by Alina Jacobs
"She has a hot date," Anke said. "Mace had me clear his schedule."
"He didn't say anything to me about it," I replied.
"Stop playing coy," Tara snapped, setting down the box she was carrying. "You came in here, flirted with Mace, and took advantage of him. You don't care about him at all."
"Of course I care about him!" Her words hurt. She made me sound like Anke, like I was just using Mace.
"When he finds out what you did, he's going to drop you," Tara sneered.
"And you're going to be there to pick up the pieces, right?" Willow said, rolling her eyes. "Josie's ten times the woman you are, and Mace sees it."
Tara glowered and looked me up and down. "Ten is an overestimate, but she's definitely twice my size." Tara shoved the box under one of the tables, grabbed her bag, and left.
"She's just being mean," Willow assured me. "You're curvy. Guys like that. It's more to grab onto."
My phone buzzed.
"That's him, isn't it?" Anke asked. She had watched the whole exchange between me and Tara in bemusement. I looked at the screen. Marnie had sent me the contact info of the FBI agent on the case and told me to contact him about Anke.
I still couldn't quite believe she was back. She was like a hurricane or a tornado. I didn't even know where to begin to fight her. It seemed like I just had to curl up in a ball and let her pass over me then pick up the pieces later.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was Mace.
Mace: I want to thank you for your help
Josie: Publicly or privately?
Mace: Both
He sent me a picture of himself, cropped at the neck. The bulge was prominent through his boxer briefs.
Josie: Is that a chocolate bunny in your pants or are you excited to see me?
Mace: Very excited
"Ooh," Anke said, peering over my shoulder. "He wants you. Well done." She blew me a kiss. "I have my own Svensson to wrangle."
"Ugh," Willow said after Anke left. "She's such a snake. You need to talk to the FBI about her. She should be in jail. You heard what Marnie said."
"I know I will, just, it's too much to think about," I fretted. "I want to have one nice evening with Mace."
"I don't think he'll hate you or think less of you when he finds out," Willow said. "Everyone makes mistakes."
"But it's such a stupid one," I countered. "And I feel like I'm making an even bigger one by letting her just hang around here."
"Keep your enemies close," Willow stated. "Now you can tell the FBI exactly where she is when it's time for her to be arrested."
But I was afraid of what Mace would think. He was so perfect. If I was organized enough to make a spreadsheet of my top qualities for a man, he would check every box. Thoughtful, cared about family, employed. Also did I mention smoking hot?
Mace was waiting for me in the lobby bar when I came down from my hotel room. The light lit the burnished bronze of his hair. He looked every bit like a suave billionaire. His suit was perfectly tailored to accentuate the sharp lines of his torso and back. He finished his drink, tipped the bartender, and sauntered over to me, an easy smile on his face.
"Reveling in your success today, Mr. Big Shot CEO?" I teased him.
He rubbed his jaw then leaned in to kiss me. "You're the one who should be basking in the glory of your awesomeness," he replied. "This seriously would not have happened without you." He leaned down to kiss me again. "I had Anke make reservations at this place called Salt House. She said it was fairly new but had good reviews."
I tensed up at the mention of Anke. To FBI or not to FBI—that was the question.
"Or we could go somewhere else," Mace said, furrowing his brow. I forced myself to relax and squeezed his bicep.
"That sounds perfect," I assured him. I was going to put Anke out of my mind. There was a perfect evening planned with a perfect man, and I was determined to enjoy it.
The Salt House restaurant was busy when we arrived, but the hostess led us to a private room upstairs. There was a table set for two at a large window overlooking a cozy courtyard.
The waiter poured us a glass of wine each. Mace picked up his glass.
"To you, Josie. Thank you," Mace said solemnly.
"You're so serious!" I joked.
"It is serious," Mace said. "I'm so glad I met you."
"Even though I poured chocolate sauce all over you and set your car on fire?" I asked, swirling the dark liquid around in my glass.
"I thought you said it was an act of God," he said with a smirk.
"It was totally an accident," I corrected.
I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me but couldn't find the words without sounding sappy and clingy. Fortunately I was saved when a charcuterie tray arrived.
It displayed a variety of cheeses—creamy brie, fresh goat cheese. There were little dabs of honeycomb and jams—not plain jams but interesting ones like peach and jalapeño, tomato jam, and fig and orange blossom jam. The meats were savory and salty, a perfect counterpoint to the sweetness of the jam and sharpness of the cheese. There were salamis, cured venison sausage, and duck prosciutto.
"This is so good," I said. "I love a charcuterie tray."
"Salt House is known for it, hence the name," Mace replied as he took a slice of cheese with the little bamboo knife.
"Crap," I said.
"What?"
"I didn't take a picture," I said. "I should up my Instagram game. Chloe's Instagram looks amazing. Mine used to look amazing."
"What happened?" he asked. I stuffed some cheese in my mouth to delay. I couldn't believe I brought that up. I didn't want to give him a hint of my stupid YOLO lifestyle with Anke.
"Eh, you know," I said, waving my hand.
"It's probably better you don't take pictures," Mace said. "I've eaten with Chloe before, and she spends a bit of time framing the perfect shot."
