Talking Dirty with the CEO Page 6

  “What do I think? I think the guy’s a freaking genius.” Tony waved the beer he was holding for emphasis. “Ashton Tech went from a garage start-up to a turnover in the billions in less than ten years. That’s genius in my book.”

  “Sounds more like a work/life balance problem to me,” Christie muttered.

  “Decide for yourself then.” Tony elbowed her. “His Highness is about to address the masses”

  “Where?” she asked, craning around.

  “Over there.” Tony pointed. “Interesting he’s made a personal appearance tonight. Must be important, I guess.”

  A makeshift stage had been rigged up on one end of the ballroom, and she spotted a dark-haired man going up the steps. At first Christie couldn’t see him with the lights dimming. A spotlight came on as he walked over to the lectern and then there he was, standing in the center of the column of light like James T. Kirk ready to be beamed aboard the Enterprise.

  Tall and broad in a very expensive-looking dark suit. Black hair expertly styled. A chiseled clean-shaven jawline and cheekbones to die for. He looked somehow hotter in real life than he did in those pictures. And also somehow… The nagging sense of familiarity gripped her.

  Abruptly her heart stopped.

  Sweet Jesus. What the bloody hell was uninhibited-sex-on-the-bathroom-vanity Joseph doing here?

  Then, as her brain caught up with the rest of reality, she realized: gorgeous, uninhibited-sex-on-the-bathroom-vanity Joseph was Joseph Ashton of Ashton Technology. The owner of the company whose product was being launched with such hype tonight.

  Christie’s glass of bubbly slipped through her nerveless fingers and smashed on the polished wooden floor.

  Up on the stage, Joseph turned and she found she couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. The whole ballroom seemed to fall silent.

  She wanted to die.

  But unfortunately death didn’t oblige her, so she had to stand there in agony, face flaming, as everyone stared at her. Including Joseph. And just when she thought her embarrassment would burn a hole through the floor, his attention shifted and he began to speak. As if he hadn’t seen her at all.

  Waitstaff appeared, cleaning up the mess while Tony stared at her, puzzled.

  “Are you okay? What was all that about?”

  Her mouth felt dry. Her knees weak with shock.

  “Nothing,” she croaked out. “Nothing at all.”

  Nothing except for the fact that Joseph Ashton, head of a major company with a turnover in the billions, one of the most innovative IT companies in Australasia with a future that was going to go global, just happened to be her one-night stand. How could she not have recognized him? How could she not have known? He was kind of famous and she was in the industry.

  Then again, what were the odds of your online date being a technology billionaire? And he’d been in jeans and T-shirt with an unshaven jaw and messy-ish hair. She hadn’t made the connection. But, Lord, she did now.

  And just as she was struggling with that thought, another one sneaked up behind and hit her with a baseball bat.

  She had to interview him.

  Bloody freaking hell.

  “Hey, Chris. You’ve gone white.” Tony now looked concerned.

  It was too much. All way too much. She had to get out. Get some space. Some air.

  Muttering excuses, Christie turned and pushed her way out of the ballroom, stopping in the reception area outside, breathing hard.

  There were several low black leather couches scattered around and she tottered toward one, sinking down on it to give her wet-noodle knees a break. Then she lowered her head into her hands.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

  Shame and embarrassment spread through her. This interview was going to be a nightmare. He’d probably look at her in shock as she sat down in front of him. The geeky tech hack he’d slept with. The one who’d run out like a frightened rabbit. What would he say? What would she say?

  Whoa, freaking out much, St. John?

  Christie shut her eyes. Oh yeah, she was freaking out. Which was dumb. She had to get a grip here.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, staring at the huge painting on the wall opposite her.

  So he was her one-night stand. So he was a billionaire. So she had to interview him. So what?

  She’d handle it. No biggie.

  Yeah, he probably dated models or gorgeous actresses or something. But, hell, that didn’t matter. God knew, hot billionaires weren’t her usual thing, either. Those kind of guys, the guys her parents sucked up to all the time—guys like Greg—were usually arrogant, self-obsessed, and up-themselves anyway. Totally not her scene at all.

  I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous…

  Christie’s throat closed. No, don’t think about that. Don’t.

  “Chris?” She jerked her head up to see Tony coming toward her. “What’s up?”

  Oh, just gearing myself up to interview my one-night stand. The one-night stand I ran out on. Nothing major.

  She let out a long breath. “Nothing. I think it must have been something I ate.”

  He frowned. “Do you need to go home?”

  Yes. She did want to go home. Run away back to the safety of her apartment. Fire up a game of Zombie Force Online. Go back to where she was comfortable. Where she was safe.

  But she wouldn’t because she had an interview to do. An interview she’d promised to deliver to her boss and one she wasn’t going to let mere embarrassment stop her from delivering.

  She could do this. She could. He was just a guy. A guy she’d had bathroom-vanity sex with, but hey. With any luck he wouldn’t even remember it.

  Christie pushed herself off the couch. “No. I’m fine, Tony. But I could use another glass of champagne.”

