“I certainly hope so, or else we have a lot of explaining to do to the owner. Come on, let’s get you some water.”
“Wait, what’s that?” She points to the far end of the garage where there’s a bit of blue paint peeking out from under a cover.
“A car.” I roll my eyes and try to get her to follow me into the house. It’s no use, her interest has been piqued. She’s moving towards the car and chattering on about having too many cars. I’m not paying as much attention as I should be because all my focus is on her wide hips swaying back and forth as she moves in front of me. Once she reaches the car, she swiftly yanks the cover off to the floor with no preamble. “It’s so pretty!” she squeals in excitement.
I have to laugh at that. I’m not sure anyone has ever called the 1963 Corvette Convertible pretty before, but what do I know?
“It was my dad’s.” Catching hold of her elbow, I try to guide her back towards the entrance of the house, but she stops and places her hand on my chest.
I’m thrown back to memories of us. God, was that really only three days ago that we were back in my office, my hands on her body, close enough to kiss?
“I’m sorry about your parents, Archer.” Her voice is so soft and her eyes so earnest I can’t even be annoyed at her for bringing up a topic I rarely cover with anybody, not even my uncle.
I’m not surprised that she knows my parents are dead, since my job makes me rather high profile, it’s pretty much common knowledge. Even so, I don’t like to talk about my parents. It’s a painful topic. People always say that you’ll “get over it.” Well, I never got over my parents’ death. I feel their absence every day. I just choose to go on and do the best I can to honor them and their legacy. It’s one of the reasons I’m so completely devoted to Clarke Hotels. I’d like to think my father would be proud of how much I’ve accomplished. I’m also pretty sure my mother would be hounding me for grandchildren by now.
“Thanks. It was a long time ago. I—” Hollie’s lips are on top of mine in an instant, removing all memory of what I was going to say next. For a moment, my entire being relaxes and my arms wrap around her, pulling her into me. However, I quickly come to my senses and instead of drawing her in, I slowly push her away.
I’d like to say that I broke off the kiss because I wasn’t interested in her or because she is my assistant, and it wouldn’t be proper. That there aren’t shivers running up and down my body. Really, the only reason I stopped is because Hollie is drunk. If she was sober and kissed me like that, none of those other excuses would have mattered. I’d have her up against the wall and moaning my name right now.
“Hollie, honey, no,” I tell her while taking a step away. My breath is coming in and out of my lungs in big gasps as I try to get my body back under control. It’s the most chaste kiss I’ve had since I was twelve years old, but somehow, it’s still the hottest.
She sticks out her bottom lip at me in a pout and I have to stop myself from grabbing her again, nibbling on that lip myself.
“How come you never drive it?”
Uhhhh, what?“Excuse me?”
“The pretty car,” she points over her shoulder, taking me completely off guard and changing the subject like she didn’t just completely blow my mind with a peck on the lips.
I involuntarily let out a laugh at the absurdity that is tonight. There is zero chance that she’s remembering any of this in the morning. Thank God for that. “It’s a 1963 Corvette. It’s notpretty.”I try to scowl but am positive I’m not pulling it off.
“Looks pretty to me,” she harrumphs at me.
“It’s a convertible and we live in Seattle, one of the rainiest places in the Northwest,” I remind her.
“We should go for a drive,” she tells me enthusiastically.
“We should get water and go to bed.” At that, she jerks her head up and focuses on me. “Go to bed in different rooms,” I explain lamely before she can question my motives. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea after all. This is all completely innocent. I would have brought any employee to my home that was too impaired to drive.
Keep telling yourself that, you idiot.
With no further questions, she follows me into the main house from the garage and we make our way to the foyer. I glance around and try to see the place through Hollie’s eyes. Some would find the furnishing slightly out of date, but when I inherited this place from my parents, I didn’t have the heart to change much of anything. I’ve switched out a few pieces of furniture over the years and updated the electronics, but it’s still the home I’ve always known and loved.
Nothing is of poor quality or even shabby, but it lacks the sleek modern ambience of most of the homes of my friends and colleagues. They all have bachelor pads filled with steel and glass. While those places radiate wealth and status, I find this immensely more comfortable. The place screams “family home” but you never know, it’s possible someday there will be a family running around the large open concept living room we’re walking through. Of course, now that I’m older, I realize it could use a bit of updating, but who has the time?
I steal a glance at Hollie, who is unabashedly looking around with wide eyes. “Come on, the kitchen is through here.” I lead her through the great room and into the open kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water while Hollie jumps up to precariously perch on the edge of one of my island barstools. “Here, drink this.” I tell her, handing her the bottle. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Nope,” she says, popping the P sound then giving me a giggle. There she goes, being adorable again. I realize I’m smiling like an idiot, but who cares? She probably won’t remember much of tonight anyway. “Thanks for taking me home. You really didn’t have to.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She doesn’t answer that and instead gulps down the water I’ve given her. I stop to remove my suit coat and tie, feeling her eyes on me without having to look at her, I roll the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows.
“I’m really sorry if this causes a problem for you with your girlfriend. She doesn’t have anything to worry about from me.”
“I told you I don’t have a girlfriend,” I bite out, not bothering to mention that if I had a girlfriend, she most certainly would have something to worry about where my curvy little assistant was concerned. “Let’s drop it.”
“I’ve only had sex with one person before.” I glance up and Hollie has slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes widening in shock as if she didn’t mean for that little piece of information to slip out. This is a new direction for our conversations. Apparently, drunk Hollie has no filter.
My eyes rove over her body, taking in her halo of curls, disheveled blouse that’s come untucked from her skirt, and her bare feet. She must have kicked her heels off under the counter. “I mean, we had sex a few times, but I didn’t think it was very good. Maybe I was bad at it.”