“I am!” burst from his lips as his breath exploded. His body shuddered violently, and my inner walls clenched around him as he throbbed. He then collapsed, panting. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, twisting strands, and then drew serpentine designs on his slick back while our hearts slowed. After a few moments, he rose up on his elbows and kissed me tenderly. “I love you, Susie-Q.”
My heart still skipped a beat whenever he said those words. “I love you, too.” I kissed him ardently, and then said, “But you’re still not coming.” I then bit his lip to drive my point home.
♥
I had mailed my dress to Saks so I didn’t have to haul that sucker on the plane. Now standing on a pedestal with pins sticking into me like an acupuncture session gone wrong, I fidgeted while the seamstress made tutting sounds.
“Can you have it finished by Wednesday?” I asked, once dressed.
The woman snorted. “Do I look like miracle worker? Twenty dresses before you. Twenty. Then you.”
“But—”
“When you marry?”
“April,” I mumbled.
“No Wednesday! I call when ready. Have nice day. Okay, bye-bye!”
I grumbled my way down the escalator, but as soon as I saw the bank of cosmetics vendors, I skipped to the Dior counter and forgot all my troubles. “What’s free with purchase this month?” I asked cheerily.
11
Saved by the Scratch
I would never be poor again. I’d made myself that promise in college, and I’d spent my adult life fulfilling it. But after nine months of nearly starving to death, professionally speaking, I marched into the January’s fiscal budget meeting with sword drawn.
This was, without a doubt, the most vicious, no-holds-barred, fight-to-the-death event of the year, with all the district managers crowded around a single table, staking claims to mineral rights. Based on last year’s disaster, I presented my tale of woes with great passion, letting loose my entire stockpile of artillery in one great burst. Armed with formidable VIN diagrams, death-defying bar graphs, and boldly colored pie charts so vivid they could be seen from space, I was neither taking prisoners nor walking out of here with less than my fair share of the budgetary booty.
“No fucking, goddamned way is she getting that much!” Gregory Foster growled.
“You wanna make a bet, asshole?” I retorted.
Greg looked angrily at Bob and then, pointing his finger at me like a first-grader, spat, “Her budget was half that last year. My district needs a complete technology overhaul, and I’ll be traveling back and forth to Asia at least three times in the next six months. She’s not even outlined any specifics for her travel budget. Who knows where the hell she’s planning to go. Her state’s a tiny piece of shit, Bob. She doesn’t need any more money!”
“Bite me, Greg. I have a ton of upcoming meetings stateside, and unlike you, I don’t need boondoggles to Asia every two months. That’s what conference calls are for! Plus, I’ve had to replace staff—key staff. Keeping them costs real money!”
“You’re unprofessional and you don’t need any more fucking money.”
Ahh. I realized then that this was about last Quarterlies when I’d accidentally stepped on his foot. “Half the people here need increases. Weren’t you listening to Finn’s presentation? He’s practically drowning in Maine. And I feel so bad for Fisher I’m about to write him a personal check!”
“Enough,” Bob barked, his glasses riding up on his forehead as he rubbed his eyes. “North Carolina’s budget was poorly negotiated last year, and when Susan took over in March, she had to run the district and play service rep until she could hire a replacement.”
“Let me get my violin out,” Greg muttered under his breath.
“She gets the two million increase she’s requested. Foster, I’ll grant you an additional three-hundred-thousand for overseas travel and a partial technology upgrade, but otherwise, your current budget number stands. Now onto Finn…”
Greg flopped back in his chair, fuming like a spoiled child, and I rolled my eyes at Jeremy, who was too mesmerized by his massive pile of big district gold to even notice our little Shakespearean play.
When the meeting broke, everyone spilled from the stuffy conference room, laughing and teasing one another as if the earlier dogfights had never happened. Everyone except Greg, that is. Without warning, he walked right into my personal space and growled, “This isn’t over.”
I glanced back at the now empty room and laughed. “Um, yeah it is.”
“You didn’t deserve Ohio, and you don’t deserve a budget increase. In fact, you don’t even deserve to be a district manager.” And that’s when I realized he was sleeping with Kirsten.
Suddenly seething, I snapped, “What’s your problem?”
“Whoa, children, playtime’s over.” Jeremy draped his arm over my shoulders in clear demonstration of solidarity. “Did someone just take my district’s name in vain?”
“Not your fight, Briggs,” Greg said. He shot one last dagger at me and stormed down the hall.
“That dude’s got anger management issues,” I said, smiling up at Jeremy.
“Yeah. Whines about his budget every year.”
Thinking back, I did vaguely recall Greg making a fuss last year, but, like Jeremy, I’d gotten to dip my ladle in the large districts’ pot of gold, and I’d paid attention to little else after that.
Jeremy dropped his arm and said, “Do you want to grab a drink?”
“Blue Papaya?”
“Where else?” he replied.
“I need to drop my stuff off at the hotel first. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“I’ll have your cosmo waiting.”
“You so rock!”
I hit the restroom, and then barely waited ten seconds before the elevator doors popped open. So pleased that we’d have cash to spare, I entered it, humming “Money for Nothing” by Dire Straits. Floating on my personal cloud of happy, I barely registered the other three people in the little metal box.
