Valentine's Day Kisses : Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  “People are already doing that.” I don’t want to pop his bubble, but, if my time and money are involved, I don’t mind holding the needle.

  “We’ll do it better.”

  “Excuse me.” The afternoon temp leans in just enough to look like a floating head. “There’s a woman out here to see you, Mr. James.”

  Bryson and Ryder both growl in approval before heading out the door.

  “We’ll get together and work out the kinks.” Ryder flashes a devious smile my way as if I’ve already signed my soul to the devil. He wishes. I’m a numbers man. I need it all given to me in black and white—and, if we’re lucky, it will equal lots and lots of green.

  The door swings open, and, for a brief moment, I’m hoping it’s Marley.

  “Monica.” I stand trying to hold back the dull laugh in my chest. Of course, it’s not Marley. What the hell would Marley be doing paying me an office visit? I have to admit I’ve had her on the brain for the last few days. Okay, hell, since the moment she left. I made note of that article she mentioned and read each and every addition of “Sex and the Coed” over coffee, Sunday morning. Not exactly a Bible companion. It wasn’t porn either. The tips in and of themselves were rather to the point, but I’m shocked she’d want her name linked to that. What about future employers? I wonder if she’s thought that through. I wonder if it matters. “What can I do for you?” I force a smile and freeze it for a moment.

  Monica and I dated for years. She was the one. Or at least I wanted to believe it. Monica wanted a wedding band and kids, and I soon found out we weren’t as compatible as we thought. She married someone else, and we remained friends. And, after her divorce last fall, she’s been coming around a little more, here and there, which leaves me to wonder if she’s open for an act two.

  “I’ve missed you.” She swoops over in her practical teacher heels. Her low bun hangs off her neck like a stumped tail. Monica is pretty in an unsettling way. She comes across harsh and needle sharp, caustic, for lack of a better word. You just have to get used to her barbs and grow a little alligator skin to be around her. I’m usually drawn to the bitter and the betrayed so that alone helps put the Monica years into perspective.

  “You missed me?” I motion for her to take a seat, and she slinks over my desk instead. I’m standing just a head away from her lips, and the way she keeps gunning for a kiss, I’d venture to guess that was the entire purpose of the trip. “How was the first day of class?” Monica just started her first semester teaching business classes over at Whitney Briggs.

  Marley pops to the forefront of my mind, and a trace of a smile comes without warning.

  “Are you kidding? I forgot what college students looked like. From afar you might mistake them as adults, but up close they look like a bunch of ninth graders.”

  A dull laugh rattles from me. I get it. After logging hours at the Black Bear in support of Blake, I’ve found myself thinking the very same thing. Marley flashes through my brain again with her creamy thighs riding up high. She’s no kid. Marley is all woman.

  “So how about it?” Monica turns her face up toward mine expectantly.

  “How about what?” I swear each time Marley comes to mind, I take a nice long mental vacation that only seems to expand.

  “How about catching an early dinner? I’ve got Garrett and Wally with a sitter until seven. She’s salary, so I want to make sure she stays the full shift. God knows if I start spoiling her with half days, she’ll come to expect them. People are ungrateful that way.” Her finger flicks my tie, and I pull back a notch just out of range. I’m sure revisiting old habits would come easy. Monica and I once fit like a glove except when we didn’t, but, even before that, I knew something was missing.

  “Excuse me?” The disembodied head floats into the doorway once again. “Human resources called. Your new secretary is on her way up to meet you. Should I ask her to wait or send her right in?”

  “Secretary.” I haven’t had one in so long I’ve forgotten the luxury. The temps have worked out okay, but they change shoes every other day so there was never really a point in training them beyond how I like my coffee.

  Monica presses her leg up against mine and cocks her head up seductively. Monica has a lady-boner, and she’s picked me to contend with it.

  “Send her right in.” I step around my desk and take a seat.

  “I guess that’s my cue. Dinner at Saxons? I’ll meet you at six-ish? I can get the booth near the fountain. That was our favorite.”

