by Tessa Layne
"Why do you do it?" I ask quietly. "Come with me?" His face shutters, and I realize I've moved into territory that is strictly off-limits. But I want to know. Desperately. "Stockton?"
He clears his throat with a shake of his head, and he pushes back from the table. "Come on. Let's get you home."
Disappointment crashes through me and I try not to let him see how hurt I am that he refuses to answer. Our walk down the block to where Edward is parked is silent. I scoot across the back seat and curl up in the corner. Stockton stays on the far end, whatever camaraderie there was between us, gone. It's for the best, I remind myself harshly. He's my boss.
He breaks his silence when the car pulls up to my building. "Let me walk you up."
"No," I say refusing his hand as I exit the car, even though I feel a little bit wobbly. "I'm fine. You need to go find your next girlfriend," I say more bitterly than I should.
"Penny," he reprimands in a tone of voice that says everything and nothing. "I'm taking you up. I'm not going to be that guy."
"What exactly is that guy?" I say with finger quotes.
"The one that leaves you on the sidewalk to fend for yourself. Especially when you've been drinking."
"I'm not a kid anymore, you know."
"I'm very aware of that," he answers tersely, lightly touching my elbow as we cross the lobby to the elevator bay.
Something inside me snaps. "You know what's wrong with you?" I glare at him while we wait for the elevator. "You-" I wag my finger at him, "Are a commitment-phobe."
His eyes widen and he looks away. "That's not-"
"Horse patooty." I march into the elevator and lean against the mirrored wall. "The revolving door of women, your mother trying to get you to have children? It's because she knows you're terrified of showing who you really are." The words just keep tumbling out of my mouth. I can't seem to stop them and the look on his face is comical. Half shocked, half angry. "I think I'm onto something. I can tell by the look on your face." I wave my finger again. "You're not as stoic and unemotional as you think you are, buster." The realization hits me that I might actually be pretty lit, as Stockton's face weaves in and out of focus. But that doesn't stop me. "So let me just tell you something. Someday... someone is gonna kick. Your. Ass... And you're not gonna know what hit you." I wave both hands now. "And then she'll be gone. Poof. Because you blew your chance."
"Enough, Penny," he finally says in clipped tones as the elevator dings and opens. "Let's get you home and to bed." He grabs my elbow as I wobble toward the door.
I yank it back. "I'm fine, Stockton."
"Said no woman who really was," he grumbles back.
"I've been fending for myself since I was a little kid. I can get myself to my damn door."
"Ease an old man's mind, will you?"
In spite of my protests, he insists on escorting me to my door. And as I fumble with the key and drop it, he bends and retrieves it and opens the door for me. The door swings open.
"Penny."
Something in his voice hits me and I turn to him, suddenly quite sober. He brushes my cheek with the back of his fingers. A bolt of electricity rockets through me - straight through my nipples and all the way to my clit. I hold my breath, heart galloping like a stampede of runaway wildebeests. He strokes my cheek again with the back of his fingers then shakes his head.
"Goodnight, Penny." He mumbles "Happy Birthday," and pushes off the door. With a turn, he hurries down the hall and disappears around the corner.
The ache in my chest steals my breath. It's a full minute before I can breathe easily again. I force myself to shake it off as I drag myself inside the door. All the wishing in the world will never make us anything more than what we are right now. We can never be. I might be young but I'm old enough to already know that.
The next morning I wake up with a splitting headache right between my eyes. I drag myself out of bed and catch sight of the skirt and sweater draped over the chair where I left them last night. For one second, I'm tempted to be that girl. The one who feels pretty on the inside and looks it on the outside. The one who appreciates the heated glances and the hopeful smiles. But I know what men are really like. And I know that that path isn't for me.
