Dalton, Tymber - Doggy Tales [Doggy Tales] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5

  She wanted to open it, but thought better of it and tucked it in her purse. “Thank you.”

  The attorney eyed her. “I never said this, but if you can find a new apartment and job somewhere else—anywhere else—it might not be a bad thing for you.”

  She met the attorney’s steely gaze. “I never said this, but I already had the same idea.”

  He smiled. “I knew you were smarter than Lester thought you were.”

  * * * *

  Halfway to her car, a male voice called her name. “Ms. Pangborn? Genna Pangborn?”

  Christ! She was sick of reporters and knew from experience if she ignored them it was almost worse than turning and giving them a no comment.

  She turned to find the golden-eyed man from the courtroom striding toward her. Damn, he was big! Well over six feet, broad shoulders. He looked like his tailored suit was sprayed on his hard body.

  “Yes?”

  He stopped a respectable distance away. “May I talk with you for a moment?”

  “I’m sorry, but I have no comment.”

  “I’m not a reporter.” His calm, deep voice screamed confidence.

  She looked around. The area was well populated, and hopefully someone would call 911 if she yelled for help.

  As if reading her thoughts, he dropped his voice. “I just need a moment of your time.”

  Genna eyed him. “Who are you, and how did you know my name?”

  He slowly reached into his jacket and withdrew a business card, extending his arm across the void to her, forcing her to move a step closer to accept it.

  “My name is Jeremy Bruin.”

  She glanced at his card. Bruin and Associates, Consultants. With a local Tampa address.

  “What do you want, Mr. Bruin?”

  A half smile caressed his face, turning his strong jaw into a soul-melting, mouth-watering, heart-tripping sight. “I need an administrative assistant.”

  * * * *

  He made no reference to being an “associate” of Lester’s. In fact, she got the distinct impression Bruin didn’t think much of her unofficially ex-boyfriend.

  Lester hopefully wouldn’t figure that factoid out—that he was ex—for fifteen to life. She wouldn’t know for sure until after the sentencing hearing though.

  Bruin’s cell phone rang. He hesitated after answering and said to Genna, “Can you come to my office at ten Monday morning for an interview?”

  She nodded, still captivated by his eyes. In the sunlight they shifted from butterscotch to amber to gold and back.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry to be so rude, but this is an important call. See you Monday at ten, Ms. Pangborn.”

  He strode away talking, his powerful legs disappearing into a firm ass that…

  She shook her head. Sleeping with the boss was what got her in this fucking mess in the first place.

  Never again.

  Ten minutes later, Genna sat in her car, waiting for the AC to cool it down in the scorching Florida heat. She stared at Bruin’s card.

  Couldn’t hurt to talk to him. Right?

  * * * *

  Genna easily located the large, four-story building near Raymond James Stadium. Well-maintained and tasteful landscaping highlighted the grounds. Apparently the entire building belonged to Bruin and Associates.

  Inside the cool and tastefully decorated lobby, Genna started toward the reception desk when a massively large black and silver dog padded around the counter and stopped in front of her. His shoulders had to be as high as her waist, and she was a respectable five eight. His large grey eyes terrified her. Did she think he was a dog? He looked like a wolf.

  The receptionist laughed. “Don’t worry. He’s friendly.”

  When Genna was four, a stray dog attacked her. At the time it looked to be as big as this one, but she knew that was due to her relative size. Thirty stitches and years of nightmares later, she was definitely not a dog person. Although this…dog?...simply stared at her, testing the air with his nose. He didn’t growl or advance any closer than five feet from her.

  This was still a Huge. Fucking. Dog.

  Genna nearly turned around and walked out, but terror rooted her feet to the tasteful Italian-marble tile floor. She tightly clutched her purse, forcing the words out through taut lips. “I’m here for a ten o’clock appointment with Mr. Bruin,” she whispered. “Can you please call your dog off?”