"Wait!" I told him before he picked up another bite of the peppery salami. "I need a picture of that meat. When I'm cold and alone in my tiny house, I want to look back fondly on this moment when I had a whole charcuterie platter all to myself."
"I thought I already sent you a picture of my meat?" Mace said casually, eating a piece of cheese swiped in tomato jam.
"No, you sent me a picture of a bowling ball in your underwear. But if you do happen to send me a picture of your salami, please try and be a little imaginative in your presentation? Actually," I amended as I built a little tower of sharp sheep's milk cheese, peach and jalapeno jam, and a sliver of duck prosciutto on a cracker, "imaginative isn't maybe the exact word I was looking for."
"Good because I was thinking of putting a little hat on it," Mace said.
"One guy sent me a dick pic and put googly eyes on it."
"I hope he's not in this state," Mace said, his voice dangerously low.
"No," I said. "He's Dutch, and he went back home."
Mace was still glowering. I stuffed the cracker tower in my mouth. He watched me chew and swallow.
"Oh no, you're so jealous!" I said. "It would be funny if you didn't have billions of dollars and a pack of wild brothers to send after the Dutch guy."
"My brothers aren't crazy. Well, not all of them," Mace said. "Though maybe I could convince Garrett to go all Liam Neeson on your European charcuterie."
I bashed down the thoughts of traveling with Anke and spending money I didn't have.
Trying to keep my tone light, I said, "It was a very small sampling. And while Europe may be known for their cured meats, I think I prefer American sausage the best."
56
Mace
"You want the last of the honeycomb to wash down all that American sausage?" I asked Josie, scooping up the gooey golden chunk of waxy honeycomb with my finger.
She leaned over the table, her mouth slightly open. I could see the curves of her breasts threatening to spill out of the low-cut dress she wore. Her lips wrapped around my fingers, and I grunted. The touch of her tongue against my skin sent sh
ocks down my torso.
"Yum," she said with a moan, "the big finale!"
Good thing the door to the private dining space opened because I think I was about to jump across the table and crush her mouth to mine.
"We will be bringing up the main course shortly," the server said as his colleague cleared away the empty charcuterie board. "The chef is preparing filet mignon, with truffle macaroni and cheese, broccoli chard, and a Spanish red wine to pair. How would you like your steak prepared? Rare?" His tone was hopeful.
"Yes, thank you. That would be perfect," I assured him. We both looked at Josie.
"What?" she asked, confused. "Of course I want it rare. How else would you eat it?"
"Thank God," the server said with obvious relief. "There was a woman downstairs who asked for her steak well done."
"I hope you told her to leave," Josie exclaimed.
"Of course not. That would be rude," the server sniffed. "We simply told her it wasn't possible, that the grill doesn't get that hot."
Josie tipped back her head and laughed, and I decided it was the most wonderful sound in the world.
I poured her more wine and sat back, regarding her. "So you've helped kick off a multibillion-dollar launch, and you have several owners of large, powerful companies begging for you to come work for them. Do you have any plans to move up in the world?"
I tried to play it casual, but my heart was yammering. I had to know if she wanted to leave. I didn't want to hamper her, and I knew that if she took work with Wes Holbrook or with my brothers at ThinkX, she could hop from one major project to the next and write her own paycheck.
Josie looked thoughtful for a moment and swirled her wine glass around. I could barely breathe. "I guess my marketing contract with you is over," she said slowly, "and you have—" She took a sip of the wine. "Anke as your assistant."
"That doesn't mean we don't have work for you," I said.
"What about Tara?" Josie countered.
"I know she was tough at first, but I think she's warmed up to you," I said earnestly.
Josie gave me a critical look. "I don't know. She doesn't like me moving in on her turf." She frowned slightly.
"There are several good opportunities in Manhattan," I pressed. "I could help you find a job."
"Trying to get rid of me?" Josie asked, still looking at her wine. I reached over the table and plucked the glass from her hand, setting it aside.
"Josie," I said, taking her hand. "I am not trying to get rid of you. In fact, I want you to stay. Maybe we could fix up one of the cabins on the property." I looked into her eyes. "Or maybe you secretly hate my family and that would be too many brothers-in-law."
She gave me a crooked smile. "Your family is one of the things I adore about you," she said.
"And the easy way you can just be, not just with my family but with me as well, is one of the things I love about you," I told her honestly.
She smiled at me, and maybe it was the wine, but it seemed a little sad.
"Whatever you decide for your career, I want to be there with you," I told her firmly.
"I want that too!" Josie said then started to cry.
"Holy smokes," I said, getting up to go to her.
She motioned me to sit back down and dabbed at her eyes. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean… I'm just stupid."
"You're not stupid," I told her.
She sighed. "At the very least, if I'm not working at PharmaTech," she said, taking a big swallow of wine, "we could have a real, open relationship."
"We have a real relationship," I said, taken aback. "We went on a date. We went on several dates." Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling then back down to my face.
"Sure, but I was still sleeping with the boss. It doesn't really stir confidence in other employees."
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make things difficult for you," I said.
