After nearly six weeks of showing up in the middle of the night, pretending to be interested in whatever was on Charlotte’s mind at the moment—that girl knew everything about everything—there was no going back. I’d never met anyone like her before. Smart as hell, certainly smarter than me. Why she was cleaning offices for a living made no sense. After six weeks, I’d finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. Or would have, if she hadn’t shoved me in that closet like she did. Oh yeah. She was the one that did it. Not me. It would be rude to point that out however.
Charlotte and I had both froze in the hallway when we heard a familiar voice. Rather than answer stupid questions that would eventually get back to Margo, I’d planned on simply ducking into an office. Charlotte beat me to it.
Our passion for each other had been building. I found her funny and cute, her boldness exciting. I’d been dying to run my fingers through that gorgeous ebony hair of hers for weeks, salivating at the smoothness of her skin, itching to touch that silky wet place and make her moan just for me. I’d stayed up nights thinking about her, jerking off in the basement on my lunch break, because I couldn’t wait to get home.
I’d barely got my cock wet when Chase, the fucker, swung open the hard -paneled door. What the hell was wrong with the guy? Didn’t he know the sound of people fucking? Charlotte had been mortified.
After the coast was clear and we got ourselves dressed, she started rattling off her concerns. What if people talked? What if Chase fired her? She kept telling me it had been a mistake, that she didn’t know what she was doing. She said she was sorry—imagine that—she was sorry. The next day, she told me she didn’t want me showing up in the middle of the night anymore, that we were done. I’d tested that statement once, then backed off for the rest of the week.
I set down the largest cooler long enough to scan my badge, and opened the door to Remington’s.
This was my last chance. If food was the way to a man’s heart, it was time to find out if it worked the other way around.
I set all the food on a table in the lunchroom and made my way to Chase’s office which was right next door. I tried the door but it was locked. “Good,” I said to myself. “Stay home where you belong, you fucker.”
My ears perked up at a loud clunk and then a clattering. The cat. I bent down to pet her soft fur. “So you came inside at long last. You aren’t all that skittish, are you kitty cat?” I picked her up, holding her close so she could rumble beneath my ear. “Let’s go see what Charlotte is up to, shall we?”
The trash bins were set outside one of the conference rooms, telling me I’d probably find Charlotte there. With the cat still in my arms, I strolled down the carpeted hall.
Her back was to me as I peered inside the room. I found her wearing headphones while dusting one of the high book shelves on a ladder, her long lean legs so fucking sexy I couldn’t think of anything else except how they belonged wrapped around my waist. I just stood there. Enjoying the view.
Charlotte took off the headphones and climbed down the ladder. When she looked up, she nearly missed the last step.
“Oh. I didn’t expect...What are you doing here?” Her cool tone sliced through me like a headwind.
“I brought you a gift.”
Eyeing the cat, she said, “She’s not yours to give, Zac. And, she doesn’t like to be held. Put her down.”
“Maybe not by everyone, but she seems to like me.”
She rolled her eyes then wiped her forehead with a nearby rag, the sweat pouring off her. The thought of her getting sweaty with me, made my heart race.
“What do you want, Zac?”
“Um, well, I need your opinion.”
Her dark eyes narrowed, looking skeptical. “You do know I’m on the clock here. Isn’t it bad enough you nearly got me fired? In fact. I still may be fired, thanks to you.”
She was wearing shorts, no dress tonight. With two fingers, she pinched the midriff tank, moist with perspiration, away from her skin. I could see down the front of her shirt. She was wearing a flesh-colored bra underneath, the tops of her breasts round and full. My cock pulsed behind my zipper.
“Charlie, I’m sorry. About everything. Let me make it up to you.”
“How? You want to fuck me in the back alley this time? You think just because you have a lot of money, you can get any women you want.” There was red hot venom behind her eyes, but I couldn’t stop fantasizing what that passion between the sheets. Silk ones this time.
“I’m an asshole.”
“You are.”
She looked hurt and sad all at once. I hated that I was the cause of all that. As she stood there staring back at me, gripping the sides of a desk as if afraid she would blow away if she didn’t hold on tight enough, my heart melted.
“Actually, I’d planned on asking you out. On a real date. With food and...and everything.” I took a step closer, put down the cat who quickly made herself at home in one of the leather office chairs. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like it did.”
“Me neither. I’m sorry.”
That caught me off guard.
“It wasn’t your fault. I guess it’s me I’m mad at. Not you.”
“Well, I’m not mad at you.” I motioned to the cat. “And neither is he.”
She giggled.
“Any way, apology accepted.”
“Do you want to know why I need your opinion?”
“Maybe.” She lowered those impossibly dark lashes at me. “Does this involve sex or the promise of sex?”
I knew my answer had the power to mend or break any hope I had of getting back in Charlotte’s good graces, but fuck... Let’s face it, I was a guy. Didn’t all men wish for the end result of sex? Survival of the species sort of thing. “No, Charlotte, this doesn’t end with sex.”
