Reluctant Substitute (excerpt)

Title : Reluctant Substitute

Release date : Available now (purchase link under "Books" heading)

EXCERPT ...

By the time the six-carriage train made it half-way to the city, the car I was in was packed to bursting, and when the doors finally slid open to let everyone off at my destination, it took longer for me to get off with all the rush hour commuters that were sandwiched in like tin soldiers, side by side.

Finally, I found myself standing completely in awe in the windy tunnel of St Georges Terrace, staring at the front entrance of Central Park---the tallest building in the city with fifty one floors, constructed with steel, and curtained walls of aluminum, and glass---an architectural delight with all its triangles. The dominating building housed the modelling agency---along with many other various businesses---and my heart was really beginning to beat wildly against my ribs.

Nervously teetering in my black stilettos, I walked with way more confidence than I felt, through the automated glass sliding doors on the ground floor. Inhaling, and exhaling, with measured precision, kept me as calm as possible with a cyclone worthy of a category five rating spinning around inside my stomach. I approached the bank of elevators to join the sea of people already waiting. Jesus Christ---how many people work in this damn building?

When two bells sounded, almost instantaneously, indicating the arrival of two cars, the swarm of professionals who filled the foyer, surged forward, rapidly filling the empty cars once the two pairs of doors slid open. I rocked my head back, and forth, like I was at an Australian Open tennis match, watching in disbelief, while I observed them all pile in, until there was absolutely no standing room for anyone else to possibly squeeze in on either one of them.

I arrived twenty minutes early, so I hung back, and decided to wait for the next one. Is everyone in this building always so damned impatient? There was no way I wanted to be squashed like a sardine in a tin can on my first day.

When both sets of doors finally closed, I breathed a small sigh of relief, and reached out to push the “up” button to summon another car, with a contented grin on my face.

I was totally absorbed in my own thoughts when the ding of another elevator sounded, capturing my attention. I waited, while another pair of doors began to slide open. With a grateful breath, I walked inside, and turned around, gently pushing the forty third floor button, lighting it up with a cheerful smile on my face.

I spared a thought for all the sardines in the previous cars---I was the sole occupant in this one, and I looked around at all the space around me. The doors began to slide closed, and I heard a deeply sensual baritone voice yell out with some urgency.

“Hold the elevator!”

Instinctively, my immediate reaction was to stick my hand in between the almost closed doors, and they bounced off my hand, re-opening. I wrapped my fingers around the width of one door, keeping them open, while a vision of perfection dressed impeccably in a grey suit, raced in.

He was wearing a striking blue shirt that resembled the blue of the most perfect cloudless sky, and a tie the color of the deep ocean. His enticing aromatic aftershave wafted temptingly under my nose when I let go of the door, and took a step back, while they softly closed.

My mouth watered, and I was shocked with my body’s very unfamiliar response. I needed to discretely swallow, a few times over, before my mouth dried out again. I kept my gaze averted, ashamed of my body’s immediate reaction to the sexy, and handsome stranger, while my stomach dropped from the commencing ascent of the car.

“Thank you…Miss…?” he paused, waiting expectantly for my reply.

My biggest mistake was turning around to look at him. I couldn’t help the automatic evaluation of his attractive athletic frame. From the tip of his neatly cut short black hair, down over his axe-width broad shoulders, to his wide, solid chest, further south over his trim waist, his thick thighs, and onward to the tip of his shiny black shoes, and back again.

He was hotness personified. An alluring picture of him was certain to appear under the words “heart-throb” typed into Google images, and my heart rate spiked.

“Ali,” I automatically offered the shortened version of my name, while my face heated. “Alison---Walker.” I corrected lamely.

His perfectly shaped brow quickly quirked upward for a brief second, as if he recognized my name. But, then he smiled so intoxicatingly, my heart skipped a beat, while my mind went completely blank, devoid of any thought at all. I glanced down in surprise at the hand he extended out to me.

“Jack,” he offered smoothly in a mesmerizing tone.

I felt the beat of my heart in the side of my neck when I extended my hand. I tried to stem the slight tremor of nervousness to shake to our informal, and impromptu, introduction. My heart went into overdrive when his long strong fingers wrapped around mine, and an electric bolt of awakening lust sparked through me at the warmth of his firm touch, shooting straight down to the apex between my legs.

My thighs involuntarily clenched together, and once again, I was blown away with my body’s reaction, while all the breath temporarily left my lungs. Jesus.

Moisture gathered between the bare lips of my pussy, and a deep throb started up behind my clit. When I remembered to breathe again, my heart beat ratcheted up a few notches, and I knew my blood pressure was rising quickly, catching up.