"I'm a grown woman. I can make my own choices," she said sharply. Her expression softened. "Besides, we were having fun—no need to make things serious or difficult." She smiled brilliantly at me.
I wanted to howl that this was serious for me. I wanted the difficulties and the struggles and to go through them with her. But I had already practically ruined the evening.
During the last few days, my biggest concern had been that I might lose her. It hadn't even occurred to me that this wasn't something serious for her. Were there signs I missed? Maybe normal people in normal relationships didn't send pictures like that or decorate themselves with candy.
My brothers always joked that I liked to immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion. Maybe I was doing it here. Josie hadn't given any indication that this was just a flight of fancy for her.
Just be normal, and make this a pleasant memorable evening, I ordered myself as the waiter opened the door and walked in with a large oval tray.
"This looks fantastic," Josie said as the sommelier came in with a new bottle of wine. He poured the dark-red liquid in the glasses and faded out of the room with the rest of the wait staff, leaving Josie and me alone.
"To you," Josie said. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."
"It's my pleasure. I really like you a lot, Josie," I said as she inspected her steak.
"Because I saved your marketing bacon?" she joked.
"Well that and you're just an amazing woman." It seemed like the compliments were making her uncomfortable. I tried to steer the conversation into a more lighthearted mode. "Most importantly," I told her as she cut a slice off of the dry-aged beef, "you eat your steak rare. If you had ordered it well done, I don't think we could have been friends anymore. I'm from the American West. We are very serious about our beef."
"There's no way I could have it well done," she said. "I like my meat red and raw." She took a comically slow bite, her teeth clanging on the tines of the fork, pulling it out of her mouth in an exaggerated gesture.
"If you're going to eat like that this whole time," I said, "I'm going to have to end this dinner early and take you somewhere for your private present."
"But then we would miss dessert," she said innocently.
"I wouldn't miss it. You're my dessert."
The lighthearted jokes worked. The rest of the dinner went smoothly, with an easy rhythm.
"I would say that I didn't have room for dessert," Josie sighed, as the servers cleared away our plate, "but I always have room."
The servers set down a plate in front of us.
"This is the tallest piece of cake I've ever seen!" Josie said, clapping her hands.
"It is a seven-layer heartthrob cake," the waiter explained.
"From Grey Dove Bistro," Josie cut in. "I saw this on Instagram! It has white pound cake, lemon curd, raspberry mouse, another layer of pound cake, raspberry and lemon compote, white chocolate mouse and another layer of pound cake and finally a layer of chocolate ganache."
"Yes," the server said. He seemed a little miffed that Josie had stolen his thunder. "It's a cake developed by Chloe exclusively for Salt House."
"I always wanted to try it," Josie gushed.
"There was also a special request made in-house for you," the waiter added.
"For me?" Josie squealed. Another server put down a plate with a single round ball of fried ice cream and a small little pot of chocolate.
"Aw!" Josie said, jumping up and coming around the table to sit in my lap and throw her arms around me. "It's like the first time we met!"
"Just please don't dump the chocolate sauce all over me!" I said.
"So that was my public surprise," Josie said after dinner when we were in the car. "And where's my private one?" she whispered in my ear.
I just wanted to rip her clothes off right there in the back of the car. Instead I settled for kissing her in the dark and letting my hand slide up her leg to the wet, warm panties I knew were waiting for me. She spread her legs slightly, and I just wanted to pull her on my lap and fuck her. But I controlled myself.
"This isn't the hotel," Josie said
, confused when we pulled up to our destination.
"I wondered when you would figure out we're going the opposite direction," I teased as I helped her out of the car. She swung her legs out, and I wanted to kneel down and bury my face in between them.
"I had a lot of wine," she said, giggling as she leaned against me. "And I have a terrible sense of direction. The only reason I don't get lost in Harrogate is it's a giant grid, and if you go around in a circle, you end up back where you started."
She leaned on my arm as we walked into the renovated old brick warehouse building.
"Is this one of Archer's hotels?" Josie murmured against my mouth as I kissed her in the elevator.
"It's a condo building," I told her. "It was the first major real estate project that Svensson Investment did."
"Airbnb-ing it?" she commented. "Swanky."
I looked down at her. "It's my condo."
"But you live in Harrogate," Josie blurted as the doors opened to a private lobby.
"I could fit three tiny houses in here," she exclaimed. "It's huge! But where's your kitchen?" She looked around.
"This is just the lobby," I told her as I punched in the numbers on the keypad and the large metal door slid open.
"Welcome to my Manhattan residence," I said to her, sweeping my arm out.
"Wow!" Josie said, slowly walking inside. "This is enormous."
"Sorry," I told her. "It's very masculine. If you want to redecorate, you're free to do so."
"Like right now?" she asked. "I mean… yes, I would like a craft room and a candy wall and the ceilings painted the color of bubble gum."
"Why would you glue candy on the walls?" I asked.
"Not glue," she said, walking into my kitchen. "I would put the candy in jars and arrange it on shelves."
"What would you do with a whole wall made out of candy?" I asked, following her.
"Eat it?" She looked at me incredulously. "Don't turn up your nose. You eat my candy, and you like it!"