by BWWM Club
“She’s a good woman. I’ve never seen her so out of control before. I can understand why now.”
“Twenty years. Jesus Christ.” Josh sighed as he walked into the conference room, pouring himself another cup of coffee. Her cup still sat on the table, a kiss of her red lipstick left behind on the rim. He wanted to do a lot with those red tinted lips. Josh wanted to kiss them, smear the lipstick over their mouths, and after he would slide his hard, leaking cock between the plump pillow, watching as the red pigment colored the canvas of his cock.
“Give her time to wrap her head around what happened. There’s something between you guys, it’s noticeable.”
Josh waved his hand in front of him, basically telling Garrett that what he said didn’t matter. It did, though. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore. “I’m too old for what-ifs and women who hate me.” He smiled and sat down, flipping through the papers and signing away five million dollars.
Five. Million.
Garrett was in three million dollars' worth of debt. “I don’t know how you let it get this bad, Garrett.”
His friend tapped his fingers on the table. “How’s your mom doing? You said you saw her today, right?”
Josh peered up at him through his lashes before looking down again. He licked his fingers to grip the page to turn it over and hissed when the paper sliced through his thumb, leaving a paper cut. “Damn it,” he whispered. He'd forgotten how bad those little things hurt. “And don’t change the subject.”
Garrett sighed, loosening his tie. “I don’t know. I’d win one and lose three. I’d win four and bet all my winnings on another hand because I felt like this was it, but it never was.”
“If you break any part of our deal, the sale is forfeit and it goes to the bank.”
“I know, Josh.”
“You have to take this seriously.”
Garrett slammed his fist against the table, causing the coffee to slosh over and splash onto the wood. “I know that. Don’t you think I know that? I don’t like this any more than you do. You know how much it hurts me to count on you? It makes me weak, but I’m biting the bullet because I know what needs to be done.”
Josh nodded, scribbling his name to one last sheet of paper. “As of right now, your accounts are in my control. Think of me as a parent when it comes to your money. I’ve been too easy on you these past few years, letting you gamble your life away, but not anymore, Garrett. I won’t let you ruin your life and other people’s lives.”
Like Ginger, whose life had already been ruined. She didn’t need a repeat.
“Thank you, Josh. I mean it.”
Josh tucked the paperwork in his briefcase and folded his hands on the table. “Mom isn’t out of the woods. She still hasn’t woken up.”
“Is that bad that she hasn’t? Is that normal?”
“They say everyone is different, but after a week of no change, it doesn’t look so good, but we're only on day two. And she had a heart attack last night.”
“What? Fuck, and I bothered you with this bullshit? You have got to be kidding me. I’m so sorry, Josh. I had no idea.” Garrett gripped the sides of his hair.
“It’s okay. There was nothing I could have done for her in the middle of the night. After this I’m going to go see her, but since I haven’t heard from the doctors, I’m assuming she hasn’t woken up.”
“I can’t do much, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“I know. I wouldn’t spend five million on just anybody.” Josh winked as he stood, throwing his coat back on. “I’ll have my advisor look at your accounts. I’ll give you details later.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Josh left with a heavier heart than he had when he'd arrived at the law firm. A massive amount of guilt weighed him down, and he felt like he was dragging his feet with the added weight. All he could do was fix the situation with Ginger, Garrett, and his mom.
No pressure.
Chapter 5
Ginger
She sat on the balcony with a fleece blanket, a glass of red wine, and a book in hand about a man who didn’t know how to love—wanted to, but didn’t know how. He'd never been around love before, felt it, endured it; it was a foreign concept. What made the story beautiful was that the man wanted to love. It wasn’t something that could be taught, only felt, and he didn’t know how to trust himself with that. She could relate.
She placed her bookmark between the cream sheets and closed the red leather-bound novel. Ginger raised the wine glass to her lips, taking a sip of the semi−dry liquid and listened to the roaring party happening below her. The music thumped through the building's concrete walls and slight vibrations tickled her feet as she stood, leaning against the balcony, and swirled the delicious wine around, almost spilling it. She watched the crowd, reminding her of little ants milling around, hopping from bar to bar.
When was that last time she'd gone out and had a good time? She practically lived above Bourbon Street. She didn’t have to just watch those people have a good time, she could be those people. Could she though? Did she feel like putting in the effort to go out or would she rather take a nice bath with candles and wine with piano music playing in the background?
The latter.
Going out took too much energy. She could have fun just by listening to the younger generations drinking in New Orleans.
“Woo! Come on lady!”
Ginger glanced around, wondering who'd said that, but it couldn’t be aimed at her, she was all the way up on her balcony. She took a sip of wine, enjoying all the hustle and bustle of the streets and seeing all the street lights flare the air.
“Lady, come party!” A loud voice boomed.
She looked down again, smiling when she saw a group of young men standing below, craning their necks up at her. They held their drinks up and she did the same with her wine glass, cheering them the only way she could.
“A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be up there.” The young man in front said. He couldn’t be more than twenty−five and Ginger found it flattering. She was twenty years older than him.
