employer. But he wanted it to be her decision. That would make a smoother segue into his bed. A vision of what she would look like, naked, with that blonde hair loose all around her came to him. Wearing those come fuck me heels and nothing else. Blood rushed to his groin. Fuck. He had been in a state of constant arousal for five weeks.
What the hell had Mrs. Argenot been thinking? He never would have hired somebody that looked like her. Never in a million fucking years. He liked to think of himself as a fair and responsible employer. But Jesus Christ , he wasn't a saint. Having her in the same office, having to work with her side by side, and never getting to touch her was never going to work for the long term. Short term was killing him.
The woman was fine, no question about it. She was five or six inches over five feet, and she wore those CFM 's all the time. They brought her height up to a very respectable level. She was slender and toned, and the picture of her calf muscles was still in his head from a few moments before. Her hair was long and blonde and came half way down her back, and her face could stop traffic.
She was a femme fatale . A siren. A vamp, a witch. His gut was tied in knots, and there was no way in hell he was moving on with his life before the ink was dried on this deal. He was going to screw her, and the only question was when.
****
A week later, Renee thought she was quietly going insane. The first five weeks of this job had been bad, but the last week had been agony. Her boss snapped at her constantly. He told her she was late when she wasn't. He complained that her work was sloppy, when she knew it was impeccable.
If she didn't need the extra money and benefits so badly, she would have quit and gone back to her old position. They still wanted her. Her old boss called her like clockwork every Monday morning to check up on her and tell her that her job was still hers if she wanted it.
It was a safety net in a highly volatile situation. Things had gotten so bad here that on Monday she had actually hinted to her old boss that it might not be working out. It probably wasn't fair to keep them hanging, but a girl had to think of herself first. God knows she didn't have anybody else to take care of her. Her daughter, Brittany, was in her first year at LSU. College was expensive. Thank goodness, her kid was smart and had won a TOPS award from the state for tuition. But room and board were killing her! Brittany wanted the full college experience and that included living on campus. Renee wanted her to have it since she deserved it for all her hard work, and Renee didn't want her to miss out on what she herself had never gotten to have.
Getting pregnant and having her daughter before the age of twenty had been rough, and the small amount of child support she had received from her ex-husband had been sporadic at best. It had completely dried up the day Brittany graduated from high school. They were on their own now.
Renee heard the click of a door and looked up into the menacing face of Robert Thibodeaux. His impact on her senses was no less disturbing than the first day she met him.
Scratch that. At least then, she thought there was the barrier of a wife to separate them. Now she knew better. She felt like she was tip-toeing around an explosive keg of dynamite.
He stood in the threshold leading to his office, holding a coffee cup in his hand. "What do you call this?" His words were insolent.
"Coffee?" This was how their conversations had gone for the last week. Biting questions. Hesitant, respectful replies. She was handling the situation the only way she knew how. Forty-eight more days. Forty-eight more days. She would beat him at this. But Christ, if she made it through her ninety days, is this how her working life would be? Side-stepping him, trying to ignore the fact he wanted to sleep with her? If she wasn't sure about that before, the night at the
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