My breath grew even shallower, and I stood rooted to the spot with ever widening eyes, while I watched him raise my hand up, my small fingers almost disappearing when encircled in his large, tightening grip. My lungs refused to work at all when his lips gently, but sensuously, touched against the back of my hand, while his compelling cyan green eyes never left mine.

When his lips touched against my skin, the moisture between my thighs increased, and the throb behind my clit pounded with building excitement.

I’ve never experienced such a sensual, and erotic kiss, in my entire life---let alone one placed on the back of my hand. My first cognitive thought, once my brain decided to function again, was what a gentleman he was. I always thought they were a myth---an extinct breed. I never met one before---ever.

His hold on my hand was lasting entirely too long, and was wreaking havoc through my already somersaulting stomach---not to mention accelerating the amount of warmth, and moisture, in the area between my legs. I nervously pulled out of his grip, while heat increased through my face, and I lowered my eyes to the floor of the elevator.

The space I was gleefully enjoying a few moments ago, now seemed to be stifling, and suffocating, and I shuffled restlessly to the furthest side of the car. His presence was unnervingly overpowering.

I flicked a glance up to see what floor we reached, and almost released a groan of disappointment when I saw the car only travelled up to level eight. I still have another thirty five floors to endure, trapped inside a confined space with sexy, hotter-than-hell, Jack, before I reached my destination.

It was only when my eyes were returning down to the floor that I realized he didn’t press a floor number, and my brows creased slightly. I risked a quick glance in his direction---then wished I didn’t when I saw he was quite comfortably checking me out. The heat prickling ever higher through my cheeks increased, radiating off me like a heater, making me feel all hot, and bothered.

I didn’t think there was going to be enough oxygen left inside the car for me to make it to the forty third level, the way I was sucking in every available bit with the way I was panting. Jesus Christ. At this rate I was likely to collapse from asphyxiation, before the car stopped. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and adjusted the thin strap of my little handbag on my shoulder, trying in vain to calm myself down.

What a great first impression I’m going to make---red faced, and panting heavily as if I’ve just climbed the entire forty three floors up the stairs, instead of riding up in the damned elevator. Maybe Blake’s right. But his timing might be out---I may not last the day---let alone the week!

When I glanced back up to see what floor we reached, I groaned inwardly. Ten more floors. I was so damn flustered, I began wringing my clasped hands in front of me, and chewing on the inside of my bottom lip. And hotness personified still didn’t press a button.

Then a sudden realization hit me, and I mentally slapped the palm of my hand against my forehead. Of course---he’s probably one of the models at the agency. He definitely looks like one---he’s undoubtedly well sought after, too, with his insanely steamy presence.

The ding sounded, alerting me that I finally reached my desired floor, and I breathed a quietly enormous sigh of relief when the elevator came to a gentle halt---dropping my stomach once again---before the doors slid open. This is it.

Hotness personified swept his arm gallantly out in front of him toward the now opened doors, with a seductive, and disarming, smile on his face.

“After you, Miss Walker.”

His perfectly shaped, and well-proportioned lips stretched so beguilingly, it unsettled me---so much, I almost tripped over the lip of the car on my way through the doorway when I exited into the plush offices.

I was extremely aware of his potent presence following closely behind me. If the prickles on the back of my neck were any indication, he was too damned close. I practically felt his heated breath caressing across my dampened nape, and an unexpected tingling shiver of desire feathered down the length of my spine.

I silently thanked God that I wasn’t going to be working too closely with any of the models. If I did, I think Mr. Hotness would mess with my head, as well as my heart rate, and blood pressure.

I knew I was to meet Mr. Jaxon Connors on my arrival. During the phone call the lovely Christine made offering me the position, she informed me he was the person who will outline what expectation I was required to meet, in the post I accepted. My job was to be his right hand woman.

With excited anticipation, I approached the gorgeous Christine, sitting elegantly behind her classy black lacquered curved desk, with a shaky smile gracing my lips, opening my mouth ready to ask for Mr. Connors---but she beat me to it, her gaze fixating over my right shoulder.

“Good morning, Mr. Connors. The day’s bookings are already on your desk, along with your coffee.”

FUCK. I nearly died a thousand deaths, before I heard his sexually seductive voice croon my name from behind me.

“This way, Miss Walker---what an exceptional start to see you have arrived ahead of time,” he grinned handsomely, but commandingly, and raised one brow.

Oh, God---hotness personified is my fucking boss? Jack?---oh shit---he must have said Jax! I’m not even going to last the hour, let alone the day.

© Copyright Carol Delmornay 2017

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