by Sierra Hill
Maybe it’s some type of test for him to find out what kind of girl I am? Someone that jumps into bed with the boss to see how far up the corporate ladder she can go?
I don’t want to reject his offer because, well, he’s my boss. It’s a really thoughtful offer. It’s not like I have anything else better to do tonight except watch Netflix and maybe heat up a frozen dinner or toss a salad for one.
It’s not a good idea, I remind myself. Going hiking with him and Boss is one thing but spending alone time with him in his apartment seems like a really good way to get involved in something that might be inappropriate. And it could jeopardize my internship. The chemistry between us has been electric since the first moment we met, and I don’t want to light the match to an already smoldering spark knowing it’s a losing proposition. And I’d be the loser in this situation.
I scuff at the dirt in front of me with my shoe, considering a polite way to decline. “Brody, I appreciate the invitation, but I think I should pass. I’m sorry.”
Brody grabs my hand that dangles by my side and squeezes it reassuringly.
“Don’t feel sorry, Peyton. You’re being smart and I like that about you. Please don’t give it a second thought. Come on, Boss. Let’s get going and let Peyton go home and take care of her leg.”
Boss gives the back of my hand a swipe of his tongue and I smile at them both as they begin to back away from my car. I climb in and roll down the window, letting the fresh air circulate in the hot staleness of the car. I shove the key in the ignition and start the car engine, backing up and out of the parking spot, carefully scanning behind me to ensure they are no longer there. They’re now positioned on the side of the car and before I drive off, I stop, wanting to say one last goodbye.
“Have a good rest of the weekend, Brody.”
“You too, Peyton. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Thanks again for saving me.”
As I drive off, I stick my arm through the open window and wave, looking at the two of them in my rearview mirror and wonder whether refusing Brody’s invitation was either the worst decision ever or the best.
Brody makes me a jumbled-up heap of a mess. From our first meeting, and that kiss, to the way he held me so carefully in his arms on the way down the trail, the only thing I am absolutely certain of is that Brody Jensen is not only handsome, but a very kind man.
He’s as far from the type of man my mother warned me about as he can get. Brody is not a ruthless businessman or slick suit who only wants to get in my pants and use me for sex.
No, Brody is kind and considerate, a great kisser, and a chivalrous gentleman.
Those qualities are far more dangerous to me than any suit-wearing monster my mother scared me away from.
Traits I’ll need to keep my guard up around in the weeks ahead.
Chapter 12
Brody
I wasn’t ready to see Peyton again this morning but didn’t have much of a choice since she was scheduled to participate with Dante in our operational meeting at nine a.m.
Even after I watched her drive away on Saturday, Peyton was all I could think about the rest of the weekend. In fact, because I spent so much time in the shower jerking off at the memory of our kiss and the way she felt in my arms during the long journey to the bottom of the trail, I was ten minutes late to arrive at brunch on Sunday with my dad and his wife, Gia.
My father, of course, chose to admonish me for this as he believes it is poor manners to show up late for anything. Therefore, he gave me a good old-fashioned scolding like I was still a five-year-old child.
Part of me wanted to act like a child and point out that his twenty-eight-year old wife was being impolite by spending the majority of her time on her phone during brunch, but I kept my cool and let it slide for the sake of avoiding a public argument.
The relationship with my father and me is a tenuous one at that. While he gave me all the tools I needed to make it in business, including the entire goddamn company, and taught me how to differ in some pretty significant areas when it comes to business leadership.
Such as the leadership qualities of honesty and integrity.
Before my mother divorced him, it was a well-known that my father had numerous extra marital affairs during their twenty-plus-year marriage. It’s quite possible my dad was screwing around with women in the office even as far back to when I was born. He had a wandering eye to be sure, and never let his marriage vows get in the way of satisfying his needs.
Not only were there infidelities, but his business scruples were called into question on more than one occasion. There had been a time in the mid-2000’s when he hired illegals and paid them under the table at a less-than-fair-and-below-minimum wage rate, all to avoid paying employment taxes. It was during my graduate work, as he was grooming me to take over the business, when I uncovered the cooked books and called him out on it.
As per usual, my dad had a way of talking his way out of it, even though I possessed the hard, substantial evidence to make my position clear. He would stop immediately and change his strategy on employing illegals, or I would expose his unethical business practices.
Sitting across from him now, I wonder how he ever lived with himself with all the lies he told and his dishonesty with so many people, including my own mother.
I’m just thankful my mother finally put him in his place and took him to court for half of everything he had. Including his retirement home in Phoenix where she now lives loving her happily single life.
“Tell me what’s new with you, son,” my dad asks with a measure of formality, as if he’s simply asking so he can in turn tell me about his wonderful life. I’m pretty sure my dad is also a narcissist on top of everything else. “Are you dating anyone?”
My response to this question, which he asks every time he sees me because he never understands why I like my alone time, is snark and rude, possibly from sexual frustration over Peyton.
