by Lisa Hughey
“Guess that means I’m out.” Shit, that was not what he meant to say. What the hell was he thinking?
She jerked. “You’re the CEO?”
The disbelief in her voice pissed him off. “I have an MBA from Northeastern University.” As if he didn’t have enough issues about his qualifications. He had heard the whispers in the business community, at trade shows, and in the general automotive world. He was extremely young to be CEO. Yes, he was a huge supporter of IndyCar motorsports, and he spent some time on the racing circuit as a sponsor, but as far as the industry was concerned, he lacked the experience. True. And the only reason he had the job was nepotism—not true. At least not the only reason.
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Forget it.” If he could handle the criticism and skepticism of the business world, he sure wasn’t going to get upset about some rando woman. Even if she wasn’t exactly random. And for some weird and completely unexplainable reason, he cared what she thought about him.
She straightened and glared at him. “You’re the CEO, and you’re seriously pretending you didn’t know that I signed last year’s contract with Camp Firefly Falls? And that they sued to get their money?”
Contracts were his least favorite part of his current responsibilities. And he vaguely remembered their lawyer mentioning the lawsuit to him. They’d paid their portion of the bill and got their charges dropped fairly quickly.
“But you signed as a representative of your company.” That seemed like a no-brainer. “London Automotive would have been the responsible party. It was a minimal amount of money.” It was a drop in the bucket of their annual budget. London Automotive’s as well.
She laughed harshly. “Minimal for you maybe.”
She made it sound personal.
“Wait, are you telling me that you had to pay the amount due?”
“Ding, ding, ding,” she mocked. “Give the CEO a prize.
“That should never have happened.”
“That’s what I argued, but there was some loophole. And here I am, working off the debt.”
“You’re telling me that London Automotive refused to pay even when they found out that you were going to be liable?”
“Pretty sure Jeffrey had a cocktail to celebrate.” Her voice was weary, and suddenly her exhaustion was evident. “You’re seriously going to sit there and tell me you had no idea how the lawsuit went down?”
RJ shrugged. It hadn’t really crossed his radar. “Lawyer said it was handled.”
“Right. That’s what happens when you’re stupid enough to take a lawyer’s word for it.” She shoved to her feet. “Got to go.”
Before he could stop her, she’d run off.
Her blond hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, her lithe body moving with an unconscious grace.
He wished they could go back to last year when they’d been two completely different people, but that was impossible.
And he felt a little pang at the odd sense of loss.
Chapter 4
Friday morning
RJ was up at dawn. He hadn’t slept well, his dreams a mix of heated, intimate memories of their forbidden afternoon and Sherry on the dock last night, her expression of defiance and frustration.
He paced the cabin floor as he waited for their company attorney to answer the phone. He’d kept going over his conversation with Sherry on the dock.
“What’s wrong?” Gina, their lead counsel, answered without greeting.
“What do you know about the Camp Firefly Falls judgment?”
A heavy sigh followed by something that sounded like a grunt. “You woke me up to talk about a minor inconvenience that was settled months ago?”
“Yes,” He clipped out.
“You couldn’t wait to ask until I got there in a few hours?”
“No. You’re lucky I didn’t wake you up at three this morning.”
“Give me five minutes to mainline some coffee. I’ll call you right back.” She yawned and hung up.
Gina was a shark. She’d gone to Harvard Law and could have had her pick of jobs. Not only was she brilliant, she was gorgeous. Her mixed-race heritage, half Latina, half African American, resulted in a stunning woman. They’d gone on exactly one date about a year after she started at Ramos CAR. The date had been a bust, and they’d decided they’d be far better wing buddies than fuck buddies.
RJ waited impatiently, and as soon as the phone rang, he jabbed the connect button. “Well?”
“We settled our portion of the suit by proving we paid our half.”
“What about Sherry, the assistant?”
“Sherry Washington?”
So that was her last name. Washington. “Yeah, Sherry Washington.”
“Her case was adjudicated separately,” Gina said.
RJ ripped his fingers through his hair. His stomach sloshed with a sick feeling. “She had to pay the money herself.”
“That sucks. But what does that have to do with our company?”
“That wasn’t fair.”
“That’s London Automotive for you,” Gina sniped.
RJ paced his little cabin. “Jeffrey London is a scumbag.”
“It was partially my fault,” she said grudgingly.
“Why?”
“Because they prepared the contract incorrectly, but since we were in a time crunch, Zinnia agreed to sign without the proper designation and I let her. I knew you guys were good for it.” Gina sighed. “I should have insisted that it be fixed.”
“Well, we’re gonna fix it now.” RJ hung up and made another call.
Sherry dragged herself out of bed. She had the morning off. The cabins were all ready and the campers didn’t arrive until noon.
But after yesterday’s turmoil, she needed a reset.
She arched her back and stretched toward the ceiling. Grabbing a towel, she headed toward the meadow where Birk ran Sunrise Yoga. There was no class on the agenda this morning, but she preferred to do her solo practice outside in the fresh air. Hopefully she’d work up a bit of a sweat while asana-ing her way out of this funk.
