Shane Connors is a Private Investigator and Don Witte is the millionaire businessman he has been hired to investigate. They come from different backgrounds. Don was born with a silver spoon in his mouth—Shane does good to pay his rent. Don runs ram shod over people. Shane roots for the underdog. They seem to have nothing in common—but then they meet—and sexual attraction quickly blossoms into a heated tryst. Can a brief affair set the stage for a lasting relationship? Or is sex merely sex regardless of the partner? Can Shane return his mind to the investigation or has his priorities been compromised forever?
Six years of detective work hadn't prepared him for a situation like this. Maybe he had made a mistake by following Witte into the building in the first place. Sometimes I'm too damn curious for my own good. He slid his gaze toward Witte and felt his gut tighten. Nervously, he cleared his throat and shuffled his stance. It was hard not to give in to the keen fit of arousal he was experiencing. Heat surged up his body, making his heart race.
"You're here to see whom?" Don Witte's voice echoed in the tiny elevator.
Shane sucked in a quick breath. Fuck! He didn't seem to be able to think and the only name he could recall seeing on the door plaques was Tim Wells. If I use Wells' name, Witte will undoubtedly take me to his office. Then what? Shane shoved his hands into his pockets. I'm fucking screwed, that's what.
Witte turned toward Shane, a smile on his lips. "I think Margie might be right about you."
For an instant, Shane couldn't make sense of Witte's words, then it dawned on him that he was referring to the blonde receptionist.
"Time to tell the truth," Witte said. He stepped closer to Shane.
Shane could smell his aftershave, a clean, fresh aroma that briefly reminded him of a sun-kissed beach. His stomach knotted.
"I've caught you off-guard," Witte said, his voice low. "And I have the feeling that you aren't caught unaware very often."
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Shane drew in a breath, scanned the open area and realized they were inside the top floor office. Sleek teak furniture was visible and a large glass-topped desk sat flanking a bank of windows.
"All right," he admitted, turning toward Don Witte. "I snuck into the building in hopes of getting to meet you." A pang shot across his abdomen. He shrugged his shoulders and forced a chuckle. "I'm a fan, Mr. Witte. I admire the way you created Witte Manufacturing from the ground up and I just wanted to appease my curiosity." He wracked his brain, trying to remember what he had read in the file Tom gave him. A bead of sweat ran the length of his backbone.
Don Witte slid his hands into his pockets and leaned closer. "Damn! I thought you felt the same sexual arousal I did when we met in the foyer."
Shane's eyes widened.
Witte removed one hand from his pocket and fingered the lapel of Shane's suit coat. "I took one look at you and started getting aroused. If you were to reach your hand to my crotch, you'd feel how hard I am."
A nervous chuckle escaped Shane's throat. If he'd ever wished for a wild fantasy—this would be it. He raised his gaze to Witte's face. It was unlikely that the wealthy businessman would let his guard down to just anyone. His brows drew together. Did he dare believe him? His eyes were deep set, giving him a studious look, but the green depths smoldered with lust.
"You're here for financial advice?"
The low timbre of his voice stroked Shane's senses. He stood so close he could feel the heat of his body radiating through the expensive material of his suit. His lips curled up at the corners as he raised his hand to his face. He traced the tip of his index finger along Shane's jaw.
Shane's insides shook. Don Witte was throwing himself at him and he appeared too timid to take the bait. Aware that his cock was growing harder by the second, he raised one hand and clasped the stroking finger.
Witte chuckled and inched closer, pressing his chest against Shane's. "I'm beginning to think you're getting the idea. Feel my cock. It's hard and ready."
Shane groaned and drew in a deep breath. The closeness of Don Witte was driving him over the edge. He released Witte's hand and slid his palm along his chest, lowering it to his crotch. When his hand found the hard cock thrusting against his pants front, his senses somersaulted.
"I don't give a damn why you're here," Witte announced, his voice a breathy whisper. "I like your looks and I want to fuck you." He took hold of Shane's hand and pulled him from the elevator. "There's no one on this floor except us and I'll take the phone off the hook. We'll have all the privacy we need."