  …

  Joseph, his speech over, stepped off the stage. People began to surround him but he took a moment to grab the attention of a nearby aide, who responded with the usual suck-uppiness. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ashton?”

  “There’s a woman here tonight, long reddish-brown hair, Gothic-looking T-shirt with a skull on it. Find out anything you can about her, please.”

  Not much for the guy to go on of course, but hell, what was the point of having an aide if you couldn’t ask them to do the impossible?

  The man nodded and sped off while the crowds closed in.

  Joseph put on his game face, trying to do the CEO thing while his brain kept focusing on the only thing it considered important: Naughtygirl’s face in the crowd, staring at him in shock.

  Perhaps it was stupid, not to mention desperate, to try to find out about a woman he’d had a one-night stand with a week ago. He’d had one-nighters before and never felt the urge. Then again, none of the women he’d had one-nighters with had turned tail and bolted on him.

  All he wanted was an explanation. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  That and the fact that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. But he wasn’t going to think about that, oh no, he wasn’t.

  The evening began to stretch interminably, a test of his patience and his concentration.

  He hated it. The endless succession of people, the same conversations over and over again, trying to remember names, trying to remember faces. The whole thing made him restless and unable to focus.

  It was different when he was researching or developing something. When that happened, he was the very definition of focused, staying up all night, working all day. That quality had enabled him to get the E-Slate to market far quicker than any of his competitors, and that was why Ashton Technology was always at the forefront of innovation.

  The ADHD had may have played merry hell with his personal life, but it had given him the edge when it came to his business, at least.

  An hour later, the aide was back with some information.

  It turned out that his Naughtygirl was in fact Christie St. John, a tech journalist for one of the better technology mags. A fa
ct that certainly explained her very specific knowledge of his stereo.

  “And here’s her most recent article,” the aide said, thrusting the most recent issue of Total Tech into his hand.

  Distracted, Joseph waved a group of people away and stepped over to the side of the ballroom to read it. The article concerned the Internet dating scene, an informative and amusing bit of fluff about her encounter with a certain Studman500.

  Ah, so that was why she’d been out on the date. She’d been researching her article. Perhaps that was also why she’d run out on him. Unless she’d expected to end up on his bathroom vanity…

  But that wasn’t likely, was it? She’d tried to hide it, but he could tell she’d been nervous and unsure of herself. And if he hadn’t picked up on it with her intermittent stutter and flashes of vulnerability, then her fleeing the scene of the crime in his bathroom certainly gave it away.

  Quickly he scanned the article again, unable to stop the grin that curled his mouth. Man, she was good. The wit he’d noticed in her IM conversation was right there in the dry, funny way she’d written about their date. She hadn’t included the sexy part but she’d put in their chat about his hi-fi unit.

  “Joseph?”

  He looked up from the magazine as Liz, his chief media officer, approached. “What is it?”

  “The interviews are due to start in a couple of minutes. Are you ready? There’s a suite upstairs for you.”

  A sudden thought struck him. “Do I have an interview with anyone from Total Tech?”

  Liz whipped out her E-Slate, flicking through the apps on the screen. “Ah, let me see…yes, you do. Total Tech is up first.”

  “The name?”

  “Uh…Christie St. John.”

  Well, well, well. Looked like he was going to get his explanation after all.

  A feeling of intense satisfaction settled inside him.

  “Good.” He handed a surprised Liz the magazine. “Let’s get on with it then.”

  Upstairs, the hotel suite set aside for the interviews had been prettified with flowers, a plate of fruit and even a bottle of champagne on ice for his personal use. But Joseph ignored both the fruit and the champagne.

  He paced over to the windows, surprised by the intensity of his anticipation. Then turned as the door opened and Liz came in, a tall, female figure trailing behind her. “Christie St. John from Total Tech,” she announced and stood aside.

  And there she was, standing in the middle of the room. His Naughtygirl.

  Over the past couple of days he’d thought that maybe he’d imagined her sexiness. Built her up into something more than she had been. But looking at her now, he realized that in fact he’d underestimated her attraction. Because, goddammit, even without the stretchy black dress, she was something else.

  She wore a loose black band T-shirt with the grinning skull on it he’d noticed earlier, her long, fabulous legs encased in tight black jeans. He liked the jeans. Very much. Though the T-shirt could be tighter, all the better to showcase the round perfection of her breasts.

  Unable to help himself, he took in her figure, dropping down to her legs, then farther down to…velvet Docs?

  The launch had been a high-class affair. Black tie all the way.

  But not, apparently, for Christie St. John.

  Unexpected. Unusual. Fascinating.

  Liz left the room while Christie gave him a curiously defiant look. “Hello, Mr. Ashton. I’m Christie—”

  “I know who you are.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You do?”

  Right. So she was going to pretend nothing had happened between them? Annoyance cut through his fascination. Why the hell would she do that? Had she not enjoyed what they’d done together?

  “What? You mean apart from the fact that Liz just introduced you?” Joseph folded his arms. “Well, here’s a reminder. You on the bathroom vanity. Me inside you while you screamed in my ear.”

  Her face went beet red. “I-I-I— “

  “So it does ring a few bells?”