She shook her head, leaning a bit more over the rail, careful with her drink. Wouldn’t want to drop that, would she?
“I can’t. You boys go on and have fun,” she shouted, but she loved the way butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. She hadn’t felt that in ages—not since Kendrick.
That was a lie—not since Joshua Hart.
“I don’t want to have fun without you.” His friends elbowed him as they laughed, but the young man was smiling up at her, hope lighting up his eyes. Oh, to be young again.
“You're already having fun without me,” Ginger pointed out, taking a sip of wine.
He was a cute young man. He hadn’t grown into his handsomeness quite yet. He had brown hair, a defined jaw, and muscular arms, a young face with no facial hair. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she bet they were full of wild mischief. “I was, but I think I could have more fun if you were with me.”
If that wasn’t a window for sex, she didn’t know what was. She shook her head. She couldn’t believe this boy was yelling up at her when there were plenty of young women walking by him wearing less than she was. She wore a robe, a night gown, and slippers. It was obvious she was in for the night. “I don’t think so. You’re a little young for me. Look at all the beautiful young women passing you. Believe me, you’d rather hang out with them.”
Even from up there, she saw that he bit his lip. He turned his hat backwards and the light hit his eyes just right. They were brown, but full of mischief just like she thought. “I like older women.”
Could she do it? She could go out for a night and have fun. Hell, she could have a wild romp in the sheets with a hot man half her age. Something she really needed. She better not though. “I’m flattered, cutie. But I’m in for the night. Have fun.”
He pouted his bottom lip. “What do I need to do? Can I
come up there?”
“Why do you want me anyway? I’m old bones.” She laughed, taking a sip of her wine. He was willing to sacrifice his night to hang out with her? Was he desperate?
“You’re sexy bones.”
“Okay, I think you boys need to leave.” Another man’s voice drifted through the air.
Her body shivered, but it was warm out and there wasn’t a breeze in the air. She recognized the voice. It was the same one that had her nipples tightening and her body yearning for something other than a night alone.
Josh.
What was he doing here?
“Who are you? She can come hang out if she wants. She's a grown woman.” The young man defended her.
“She's busy.”
“Am I?” She lifted a brow, sipping her wine. “I’m just relaxing, enjoying a wonderful conversation with the cute stranger. What’s your name?”
“Jacob.”
“Like I said, she has plans.” Josh moved in front of him, blocking Jacob’s vision of her because he was so tall.
She wanted to roll her eyes. She didn’t have plans, but she had a feeling Josh wouldn’t hear of it right now, and she didn’t feel like fighting. Jacob peered around Josh, eyeing her one more time. “Is this your guy or something?”
“Nope. I have no guy. He's just a friend, but it was nice meeting you, Jacob. I have business to discuss with Josh, the man in front of you.”
“I’ll be back for you…?”
“Ginger.” She smirked over the rim of her glass when Josh turned and narrowed his eyes at her.
Jacob smiled, slapping one of his friends in the chest to signal to them that they were leaving. “I’ll be back for you.” He winked, blowing her a kiss. He slid his gaze back to Josh, glaring before he turned and walked away.
She'd expected a night to herself, enjoying all the sounds that New Orleans had to offer, but it seemed Josh had other things on his mind. Why would he care who she invited up to her apartment and, a more important question, why was he there? “You ran off my guy for the night,” she teased, downing the rest of her wine before setting the glass aside. The wine bottle was inside, and she couldn’t go anywhere until Josh left.
“You don’t need men like that.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“What would you know about the kind of man I need? What are you doing here anyway?”
“I wanted to speak with you. I really didn’t like how things ended today. It didn’t sit well with me.” Josh strode into the apartment building, leaving her hanging. Why would he enter the building?
She shrugged and went back inside, heading toward the kitchen to get more wine when there was a knock at her door. She paused, peaking over her shoulder. No way…
Ginger ran toward the door, looking out the peephole to see the man that caused the havoc in her heart. She tied her silk robe, covering her body. Her hands smoothed her hair down and she cleared her throat, grabbing the handle and yanking the door open. “How did you know where I lived?”
He pushed past her, making himself at home. “I own the building.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed the door shut. “Of course you do,” she muttered. “Is that how you knew where I lived?”
He stood by the balcony, closing the doors. It was just them. The rest of the world was shut out, leaving her alone with the only man that made her body come alive. She didn’t know how she felt about it. Her mind wanted her to keep him at arms−length, but the needy part, the neglected part, the part that yearned for touch, told her to step closer.
“I asked Garrett. He didn’t tell me the apartment number, but he did tell me the building. Once I had that, I knew the rest wouldn’t be difficult.”
“So you just assumed that I’d let you in my apartment at eleven-thirty at night?”
“Eleven thirty? Wow, time sure does fly,” he mumbled, running his finger through his hair. He seemed tired.
“What do you want, Josh?” Ginger wrapped her arms around waist, making sure her front was covered. She didn’t want him to see how hard and aching her nipples were.
