The People You Know, the Sex They Have

By Aubrey Leatherwood

Hall Monitor: Security guard Eric Mallisham has everything he wants except for Gayle Dearing, an aloof yet smoldering stunner in a suit and stilettos. Gayle, an accounting manager, has everything she wants, too, except for that one elemental, passionate connection she's sought but never found. Their dual desires collide when Eric seizes an opportunity to speak to her, banning her from having drinks in the company library. An electric awareness of each other flares, and Gayle entices Eric with a simple request: Watch me.The Kiln: All Lucious wants is a nice job with benefits. But once he starts working at Blaylock's Brickmaking, the eerily tight-knit team on the night shift gives him so much more to desire. For one, there's his trainer, Tammy, who knows how to fire bricks and fire up his desire. . . Welcome to the kiln, where the ovens are never as hot as the employees!

Sahara: Graduation looms, and so does a proposal from Sahara's boyfriend. Sahara's happy — or maybe not. She doesn't have a job yet and she finds herself drawn more and more to Ingo with his piercing blue eyes, honeyed accent, and body built for travel. . . Decisions, decisions. Will Sahara find wedded bliss and stability, or will she get on a plane to Munich?

WARNING: This title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language.

31,000 Words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyrical Press
• Release date: Jul 7, 2008
• ISBN: 9780981890500

Book preview

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

I’d like to thank the Discovery Channel and How It’s Made for giving me an interest in bricks. I’d like to thank the American workplace for being the hottest setting for sensual tales ever. I’d also like to thank Eric and Gayle, Lucious and Tammy, and Ingo and Sahara for reminding me of what’s great about falling in love.

Hall Monitor

Gayle Dearing sat at a computer terminal in the company library.

Eric saw her there as he made his rounds. Enclosed only in glass, the small room appeared ostentatiously Spartan with its grey carpeting, black shelves and chairs made of some type of matte aluminum. In typical fantasy fashion, the sun washed up through the windows behind her, highlighting the blood red suit she wore. Her near-black hair was slicked back. A bun would have been more apropos, but instead, a tidy, fat braid dripped down between her shoulder blades.

Because she was an intriguing woman, Eric didn’t get Gayle.

Gayle never huddled behind the reception desk partaking in the daily women’s gossip that happened toward the end of each work day. She brought her lunch and ate it in the break area upstairs, never in the busy one downstairs and never in the company cafeteria over in the other building. Gayle wore a suit every day. Perpetually neat, tidy, perfect, Gayle never spilled lunch on a suit.

Eric had only seen Gayle touch her hair three different times since she’d been there—four years. Each time she had smoothed the top then let the coarse, shiny black tresses slip through her fingers. Each time his hand had begun to itch. He didn’t get her.

Gayle walked without a switch or a swish or anything. Eric heard once that she had been enlisted in the Reserves of the Guard or something. He figured that was why. She had blunt manicured nails and she never wore nail polish but for some reason, Eric was drawn to her hands. Slender, graceful hands. Strong hands.

Eric was the security guard Tuesday through Saturday, six to two, sometimes later when he needed the overtime. At one point he had pictured himself the next Earl Campbell minus the wheel chair. The closest he had come to his dream was working sales at a large electronics chain. He got caught selling a VCR out of the back door and that was the end of that illustrious career. So he went into security. Amazing, how things worked out. But he’d been a guard for several years by then and had become Captain. He made enough money to buy a small house and a small boat which were the only things he had ever really wanted outside of a chance to play in the Super Bowl, and Gayle Dearing.

Gayle had a deep, rich, beautiful voice, big brown eyes, luscious, luscious lips, and a body that wouldn’t stop. Gayle was rumored to have an IQ of 174, and she made three times more money than he did, for sure. Gayle made his heart stop.

Eric looked in on her in the library and grimaced at his inability to speak to her. What could he say to a woman like that? Gayle, I’d like to be your cabana boy. Probably not. And that’s when he saw it. On the desk, right next to her scarlet clad arm was a coffee cup. It was white with a silver rim and came from the service shared in the executive office. Gayle drank coffee in the mornings, but food and beverages were not allowed in the library. Everyone knew it. The library contained sensitive material. Not only that, but she was sitting right next to the computer. Anything could happen. As security, it was Eric’s duty to go in and say something to her about it. Yep, that’s exactly what he would do. He was, after all, Captain.