I couldn’t read the look on her face right away until I said, “Unless you want it to be.” A sexy smile split her face wide open and that’s when I knew I had her on my side.
“Okay.” She let out a breath. “Against my better judgment, tell me what you need my opinion for?”
“Um, hold on. I have to set it up.”
“Set it up? What...?”
Fearing that I would stick my foot in my mouth again, I turned on my heel, and ran down the hall.
Fifteen minutes later, I returned.
When Charlotte saw the red satin scarf in my hand, her eyes narrowed. “You said this wasn’t about sex. I knew you were a liar.”
“I swear on my father’s grave! I would never trick you like that.”
She burst out laughing.
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“I am.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”
“There were two of us in that closet, Zac.”
I reached forward, snatched a long dark tendril, let it slide through my fingers. “You’ve got a bit of the devil in you, don’t you?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh.”
“Turn around, gorgeous.”
When she lifted her hair, I caught a glimpse of the winged tattoo on her neck. A little dangerous. A little wild. That’s what I thought of women with tattoos. If I was right, either she’d kill me in my sleep or shake up my world like never before. I hoped to find out. But after she tasted my cuisine.
Chapter 6
Charlotte
I didn’t trust too many people, especially in New York, so I was prepared to treat Zachary Taylor like every other man I’d ever met, with indifference. I would not be impressed. No matter what big surprise he’d planed, I’d play it cool, but as he guided me down the hallway blindfolded, I had second thoughts because hell... The way he touched me, eased me into a rhythm with his own, maneuvered me around corners and up stairwells had eased some of my brain cells into retirement once again. I was laughing and so was he, but I didn’t know why. Whatever it was, he sounded pretty proud of himself, kept muttering
about spices and measuring cups. He smelled so damn good I wanted to reach around and kiss him.
I didn’t.
When he took off the blindfold, I half expected to see him naked, but he wasn’t. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Candles of all sizes and shapes were everywhere! On the counters. On a tall cabinet in the corner, inside the casement of the window, even on the back of the sink. The water cooler made a nice backdrop sending splashes of light across the room. It illuminated a vase with two white roses in the center of a table. If I didn’t know better, I would never have believed we were in the lunch room of Remington Enterprise.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This is beautiful.”
“And you haven’t even tasted the food yet.”
“There’s food?”
“Yup.” Two place settings of bone China were set on a linen-covered table.
My eyes misted over. “You did this...for me?”
“Impressed?” His white teeth gleaned in the candlelight.
I was overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Come.” He took me by the hand, lead me over to a soft leather chair.
“Why two?” I asked, indicating there were two roses in the vase.
“You don’t remember?” Zac asked. “It’s your two month anniversary.”
“It is?”
Oh my God, that’s so sweet.
“Yep.”
I placed a linen napkin in my lap as Zac removed the flowers and set a silver chafing dish in the center of the table. As he lifted the lid, hot steam escaped. He spooned something onto my plate. “It smells heavenly,” I said, my mouth salivating. “You know you didn’t have to go through all this. I do forgive you, Zac.”
“Save that until you taste it.” He set small bowls beside our plates.
“What’s this?”
“Concombre a la menthe. Your appetizer.” Spooning the green mixture into my bowl, he said, “Bon appétit.”
I took a small bite, letting the mint and yogurt dressing splash over my tongue. “Mmmm. Nice and light,” I said. “And I don’t eat nearly enough vegetables. Thank you.”
“Glad you like it. There’s also potatoes.” Glancing around the room, apparently not finding what he wanted, I saw him slip someone’s hooded sweatshirt off a hanger, fold it into squares and set it on the table.
“Pot warmer?”
“Very good,” he said obviously pleased that I knew what he was about.
Sliding a cast iron pan out of an insulated pack, he set it on the coat. “Give me your plate.” As I handed it to him he explained, “This is potatoes dauphinoise.”
“Daphin—what?”
“Dauphinoise. It’s cheesy potatoes.”
“Why don’t they just call it that?”
“That’s the French for ya. How’s the coq au vin?”
“Mmmm, delightful, but I have a question. Where on earth did you get someone to make this at this time of night?”
“I didn’t.”
I looked up from my bowl. “What?”
“Yup, Char. I’m more than just a pretty face.”
I took another bite of the potatoes. “I never learned to cook,” I admitted.
“But you knew the term pot warmer.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Nope.” He watched me eat, chin perched on the tops of his clasped hands, looking nervous at first, then his mouth spreading into a wide grin.
“You’re really happy,” I said.
“I love it when people like my cooking.”
“Like it. I want to roll naked in this stuff. I could eat this whole pan. The cheese. It’s so creamy. It sort of melts along my tongue.”
“Go right ahead. I don’t believe in leftovers. Food should be eaten while it’s fresh and also cooked fresh.”
“Mmmm,” I exclaimed between bites. “This is great. You said you went to Harvard, right? Where did you learn to cook like this? Certainly not Harvard.”
