Desire: Love and Passion - By Lesia Reid Page 0,19

annoyed that she took him up on an insincere offer. "Will you be inside your office?"

"Yes. My direct number is -."

"I have your number. The driver will call when he arrives."

Larry hung up before she could get as much as a thank you out.

Willow returned to her office and called a local garage. Unfortunately, her car could not be towed or serviced before noon on Thursday. She settled down to review the final batch of model portfolios for her new magazine commercial.

Her telephone rang precisely a half hour later.

"I'm at the front door."

She recognized James' voice immediately.

"What are you doing here?"

"You can ask me when you open the door," he said.

"Oh."

In her surprise, she had not moved from her desk. Now she hurried out of the room and to the front door where the barely visible face of James Monroe was pressed up against the glass. He was in a business suit. She guessed she was not the only person working late.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again as she opened the door.

"I heard you had some car trouble. So, here I am. Sorry you had to wait so long. I couldn’t wrap up my meeting any faster."

"It was not a problem. I got some more work done. You could have just sent a driver,” she said.

“I could have, yes, but I wanted to see you. Let’s go.”

She locked up and followed him to a nondescript dark sedan parked just outside her building. It was heavily tinted and she could not make out if anyone was inside that was until Giles came out and got the door for them

“Good evening,” she greeted the driver.

“Ma’am,” he said.

She slipped across the seat. James followed closely on her heels. There was a heavily tinted glass partition between the front and the back seat.

"Does Larry know you’re here?" Willow asked.

"He's not quite the boss," James said. "Why didn't you call me directly?"

"You have important stuff to do," she replied. "This is just a ride. I would’ve called a cab but there's always the off chance that some lunatic will be driving in the middle of the road. The last thing I need is the media camping out in my backyard."

“Thank you for being so considerate,” he said. “I must confess that when you told me you were working long hours I thought you were blowing me off.”

“You wound me,” she said.

“Have you had dinner?”

“I had a salad a few hours ago. I’m good until tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? I could have my cook whip up something in no time.”

“I am certain.”

“The next time you are working late, let me know in advance. Henry can send something more interesting than a salad."

“If you keep talking, I can’t properly thank you for playing the hero."

Willow felt a certain schoolgirl delight as she leaned into him and kissed him on the lips. It was a soft kiss that got deeper as she pressed up against him, her right hand ruffling his hair as she held his head. She moved across his lap as he pulled her deeper into the kiss.

Her short skirt rode up to her hips. His hands went up the side of her legs that were now straddling him. He felt nylons, smooth at the bottom, the garter clips, laced tops and as he continued upward, fishnet. Still his hands climbed in tempo with his excitement. As he got to her hips, he felt the outlines of lace.

He did not push below her skirt; he skimmed over the gathering and up to her tucked in button front ruffled blouse. He felt the smooth stiffness of a corset beneath and now he chuckled against her mouth.

“What is it?” she asked looking at him.

“Corset?” he asked.

“Why not?”

“We’re going to my place tonight,” he said.

“Are you sure? I mean if I’m well rested you might...”

“I’m certain,” he said. “And as much as I hate to say this, we have to stop now or this backseat will be our first time.”

“That might be exciting,” she said.

“Not when we have only few minutes left on our journey. Hang on.” He pressed a button on the side of the door. Willow could hear noise from the front of the vehicle. “Giles, we are going straight to my place.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied.

“Thank you.”

James pressed the button again and turned his attention back to her. He lifted her easily off his lap, despite what his raging hormones wanted him to do.

“So the corset got you."

“Actually garters and laced top stockings on the