re way too clever for me.”
He actually puffed up at that and in despair, she elbowed Kiki and scratched her temple pleadingly.
Kiki, with a resigned wrinkle of her nose, made a production of yawning. “I’m beat and I have to be up early. Sorry to break up the fun, but are you ready?”
“Too bad.” Amber grabbed her phone case, stuck her sunglasses on her head and shrugged into her coat. “Thanks for the drinks...”
“Greg.” Her guy held out his hand and shook hers with a wry smile. “Should I bother asking for your number?”
Ouch. “Well, I—”
Kiki grabbed her arm. “Own it.” She lifted a shoulder at the guys. “Happy hunting, gentlemen.”
They made a quick escape, weaving through the busy bar crowded with young execs of all genders, all remarkably the same in their sharp suits and expensive haircuts. Amber sagged dramatically against Kiki. “I so owe you.”
“No, you don’t. Not this time anyway.”
“Color me surprised. I thought you were into yours.”
Kiki rolled her eyes. “Works at a bookstore. Makes nothing and wanted to talk about how YA is failing to serve boys. I nearly stabbed him in the eye with my olive pick.”
“Did you tell him you’re an editorial assistant at the biggest YA publisher in New York?”
She slid a cagey glance at Amber. “No. I went with shampooer at a salon this time. As a test. A regrettable one, as he wasn’t worth the lie. At least I discovered I need some realistic details to shore that one up. Do you think most shampooers are working their way up to stylist—or is it a dead-end job?”
“Sounds dead end to me. Why did you stick so long if you weren’t into him? I’d been trying to give you the signal for fifteen minutes.”
She huffed with impatience. “So you would give yours a chance! He was cute. And into buying and selling, like you are.”
“Boring.”
“You think they’re all boring.”
“Because they are. White-bread boy with promising career seeking same, but female, for flavorless sex, possible marriage and production of next generation to feed the prep school his entire family graduated from.”
“Seeing as how you meet those criteria, I don’t think you can cast aspersions.”
“But I don’t want to. I don’t want a Hamptons wedding to a nice guy who comes with a nicely planned life.”
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with a nice guy.”
“Never said there was. I’ve dated nice guys. It was very nice.”
Of course it wasn’t tanned Greg’s fault that everything he said sounded like blah, blah, blah to her. Not entirely his fault that she wanted something different than what the Gregs of the world offered.
“I want a guy with more...presence.” Mastery. A man like her boss.
“Does that mean kinkier?”
“Maybe. Probably. I’m young, unattached, living in the city. What if this is my window of opportunity?”
“Then you’re doing it wrong because you’re not going to find Mr. Kink at the Z Bar happy hour.”
“Clearly I’m not going to find him anywhere at all.”
“Normal people probably get in a relationship first, then suggest the kinky sex stuff.”
“Maybe. So far that hasn’t worked for me.”
“There, there, darling.” Kiki dropped her head on Amber’s shoulder. “You’ll find Prince Fetish someday. Probably will have a thing for fucking his horse though.”
Amber snorted out a giggle and waved down a cab. “At least he sounds interesting.”
“Yeah, well, don’t be stupid.” Kiki held out her crooked pinky and Amber linked hers with it.
“Don’t worry.”
But she did worry. At least, the problem remained on her mind as she dressed for work, buttoning up her favorite pink blouse and trying to think about the day ahead and not the several disappointments of the night before. First boring Greg and then the erotic book she’d saved as a treat had taken a bad turn. It had been decent until the heroine decided to quit her job, turn over all her money to her dom and become a 24/7 slave.
Why did these fictional doms have to be such assholes? Surely there was a real-world balance out there, a man who could fulfill the sex fantasies and see a woman as an actual person with career ambitions. Because the kitchen-cleaning porn? Not even remotely appealing.
As a palate cleanser, Amber had pulled out her box set of Sandman, losing herself in the painful and sometimes horrific journey of dark and brooding Morpheus, the King of Dreams.
Totally different from the world of high finance.
She did love her job. The rush of it, the huge stakes. Even the routine stuff got her revved every morning. Like walking through the steel-and-glass lobby of her office building, the satisfyingly sharp clack of her high heels on the marble floors, even having to show her ID to the security guard. It was all so shiny and exciting.
So was working for Alexander Knight.
She’d landed in clover with this job. Barely above an intern’s salary, but with rich potential.
She was working it. Following the business mantra—make your boss look good. A man like Alexander Knight made for excellent inspiration that way, since he already looked pretty damn good. He had a similar vibe as Morpheus, especially at the end of a hectic day, with his dark hair ruffled from scraping his hand through it, snapping out orders to manage his empire.
If being around him gave an extra sparkle to things, well, all the better.
She could—and would—su
blimate her sexual energy into the job. Prince Fetish would be nice, but apprenticing to the King of Dreams...priceless.
* * *
She’d worn pink again. That ruffled cotton-candy silk blouse under the severe lapels of her black suit. The one with the tight skirt that showed off her trim young ass. Absolutely appropriate, modest workplace attire. Not that you’d know it from the prurient direction of his thoughts.
If only he could stop thinking about popping her full breasts out of her bra, letting them be squeezed there amidst the pink, framed in black, while he pulled up her skirt and laid her back across his desk.
Bloody hell.
Alec rubbed a hand over his eyes to erase the image and to avoid watching her sashay down the hall, perfect bum twitching, slim calves like cream under her smooth hose, flashing through the demure back slit of the skirt. Though his computer pinged, announcing the arrival of yet another email, he waited a beat to be sure she’d moved out of sight. If he could figure out a way to transfer sweet young Amber Dolors off his team without unfairly impacting her blossoming career, he would in a heartbeat.
Not her fault she tripped his particular trigger, however. As part of senior management, he knew better than to make a pass at her—or do anything to put a smudge on her fresh and shiny reputation. Sending her out in under six months with no reason? It would look bad.
She was too bright and ambitious for some dirty old man to knock down, just because he couldn’t control himself.
Because he could control himself. Prided himself on it. Iron self-discipline to govern the baser urges that sometimes threatened to overtake him. Stainless integrity. If he’d caught a whiff that anyone in the company—male or female—entertained thoughts about the junior staff of the variety that plagued him with this girl...well, he’d have them called out on the carpet. Had done so in the past.
Rightfully so. He could and would keep himself leashed.
Safe from temptation until the next time she made a trip down the hall, he focused on his overflowing inbox and gulped his tea. Too hot, but the burn helped him to concentrate. Not to think about whether her nipples would be the same color as her blouse or if he spread her slim, creamy thighs—