“See, that’s where you and I differ, Dad. Where I spend the majority of my time in the office working to ensure the sustainability of the company, you somehow found loads of free time for the extra-curricular affairs, fucking every woman that caught your eye. I’m still amazed at how you managed to do it all.”
My father has the gall to look affronted, his graying eyebrows shooting skyward. “Brody Gerald Jensen, that is uncalled for and disrespectful. Where in the world did that come from? What makes you so angry at me after all these years? After all I’ve given you and asked so little in return.”
I scoff and pick up my Belgium beer, taking a hefty swig to squelch the brewing temper in my belly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gia reach for her purse, obviously not wanting to be in the middle of this and announce she needs to use the ladies’ room.
My father’s gaze travels to her ass as he watches her swish-and-sway toward the restrooms before his eyes snaps back to me.
“How dare you say something like that in front of my wife? She’s jealous enough as it is; I don’t need her getting suspicious and questioning my every move.”
“Well, gee whiz, Dad. Maybe she wouldn’t question your every move if she didn’t have any reasonable suspicion. Are you fucking around on her now, too? Six-months married to a woman half your age and you’re already sleeping around on her?”
I have nothing to back-up my outrageous presumptions, but it’s a good guess he’s already had an affair outside this marriage. It’s his MO and the pattern is becoming fairly predictable after four marriages.
“That’s none of your business, son. And I don’t know where you get off talking to me like this. Whether I am or not has no consequence to my relationship with you. You’re my son and my successor and I care about how you’re doing. I’m interested in what you have lined up for the spring collection next year.”
I run my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip and sigh. The man sure has a way of turning conversations around and redirecting when he’s in the hot seat. His own form of gaslighting, I guess.
I flatten my palm over the napkin in my lap, running it over the material a few times as I collect my thoughts. “It’s good. Everything is good. We got a new shipment of fabric in from one of the manufacturers in India and in fact, our new intern presented a suggestion on a new line of men’s trousers. I put her to work with Dante to see what they could come up with.”
My dad lifts his eyes over his Bloody Mary glass. “You stuck a brand-new intern with Dante? He’ll eat them alive.”
I do chuckle at that, because it’s true. Dante is an internationally acclaimed men’s clothing designer, who has the ego the size of his home continent of South America. Rarely does he want to work with anyone new, much less an intern as green as grass, who has no experience to speak of. But when someone mentioned Peyton’s idea for the new line and the use of the exclusive fabric, he practically creamed his pants clamoring to meet with Peyton.
That’s why I have her joining us this morning in the staff meeting, to have her present to the group the draft proposal and cost specs for the project.
And I honestly don’t think I’m prepared to have her in my presence again so soon. Because she was the only thing on my mind all weekend and none of my feelings lessened as of today. I want to feel her body in my arms again. To be near her. Inhale her intoxicating fragrant scent. Stare at her brilliant-blue eyes and the curve of her mouth when she smiles. Spread her legs wide open and slide my cock inside her creamy thighs.
“Brody?”
I lift my head, bewildered and momentarily confused by my whereabouts. In my head, I was sinking inside my pretty little intern.
Holy shit, I have to stop this now. It’s one thing to fantasize at home in my bed, alone, with my cock in hand. But here in the office where I’m the center of my own fucking meeting? Not cool. And now I’m sporting goddamn wood in my tailored gray trousers.
“Yeah, good morning, Eileen. How are you?”
Eileen Chen is a petite little thing with long black hair and strands of silver bursting through in various patterns. In fact, her hair resembles some of our clothing patterns. She’s the head of our pattern making department and also hell on wheels when she’s under a deadline. Which is a good thing since we just placed the motherload of deadlines on her schedule.
She waves a small hand in my direction. “I’m fine. Everything is good, although I spent several hours this weekend creating these new patterns based on Dante and the intern’s designs. I really like how they look. And wanted to get your opinion before we start the meeting.”
Nodding, I shift my laptop out of the way to make room on the table as she plops down her sketch and design pad, along with a mock-up of a pattern, the thin, crinkly paper material taking over the area spanning three seats.
“There’s good angles and lines that we can tailor in, using the natural flow of the wool silk. I’m thinking several different cuts in the chest and shoulders,” she explains, using a sweeping motion of her hand across the example. “We can incorporate a very tailored seam, tight in the legs and butt areas, and one that’s loose for the dad-bods in the mid-section.”
I chuckle at her inappropriateness but admonish her teasingly. “Eileen.”
She just shrugs a shoulder and gives a harrumph. “What? Our suits aren’t just worn by the runway models or fit athletes and businessman like yourself, Brody.”
My ego inflates at the compliment and I straighten my posture in response.
“Okay, this looks great. Let’s get everyone’s buy-in and start on some samples.”
Eileen picks up her work product and heads down to the other end of the table as the rest of the team take their seats. My eyes immediately find Peyton, who is nervously fidgeting with a strand of her soft, bouncy hair and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. I instinctively inhale a breath, as if trying to catch a whiff from across the room.