With a sigh, I put on my black jeans and tee - my armor - and decide to line my eyes extra dark. At the last second I add a swipe of dark purple lipstick. I'm twenty-one now. I can do what I want. Stockton hired me for my brain and my brain only. I should feel grateful for that. He's out of the office when I arrive. I immediately jump to work on the security changes for Delhi Bank. I try not to, but I keep stealing glances at the door, waiting for him to walk through. By ten-thirty, he's still not here. I have to remind myself he doesn't report to me.
He's still not here when his mother shows up promptly at eleven-thirty-seven, somehow having gotten wind of the fact that he and Lena are no more. Today's offering is a doe-eyed redhead with short curly hair who looks fresh faced and way too eager. But when Stockton rolls in just as I'm sending them on their way, for once he agrees to his mother's lunch invitation. And when he puts his arm around the redhead's waist as he walks out of the office without even acknowledging my presence, I die a little on the inside.
Chapter Ten
Stockton
Present Day
I lean against the wall while I wait for the elevator to arrive, blood pounding in my head like a hammer. My skin is hot and itchy, and I have a raging boner that won't go away. The constant undercurrent of sexual tension, the frustration of wanting what I can't have for four long years, have all come to a head. Kissing Penny tonight pushed me into a freefall, and I have no one to blame but myself. I bring my fingers to my nose, catching the faintest whiff of the perfume that still lingered around us as we kissed. It's a scent that screams fucking, push you up against a wall and tear some seams kind of fucking. I desperately want to go back, bang on her door until she lets me in and we give in to the crazy chemistry that's haunted us for years. But that would be giving in to the worst part of my nature and I can't do that for all the reasons. Even though the taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips, and the way she melted into me will remain with me the rest of my life.
The elevator doors open and I step in, reciting aloud all the reasons why I can't give in where Penny's concerned. I'm twelve years older. She's my employee. For a half-second I consider firing her. For another half-second I consider firing myself, because why should she lose her job when I'm the one who can't keep my shit together? Either way, Steele would disown me. Hell, he might disown me anyway when he finds out we're "engaged". But once I confide in him, he'll be on board. At least I hope so.
I exit the elevators and head outside, crossing the street to my building. Once inside, I take the private elevator to the top floor. Owen, Harrison and I own three of the four penthouse suites. The fourth belongs to a guy we've never met, but who apparently spends most of his time in Toronto. I'm tempted to go knock on Steele's door, ask for a scotch and spill my guts. But the last time I did that, I clearly interrupted something between him and Sparky, so I head to my place and open my own scotch instead.
I drain the first tumbler in two long swallows. Fuck savoring - I need to sort shit out. I hit Steele's number, but it goes to voice mail. He always picks up when I call. I double check my watch, it's definitely not too late. I try again. Voicemail again. He must be with Sparky. I take a moment to finish the second tumbler, giving them a chance to wrap things up before I try again. It still goes to voicemail.
"Goddammit, Steele, pick up the phone."
I think back to the accusations Penny levied at me in the elevator the night Lena and I broke up two years ago. Like most things where Penny is concerned, she was spot on, and I wonder if I have what it takes to go the distance with someone. The adrenaline from my encounter with Penny is slowly dissipating, leaving me as irritable as a bear coming out of hibernation. I poke my phone again, ready to march down the hall and bang on Steele's door if he doesn't pick up this
time.
"This better be good," he barks into the phone. Yeah, I definitely interrupted something.
“Congratulate me?” My heart starts thumping. I realize I'm fucking nervous.
“What, for saving the company from the dark web? That’s your fucking job,” he practically yells. This doesn't bode well for his reaction.
“Ah, no. I thought you’d want to know before you read about it in the society column tomorrow.”
“What the hell is this about? Is this code for something?”
I swallow. I need to approach this like ripping off a bandaid. “Negative. I’m engaged.”
Silence.
“What?" he says, voice cracking. "To who?”
“To Penny.”
More silence.
"What?" This time there's a menacing note to his voice. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Dead serious." I pace along the floor to ceiling windows in front of my balcony, watching the cars on the street below.