“My dad was a chef. He owned one of the finest restaurants in New York. We used to cook together on Sunday mornings. Make this big elaborate meal. Not like this though. We’d make down home stuff. Spaghetti and meatballs. Fresh baked bread. Pies. All kinds of simple fare. Then we’d invite all my uncles and aunts over plus a bazillion cousins. Those were the best times.” He took a bite of chicken off my plate. “Crap. It’s getting cold. Better eat up.”
“You’re lucky you have a big family,” I said. “I only had my sister growing up.”
“No extended family?”
“We did but we didn’t have much contact.”
“Was your mom a good cook?”
“Not really. I had...other people in my life that did the cooking.”
“I bet she was good at other stuff though.”
“Hmmmph.”
I didn’t want to talk about how Mother went crazy after my father died. She shut herself up in her bedroom for days on end, her only company a bottle of bourbon.
“And your father?”
“He died when I was twelve.” That was more than I planned on saying.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. Was a long time ago.”
I finished the coq au vin. Then I lifted the bowl and drained the juice into the back of my throat. When I looked up, Zac had the most shit eaten grin on his handsome face.
I grinned back, a little self conscious. “Sorry, but it was really good. Hey why didn’t you ever open your own restaurant? Why are you an accountant again?”
“Oh, but not just any accountant. I answer to the richest man in New York. It has its perks.”
“I can see that, but you could do both maybe. I’ve always thought it would be fun to have two careers. I guess you’d have to be super organized though.”
“Right. He made a steeple of his fingers, gazing across the table at me. My pulse quickened, my mouth suddenly dry. “To be honest, after discharge from the marines, I did try my hand at being a head cook for awhile.”
“What happened?”
“Life. Long hours, poor pay. Then the business folded.”
“That’s too bad.”
He shrugged. “I took it as a sign. More chicken?”
“Oh no, I’m good. More potatoes would be great though.”
“Coming right up and save room for dessert.”
I patted my stomach as he spooned more potatoes on the plate. “I’m afraid I don’t know if I can fit dessert. Not unless I do some really strenuous exercise to make room.”
Zac’s eyes darkened. His mouth parted as if he were about to say something, but then he closed it again. The chair legs made a squelching sound as he pulled away from the table. He rose to his feet and strolled across the room. “You sure about dessert?” he called, opening the refrigerator. “It’s really yummy.”
I shoved the last bit of potatoes in my mouth, wondering if I could fit one more bite of food. “That depends. Is it chocolate? I really love chocolate. What are you hiding in there anyway?” My mouth watered as I came around to peek inside the frig. “Oh wow, that looks lovely.”
“Go.” He gave me a tiny push. “I want to do this right, Charlotte. Sit down, darling.”
Darling?
He placed a napkin in my lap. On the table, he set two crystal glasses layered with something lemony and scarlet. “This is my own creation,” he announced beaming. “Wait. I forgot something.” He lifted the glasses. Then he placed two lace doilies under each. “I call it Berry Tiramisu.”
I picked up my fork giving him a suspicious look.
“No, I didn’t make up the recipe, but I altered it a bit and the presentation is all mine.” The muscles in Zac’s jaw twitched as he waited for me to take a bite.
“Point taken.” I dipped into the succulent berries, let the citrus-soaked cake and creamy filling melt along my tongue. “Mmmm. So glad I made room for this.” I dabbed my mouth with the napkin. “What was it you needed my opinion on? I’m guessing this here?” I swept a hand over ou
r empty plates.
“No. I know the food is good.”
“Is it about work?”
“Yup. It’s the numbers part of this merger I can’t seem to grasp. I’m not too macho to say you’re pretty smart, Charlie. Smarter than I am. Can you take a look at it? Maybe a second set of eyes will...”
“All you had to do was ask.”
The next night.
AT FIRST I SIMPLY STARED at him, partly because he looked hilarious in the janitor’s uniform he’d thrown over his designer suit and partly because I was unable to believe what I was seeing. Zac Taylor, the second richest guy at Remington’s was helping me clean. Clean, for fuck’s sake!
We planned on getting through my routine early, so we’d have time to go over those statistics. Still, I was dumbfounded. Here was this tall, good-looking guy, sleeves rolled to his elbows buzzing around the offices like he was freaking Mary Poppins. We finished in not one, but two hours ahead of schedule. After that, thirty minutes was all I needed to set those figures to right.
“I’ve gone over this every day this week and still couldn’t figure it out. You just look at it once and wham! You have the answer. How do you do that?”
“Easy. Some things just jump out at you.”
“Not me.”
“See that number there,” I said pointing. “Wrong column.” I slid my finger over two inches. “Belongs in that column. And those figures on the right...Expendable. You can easily get that stuff cheaper I’m guessing.”
“Shit, how did you...?”
“You just needed a second set of eyes. That’s all.”
“I still can’t believe I made such a blunder.”
“Lots of people make mistakes, besides, don’t you have someone to double check your work?”
The Christmas Fix Page 5