“Hi, Susan!”
“Denise, how are you?” I gave her a quick hug. “Tell me you aren’t still working for Lord Voldemort.”
The other two women snickered.
“Believe it or not, he won’t let me leave.”
“Well, you are very attractive.”
“Thanks, but that’s not why. Since he’s taken to dating women half his age, he doesn’t even hit on me anymore. It’s actually a pleasant environment now.”
“If I’d had the money, and you’d had any interest in moving to North Carolina, I would have stolen you in a second.”
“I heard you hired Ballbreaker.”
I snorted. “Jayne’s a sweetheart.”
“Uh huh.”
“What do you mean?”
Denise glanced at the other women, who’d stopped their conversation to listen. She smiled and shook her head. Rather than getting off on ground level with the others, I let the doors close.
“Okay, seriously. What do you know?”
“She doesn’t stay in one place very long.”
“I noticed that from her file, but everyone she’s worked for has been major league.”
The elevator dinged, and its doors opened onto garage level three. Denise patted my shoulder as she stepped out. “Just keep an eye on that one. She’s seen it all, and she’s done it all. It was great running into you.”
“Same. Take care.”
The doors closed again, and the elevator ascended back up to G. I was troubled, but I couldn’t think of a single instance when Jayne hadn’t gone above and beyond to make me happy. She’d worked miracles with what pittance remained of our budget, and thanks to this afternoon’s winnings, this year would be a cakewalk for her. I inhaled with satisfaction.
The doors opened with a resounding ding. A tall, well-dressed man stood just outside them, cursing into his phone. He turned to the sound, and our eyes met. His face screwed up murderously, and I quickly jabbed
the close door button. The panels stopped within inches of one another. I looked down to find a shiny black shoe wedged between them. Two sets of fingers gripped the doors, forcing them open wide enough for him to slide inside. He then neatly pressed garage level one, raised an eyebrow, and then leaned back against the wall, eclipsing the emergency call button.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said, slipping on expensive leather gloves with deliberation. His cologne filled the space, swirling around my head like dancing wisps of incense. “What am I going to do with you, Susan?”
“I have people waiting for me.”
“Well, I guess they’ll have to wait a little longer. Shall we take a ride?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, “We have nothing to say that can’t be said here.”
I’m going to admit right now, that I was more than a little afraid. I had no idea what this man’s intentions might be, or for that matter, what he was honestly capable of. Regardless, he was significantly larger than me, meaner than me, and had me trapped in an elevator after hours. Adrenaline streaked through my veins like lightning, my breathing suddenly loud to my own ears.
“Nervous?” he asked with a smirk. “You should be. I don’t enjoy looking foolish in front of anyone. Ever.”
The doors opened, and I lunged for the nearly empty garage. My heels cracked like gunfire on the cement as I ran, their sound bouncing loudly off the cavernous walls in mocking echo. I only made it past a few cars before he caught up with me. My torso was slammed hard enough against the cold and unforgiving metal hull of some foreign sports car to knock the wind right out of me. I unsuccessfully gasped for air as he flipped me on my back. With a cruel smile, he raised a balled fist, and I instinctively crossed my arms over my face.
“Get the fuck away from my car!” an angry voice shouted just before Gregory’s head snapped sideways, and he dropped to the cement.
The man then looked at me, an incredibly surprised expression exploding across his features. “Susan, what the fuck?”
My mouth worked for a moment before the following words popped out: I’ve honestly never been happier to see you in my entire life.
His lips unfurled into a lascivious grin. “Exactly how happy are you?”
I threw my arms around Ryan’s neck and let out a strangled sob. “Just hold me for a minute, you letch.”
Laughing, he wrapped his arms around me, and then said, “Shit, you’re shivering.” He quickly opened his buttery cashmere coat, and without hesitation, I snuggled against a body I knew too well.
After a long moment of rocking me, he said, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
I glanced at Greg’s unconscious form, and then met his eyes. “Could you just get me the hell out of here?”
A dark chuckle rumbled through this chest. “Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”
♥
City lights flew by in great electric streaks, and I pondered whether or not I had just jumped from the frying pan into an all-consuming fire. But completely out of character, Ryan drove me directly to my hotel without argument. He tossed his keys to a now fully-erect valet, and then stopped, ran a finger across a spot near the engine, and frowned.
“Let’s get you warm,” he said suddenly, wrapping his arm around me and steering me into the impressive foyer. After a quick stop at the bar, he escorted me to my room, ordered dinner from room service, and sat on the desk across from me, one leg dangling, staring deeply into my eyes without a trace of sexual intent. “Alright, baby, start from the beginning.”
I poured a generous portion of pinot noir into his glass, and then put the bottle to my lips. Enjoying the liquid warmth spreading through my limbs, I fell back into the stiffly upholstered chair and told him the extended, uncut version.
Ryan patiently listened, and when I’d finished, he lifted my chin with his finger, wiped away an errant tear, and smiled down at me like the predator he was. “That bastard will be gone before next Quarterlies.”