  The receptionist’s face paled. “You’re his ten? I’ll let him know you’re here.” She grabbed the phone, and even though the dog hadn’t been called, it backed up several slow, cautious steps.

  As if it feared scaring her.

  Genna didn’t breathe until he was hidden behind the desk. Even then she stood where she was, afraid to get too close to the monster dog.

  The receptionist hung up and pointed to the elevators. “Fourth floor. He’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Thank you.” Genna bolted, struggling against her tears. Once the door slid shut behind her, she took several ragged, gasping breaths. If she had to work anywhere near that…dog…she’d have to refuse the job. She couldn’t do it. It terrified her.

  Over the years, she’d progressed to nothing more than slight jitters around small, friendly dogs. She could sometimes tolerate, for short periods of time, larger dogs like Labs or golden retrievers, if they were calm.

  But she’d never overcome her lifelong fear of massive dogs, especially ones as large as that, practically big enough to saddle and ride. She’d seen compact cars smaller than that beast.

  Mostly composed by the time the doors opened at the fourth floor, she stepped out and her heart skipped. This time at the site of Jeremy Bruin casually leaning against the far wall. His snug, short-sleeved golf shirt and khaki slacks emphasized his great body.

  Her mouth dried. Okay, having a hunky boss isn’t a bad thing. Just can’t sleep with him, that’s all.

  He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Ms. Pangborn, thank you for coming. You’re early.”

  She was only ten minutes early, but thankfully didn’t wet her pants at the site of Dogzilla in the lobby, which would have forced a return trip home to change.

  His grip was firm and warm and dry, his enormous hand dwarfing hers. He had to be at least six five, maybe taller.

  “I hope I’m not wasting your time today, Mr. Bruin. I have some administrative skills, but I don’t know what I’d be doing.”

  He motioned her to follow him through a maze of hallways, past closed offices. Then into a private reception area where an empty desk stood silent sentinel outside his office door.

  “If you can competently perform basic office tasks, you’ll do fine.” He ushered her into his office and closed the door behind them, waving her to a chair in front of his desk.

  Bruin waited for her to sit before he did. She couldn’t guess his age. He had very little grey in his dark-brown hair, but while his face didn’t look old, he possessed an aged air about him, like he was careworn or had a lot of living under his belt. He appeared to be in his late thirties, but she could easily be wrong.

  Genna handed him a one-page résumé. “I’m sorry it’s not more, Mr. Bruin. I am good with computers. I can answer a phone and take messages. Filing, of course. I don’t have any accounting or technical training, though. I have an English degree. I can write and proofread letters and things like that. I’m a pretty fast typist.”

  Her eyes glanced around the office. Tastefully decorated, not over the top, on the stark side. Mahogany paneling and Scandinavian furnishings. One wall of books.

  No sign of a dog anywhere.

  “How old are you?” he asked. “Not that it matters, just out of curiosity.”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  Her eyes returned to Bruin as he scanned the paper, nodding. “Your last job ended three years ago?”

  She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask about it, but that was too much to hope. “Yes.”

  “And why was that?” He focused those eyes on her again, melting her.
She’d never felt like this about Lester, ever. Today, Bruin’s eyes looked like caramel pools in his face, burning holes through her core, making her clit throb and sending a hot flood of juices straight to her pussy.

  “Well, as you witnessed Friday, I’m not the best judge of character.”

  A slight teasing smile curled his lip. “So I was right that you were Lester Corcoran’s girlfriend?”

  Genna froze, sensing a trap. “Yes.”

  Bruin leaned back, dropping her résumé to his desk. “No, I’m not one of his ‘associates.’ It’s just a happy coincidence I was in the courtroom. When I saw the attorney escort you out, I made the leap in logic.”

  She swallowed to form spit. “Why did you want to hire me?”

  He shrugged, a heavy, rolling motion that made her want to leap across the desk and rip his shirt off his chiseled chest. “I told you, I need an administrative assistant. I’m guessing with him going to prison for several decades that you needed a job. Saves me from having to put an ad in the paper if it works out for both of us.”