  I don’t recall favoring any particular booth. Saxons was a regular haunt of ours that also regularly took a hit on my credit card because apparently truffles are the gold standard of food.

  “Yes, that’d be great. See you then.” I nod, pretending to bury my nose in paperwork as she shuttles herself out the door.

  One dinner won’t hurt. Hell, it might even get my mind off Ms. Jackson for five solid minutes. It turns out I’ve got a boner to contend with myself, and there isn’t any way that Monica is going to alleviate what’s panning out to be one very young, very damn beautiful craving.

  “Knock knock,” a sweet voice emits from the door. It’s been a half hour since HR sent up the warning. I was beginning to think she got lost on the way. She. I automatically assumed it was a woman. I’m pretty disappointed in myself for that. But, nonetheless, I’m right.

  “Come in.” I stand to greet her.

  “I would have been here sooner, but I ran into—”

  I give a hard blink in the event the apparition that’s been haunting my daydreams has somehow manifested in front of me.

  “Marley?”

  “Wyatt?” Her eyes spring open wide.

  Another beat of confusion ticks by before I circle around my desk and motion her to the seat before me.

  “Um?” She points to the door before shutting it. “So this is your office?” Her hair is glossy, smooth as silk today—much paler in hue than I remember. Her eyes are dusted blue, the same color of the sky just before a storm.

  “This is it.” For now. “So are you temping?”

  “No, actually yes—my friend Laney, her husband got me the job.”

  “Ryder.” My jaw tightens. Something in me doesn’t want Ryder or Bryson or any of the other testicle-wielding idiots that work around here to lay a single eye on her—even if they are married. Not that Ryder or Bryson are idiots, but for some reason I’ve elevated Marley to something private—a character I dreamed up in my mind all for myself. I like the idea of that on a perverse level. “Please, take a seat.” I lean against the desk wondering what to do with this.

  “Look”—she hesitates—“I really need a job.” She shakes her head, her eyes suddenly glassy and pleading. “You see, I’m not exactly living it up over at the dorm. There’s an unlawful amount of ramen going on over there if you know what I mean, and every now and again a girl likes to sink her teeth into something meaty.” She swallows hard as her gaze rides up and down my body.

  A dark laugh rumbles from me. “My ego appreciates the fact you haven’t lost your appetite for the meatier things in life.”

  “Yeah, well, the offer still stands.” She gives a weak smile, sinking deep into the seat. “My article could certainly use a—”

  “Guinea pig?”

  She averts her eyes as if the concept were deplorable. “Subject. A willing subject.”

  “What’s the news with the boyfriend?” I head to the mini fridge and pluck out a water for the both of us.

  “Ex-boyfriend. Due to the spectacular amount of foreign assets he’s familiarized himself with, his offer has since been revoked.”

  “His loss, those velvet cuffs held an unordinary amount of promise.”

  Marley loosens with a laugh. “That they did.” She gives a less-than-innocent shrug. A dimple cuts in just shy of her lips, and I’d like nothing more than to sink my tongue into it. “And they still can.”

  “Marley.” I scoot into my desk, trying to hide the blooming ache in my pants.
This might be the reaction Monica was hoping to elicit, but it’s Marley who’s getting the rise out of me. “I’m essentially your boss now.” Things have taken a turn for the worst. Not only was I feeling older than dirt around her, but the fact she’s my doe-eyed secretary doesn’t exactly spell out match made in heaven. More like a match made in human resources litigation hell once I’m slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit. And don’t for a minute think it’s not coming. “Our relationship is now relegated to the work environment. It begins and ends right here in this office.” I lay it down thick in my heavy authoritative voice, and her cheeks brighten like peppers.

  “I’m okay with keeping things behind these four walls if you are.” She straightens while putting on a pair of dark rimmed glasses as if she were ready to make a business proposition. “I’m not looking for roses and chocolate. I’m looking for a man, someone strong, hot as hell like you, who’s willing to test out a few theories with me, that’s all.”