“You really mean it?” I sniffled.
“I abosofuckinglutely do.” He cocked a perfectly arrogant brow. “Nobody gets away with scratching my car.”
I actually giggled, and his expression changed. “That’s a nice sound. I haven’t heard you laugh in a long time.”
A knock at the door announced dinner. As food was quietly placed in front of me, Ryan slipped on his coat and fitted his hands into gloves looking all too similar to Greg’s. He then dismissed the server with a surprisingly large tip and turned back to me.
His eyes unwavering, he said, “I’ve never loved anyone. But you’ve come closest.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead softly. “Eat up, baby. Daddy’s got work to do.”
With a glint in his eye, he smiled sinisterly and disappeared into the night.
12
Mao Tse-tung of Fashion
The crow’s feet I’d spent a lifetime forming had completely vanished over the last year. Unfortunately, in the last month, they’d made a startling comeback and were deepening by the day. Fifteen too many things demanded my attention—these on top of the normal pre-Quarterlies frenzy. In all honesty, had the building been more than one story high, I would have seriously considered plummeting to my death.
“Wedding,” Jayne said, tossing me the packet as I stormed past her desk. I quickly scanned the messages, tossed most in the trashcan, called Belva Sue back immediately, and then promised myself I’d deal with the rest later. My fingers flying across the keyboard as I shot off yet another scathing email, I munched on a handful of Tums, waiting for her to pick up.
“Is everything alright with the order?” I asked, nibbling on the remainder of my thumbnail.
March fifteenth was closing in on me like a team of Navy Seals, and I was utterly frantic. This would be the first birthday party I’d ever tried to plan, and to surprise Pete would be a magician’s feat. In the past, this duty had fallen on the shoulders of any number of his relatives, but now, as his future wife, the torch had been reluctantly passed to me. And over my dead body was he getting some sad-assed Betty Crocker gone wrong disaster-cake like last year, though Piper Skarren, now settled into her marketing job at Aylward Enterprises in New Bern, had graciously offered. And, of course, I wasn’t baking it, because it would, well…suck.
“Sugar, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take good care of yew.” The most gifted pastry chef in all of Eastern North Carolina, the woman would do absolutely anything for Pete. “I just wanted to double check on the icing color.”
“Blue,” I said.
“Donna Hicks on line two,” Jayne interrupted through the intercom I refused to use.
“Carolina blue?” Belva Sue asked.
“No! Just a nice light blue.”
“I know just the one,” she said.
Thanking her profusely, I hung up and then yelled, “What the hell does Donna want?”
“Help.”
“Transfer her to Reeves’ office. And please gently remind her that I am no longer her service rep.”
“Will do.”
Not two minutes later, Jayne’s somewhat bland voice floated through the intercom again. “Gene Daniel on one.”
I let out a curse. “Reeves is his boss. Or ask Patty to deal with him. I don’t have time for his shit.”
“You got it.”
I then yelled, “Jayne, don’t patch any more calls through to me unless they’re outright friggin’ the-district-is-on-fire emergencies, okay? I’ve got to think.” I felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on. I riffled through my drawer for Advil and then marched to the break room, snatching the last Fresca from the fridge. Sometimes this gloriously glamorous job flat out sucked.
Between reviewing my underlings’ presentations, double-checking my own data, running the whole damn district, coordinating Pete’s surprise party, and dealing with a boatload of wedding shit, I was nearly in tears by Sunday.
“I’m sorry, Pete, but I’ve got to go to work. I’m drowning.”<
br />
He held me to his chest and whispered soothing, supportive, and completely useless things into my ear. “I wish I could help ya, but I don’t know how.”
“Go fishing with Jimbo. At least one of us will have a good day.” I kissed him goodbye and screeched my tires as I whipped onto Hwy 58. “I do love you,” I then told my car, realizing at once that I was nearing the brink of insanity.
♥
My lips still sizzling from Pete’s molten kiss, I fled for Raleigh, hoping my flight to Philly had been delayed. Past New Bern, the road became one long, flat stretch of blessed nothingness. As traffic was fairly nonexistent, I pressed the accelerator to the floor, heading for the sound barrier. When I saw blue lights in my rearview mirror, I glanced at my speedometer and sagged.
“Ma’am, do you realize you were driving ninety-seven miles per hour in a fifty-five zone?” The officer raised his eyebrows over his mirrored shades and looked pointedly at me. I inhaled deeply and let loose my Southern accent.
“But Mr. Officer, I’ve got a plane to catch in Raleigh, and I’m runnin’ awfully late. I live over in Atlantic Beach, and yew never know about traffic.” I batted my eyelashes and smiled prettily. “Do you think you could look the other way…just this one little time?”
“Killin’ yourself or someone else isn’t gonna get ya there any faster.”
No lie, for the first time in my life, I actually teared up in front of a cop. Pride forever at my helm, I’d never used that trick before, and in all honesty, I wasn’t planning on using it now, but the whirling dervish that was my current life coupled with yet another insurance hike thanks to this outrageous, albeit deserved, ticket had literally just pushed me over the edge.
Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3) Page 11