“Good morning, everyone. I hope everyone had a good weekend and did something fun outdoors.” I cut another look over to Peyton, our eyes locking in secret acknowledgment of the time we shared on Saturday.
A sharp ache suddenly invades my bones, wiggling its way down to the pit of my stomach and then stabs me in the groin so hard I nearly jolt from the shock. I swallow, reaching for my coffee, which I drink slowly to regain my composure.
I clear my throat and start again. “Alright everyone, I’m going to get right down to things because we are under a deadline. I have an announcement to make. I want to inform you of a change in plans for our spring fashion line.”
This gains everyone’s attention, and all eyes turn toward me, leaving unsent texts and emails sitting on laptops and phones.
I stand from my seat at the head of the table, and pace back and forth in front of the overhead projector screen. I’m making this decision on a whim, a very unusual occurrence for me. And I’m probably going to regret this, and it will come back to bite me in the ass, but I’ve also made a decision about the New York conference, too. The one Adam and Camilla can no longer attend.
“Many of you know that Adam and Camilla were scheduled to present our new spring line at the fashion symposium and show in New York next week.”
There’s a collective nod from the group, as I once again catch the cerulean blues of Peyton, who stares at me under the turquoise frames sitting at her nose. Everything is bright with Peyton. She stands out from the unique shade of her eyes, the trendy eyewear and clothes she wears and the bright red lipstick that I’ve come to expect on her.
“Unfortunately, they won’t be able to attend this time, and I’ll be going in their place. And I’ve made the decision, based on the concepts and mock-up of Dante’s new designs, we’re going to have it ready to present at the show.”
Loud gasps followed by a hushed silence follow my announcement as everyone in the room begins to calculate the amount of time they have on their respective parts of the collective whole. This is no small feat. It normally takes up to six months to have a new design and line ready for public showcasing. We are, after all, a boutique line of men’s fashion wear and that means we make quality products that require months of product testing and market research. Our manufacturing process isn’t set for mass production. We take our time going to market with new clothing lines.
And I’ve just turned that entire philosophy on its head and overturned the applecart. There’s quiet chatter and whispers, until Lilly Matson jumps in. She’s from our sampling department.
“Excuse me, but Brody, that means we’ll likely need hundreds of samples ready for distribution by then. That’s going to require” —she taps a few keys into her phone— “A shit-ton of man hours on the production lines and overtime.” Her head snaps to both Jessica from HR and Adam in operations, who is currently slack jawed at my announcement. He had no idea it was coming.
Jessica jumps in, positivity in her abilities radiating in everything she does. “We can get you all the additional people you need if you authorize the budget to hire.”
I give her the thumbs up. “Do it. Any objections, Adam? What about your manufacturing lines?”
Since it’s his department that will need to actually make the sample wears, it’s his authority that can make it or break it right now. He checks what I assume is his calendar and then lifts his head back to me.
“I think it’s doable. We’ll need the authorization of OT, and I’ll just need to talk to merchandising about changes in schedules of the other lines.”
“And Dow, since you’ll need to get ahead of our marketing, you have my blessing on increasing costs this quarter on this additional and unbudgeted expenditure.”
“You got it, Brody. All over it.”
I sit back down, pleased with the dedication and can-do attitudes of my team. With the exception of Adam, I brought in all new players when I took over the business and got rid of all the old ‘yes men’ that my dad had on his payroll for decades. It was a clean break and one I’m glad has paid off.
I jot down a few other topics and To Do’s
to make sure I remember to get them done before I drop my next bombshell of an announcement.
“Alright, and the last thing before I have Dante and Peyton step up to walk us through the new product, is I’ve decided to reward our rising star intern, Peyton Burke, with a trip to New York to attend this show with me. Any questions?”
My gaze swings over to Peyton who was furiously scribbling notes on a pad about her task list. She seriously looks riddled with enough anxiety and adrenaline that she just might flee the room. But that’s when I see it in her eyes.
They turn a stormy-blue, swirling with just the right amount of trepidation and belief. A desire to step up and take this opportunity and run with it. To put all her chips on the table and win the entire pot.
And I’ll be doing the very same thing. I’m betting on her abilities and willing to risk it all for this girl in order to give her a chance.
The problem is, I don’t know if that chance is more for her career, or for me personally.
But it’s done now. There’s no backing out.
Peyton will be accompanying me on my business trip to New York City.
And I damn well better find a way to keep my libido in check and keep this strictly professional with her.
Chapter 13
Peyton
Holy moly guacamole.
How is this my life? I’m just a lowly, newbie intern who has no street cred or experience, and here I am ready to embark on a trip across the country to one of the largest men’s fashion design conferences and trade shows in the U.S.
And I’m leaving today. One a plane. With my sexy, off-limits boss. The boss whose kiss I can still feel tingle over my lips when I touch them with my fingertips. And the one whose strong arms carried me like a knight in shining armor down a mountainside.