  That wasn’t the full truth. She sensed it. Years of being around Lester and his ilk had finely honed her senses in that way. Usually in favor of her own self-preservation, learning when not to ask questions. “What else?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Very perceptive. We do a lot of, shall we say, confidential work for clients. I need someone who can keep their mouth shut and show discretion. Either you really didn’t know anything, which I doubt, or you were smart to overlook things and ignore natural curiosity, keeping yourself purposefully in the dark as to his dealings. Someone like that I could use working for me.”

  She relaxed only slightly. “I don’t want to work for someone doing anything illegal. I’d like to return to some semblance of sanity in my life.” She looked down at her hands. “Meeting Lester was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’d prefer a fresh start in all ways. Including I only want to work for someone who doesn’t engage in illegal activities.”

  “That we don’t do, Ms. Pangborn, I assure you. There are many reasons for secrecy involving legitimate enterprise, especially where industrial secrets are important to a company’s survival.”

  She relaxed even further. She could deal with that. The rare times Lester talked at all about his “associates,” they usually involved construction, waste disposal companies, or Northern unions.

  But one more issue needed to be dealt with. “I have to be honest with you, I’m not comfortable working with that huge dog in the lobby.”

  A frown crossed Bruin’s face. “And why is that? Did he growl at you?”

  She shook her head. “No, he didn’t. I was attacked when I was child. I’m terrified of dogs.”

  He templed his fingers. “That is a problem. We allow employees to bring their dogs to work.”

  Her heart sank. “Oh,” she quietly said, tensing to stand. “I’m sorry I wasted your time today. Thank you anyway—”

  “I’ll pay you fifteen hundred a week to start, for the first three-month probation period. We can negotiate salary after that.”

  She froze. That was damn good money.

  Alternately, her bullshit buzzer sounded. “Fifteen hundred a week? For answering phones? What’s the catch, Mr. Bruin?”

  “That’s to start. You’ll be handling sensitive documents, contracts, information. I’m not in the office a lot. I spend quite a bit of time traveling. You would have a lot of responsibility once you’re up to speed. You won’t be merely a secretary answering phones. You’ll be my executive assistant.”

  Genna sat again. “But I’m not that experienced. I’m not even sure what exactly you do yet.”

  “I can train you. It’s easier to train skills than it is discretion.”

  Dogzilla’s grey eyes haunted her. “How many people bring their dogs to work?”

  “Several. Not every day. Ivan rarely leaves Lindsey’s side when she brings him. He’s great for keeping walk-in salespeople out,” he joked.

  So Dogzilla’s name was Ivan.

  Bruin continued. “If you enter the building as you did today, your only contact would likely be Ivan, unless you ran into someone in the elevators or outside in the parking lot. I can make it known that you aren’t comfortable with dogs, and that our staff should accommodate your fears.”

  “Fifteen hundred a week?”

  “And fully paid health insurance on top of that.”

  She considered it. It was a lot of money. She’d already signed a lease at an apartment not too far away, the first six months paid from what turned out to be over twenty-five thousand in cash in the envelope.

  “When would I start?”

  He smiled, twisting her heart again. “Immediately, if you wish.”

  “Is the day after tomorrow okay? I have to finish moving.”

  He nodded. “All right.” He called someone and spoke to them briefly. When he hung up, he stood. “I’ll take you to Human Resources, and they’ll handle everything.” At his office door he held out his hand. She shook with him, but this time she almost fell into his deep, piercing eyes. “Thank you for coming aboard, Ms. Pangborn.”

  * * * *

  Three hours later, Genna was back at the house she’d shared with Lester, packing another load to take to her new apartment. She didn’t bother with any of the furniture, just some books, pictures, CDs, and other items she wanted to keep. The attorney told her the Feds wouldn’t hassle her when they went after him on RICO charges, especially if it looked like she barely took anything. She’d already purchased a bed, due to be delivered later that afternoon. She could easily afford to buy new furniture with the money she had left over, stashed securely in a safe-deposit box.

