Chapter One
Samantha
“Erica,” Ramone breathes into my ear as he presses his hips against my bottom, pinning me in place against the kitchen counter. My breath becomes instantly shallow at the feeling of his rigid manhood against me, with only minimal layers of clothing separating me from the forbidden object of my affection. He combs his fingertips through the tendrils of my long, golden hair, plants his lips against the nape of my neck, and I allow my head to fall backward to rest on the hulking muscle of his shoulder.
“Erica, I know you want me,” Ramone continues. “There is nothing wrong with your dishwasher. You’ve been calling me out here for weeks because you want me. Haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I manage to say. He moves his hands from my hair and slips them under the hem of my blouse, drawing them over my tummy in a sensual tease. His lips kiss their way down my neck, then pull away momentarily as he lifts the blouse over my head.
“You are a goddess,” he murmurs as he spins me around and then plunges his tongue deep into my mouth. With our lips entwined, I feel him tug away the straps of my bra and his palms finally descend over the puckering peaks of my—
“Knock knock!”
Samantha dropped the book into her lap and kicked it out of sight under her desk before swigging a large gulp of scalding tea, which jolted her out of her fantasy. She spun her chair around to see Cammie, the perky temp receptionist, who waved a slip of paper at her.
“I’m heading out,” Cammie announced. “Mind signing my time card?”
“Of course.” Samantha gestured at the young woman to come into her office and scribbled her signature in two places, then handed the paper back. “See you Monday.”
Cammie waved as she flounced out of the office. “Have a great weekend!”
Samantha paused briefly as her gaze flicked side to side, reassuring her that the coast was clear and then reached down to retrieve the book.
“Oh Ramone,” I gasp as he grazes his palms over the curve of—
“Hey, Miss Holt,” AJ, the cute, young coffee supply guy, called as he approached the office door with a clipboard.
Samantha tossed the book behind her monitor.
“Hey there, AJ.” She flipped her hand in front of her face a couple of times to fan away the pinkening of her cheeks. “Were you able to get that French vanilla creamer?”
“You betcha.” He handed off the clipboard. “Got you two boxes. You should be good for the month.”
She grinned after scrawling a signature. Probably the hundredth signature of the day. “You’re the best. See you next time.”
AJ let himself out and Samantha sighed discreetly after he left.
Cute, cute.
Too bad he’s at least six years younger than her. Too bad he’s a vendor. AJ was a doll. And with his dark hair and deep olive skin, he could have perfectly played the part of Ramone to her Erica if it wasn’t wholly inappropriate. Being the HR manager, a person tends to preface every thought with, how appropriate is this?
AJ was definitely inappropriate.
She shook her head.
Never going to happen.
The two-year drought would continue. Probably indefinitely, as far as Samantha could see. It bothered her, but there wasn’t much she could do to remedy the situation. Besides, she had Ramone,the swoon-worthy Latin lover slash handyman.
She picked up the book a third time when her phone rang.
“Hey, Mom,” Samantha answered.
“How are you, honey?”
“Same old, same old. Did Jenna make it in town yet?”
“They got here about an hour ago. The kids are napping. She and Andrew are helping themselves to margaritas and the pool.”
