by Bay, Louise
“Hand me your iPad. I want to see this hot boss of yours again.”
I groaned. “Don’t.” I reached for the tablet on the table beside the couch and handed it over despite myself.
“Max King, right?”
I didn’t respond.
“He really is ridiculously good looking.” Grace swiped and flicked at the screen. I deliberately didn’t look. He didn’t deserve my attention.
“Put it away. It’s enough that I have to deal with him Monday through Friday. Let me enjoy my weekend without having to look at his arrogant face.” I glanced at the Forbes cover image Grace had brought up. Crossed arms, stern expression, full pouty lips.
Asshole.
A crash above me caught my attention and I looked up at my ceiling. The pretty glass light swayed from side to side. “Was that a bomb that just went off?” I asked.
“Sounds like your upstairs neighbor just dropped an anvil on the roadrunner.”
I placed my finger over my lips and listened intently. Grace’s eyes grew wide as what had started as incoherent mumbling morphed into the unmistakable sound of a woman having sex.
Panting. Moaning. Begging.
Then another crash. What the fuck was going on up there? Were there more than two people involved?
Skin slapped against skin followed by the sound of a woman crying out. Heat crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks. Someone was having much more fun on a Saturday afternoon than we were.
An unmistakably male voice shouted “fuck” and the woman’s cries tumbled out fast and desperate. The knock of a headboard against drywall thudded louder and louder. The woman’s breathless moaning almost sounded panicked. My chandelier started to sway more furiously, and I swear the vibrations from whatever furniture was knocking against whatever wall travelled down from the ceiling and straight to my groin. I squeezed my thighs together just as the man yelled out to God and she gave a final, sharp scream that echoed through my box-filled apartment.
In the silence that followed, my heart thudded through my sweater. I was half exhilarated by what I’d heard; half embarrassed I’d consciously eavesdropped on something so personal.
Someone less than three yards away from me had just come for America.
“That might be a guy I have to get to know,” Grace said when it was clear the sexcapades had stopped. “He certainly sounded like he knew what he was doing.”
“They seemed very . . . compatible.” Had I ever sounded that desperate during sex, that hungry for my orgasm? I knew the sounds of a woman who exaggerated in the bedroom. The woman upstairs hadn’t been faking. Like jumping at the scary bits of a horror movie, the sounds from her had been involuntary.
“They sound like they have excellent sex. Maybe you should knock on their door and suggest a threesome.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, along with a cup of sugar.”
Footsteps clipped along the ceiling. “She kept her heels on,” Grace said. “Nice.”
The tapping wandered across my ceiling toward my blanket box. The upstairs front door creaked, then slammed. The sound of footsteps disappeared.
“Well, she got what she wanted and split. You’re not going to need a TV in this place. You can just tune into the soap opera that is your neighbor.”
“You think she was a prostitute?” I asked. A woman leaving less than five minutes after an orgasm like that wasn’t normal. Surely she’d stick around for oxygen or round two? Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d have made it to a vertical position, let alone in heels, within an hour of what she’d experienced.
“A prostitute? She’s a lucky one if she is.” Grace giggled. “But I don’t think so. A guy who can make a woman sound like that doesn’t need to pay for it.” She leaned forward and placed her empty glass on one of the dozens of boxes littered about the apartment. “Right, I’m going to get home to my vibrator.”
“That’s really way too much information.”
“But keep me posted on your neighbors. And if you run into them, try to get a picture.”
“Yes, because if you’re going to masturbate over my neighbors, it would go better with pictures.” I nodded sarcastically. “You’re a pervert. You know that, right?”
Grace shrugged and stood. “It was better than porn.”
She was right. I just hoped it wasn’t a regular show I was going to get. If nothing else, I felt plenty inadequate at work. I didn’t need to have the same feeling at home.
Chapter Two
Max
Harper Jayne was really pissing me off.
She’d irritated me from the moment she’d started work almost two months ago. Up until now I’d managed to keep my distance.
She was smart. That wasn’t a problem.
And she got on with her co-workers well enough. I couldn’t complain.
She didn’t seem to mind helping Donna with the photocopier. There were no delusions of grandeur for me to moan about.
She was eager to learn. That had been one of the first things that grated on me. She was too eager. The way she looked at me with those big brown eyes as if she’d be willing to do just about anything I suggested was maddening. Every time I glanced at her, even if it was a glimpse of her in the kitchen as I came into the office, I imagined her sliding to her knees in my office, opening her red, wet mouth, and begging for my cock.
And that was a problem.
I always had a strict divide between my business life and my personal life, and there’d never been any exception. I was the boss, with a reputation to protect. I didn’t want my personal life to ever be more interesting than my business life.
I tapped my pen against my desk. I needed to figure this out. Either fire her or forget about her. But I needed to do something.
I found myself spending more and more time in my office with the door closed in an attempt to create some distance between Harper and me. Ordinarily, I’d spend time out on the floor with people, checking in on how things were going. But the open-plan area felt like contaminated land. When I had to interact with her, I addressed her as Ms. Jayne as a way of keeping her at arm’s length. It wasn’t working. I pushed my hands into my hair. I needed a plan. I couldn’t have some junior researcher changing the way I did business, because the way I did business had meant King & Associates was the best at what they did, and the whole of Wall Street knew it.