  “I didn’t scream.”

  “Sure you did, honey. I was there, remember? But five seconds later you weren’t.”

  Her mouth closed with a snap. Christie’s gaze slid away, her hands clutching the straps of the scruffy leather bag she had slung over her narrow shoulder.

  His annoyance began to escalate. She couldn’t even look him in the eye? “Don’t tell me,” he said, unable to help himself. “Women’s problems again?”

  She became even redder, if that was possible. Small white teeth nibbled on her lower lip and he tried to ignore the stab of lust that speared through him.

  God, he remembered that mouth. Remembered the taste of her…

  “I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” she said at last.

  “Why wouldn’t I? I don’t make a habit of forgetting women I have wild bathroom sex with.”

  “Oh.” She still didn’t look at him.

  An awkward silence fell.

  Was she shy? Embarrassed? What?

  “Any time you’re ready,” he prompted.

  Christie let out an audible breath, then suddenly she was all business, checking her watch and looking impatient. “We can discuss that later, can’t we? I have to do this interview and you’ve only allotted me ten minutes.”

  Oh, dammit, the bloody interview. He’d forgotten. He cursed. “Fine. Interview first.”

  He strode to the couch, flung himself down on it, and watched her sit on one of the armchairs opposite him, pulling a digital voice recorder and her phone out of her bag as she sat down. She fussed around with the recorder, then sat back, fingers working the screen of her phone with great intention.

  Joseph gritted his teeth, trying to figure out why he was so annoyed with her. So she’d run out. Did he really care that much?

  Yeah, he decided, actually he did. She’d pushed him away hard. As though he’d hurt her or something, and he hated the thought of that. He had his faults, but hurting women wasn’t one of them.

  Christie made a humming noise and his thoughts veered away from his anger, distracted by the sound. She had a fierce look on her face, a crease between her brows. He couldn’t stop looking at the shape of her mouth. The soft curve of her throat.

  Impatience bit deep and along with it, desire.

  Was ten minutes going to be enough for the interview, and for him to get the answers he wanted from her? It wouldn’t if she didn’t hurry the hell up.

  “Ten minutes,” he reminded her, drumming his fingers on his knee.

  Christie flashed him an annoyed glance. “I know.”

  “Though it’s nine minutes now.”

  “Give me a moment to get my questions, okay?” The crease between her brows had deepened. She cursed and muttered something about “stupid reception.”

  “Can’t find them?”

  “Don’t rush me.”

  Beneath his impatience, a small kernel of unwilling amusement glowed. “Giving me orders, Naughtygirl? I like it. And that’s eight minutes, by the way.”

  She glared at him. “Do you mind? Important journalist stuff going on here and counting down is not helping.”

  Losing what remained of his minuscule store of patience, Joseph leaned forward and plucked the phone out of her grasp.

  “Hey!” she protested. “I need that!” She grabbed at it, but he held it out of her reach.

  “No, you don’t. Stop wasting time and just ask me some stuff. Then we can get on to what’s really important here.”

  Green sparks flickered in her eyes, flashes of temper. “Actually, what’s important is my interview.”

  “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?”

  “Give me back the phone, Mr. Ashton.”

  “I was Joseph to you last week.” He paused for effect. “Christie.”

  She flushed as he said her name. “Yeah, well, you’re Mr. Ashton now.”

  “Harsh, Naughtygirl. What did I ever to do you? Oh yes, that’s right. Only gave
you a screaming orgasm.”

  “Can you please stop mentioning the orgasms?”

  “Why? Does it turn you on?” Maybe he was being a tad childish but he couldn’t seem to stop the words coming out of his mouth.

  Her eyes glittered and her T-shirt stretched tight over her breasts as she sucked in a breath, the press of her nipples obvious through the fabric. And he was betting that didn’t have anything to do with the air-conditioning.

  Oh yeah, she could deny it all she liked, but she was turned on.

  Just like he was.

  Christie’s teeth caught her lower lip yet again, and that did not help the tight feeling happening in the vicinity of his groin. “No, of course not.” Her voice had a husky, smoky quality that sounded downright illegal.

  “Liar,” he murmured, holding her gaze. “You’re as turned on as I am.”

  The tension in the room pulled achingly tight.

  Then there was a brief knock on the door and Liz, clearly oblivious to the mood she’d just killed, poked her head around it. “Five minutes, Joseph.”

  Ah, shit. Already? “Thanks for the reminder, Liz,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Christie blinked and sat back in her seat, pushing back a thick lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “Great. Thanks for wasting my time, Mr. Ashton.” She said his name with particular emphasis. “Now give me my damn phone.”

  If she thought he was going to let her go so easily, she had another think coming. He wanted his explanation.

  Not just an explanation. Don’t kid yourself.

  May as well admit it. He wanted her, too.

  She sat across from him, arms folded, looking all stern and annoyed. And all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her. Find the passion they’d had in his bathroom.

  He’d never experienced anything like it in all his life, and he’d be damned if he let the chance of experiencing it again slip through his fingers.

  Joseph leaned back against the couch. “No,” he said.