at the repair invoice covering the incriminating file, praying he wouldn't ask to see it. "Two hours."
Warm fingers stroked her foot before sliding up her calf. A quiver rippled through her body. She bit her lower lip.
Trask made a notation in the folder. "Obviously, the service rep isn't tweaking the correct part."
"No. He doesn't seem to get the point no matter how many times I've shown him the exact problem spot."
Gabe's palm glided up her calf and over her knee toward the tender inside of her thigh. Her stomach lurched.
Trask frowned at her from across the desk. "And the cash supply from the main vault? Are you getting what you need?"
Fighting the insane desire to urge Gabe's hand upward, she instead clamped her shaking knees together, trapping his fingers between them. "Um, yes. I'm g-getting plenty." She snatched up a pen and frantically began to jot illegible notes.
"About the new teller…"
Gabe tugged his hand from between her knees. Spine stiff, she waited for his next trick, torn between hoping he'd stop and wishing he wouldn't.
Her boss consulted the second memo. "Mr. Bond? How is he performing?"
No movement came from under the desk. Gabe's little game must be over. She leaned back slightly in the chair. "He's—"
Suddenly, hot, moist breath, followed by soft lips, tingled over her left kneecap. Her pulse fluttered into a stampede.
"I'm going to strangle him," she muttered between clenched teeth.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, he's got a handle on things."
"His transaction rate is twice that of our fastest teller."
Warm lips nibbled her calf. She gripped the pen until her knuckles turned white. "Oh, he's definitely fast."
"Would you like to add more responsibilities to Mr. Bond's training?"
She wanted to throw Mr. Bond down on the floor and ravish him. She must be losing her mind. Tessa swallowed a moan. She sucked in a deep, shuddery breath before daring to continue. "He seems to be taking the initiative himself. I just hope he doesn't get in over his head."
"Are you feeling all right? You're rather flushed."
"Now that you mention it, I do seem to have picked up an unpleasant parasite I can't shake loose," she hissed, launching a discreet, but hard kick. Her foot connected with what felt like ribs. A soft grunt echoed from under the desk, and she coughed loudly to cover the sound. "But however annoying, it will not prevent me from doing my job. Please continue."
"Yes, quite. Perhaps you should see a doctor about that. Now, about the search for a new vault teller. Have you found anyone who meets our needs?"
Those soft lips roved down the sensitive skin of her ankle and along the top of her foot. Liquid heat streamed through her veins, pooling low and heavy in her abdomen. She gripped her pen with both hands. "My needs are not being met at all," she groaned.
"Ms. Beaumont, are you sure you're up to this? Perhaps we'd better continue at another time."
Gabe pressed his lips to the sole of her foot and the warm flick of his tongue sent hot and cold ripples up her spine. Her nipples contracted into hard, painful peaks. Her hands clenched, snapping the pen in half. Ink sprayed out, spattering her blouse, the desktop, and Mr. Trask's beige suit with dripping blue blotches.
Swiping at the front of his suit, Trask leapt up like he'd been jolted with a cattle prod. "Obviously, you are not well at all. I'd better take care of this before the stain sets. I'll speak to you tomorrow." He stormed out.
Too weak to care, she flopped back, her chair rolling away from the desk.
Gabe emerged, his expression stunned. "Tessa, I, ah, hell." He thrust his fingers through his hair.
Dazed, she stared at him. Anger snapped her upright. "How dare you? You promised you wouldn't touch me again."
"I know." He swallowed, then finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry."
Furious with him, but more furious with herself, she gripped the armrests until her hands ached. Even now, she craved more. How humiliating. What did that say about her? She was behaving like someone totally unacquainted with morals.
Like Vivienne.
The realization made her want to throw up. "You, Mr. Colton, are the most loathsome, contemptible, irresponsible—"
He managed a weak, shaky laugh. "I won't argue with you there, sweetheart."
She clamped her lips shut before disgracing herself any further by bursting into tears.
Because she wasn't listing his faults.
She was describing her own.
Late into the night, Gabe lay awake staring into the darkness. He clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the desire that