The sun had risen, but the morning still held a bit of a chill. The hint of ozone from last night’s rain shower made everything smell fresh and clean.
Pale yellow rays filtered through the trees of the surrounding forest, bathing the bright green grass in a hazy halo. A year ago, she wouldn’t dream of sitting outside…in nature, just the thought of the insects and creepy-crawlies had her cringing. But after this summer, she’d come to appreciate the outdoors in a way she’d never anticipated.
Sherry lay her towel on the grass and sank into a cross-legged sukhasana pose.
Resting the back of her hands on her knees, her thumb and forefinger pressed together, she closed her eyes and began to center herself. She breathed in through her nose, taking slow, measured breaths, listening to the sounds of the forest as she settled into her pranayama and tried to calm her thoughts.
But Mr. Hotshot CEO invaded the peace of her practice just like he’d invaded her dreams last night. Hot, sweaty, sexy dreams that had her waking in a daze, hot and bothered and annoyed. Heated sighs and sensual touches had dominated as they rolled around the sheets getting lost in each other. Because beside the fact that she’d sworn off men—especially rich, powerful men—he was the dead last man she should get close to. His family and his company were connected to the predicament she was in today.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to find that elusive calm, but the noise from the birds and insects chirping around her was suddenly disrupted. Silence indicated someone else was there.
Sherry scooped her arms over her head, clasped her hands together tightly, arched her back, and tilted her face to the early morning sun, searching for an inner peace.
Someone cleared their throat.
Sherry sighed.
She pulled her clasped hands down to rest between her breasts, then opened her eyes. “Is there something you need?”
RJ wore running
shoes, loose-fitting basketball shorts, and a tank T-shirt that showed off his impressive muscles. He was lean and sleek more than bulky, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have definition in his biceps and shoulders. His black hair with that bit of curl flopped over his forehead, nearly into his hazel eyes. Just like last night on the dock, he appeared more approachable, and more appealing.
His mouth tilted up in a grin with a bit of mischief. “Just enjoying the scenery.”
“I’m busy,” Sherry said. “Birk will be running a yoga class tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t know that I’ll be in the mood for yoga tomorrow. But I am today.”
“You want to do yoga,” she said flatly. Last year he’d joked and charmed the teacher rather than get into the easy poses. He’d be nothing but a distraction.
“Okay. Not really.” He smiled briefly, his gaze warm but weirdly tentative.
She sat in the warming morning air and studied him. That boyish charm that had initially drawn her last year was noticeably absent.
“I’m sorry.” He looked sincere, but she’d stopped falling for men’s bullshit about the time Jeffrey London had told her he was never going to leave his wife and that she needed to keep quiet about their affair or he’d destroy her. His wife had been threatening divorce.
She’d always suspected he was lying when he’d promised to leave his wife. But when he finally admitted he had no intention of leaving his family, and then left Sherry holding the bill for the company’s failed retreat, she realized he’d never seen her as anything other than a convenience.
On the other hand, RJ had no incentive to apologize. Because what would he get out of it? Nothing as far as she could tell. “Go on,” she said cautiously.
“I get that you aren’t our biggest fan right now.”
She snorted. That was putting it mildly.
“But I’d like to make it up to you.”
That was pretty much impossible. And yet she hesitated. She wasn’t really sure why. Because he seemed sincere? Of course she wasn’t the best judge of character, clearly. Because the hour with him last year ranked among the best in her life? Because he was young and attractive and she’d been off men for over a year? Although she hadn’t really missed them until yesterday.
His smile dimmed. “Can I join you?”
Mentally, she sighed. Because she was an idiot. That longing was stupid and self-destructive and if he had any idea how much she wanted him, he’d take advantage. Because that’s what men did. “Whatever the guest wants.”
The spark went out. “I—”
She huffed. “Sit.”
Instead of sitting next to her, he sank into a cross-legged pose directly across from her.
For a moment, she got lost in his deep gaze.
He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”
“Meditating.”
“Oh, okay.”
“The purpose is to find peace.”
“Have you needed a lot of peace?” His earnest concern burned beneath her breastbone.
She just looked at him.
“Yeah, you’re right. Dumb question.”
“Close your eyes, rest your hands on your knees, and breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
RJ followed her instructions.
“Now try to imagine that you’re exhaling all the stress and toxicity of your life. You inhale goodness, light, and peace, then exhale the bad.”
His exhale was heavy. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly and let out the breath. “Does it work?”
“I’ll let you know.” She was trying, but some days she definitely felt as if her progress was two steps forward, one step back.
She closed her eyes and tried to regain that calm she’d been searching for before he arrived.
But the air between them electrified, as his presence disrupted the very molecules and invaded the air space and surrounded her in the force field of his guy-ness. Testosterone and an undercurrent of lust shimmered around them.
She opened her eyes just a little, peering through her lashes.
