Clarisse's blouse was unbuttoned as she leaned into Mark, locked in a wild kiss while he sat on the edge of his desk. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist possessively.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
They froze.
Clarisse jerked back, fumbling with her blouse. "Someone's at the door."
She straightened her skirt and hurried into the adjoining lounge, closing the door softly behind her.
Mark ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, adjusting his tie until he looked every bit the composed executive.
"Come in," he said smoothly.
The door opened and Phyllis Hayes, his executive coordinator, entered with a clipboard in hand.
"Mr. Vaughn," she said briskly, glancing at the untouched coffee. "The investors are in Conference Room B, waiting for the meeting."
"Thank you, Phyllis. Tell them I'll be there in five."
She nodded curtly and left, her heels clicking sharply on the floor.