Distractions were the last thing I needed right now. My focus was split enough as it was. Living with Amanda full time was more challenging than I’d expected and it meant a lot more time out of the office as I spent more time in Connecticut. I was also trying to land a new account with an investment bank King & Associates hadn’t worked for before, and I had a key meeting with an insider coming up.
“Come in,” I called to the knock at the door, hoping it wasn’t Harper with her revised report.
“Good morning, Max,” Donna said as she entered my office, closing the door behind her.
“Thanks.” I took the tall cup of coffee she offered to me, trying to read her face. “How are you?”
“I’m good. We have a lot to get through.” We had a daily lunchtime briefing.
I reached for my collar. “Is it me, or is it hotter in here than normal?”
Donna shook her head. “No, and I’m not turning up the A/C, either. It’s ridiculously cold in here.”
I sighed. It wasn’t worth arguing with Donna about. Most things weren’t. That was what I’d learned from the women in my life—pick your battles.
“So,” Donna said as she slipped into the seat in front of my desk. The same chair Harper had sat in on Friday. Harper had sat with her legs crossed and her arms fixed to the arms of the chair, almost as if she were bracing herself for a bumpy landing. But it had given me a perfect view of her high tight breasts and her long brown hair sitting gently on her shoulders.
“What’s going on?” Donna asked.
“Huh?” I asked, glancing up to look at her.
“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”<
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I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. I needed to focus. “I’m fine. I just have a million things going on in my head. It’s going to be a busy week.”
“Okay then, let’s get started. You have a lunch tomorrow with Wilson at D&G Consulting. It’s fixed for twelve at Tribeca Grill.”
“I suppose we can’t cancel?” Wilson was a competitor and such an egomaniac that canceling would be a problem. And because he couldn’t help but be a braggart, I usually got some useful information from our lunches.
“Yes, it’s too late. You’ve canceled the last three times.”
“And we can’t go to Joey’s?”
Donna just raised her eyebrows. I sighed as I reminded myself this was another battle not worth fighting.
“And Harper wanted some time this afternoon as she’s revised her report.”
I started to click at my calendar. I’d seen Harper on Friday. I needed to be seeing less of her not more.
“What are you doing? I have your calendar right here.” She pointed to her tablet. “You have time this afternoon at four.”
“I don’t think we need a meeting. She should just leave what she’s done with you, and I’ll look at it when I can.” I stared down at my notepad, writing down Lunch with Wilson for no particular reason.
“You usually like a follow-up meeting.”
“I’m busy and haven’t got time to go through work that’s probably not good enough.” That was unfair. Harper’s work hadn’t been bad. It had some mistakes in it, but nothing I wouldn’t expect of someone who’d never worked with me before—the quality I was used to from new junior researchers was far sloppier and I was demanding, I knew that. She hadn’t managed to get hold of Donny, but he was a hierarchical son of a bitch. Asking her to speak to him was asking an almost impossible task.
Turns out she was good at her job—she’d even had some really creative insights—so it didn’t look as though she was going to give me a reason to fire her any time soon.
That could be a problem.
“Was the report really that bad?” Donna asked.
“No, but I don’t need her sitting there watching me read it through, either.” I’d found it utterly distracting on Friday, having her just a couple of yards away. I could barely concentrate because I’d been trying to place her scent—a kind of musky, sexy smell. The way her hands had gripped and then loosened around the arms of the chair—I found myself getting hard at the thought of those hands sliding down my chest and around my cock.
Fuck, she was a problem.
“Especially if you’re going to make me have lunch with Wilson,” I added when I glanced at Donna and she was looking at me with narrowed eyes. I didn’t want her asking any more questions about Harper, even if it was about the quality of her work.
She took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to speak out of turn—”
“Then don’t,” I snapped. What was she going to say? Could she tell I was treating Harper differently? That I was attracted to her?
Attracted. Shit. I needed to back up. She was just a pretty face with fantastic tits and a great ass. I knew plenty of women like that. My phone had plenty of women like that on speed dial who would come over and help me get Harper out of my system tonight if I thought it would help. She was nothing special.
“You’re being pretty harsh with her, and I don’t think it’s about her performance in the office.”
Pins and needles crackled through me as if my hand had been caught in the cookie jar. I froze, not wanting to react in a way that would confirm any suspicion she had.
“Has this got anything to do with Amanda?” she asked, her head cocked to one side.
My shoulders sagged. She’d not read anything into my interactions with Harper after all.
“It must be an adjustment for both of you. How long since Pandora left?” she asked.
“About six weeks. Yes, it’s an adjustment.” I raised my eyebrows. Amanda’s mother, Pandora, and her husband, Jason, had flown to Zurich because Jason had a new job. “I’ve always been so involved in her life; I didn’t realize how much would change.” I’d always shared custody of my fourteen-year-old daughter, but for me that had meant weekends and holidays. I was quickly realizing that for the past fourteen years, I’d gotten the easy bit, the fun times with Amanda. I hadn’t had to concern myself with homework, hair dye, or makeup.
