Silk Confessions by Joanne Rock Page A

Monday morning doldrums.
    “Can I get you anything?” Tempest opened the door of the minirefrigerator under the wet bar to reveal a wealth of soft drinks and flavored spring water. She might as well be civil, even if he had made it clear the other night that he wouldn’t get involved with someone commanding such a prominent public profile. “I’ve got tea, if you like.”
    “No, thanks. That’s not what I’m here for.” Shrugging out of his coat, he folded the garment over one chair and then made himself comfortable in a large swivel seat at the head of the conference table.
    Her seat.
    “No?” She curbed her annoyance along with her lust, determined not to let either one show. Dropping into a chair midway down the table, she peered into her office and noticed the outer door had been shut, sealing them in complete privacy.
    Had that been Rebecca’s way of offering Tempest a few moments alone with Wes? Or had the gesture been Wes’s attempt to sneak another kiss when he had no intention of giving her anything more substantial?
    Neither answer soothed the increased tempo of her heart. She settled for simply casting him a level look and giving him her most businesslike boardroom face. “Then how about you tell me what brings you here.”
     
    A N OVERWHELMING DESIRE to get you naked?
    Somehow Wes didn’t think she’d appreciate the answer after the way he’d lit out of her apartment Saturday night. Thankfully, he had another reason for showing up in her penthouse office this morning.
    “I wanted to make sure you were having additional security installed in the Chelsea apartment. Whoever broke into your apartment used some finesse to pick your lock in a way that didn’t damage the door at all. You need something more sophisticated to keep out to day’s crooks.” It was a legitimate reason to see her again, right? He’d mentioned security to her over the weekend, but she’d been jittery on Friday and he hadn’t trusted that she fully comprehended the importance of the message.
    Then by Saturday he’d had more on his mind than safety, a professional error he wouldn’t be making again. He’d even taken the liberty of locking her office door behind him on the way in. Not that he really anticipated anyone coming after her on the most elite floor of corporate offices in the building, but it couldn’t hurt to be safe.
    Private.
    Ah, hell, who was he kidding? He’d bolted the door in case she had the urge to take up where they’d left off on Saturday. He might not like the idea of her high-profile career and status as a social figure putting him in the public eye, but he didn’t stand a chance at getting her out of his head. By Sunday night he’d realized he just needed to find more creative solutions to their problem of too much publicity because he wanted her too much to concern himself with the inconvenience of his mug in the paper on occasion.
    Locking doors behind them seemed like a good place to start today.
    “I called a security company this morning. They’re going to come by tomorrow to install something.” She shifted in her seat just enough to make the leather chair squeak.
    And remind Wes of the restless way she’d brushed up against him when they sat at her computer together over the weekend. His body revved at the memory of her scent. Her nearness. He couldn’t deny he wanted that again along with a whole lot more.
    “They couldn’t come out today?” He’d driven by her building twice last night, uneasy with the idea of her alone in apartment 35, guarded only by Eloise. And if he’d entertained a few fantasies involving Ms. Boucher while he was at it, that was his business.
    “They already juggled around their schedule just to get out tomorrow.” Sitting straighter, she folded her hands together as if to keep herself still. “Is there any thing else I can help you with, Detective? I have a busy schedule today.”
    Her tone verged on frosty, but not nearly chilly enough to cool him