"Since when?"
"Since this morning."
There's a flurry of noise in the background and Sparky's muffled voice. "So let me get this straight. You and Penny have been dating to the point of getting engaged and you never even told me?"
"You hid your relationship with Sparky for months," I point out.
Harrison bursts in my front door, expression thunderous. "But I didn't ask her to marry me until this evening," he says as he crosses to my liquor cabinet and helps himself to a decanter he knows is filled with Danny's whiskey.
Motherfucker.
I toss my phone on the coffee table. I feel like an ass. I feel worse than an ass. Not only am I about to lie to my best friend through my teeth, but I'm also going to upstage his very real engagement with my fake one. Still, I'm genuinely happy for him. He's been trying to convince her to move in with him for two years. "That's great man, congratulations." I lift my glass from across the room. "Did you set a date?"
Steele crosses to my leather sectional and drops into the corner crossing an ankle over his knee. "Kind of hard to do that with the phone ringing off the hook," he says, eyes lasering straight into me.
Now there's no way I can tell him that Penny and I are fake. My gut clenches. I'm a shit liar. And now I have to lie to my best friend so I don't take away from his happy moment.
"So tell me. Weren't you dating someone new last week?"
Fuck.
"Yeah," I answer, drawing the word out.
"And wasn't Penny chewing you a new asshole she had to cover for you with said girlfriend?"
I swallow, suddenly hot under the collar. "That, too."
He narrows his eyes and goes for the kill. "And so you mean to tell me that you've gone from zero to death do us part with Penny in less than a week?"
"It wasn't exactly zero," I mutter.
Harrison slaps his thigh. "I knew it. I always knew you had a thing for her you dirty old man."
I blink. "Really?" My voice cracks like a pubescent boy. His power of perception is a little too close for comfort at the moment, but at least it leads us away from his line of questions.
He nods. "Yep, since day one."
Since day one? I think back to that first day I went to collect Penny from Rolla. He's not wrong, there's always been a spark between us, but I... no... have I? Shit.
"When did it happen? When did you know?" Harrison asks with a hint of a laugh.
"I can't honestly say." God's truth, at least it's not a lie. There has always been something there, much as I've tried to ignore it. Lena wasn't the only woman to pick up on it either.
"C'mon, it's not like I'm going to sack you. When did you really start dating? Were the women just an act?"
"What are you? A girl?" I deflect, trying my damndest not to freak out at the dawning realization that I've always had feelings where Penny's concerned. Jeezus fuck. Always. And then I think back to how many times I chose Penny over the women I dated. I don't know if it's love, but it damn well is a case of heavy like. It's why I didn't hesitate to lighten my bank account by millions this morning to keep her here. I can't fucking imagine my life without Penny Fischer in it.
And now that we've kissed... double fuck.
Steele looks at me with the strangest expression. "You okay, man? You look..." he cocks his head. "Spooked." He breaks into a smile. "Cold feet already?"
Chapter Eleven
Penny
The office is quiet on Monday morning. Too quiet. In four years I've only beaten Stockton to the office once. That day still leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. And even though my stomach alternates between the fluttering that comes from nervous anticipation and the nausea of dread, I find it surprisingly hard to concentrate without Stockton sitting twelve feet from me. By ten-forty-two a.m., even though I've run through the updates on all our current projects, I'm crawling the walls. I walk across the hall and stick my head in Harrison's office.
Andrew, who sits out front like I do, looks up from his desk with a sly smile. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
I roll my eyes, heat flushing my cheeks, unable to keep a tiny smile from forming. "You heard?"
"Oh honey, I love a good scandal." He pulls out his phone and reads. "Women across the metro are crying in their coffee this morning as news that one of Kansas City's most eligible bachelors, Stockton Forde, is officially off the market." Andrew's eyes dart to mine and he lifts an eyebrow. "Where's your ring?"