“We’re getting used to each other. And the commute is a challenge.”
I was used to staying in Connecticut for the weekends only, but Pandora and I’d agreed Amanda should stay in her current school. So now I was in Manhattan just two nights a week, when Amanda stayed with her grandparents. I worked on the train and after Amanda went to bed, but it wasn’t what I was used to.
Neither was the attitude I was getting from my daughter. “She wants to dye her hair. I’ve said no a million times, but she won’t drop it.” I sighed. I wasn’t used to having to repeat myself. “I swear I’m going to get home one day to find she’s done it anyway.”
Donna laughed. “Teenage girls are a challenge. I’m happy I’m still a few years away from that. I mean, I know what used to go through my head at fourteen. It’s not pretty.”
I had no idea what went on in Amanda’s head most of the time. “I’m not sure I want to know,” I replied, scrubbing my hands over my face.
Donna grinned. “Believe me, you’re better off in the dark. Try to say yes sometimes, that way everything isn’t a fight. What does Pandora say?”
“That she’d cut my balls off if I let her dye her hair.”
“Well at least you’re on the same page.”
Pandora and I agreed about most things when it came to our daughter. Because we’d both been so young when Pandora had gotten pregnant, we’d started with a fresh slate. There was no baggage between us. No ill feelings. We’d both just done the best we could. We’d briefly flirted with the idea of trying to make things work between us, but neither of us tried that hard. It’d been a pre-college fling and nothing more.
I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a conscious decision, but from the moment Amanda was born, I knew my life was all about my daughter. Yes, my business was important, but it was needing to support Amanda, wanting her to have every advantage, that had driven me. I was determined that even though Pandora and I had made a mistake in getting pregnant, having a daughter never would be. She was the only important thing in my life and the reason there’d never been room for anyone else.
Support from our parents meant we’d both finished college. Pandora had met Jason in her sophomore year and they’d married shortly after graduation. I’d been an usher and Amanda had sat on my lap during the ceremony. It was a weird setup but it worked all these years. But looking back, Pandora had shouldered the day-to-day of bringing Amanda up. Now her baton had been passed to me.
“Yeah. It’s more of a change than I expected, though. Before if she’d asked to dye her hair I’d have either told her to ask her mother, or said no and dropped her off at home, leaving Pandora with the fallout. Now it’s all on me.”
“Remember, Amanda’s probably missing her mother, too.”
“It was her idea for them to go without her. Jason was ready to turn down the job in Zurich.”
“I know, but she’s at the age when sometimes she can see an adult’s point of view, and yet sometimes still be a kid.”
I nodded and my heart tugged in that way only Amanda could elicit. She was only fourteen. Christ, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that time. Everything was just so awkward. “They Skype all the time. I think I have more to do with Pandora now than I ever did before. We literally Skyped all through dinner last night.” I laughed. “It was nice actually. I think Pandora’s worried she hasn’t done the right thing leaving her with me.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You just need to get used to each other.”
I nodded. “Yes, I hope if she—” My FaceTime chimed. “Here she is now.” I picked up my phone. “
Hey, Donna’s here, say hi.”
“Hey, Donna,” my daughter replied.
“Hi, Amanda. You look so pretty.”
“But I’d look better with blond hair, right?”
Donna chuckled and stood. “I’m so not getting into that. I’ll give you guys a few minutes.”
“Hey, peanut. What’s up?” I asked as Donna closed the door behind her.
“Was just wondering when you were coming home.”
I checked the clock on my laptop. It was only noon. “Probably not until eight. Marion’s there, right?”
My housekeeper had known Amanda since she was a baby so was the perfect after-school and holiday sitter. This week Amanda was on break.
“Yeah, she’s here. I just thought maybe you’d be back early today.”
My heart squeezed again. Ninety percent of the time she drove me nuts, but it was moments like these that I lived for. She might be fourteen, but sometimes she still needed her dad.
“How was your morning?”
“Ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you still fighting with Samantha? You know you’ll feel better if you get it out. Problems are like shit—”
“Daaad.”
I chuckled. She didn’t like any talk that involved bowels or farting, so I teased her with it every chance I got.
“Samantha got asked to the dance already,” she mumbled.
That caught my attention. “What do you mean asked? Like a boy asked her? On a date?” My throat started to constrict and I coughed. “You’re in middle school, for Christ’s sake—you can’t be dating.” Amanda’s eighth grade dance was occupying an awful lot of space in my daughter’s head. I’d have preferred math or geography got her focus.
“I’m fourteen, not twelve.”
Was there a difference?
“But you’re going with Patti and all your friends, aren’t you?” I tried to keep the rising panic I felt from reflecting in my tone.
“Sure but—”
“You want a boy to ask you and he hasn’t?” I desperately wanted her to say no, to deny my worst nightmare wasn’t about to come true.