Her friend was right.
Michelle was Joy Delivered or bust now. A true brand loyalist, because the Os it had brought her were magnificent.
When she was tired and simply wanted to take the edge off before bed, she’d fire up some of her favorite naughty sites, grab the Fly Me to the Moon mini vibrator and take care of business in mere minutes. Other nights, she’d spent more than a round or two with The One—a delicious rabbit-styled vibrator that she swore had some kind of special homing device for finding her G-spot. Oh, she’d practically sung arias from the way that baby had her perform.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she flashed back to some of the orgasms his toys had wrought. Did he design them? Did he know what they did to women? Did he test them out on his lovers, making sure the butterflies, the bunnies, the fly-me-to-the-moons did the trick, and then some?
Would he try his latest products on her?
A burst of heat spread through her belly, settling between her legs. She dropped her hand under her skirt, brushing her fingertips against the cotton panel of her lace panties. Her breath caught as she pictured Jack watching her, telling her to spread her legs, offering to test his newest products on her, even though he hardly needed any help. The man’s cock was divine. It should have a statue erected in its honor. A national holiday named for it. A parade to celebrate its length, width, and most of all, its feel.
Hot tingles raced through her body, causing a sweet ache between her thighs.
She sat up straight.
She did not need to get turned on in the office, and certainly not from perusing her lover’s website.
Wait. Was he her lover? He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He was a one-night stand, and she was simply a curious woman conducting the necessary post-mortem research.
She continued on the hunt for Jack Sullivan. One of the first results mentioned that his company was the gold sponsor for a charity gala supporting breast cancer research next month. The company even sold a small, pink pocket-sized vibrator called The Divine, and donated half of the proceeds from that product to breast cancer.
Damn. Not only was he fantastic in bed, he was good to women in important ways too.
One of the next results was an article in a business magazine headlined Soldier-Turned-Sex-Toy-Mogul.
She was almost ashamed at the way goose bumps rose across her arms and legs. She wasn’t supposed to be stirred by such things, but holy fucking hell, the man had served his country, had been in uniform, had been stationed in Europe as an army intelligence officer. She didn’t know much about the armed forces—she grew up surrounded by the arts, since her father had been a theater professor and her mother a choreographer—but she’d treated a few soldiers and a few officers too, and she’d learned enough about the work. An intelligence officer managed, analyzed and provided strategies for soldiers on the front line based on the intelligence gathered during missions. Many often went onto jobs in the corporate world after leaving the military.
And here was Jack, a sexy-as-sin CEO and a former soldier.
Yeah, that was hot as hell.
Emboldened by this candy trail, she continued on it, hunting out more details. She found an article from last night in a local news outlet.
New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors
Sex toy mogul Jack Sullivan tops this year’s list of the city’s most eligible bachelors in business. Don’t you think he needs a new woman to mend his broken heart? Makes you just want to nab that man even more.
Her heart fell when she read those words. She brushed aside her naughty thoughts, focusing instead on the man behind the headlines. A pang of concern took root inside her as she read on, clicking until she’d learned exactly why he’d come to see her.
Her heart lurched towards him. His fiancée, Aubrey Sheen, had been a former Olympic skier, who’d died on the slopes in a freak accident a little more than a year ago. Apparently, the pair of them had travelled to Breckenridge, Colorado for a ski weekend seven days before their wedding. On the last run of the day, she’d crashed into a tree on an intermediate trail that she held the speed record on. She’d died on impact, the reports said. Michelle’s throat hitched as she read the stories, and the ones that followed it. Months later, the local press had started hounding the eligible-again bachelor about his status, and apparently being a widower had made him all the more appealing for those who cared about such things.
Michelle was not one of the people who cared about such things. Not one bit. She cared instead about the fact that somehow that man was hurting, and he wanted help for it.
She reminded herself that it wasn’t her job to help him. It was Kana’s now. She’d probably never see him again. Such a shame, since being with him was about the only thing that had made her feel it was possible to move on from heartache.
CHAPTER TWO
Improper
By the end of the session, Kana knew the basics, but not the truth. He wasn’t going to pony that up to someone he hadn’t even intended to spill a single word to. She was nice enough, a good listener, and asked questions that didn’t make him want to squirm, as he’d suspected he’d feel being in a shrink’s office for the first time.
But he’d be lying to the world if he said his mind was here between these four walls. He was elsewhere, trying to wrap himself around why it felt weird to want to see Michelle again. Or really, why it didn’t feel weird. Maybe that’s what was so off-kilter to him. Michelle didn’t know the details of his reason for this visit, but she knew he needed help, and that should bother him. He was a private man. Sure, he had a public persona as the head of a company that had become something of a press darling by virtue of the type of products it peddled. But beyond the necessary appearances, Jack wasn’t someone prone to sharing too much. That wasn’t his thing. Growing up in a home that wasn’t known for talking it out, or hugging it out either, he’d learned to deal with everything inside his head.