He sighed, eating up the distance that was between them. He didn’t reach out. They didn’t touch but she felt the heat of his skin, he was so close. She could smell the fresh pine from his shirt. It reminded her of Christmas. She wanted to wallow in it, soak herself, submerge herself in the scent. “I came to apologize. I found the file regarding your husband.”
The breath whooshed out of her lungs like someone had taken their fist and punched her in the stomach. “What?”
He stepped closer, the tips of his shoes touching her feet. “I wanted to bring rest to the torment that has been haunting you. And my god, I’m so sorry, Ginger. For all the pain and suffering my father caused you.” His hand reached for her face, hovering right over her cheek.
Her breath stuttered as she leaned into it, but she didn’t touch it and he didn’t push. He kept it there, letting the heat from his palm ghost over her face. She wanted him to screw the resistance and just touch her, but the other part of her was glad that he didn’t. She didn’t know if she was ready for his touch, yet. No one had touched her since her husband.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, staring at her like she was a mystery that needed to be solved.
She stared at him with wide eyes, confused, because she wondered the same thing. She didn’t answer him because she didn’t know what was happening. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Life had been so unfair, so unkind, so…painful, that she wasn’t sure how to decipher what she was feeling. It couldn’t be happiness, but maybe contentment? Something she hadn’t felt in twenty years. It was brand new and it scared the hell out of her.
“Why are you here?” she asked again.
He dropped his hand and looked around the apartment. “I don’t know. I wanted to let you know that the company's responsible for your husband’s death. Part of me knew it could wait until I saw you on Monday, but then there was another part of me, a part that wanted to see you again.” He took a step back and strolled around her living room, analyzing the pictures that were on the mantle. She knew what he saw. All the family photos of her, Kendrick, and the boys. “What are your sons' names?”
She couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face. Ginger loved talking about her boys. She strode toward the mantle, grabbing one of her favorite photos. It was Jamal’s graduation day. Heath had his arm around his shoulder, wearing Jamal’s cap. She got lucky. Some siblings hated each other, but her boys were as thick as thieves. “Jamal is the one on the left. Heath is on the right.”
“They're good-looking kids. Must take after their mother,” he said off−handedly, still staring at the photo.
“Maybe a little. Jamal is a spitting image of his father.” She rubbed her thumb over Jamal’s face.
“Is this him?” He grabbed the frame off the mantel, and she choked up a little. That was her favorite photo and it had been taken right before the accident. If she closed her eyes, she could see still remember the scent of the coffee that they'd brewed that morning. It smelled of hazelnut creamer and cinnamon. He had his hip against the counter with the rim to his lips, but Heath had said something funny, so his smile was as big as the Mississippi river.
“Yeah, that’s Kendrick.” She took the photo away from him and put it back on the mantle.
“He was handsome. I’m so sorry.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, tightening her robe again. If it got any tighter, she wouldn’t be able to breathe. “Did you come all this way to say sorry again?”
“No. I’m here to tell you I found his file. I’ve contacted the company that made the equipment and I’ve filed a lawsuit. I re-opened the suit against Hartline too. You're going to get what you deserve, Ginger. Don’t say it isn’t what you want. I know money can’t fix everything, but it can make life more stable and at least some type of justice can come from this. The company is asking us to take money
under the table because a blow like this could ruin the company.”
“I don’t care! They—”
“I know. We'll fight it and we'll win. I always win, Ginger.”
He stepped closer to her and she took a step back. The mantle dug into her upper shoulders, but she kept her chin high, never taking her eyes off his. “You’re a strong woman. You’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry for that.”
“Why are you really here, Josh? That isn’t anything that couldn’t wait.”
He placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in. “I don’t know,” he whispered, staring at her with pinched brows. He stared at her lips then moved his gaze to her eyes, back down to her lips. His tongue flicked out, licking his lips. His top lip was thinner than the bottom. The bottom was plump and pink, shiny with a light layer of saliva from when he'd grazed it with his tongue.
She placed her hands on his chest, wanting to push him away, but the feel of a hard, sculpted chest beneath her palms was so good. It had been so long since she'd felt a man, and she didn’t want to push him away. He leaned forward, ghosting his breath over her skin. He smelled like a shot of honey whiskey, and she wanted to get drunk off the taste. “Don’t. I can’t.”
“I know.” He nodded, but he didn’t move. He stayed where he was, mapping her face with his eyes. He wanted to kiss her, she could see that, but she could also see that her words had been a dagger to his heart; the straw that broke him and made him take a step back. It wasn’t a big step, but she felt the loss instantly. Her skin didn’t feel as warm, and she realized she missed his touch. Did she want his touch, or did she just miss being near a man?
No, she'd been around plenty of men, but none like Josh. He carried a confident aura, but not cocky; a caring businessman, which in her experience was pretty rare. She'd learned the hard way that business meant crumbling people. It was a cruel world full of sharks and everyone was a potential victim.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to open up all those wounds, Josh.” She cleared her throat, and with reserve she walked passed him, careful to give a wide berth so they didn’t touch. “Wine?” she asked, grabbing an extra glass from the cupboard.