  I close my eyes a moment, and she’s still there beneath my lids as if she’s taken up residency.

  “You deserve roses and chocolate, Marley.” I pause a moment because, judging from her own words, that’s not something she believes in.

  She shakes her head disbelieving. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “I read your articles.” Her face bleaches just a touch as I say it. “You should fall in love, and, when you do, that right person will gift you all of those amazing adventures. Sex shouldn’t be some bucket list you create, checking off items as you execute them. It’s not a treasure hunt. It’s a lifestyle—one I hope you can achieve, and, when you do, cherish it because it’s a little like a needle in a haystack.”

  “Impossible to find?” Her voice floats through the air, soft as powdered sugar. “I’ve seen romantic love up close and personal. It’s ugly. It leaves tear stains on your pillow, makes you guzzle its brand of bull like gasoline, then lights a match and watches as you burn. No thanks. I’m not asking for seconds.” Her lashes blink so fast I can feel the breeze. “What about you? You a roses and chocolate kind of guy? How many relationships have you had in the last two years?”

  She’s got me there. “Zero.” I force a smile. “And it’s a nice round number I’m happy with.” I think. “So how was school?” I ask, shuffling through the mail piled up on my desk.

  How was school? Can I sound anymore like I’m trying to be her daddy? I’d laugh if it were even a hair funny.

  “School is school. First day always throws me off a bit. I started a business venture with Baya—she’s Annie’s sister-in-law. It’s a class project. We need to start a business and walk through the entire process by semester’s end—ideally with a profit.”

  “Just a few months. That’s an ambitious undertaking. What kind of business?” She’s smart. I like that.

  “Thrift store couture.”

  Maybe not as bright as I thought.

  “Say again?” Old pappy here couldn’t possibly have heard right. “Did you say thrift store?”

  “I know it sounds amazingly ironic, but trust me, it’s what all the cool kids are doing.” She gives a little wink. “Actually it’s what all the cool kids are buying. Baya and I are sort of the first to market with the idea. It’s a niche but definitely one that shouldn’t be overlooked. I’ll be sewing the garments myself, and I’m positive I’ll be able to push them out the door just as fast as I can make them.”

  “Whoa. There goes any growth potential. And just when I saw real promise.”

  “What are you talking about? There’s plenty of growth potential.”

  “Not if you’re sewing each piece yourself. There are only so many hours in the day, and there’s only one of you. Let’s say you’re able to make six pieces in one day—” I click on my accountant-grade calculator better left in the twentieth century, but I like the way it whistles and purrs, something about this sound that technology can’t seem to replicate.

  “Two at the most,” she interjects. “I can maybe make three, but that’s with little sleep, and, for sure, I’d have to skip my breakfast ramen.”

  I glance up. Marley is fit, thin, and, according to her, bordering on malnutritioned. Beautiful as hell, though.

  “If you can only provide two then your business won’t thrive for long. Did you account for burnout?”

  She bites down on those perfect crimson lips, and it’s hard to judge from here if she’s wearing lipstick or not. Marley is simply that perfect. Ruby lips, eyes like an iron sky, and those thighs still haven’t left my mind since the other night. My mouth waters just thinking about them.

  “If you take Saturday and Sunday off, you’re looking at ten pieces on a good week.” I connect my fingers at the tips trying to keep my eyes from drifting to her cleavage. “I’d say at best you’re buying yourself a nice, mid-salary job.”

  “Boy you really know how to take a girl’s dreams and hack them to pieces. Would you like to drive a stake through my beating heart while you’re at it?” Her lips twist. “My mother has high blood pressure and the onset of diabetes, would you like to give me a readout on the equally bleak future of my health?”

  Crap. Did I just do that?

  “I apologize.” My phone vibrates and jumps on the table before I can elaborate exactly how bad I feel for taking a giant crap all over her dreams. If I didn’t think I was an ass before, it’s pretty clear, now.

  It’s a text from Blake.