I grimace and I slide my left hand into my jeans pocket where I stashed the ring. It's big and gaudy, and I totally love it, but wearing it feels awkward. Illicit, even. Like I'm playing dress-up.
He beckons me over. "Come on, show Uncle Andrew."
I close the distance with a giggle and slip the ring on my finger. Andrew grabs my hand, turning it to catch the facets in the light. "Pink diamond?"
I shrug. "I guess? I didn't ask. I just told him to pick out something big and gaudy."
Andrew's eyebrows shoot to the sky. "He hit the nail on the head then. There's nothing understated about this at all."
It's not, and definitely not the kind of ring I imagine Stockton would buy, but I can't exactly confess I asked for something obnoxious purely to annoy his mother. Although the ring is kitschy enough I actually do like it. "Well, I like it."
"That's what matters, hon." Andrew crosses his arms and sits back, eyes narrowed. "But what I can't figure out is how long this has been going on right underneath my nose. I mean it's common knowledge you two have always had a thing for each other. You've acted like an old married couple for years."
"Years?" My voice jumps an octave.
Andrew waves a hand. "Oh relax. What I want to know is whether or not the women were part of the act. Unless the two of you have more... kinky proclivities?" he says with a wink.
My face is on fire. What in the heck am I supposed to say? I opt for the truth. "I threatened to quit and he asked me to marry him." Okay, not exactly the truth, but a close approximation.
Andrew's eyes go wide as saucers. "You didn't."
I smirk. "Sometimes you've gotta force Stockton's hand."
"Oh you naughty girl," Andrew gushes. "I'm so proud of you." He leans forward, placing his chin on his hands. "And? Is he as legendary in the sack as they say?"
"Shame on you Andrew, you know I'm not the kind of girl who kisses and tells."
"A fact for which I'm eternally grateful," says Honore from the doorway.
I startle with a yelp, turning. "Jesus, don't scare me that way."
"Language, darling." Honore looks me over with an air of distaste, and I'm suddenly grateful I'm wearing the engagement ring. "I don't suppose you could tell me where to locate my son? I've been trying to reach him all morning."
Before I can answer, Andrew jumps in. "Big meeting with military brass this morning, all very hush, hush. Whole C-team is involved."
I send a silent word of thanks Andrew's direction and nod my head. "Stockton couldn't even tell me what it was about. One of
those 'if I tell ya, I'd have to kill ya' kind of things."
Honore's smile broadens. She looks like a cat ready to pounce. "Then you'll have no objection if I take you to brunch this morning."
"On a Monday?" My stomach sinks. I don't think there's any way I can get myself out of this. "Don't you ladies do those things on the weekends?"
"We ladies do those things whenever we please, my dear." She gives me a once over. "But surely, you have something more brunch appropriate? You look rather like a street urchin."
My hackles rise. "I don't waste my income on overpriced clothing made by children in Bangladesh."
Her face freezes and I know my arrow has hit its mark, but I'm unprepared for the tiny stab of guilt that follows. "How do you feel about tacos?" I ask, remembering that the French bistro I suggested is closed on Mondays.
"Tacos?" The way she says it makes it sound like I've suggested mud pies.
"Don't worry, there are things on the menu that require utensils. And there's a full-service bar. White wine and martinis," I add before she can question.
Honore presses her hands into her pale green slacks. "Well, I suppose if you insist."
"I do," I say with as much saccharine as I can stomach. "Time to live on the wild side, Honore."
She gives me a wan smile. "My driver is waiting downstairs."
"Nope, not today." I shake my head, enjoying this far too much. "We're going to take the streetcar." Honore's eyes widen a fraction. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe from any riffraff. Shall we go?" I challenge, knowing she's too much like her son and she won't back down.
She nods graciously. "Then lead on, my dear," she says with an edge to her voice that conveys her displeasure.
"Can I bring you anything?" I ask Andrew before I follow Honore to the elevator.