Hostile Takeover by Hill, W (best novels to read for students .TXT) 📕

while she completed the paperwork for him. While she was on her best behavior, infallibly professional, her blood was simmering below the surface every time she stole a look at him. Working at his desk, moving around the office talking on his hands-free, interacting with the others as they came in and out for different things. She would be spending the night at Ben’s. The idea of it, of what might happen, made her flushed and high strung, though she did her best to cover it.

When the day was over, instead of taking his car, they took the trolley. Marcie had never appreciated how narrow the wooden two-seat bench was. Ben necessarily stretched a long arm across the back, pressing her against his side, his thigh against her leg as they clattered along the track from downtown. Though she’d grown up in Baton Rouge, she was well acquainted with New Orleans. Still, it had been awhile since she was here.

She enjoyed recalling the landmarks as they went along, the crush of people wandering Canal Street, that view streamlining into St. Charles’ never-ending offering of restaurants. Each had a unique flair, like bohemian middle-aged women, old enough to be comfortable and confident in their skin, yet young enough to exude color and style. As they passed through the religious school district, she saw a few students still on the grounds in their uniforms of crisp white shirts and navy pants or skirts.

Ben had them get off at Audubon Park to join the joggers and cyclists along the walkways there. In the quiet nooks where statues and gazebos sat by the water, they occasionally glimpsed homeless people camped, absorbing the tranquility the way they were. Ben guided her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they strolled that way. She imagined them doing it a hundred years ago, her in petticoats and a stylish hat, him in a suit that wouldn’t differ too much from what he wore now, at least in cut and style. The man did know how to dress.

“Your work today impressed me,” Ben said. “The Kelly-Bergerson brief was pretty much perfect. I’ve had rookie lawyers serving under me who don’t have your command of the terminology.”

She warmed to the praise. “I’m good at business languages. My roommate at college was pre-med. To help her memorize, I’d string together her medical terms in a dirty way. Want to hear?”

Ben quirked a brow at her. “Is your mind always in the gutter?”

“No more than yours. Besides, it was for a good cause, to help her become a better doctor.” Marcie nodded to a shirtless jogger who passed them. “His rectus abdominis is well defined, but his external obliques still need work. Though his rectus femoris just invites the tongue.”

His gaze glinted. “Careful, there.”

Marcie freed her hands to clasp them together, sighing with dramatic effect. “His phalanges gripped her pes anserinus to pry them apart. Pushing his rectus femoris into her gluetus maximus, her pubic symphysis was pinned against the bed. He forced his pollicis into her suboccipitals, pressing her frontal bone into the mattress.”

“I don’t think romance fiction has anything to worry about from you.”

She sniffed. “I might open up a whole new field. Doctors reading romance.”

“I think they’d prefer the layman terms. Otherwise, it would be a busman’s holiday.”

When they left the park, they strolled along the broken sidewalks that led them into the residential areas. Tilting her head back, she studied the thick waterfall of colorful beads hanging from the oaks, competing with the Spanish moss. “I love that they let these stay in the trees.” Reaching up, she tried to snag a pretty silver strand, but she was too short. She gave a valiant hop, putting all her effort into it, and her fingertips brushed it. “Shoot.”

“Here, brat. Little tease.” He bent, wrapped his arms beneath her buttocks and boosted her up his body to give her the extra head of height she needed. Marcie caught the beads, untangled them and drew down two, a silver and a shiny green. She was hyper-conscious of his arms around her, the way her mound pressed into his abdomen. When she looked down, bracing her hands on his shoulders, she could tell he wasn’t unaffected either. He let her slide down his body but kept her close until she rested between his feet. His hands adjusted downward, way low on her waist, curling over the tops of her buttocks, pinching the folds of her skirt between his fingertips.

“I could have done it with a few more jumps,” she defended herself. “It’s just about building momentum. But your help was appreciated.”

“Hmm.” He stared down at her, and the unfathomable look quieted her. Dropping the silver strand over her head, she put the green on him. Her fingers slipped over his hair, touched his neck and ears, rested on his shoulders when she was done, her thumbs touching his throat because he’d loosened his tie, unbuttoned the collar. Because he didn’t say not to do it, she stroked that small expanse of skin, scratched it with her nail.

His gaze heated, his hands dropping to take a firm hold of her ass, kneading, no matter the passing cars or sidewalk pedestrians. There weren’t so many of those here, but the occasional matronly dog walker could make her more self-conscious than the anonymity and colorful nature of a big Canal Street crowd.

It was exactly why he did it. She knew it was a test. So she didn’t look around, didn’t squirm away. Fortunately, the passing hours and his and Rachel’s combined tending had made her buttocks far less sore. “I’m going to do something now,” he said. “As I’m doing it, you tell me what goes through that imaginative brain of yours.”

Lowering his head, he nudged hers to the side with the touch of his mouth on her temple. Turning her face toward his broad shoulder, pressing her nose into the smooth line of his dress shirt over his pectoral, she shuddered as