His brow was creased, and he inhaled and exhaled like he was muscling through an exercise. With a fierce intensity that had her girl parts tingling. He really was trying to meditate. Which begged the question….
“Why do you need peace?” she blurted out.
His thick lashes lifted slowly as if he’d managed to drop into that space of altered consciousness that always took her forever. “Hmm?”
His hazy, heavy-lidded look was doing funny things to her insides.
“Why do you need peace?”
“Sometimes getting what you want isn’t at all what you think it’s going to be.”
Sunlight speared through the leafy canopy of trees, bathing him in a halo of light. Nature chirped and chittered, the music to his soft confession.
“What did you get?”
“Everything I’ve always wanted—my dream job, unimaginable success, a great company with employees who are more like family than employees.”
Her heart pinged at that. In her experience, everyone was out for themselves. The company existed to enrich the owners or the shareholders. “You’re so lucky.”
“I am,” he agreed. “And this weekend is all about being the best CEO for Ramos. I want a win.”
She heard the but. When he didn’t say anything, she prompted him. “But?”
She wanted to soothe, to protect him from whatever had made him so sad.
“I’m lonely.” He shrugged, looked embarrassed. “I want someone to share it with.”
“So find someone.”
It couldn’t be that difficult, could it? And how strange that she was sitting here in the woods, trying to help the guy who’d haunted her dreams for the past year.
That little niggle of yearning took her by surprise. For a moment, she wanted to be that woman, the one to share his burdens and his triumphs. The problem with being a mistress was that her time was limited. It was always a date, or a sneaking around, or snippets wedged in between her lover’s real life—the woman and children he went home to most nights and hung out with on the weekends.
It wasn’t even something she missed because she’d never had it. But she’d seen them, seen pictures on social media, and snapshots on their phones, of their real life.
Just once it would be nice if a man wanted her to be part of the hard stuff and the comforting stuff, instead of just the on-the-side-whenever-it-was-convenient-for-him stuff.
But RJ looked so…sad. Not the cocky, confident guy who hadn’t had to work very hard to get her into bed.
RJ stared at Sherry. The woman he’d met last year, the totally girly-girl, had changed. She sat in the shadowed clearing, on a towel sure, but sounds from the forest penetrated. The light sparkled on her face, and a hint of sun pinkened her cheeks. She still glittered with makeup, but there was a softness to the curve of her mouth, the shimmering pink more feminine, more approachable.
“Just find someone.”
“I’ve been trying,” he said wryly.
She tilted her head, her blond wisps brushing the curve of her neck. She waved her manicured hand at him. “You’re young. Passably attractive.”
He laughed.
She squinted at him. “I mean, maybe your nose is a little too long, and your hair could probably use a bit of a trim.”
She was teasing him now. He might be having problems finding someone who didn’t want him for his money and status, but he had no insecurities about his looks.
“But if you work hard at it, I’m sure this mythical woman would be willing to overlook those…deficiencies.”
“Really?” He leaned closer, and her distinctively floral scent hit his nose. “So, what else do you suggest?”
“Women want a man who will put them first.”
“Not a problem.” His mother and father had given him an excellent example of a happy marriage.
A wistful yearning twisted her lips. “Really?”
&
nbsp; “What else?”
She seemed to shake off that melancholy. “Share things with her.”
“Like my shampoo?” He waited for the obvious—money, gifts, the types of things she had gotten from London.
She shot him a dry look. “Like how your day was or a problem you want to solve or your hopes for the future.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “Maybe work on your personality.”
He laughed again. “Like…take up meditation?” That old feeling, flirting with a woman, knowing that she was into him, not his money, flooded him with a familiar sense of making a connection and buoyed his confidence.
“I doubt meditation is going to bag you a girl.” But she’d leaned in again, until their knees almost touched.
RJ leaned forward, cupped his palm around her neck, holding her in place, but not restraining her.
Sherry lost her balance, and falling forward, she braced her hands on his knees. Her soft palms pressed against his skin, the innocuous touch firing his body to life.
She inhaled and held infinitely still.
He rested his other hand over hers on his knee and curled his fingers around hers. Sherry didn’t move, barely breathed, as if waiting for him to make his move.
RJ took her immobility as permission. He stared into her bright blue gaze, her eyes wide, but accepting.
The sun lit her from behind, accenting her fair skin and the pink of her lips and the desire in her brilliant gaze.
Angling his head, he moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop the kiss.
But she didn’t stop him. Instead she tipped forward and they met in the middle.
He brushed her lips with his, not tentative, but questing. Last year their frantic, overwhelming passion had surprised them both, but the element of forbidden was missing now. That urgency, to get to it before they got caught…they didn’t have that this time around.
Instead he could take his time, learn her likes and dislikes, sip at her mouth, taste her essence.
Her plump pink lips parted, inviting him in, but instead of plundering, he sucked her top lip into his mouth, feasting on her enticing cupid’s bow. Her tongue came out to tentatively lick at his.