Eric turned and reached out a hand to the door handle. With a flick of his wrist and a light push, the door swung open. He poked his head inside first. Then with a deep breath, he stepped in with his whole body. Patiently, he waited for her to turn to him. She didn’t. Instead, she continued typing her entry in the computer. He saw her strike enter then turn to him. Her face held no expression. She was simply waiting.

Recover. Eric said nothing right away. He swallowed and continued to stare at her. She didn’t even blink. Eric looked toward the cup for strength and said, I’m sorry, Miss Dearing, but you can’t have drinks in the library. He sounded so sure of himself. Eric was proud he had finally been able to speak to her and that he had spoken to her with authority. He was Captain Mallisham.

Without so much as a smile, Gayle reached over with her far hand and slipped her first two fingers—her pointer and her middle—over the lip and into the smooth cylinder of the coffee cup. Her gaze didn’t falter as she rolled it onto its side creating a deep caress of a sound. Nothing came out. Her fingers were still poised softly inside of it.

The coffee cup was empty, and Captain Mallisham had been reduced to a hall monitor.

* * * *

Eric swallowed hard as he tried to regain some composure. He started to leave but couldn’t. He couldn’t because her brown eyes mesmerized him. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t exactly not smiling. Finally, he understood the Mona Lisa.

Her fingers were still dipped inside of the cup.

You’re Eric, she said in a flat, direct tone.

For a moment he was weightless. His limbs were wobbly and there was nothing to hold on to. Yes.

Eric the Security Captain, she said.

Yes, he answered again.

I saw you the other night, she stated and began to rise with the grace and allure of a mermaid emerging from the sea. A single finger looped in the handle to drag the cup with her. You were in the parking garage when I went to my car. You’re always in the parking garage when I go to my car. As she spoke in her low smoky tone, she neared Eric stealthily. A purely female glide.

M-m-maybe, Eric stammered, wishing she were like other women, yet finding comfort in the fact that she was not.

I did see you. You’re the one. She stood in front of him. They were eye to eye. Her nose, straight, patrician, was two inches from his own. You’ve watched me. Her expression was blank, her eyes pensive. Why?

I haven’t, Eric denied automatically.

Of course not, she conceded agreeably. Then she simply glanced downward. Eric followed her gaze. His erection was almost full-blown and straining towards her. The scent of her, an amazing combination of flowers, finesse and sex, slipped into his nostrils and into his lungs. He was drowning.

Then, she dropped the coffee cup on the floor. She looked down at it. Long, black lashes slipped over hypnotic eyes.

She crouched in front of him and slipped her fingers through the cup handle. She didn’t rise immediately. No, she let her hot gaze whisper over the rise in the front of his pants. Eric’s pulse sped to a dangerous pace.

Gayle pitched forward as she rose. Her cheek brushed his full erection as she stood. Her lashes hung low over her eyes as she stated, Watch me tonight. She moved around him and out of the library.

* * * *

Eric stared absently at the clock. Six twenty-five. Just five more minutes. Like always, at six thirty she would exit the office.

Eric! Two stubby, masculine fingers snapped loudly before his eyes. He blinked and focused.

Eric, man, you have been in a daze all day.

With a shake of his head, Eric recovered. You try working twelve hour days every day. He heard the upstairs office doors swing open and shut. Leaning against the reception desk, he stared down the massive corridor bisecting the building. From that vantage point, he could watch the top of the stairs to see who would appear.

He gulped when he saw the stocking clad leg in a black pump. Another leg followed. Gayle descended the stairs holding her briefcase in one hand and her coat hanging over her other arm. She switched it to the other arm when she got to the door to the parking deck. With a twist and a push, she slipped out the door. She didn’t look back.

Damn, I would fuck her, Dave, the other security guard stated. She’s not everybody’s bag, but man!

Eric grinned. The grin was false, but he was certain it appeared sincere. His heart beat so hard he could feel its thud in his throat. Even though he felt the same, he really didn’t like Dave talking about her that way. Dave, I’m heading out. Finish my paperwork for me?

Yeah, Dave agreed clasping hands with Eric.

Eric shrugged into his jacket even though the cold outside was not likely to match the