Restraining the Receptionist: ... the Receptionist, Book 2 by Juniper Bell

margaritas.”
    “But aren’t you angry?”
    “Sure I am. At them for being sick pricks. At me for momentarily forgetting everything I learned from the age of three. But not at you.”
    “Or at Ethan. Still think he’s a bastard?”
    “No. Yes. Well, he can be.” The complexities of Ethan Cowell didn’t fit into one word. I ran my foot along his leg.
    “He’s something, isn’t he?”
    Hard to argue with that. “I guess that about says it.”
    “I’ve never before heard him do what he just did with you.”
    “What?”
    “Give you a choice. A straight-out choice. Up to you, it’s your decision, that sort of thing.” He threw an arm over his eyes. “Usually he manages things so you do what he wants, even if it seems like your choice.”
    “You never had a choice?”
    “No. But that’s my problem. I love the man.” All kinds of history filtered through his voice. I’d probably never unearth all the layers of Simon and Ethan’s relationship. “I give him what he needs, and now I think it’s what I need too. But I’m never entirely sure.”
    He sat up so suddenly I nearly rolled off the bed. “But none of that is your worry. Here.” He grabbed his pants off the nightstand and rummaged through his pockets until he found a credit card. His personal card. He picked up the phone and two minutes later, I had a ride back to Long Island. The driver would be out front of the hotel in ten minutes.
    “But what about you?” I scrambled out of bed to pull on my dress, the sight of which made me want to vomit. I’d gone through way too much in that dress. When I got home I’d have to turn it into dishrags or something. Maybe a nest for the rats that lived in my building. “Why don’t you come with me?”
    “No. I don’t want to influence you. You know I love you. You know I want you to be safe. The rest is up to you.” He stood up, the towel dropping from his hips. God, he was a beautiful man, especially with the oncoming light of dawn turning his torso into a shadowy mountain range of muscles. I loved how he walked, with that pirate flair, like the rebel lord of all he surveyed. I still couldn’t believe such a hellaciously sexy man had entered my life.
    He came close to me, so close I drank in the familiar scent of his skin, mixed with a stale hangoverish smell. I leaned my forehead against his chest and felt his tender touch on my back. He dropped a kiss on my hair, so light it could have been a moth fluttering by. “See you soon.”
    As parting words, they weren’t much, but they reassured me during my long, lonely drive to Low-Life. No matter what I decided, I’d see Simon soon. The thought brought me a huge feeling of relief. I needed Simon in my life. That part was a no-brainer.
    We drove around Manhattan to avoid all the rush hour, workday traffic. Everyone in the world was on their way to work, it seemed, except me. Secretaries, plumbers, construction workers, teachers, CEO’s, bus drivers, bakers, candlestick makers. It felt very strange to be headed…home, I suppose. That’s where Simon had told the driver to take me. But home was always so dull compared to work. I’d noticed this strange fact early on. Most people looked forward to their weekends. For me, they seemed to last forever. I came alive when I walked into Cowell & Dirk and got my first eyeful of Simon. Simon was better than a cup of black coffee when it came to perking me up.
    And when Ethan strolled in, usually a good half hour after the two of us, the adrenaline rush equalled a shot of triple espresso. Could I do without that Ethan-high? Could I cut back from two incredible men…to one? From one job to none?
    As I think I’ve said before, I have an addictive personality. The thought of either of those things made me shiver like a junkie whose dealer just got busted.
    But Ethan was trouble. Big trouble. It wasn’t his fault that I’d ended up in that nightmare. And he’d rescued me. But at the same time, without him, I