  Hey sweetheart. Could you pick up dinner? I put in an order at The Spaghetti Hut. Two large pizzas. One is all yours for the trouble. My treat.

  His treat. I shake my head a moment.

  I glance back up at Marley, her face stained with red blotches as if she were ready to cry or throw sharp objects at me. A castration might be on the table.

  “You’re in luck, Marley. I just might have a business plan that quadruples your income potential. I promise if you hear me out, you might end up with a lucrative business that puts your classmates to shame.”

  “Considering Will is one of my classmates, I’m all ears.”

  “Great.” I stand and lock up my briefcase. “I’ll share every last detail over dinner.”

  I follow Marley to Whitney Briggs where she drops her car off, and we pick up the pizzas on the way to the carriage house. We keep the conversation light, with me avoiding the pitfall of burning all her dreams to ashes and her avoiding the topic of climbing on my body for investigative purposes.

  “So you’re really going to turn my business venture into a money maker, huh?” She asks as she sashays to the door.

  “You’ve got the brains. I’ve got the money.”

  “What’s that suppose to mean?” She gives a sly grin as she rings the doorbell. The wanting in her eyes lights up the evening like flares. Marley is nonstop seducing me, beckoning me to be so much more than someone she makes coffee for.

  “It means, I’m interested in investing.”

  “Really?” She gives an enthusiastic hop and nearly flips the pizzas right out of my hands.

  “Really.”

  The door swings open, and my brother looks slightly rumpled. Annie comes up from behind looking a little worn out herself, and I’m not sure if the baby has them ragged or if they’ve done it to themselves the old fashioned way.

  We make our way in and start on dinner. About part way through, the baby bleats like a lamb, and Annie is quick to comfort him. Baby Ben is named after his father, Benjamin, the brother I lost last summer. Blake stepped up when the birth mother announced she didn’t want anything to do with the kid. I’m proud as hell of my little bro. Blake has always had balls of steel. What he doesn’t know is that if he didn’t do it, I would have.

  I give a careful examination of the little boy who was almost mine.

  “Don’t be greedy.” Marley flicks her fingers in anticipation at Annie, and the baby changes hands.

  Something in me loosens. My stomach relaxes. That tense knot in my shoulders gives a little when I see her with
that infant in her arms. Marley deserves all the happy endings life can afford to give her. She’s smart—also a smart ass—but that’s just a little detail. She’s gorgeous as a fox—young and too damn beautiful if that’s even possible. I withhold the urge to apologize to her for the internal expletive. Nevertheless, she’s—my mind fights me on the last little bit of information that certifies her from ever being mine. Too young, too fit, too beautiful—when the hell did I get so picky? How many laws would I be breaking by seeing someone like Marley? That’s right, none. I hack through my pizza before knocking back an ice-cold beer as Annie and Marley head to the bedroom to change the baby.

  “So what’s the deal?” Blake takes my beer from me and sets it down on the table.

  “What’s the deal with what?”

  “She wanted to screw you the other night.”

  I smack him in the gut. “What the hell are you shouting for?”

  “Annie says you shut the girl down,” he whispers, annoyed as hell with me. And, in reflection, I should be annoyed as hell with me, too.

  “She’s nice.” I pick up my beer in defiance and salute him. “She’s not my type.”

  “You don’t have a type.”

  “That may be true, but she’s—” I shake my head in the general direction of the bedroom. I can feel the shift happening, and once it does I don’t want to be responsible for feelings or broken hearts. “Look, I saw the pain Mom went through. I saw the agony in her face over both your father and mine. It’s too much pressure. Love is something you don’t mess around with.”

  “She wasn’t asking you to love her.” He raises his brows as he plucks another slice from the box. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Newsflash, big bro, just because she’s ten years your junior, doesn’t mean she’s made of glass. She just wanted to mess around. Since when is that so hard for you of all people to understand?” He takes a bite, watching me all the while. “Why don’t you do her a solid? She’ll trot off content to have gotten her way, and you’ll usher in a new era of pre-menopausal pussy.”