  By midnight she collapsed on her new bed in her new apartment. The place was a disaster, but she didn’t care.

  For once, it was something all hers.

  Genna still had at least three more carloads to bring over from the house, but she could tackle that in the morning. She’d forwarded her mail to a PO Box in Palma Ceia, over twenty minutes south and a pain in the ass to get to, but she didn’t want to risk Lester’s “associates” finding her too soon. If they’d even bother looking for her.

  She fell into an exhausted sleep and dreamed about a large, wolflike dog, much like Ivan.

  Only this massive animal possessed Bruin’s butterscotch eyes. Where Ivan’s coat was black and dusted with silver, this enormous beast was dark brown with traces of black around his piercing eyes.

  In her dream, she lay in bed and watched him pad toward her, suddenly shifting and morphing into Jeremy Bruin—naked and throbbingly erect—and he crawled onto her bed.

  Damn, what a fantastic dream! She felt his hands hot against her skin, and decided it was fine to have erotically charged wet dreams about the boss as long as she didn’t do anything about them. She’d always had vivid dreams, but this was beyond her wildest imagination.

  His lips scorched her flesh. His teeth gently bit at her pebbled nipples, and she squirmed beneath his massive form as his throbbing cock brushed against her leg.

  Real-life sex had never been this good with Lester.

  Genna groaned with need as he lifted his head from her breasts. He yanked her legs apart, diving between them, his lips and tongue working at her mound, flicking her clit. She gasped, trying to squirm against him, but he gripped her thighs with his massive hands and held on tight, forcing her to stay still as he mercilessly brought her to climax three times in quick succession.

  When she lay gasping and spent, he effortlessly flipped her over, driving his enormous cock home in one hard thrust, making her cry out.

  He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her to her knees as he fucked her from behind.

  “Mine,” he growled, his other hand reaching around to cup her throat and pull the back of her neck against his lips.

  She didn’t respond, too busy enjoying the feel of his large cock bottoming out, stretching her in a way Lester’s small tool never
could.

  He jerked her body, hard, against him. “Mine!” he growled again, his teeth raking against the back of her neck, sending erotic shivers through her body that settled in her suddenly very sensitive clit. “Say it.”

  “Yours!” she gasped.

  His tongue traced a slow path down her spine as he stopped thrusting, holding himself still deep inside her.

  He growled. “You’ll never want anyone else, will you?”

  Fuck no, not if the dreams were this good! “No,” she whispered. Hell, it was just a dream. Who cared what she said as long as he started banging her again.

  His hands dropped to her hips, and he gripped her, hard, as his pelvis shot forward, taking her even deeper than before.

  Doggy style, how ironic.

  She stifled a laugh. Even in a dream she considered it rude to snicker at the guy fucking her. Especially when he was dream-fucking her so well.

  He folded his body around hers and pumped into her, impaling her very depths. His breath, hot and heavy on the back of her neck, made her shiver. “Then I claim you…now.” He bit into the back of her shoulder as he rammed into her one final time, his arms around her hips, shooting his hot seed deep within.

  She cried out not from pain, but from the unexpected orgasm that nearly ripped her apart from the inside out. She never came like this! Holy crap, this is fucking great!

  Panting and trembling, she collapsed to the bed. He was already standing, looking at her with a strange expression.

  “Go back to sleep. This is just a dream.”

  Genna weakly nodded. “Of course it’s a dream, dumb fuck. I know that.” Holy hell, his cock was still huge.

  Before her eyes he transformed into the dog again, silently padding out of her bedroom. She dropped her head to her pillow, content and ready to resume boring sleep when a long, loud howl outside her patio startled her eyes open.

  “What the fuck?”

  She climbed out of bed and peeked through the window. Outside, the dog tipped its head back and howled again, long and eerie. A moment later, two more howls sounded in response from a few blocks over, it sounded like.