by Wolf, Alex
I expect her to be taken aback, but she’s not. She glares at me with a look that belongs in the fucking World Series of Poker. “Don’t be an asshole. You might pull it off with other people, but I see right through it.” She leans forward and gives me a better view of her breasts.
Fucking hell. Her tits are perfect, and now I’ll have to pretend not to stare at her ass when she leaves, if she ever does.
I can’t take this much longer. She’s one remark away from getting bent over my desk. My palms are on the verge of twitching. I have to tone down this conversation and get her out of my office before I do something I’ll definitely regret. I do my best to remove all sarcasm from my voice and give her an honest reply. “Look, I won’t ask you to meet me outside work anymore. That was my fault. This is me being a professional and taking responsibility. Now, do your job, and we won’t have any more problems. But, if I need to talk to you, I’m not going through Weston or chasing down Quinn in my own damn office. I’m busy as hell and I don’t have the time. You’re stuck with me while you’re here. Deal with it.”
She shakes her head, almost grinning, and picks up her file from the desk. “Men and their big egos,” she mumbles as she walks out of the room.
Like a complete jackass, I can’t let it go. “Not the only big thing around here, sweetheart.”
I expect her to stop in her tracks, but she doesn’t. No, Tate Reynolds heels clack on the floor as she sashays her ass in her skirt and stomps out of the office.
I’ll be damned if it isn’t a perfect ass too.
I stare at the door to my bathroom for a split-second. I’m going to have to rub one out or that woman is going to give me an aneurysm.
Tate
“You got that report for me yet? I don’t see it in my inbox.” Weston sighs into the phone.
“I’m working on it. You’ll have it soon. Things are going great here.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Get me that report.” The call goes dead, and I place the phone on the receiver.
It’s been a little over two weeks since the confrontation in Decker’s office, and despite the fact he didn’t seem too enthusiastic about my plan, that’s how everything has worked out. I know it’s what I said I wanted, but now, something feels off about this whole situation. It’s almost like I miss his sarcastic remarks.
I suppose it’s been a good thing, though. Let things simmer down and get tempers in check. It’s allowed me to get some work done and I’m ahead of schedule. I’ve met with a few of the larger clients and haven’t found any causes for concern. Things have gone incredibly smooth and I hold out hope it’ll last.
Conversations with Decker all happen through his assistant, text, or email. Maybe he’s just been busy. He does run a giant law firm after all.
Regardless, I can never catch him in his office to go over the reports before I send them off to Weston. Quinn took a personal day today and I can’t find Decker anywhere in the building. I went to the cafeteria, and the woman working the coffee bar said I just missed him. The thought of him fetching his own coffee does make me smile. With Quinn gone today, I suppose he has no choice.
I go back upstairs and he’s still not in yet. I feel as though I’m the cat and he’s the dang mouse. Like our roles are reversed. He should be chasing me. I shake my head and stop outside an office when I notice Dexter and Deacon have some kind of golf simulation set up, complete with a net and a TV screen. Come to think of it, I never see them doing any actual work. It’s like they’re hitching a ride off Decker and making boatloads of money in the process.
These two have given me the cold shoulder the entire time I’ve been here, and I think now is as good a time as any to fuck with them. “Is this how you spend time that should be used netting more billable hours? No wonder Decker called Weston.” I make a tsk sound and interrupt their little game.
Dexter puffs out his chest. “Getting ready to take some prospective clients out on the course.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll land some absolute whales with that swing.” I look at his pitiful stance and smirk at how he’s holding the driver completely wrong.
Dexter does some little shimmy and questions his grip on the club by adjusting his hands. “Like you know anything about golf.”
Deacon laughs and slaps his brother’s chest. “I bet Tate handles balls with the best of them.”
“Step aside boys. I’ll show you how it’s done once. It’s five-hundred an hour for future lessons.” I grab the club from Dexter’s grip and take a practice swing. My skirt tightens on my legs, so I shimmy it up on over my knees.
“Can definitely handle the wood,” Dexter says with a snicker.
Deacon shakes his head, but I laugh. I’m used to shit talking with men.
I line up my swing and drill the ball straight into the net. A virtual golf ball on the TV soars through the air straight down the fairway. I twirl the club in my hands then flip it on the ground at their feet.
They both stand there with their mouths wide open.
“Run your mouth some more, boys.”
“Maybe I should be sending Tate to play a few holes with the Branson brothers.” Decker steps under the door frame.
My stomach coils up like a spring and goosebumps pebble down my arms at the sound of his voice. I look over and he’s leaning in the doorway watching me. He’s wearing gray slacks with a white button down. His tie is loosened around the collar and his hair is messy like he’s been running his fingers through it.
My cheeks tingle as he stares me down. “Wouldn’t want clients leaving when I kick their ass.” I start toward the door.
Decker moves so I can exit. He follows but can’t see the satisfied smile on my face. There’s something about him walking after me that sets the world right.
“You’d let them win, sweetheart.”
I spin around. The way the term of endearment rolls off his tongue grates on my nerves, and judging by the wicked glint in his eyes, he knows it.
“I never let anyone else win in life or the courtroom.”
“You’d let them win if I told you to.” He smirks. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
“I need you to take a look at something before I send it off to Weston. He’s already irritated I haven’t sent it yet. I get the feeling you’ve been avoiding me. Care to tell me why?”
“Ohh, Tate.” He mocks me with his tone. “I’ve just been busy, you know? Running a law firm. Sorry I wasn’t here to hold your hand the past few weeks.”
“If any hand holding were needed, I think we know it’d be me holding yours.”
“If only that were true.”
We round a corner where no one can see and he grabs my hand, rubbing his fingers over my knuckles in a lazy pattern. I can’t help but imagine his fingers touching me elsewhere. Heat blooms across my chest and funnels down between my legs at the thought of Decker taking me into my office and doing all the dirty things I’ve thought about.
“Where’s this report you’re so bent out of shape over?”
“On my desk.” I smile at him and sway my hips as I walk over to retrieve it. I start to tease him but think better of it. I grab the accordion folder and hand it off to him.
“I’ll get this back to you Monday morning.”
“Good.”
He pins me with his gaze, and we have a mini staring contest before he finally blinks. I warned him, I never let anyone win.
He lingers at the door and finally says, “What are you up to this weekend?”
“Dinner and a show with a friend.”
The way his jaw ticks at the fact it might be a man sends a thrill of pleasure through me. I shouldn’t toy with him, but I can’t help myself. There’s no way I’m telling him I’m meeting up with Alexis, a married mother of two. He can stew on it.
* * *
“Holy shit, look at you, girl,” says Alexis as I walk toward her in the hotel lobby. “What’s it been? Five years?”
I squint. “More like
seven. I still can’t believe you went and got married and started having babies. We had a plan.”
Her grin widens. “Plans change. One day you’ll meet your Tucker.”
“That man is one of a kind. I’ll give you that. If I didn’t love you so much, I might have tried to steal him away.”
Her arm goes around my neck, pulling me in for a tight squeeze.
“Oomph. You’re choking me.”
She releases me from her death grip. “Sorry. I’m just so happy you’re in town. How long are you here for?”
“However long I’m needed.”
“Well, I hope it’s a long time. Anyway, Tucker is with the girls for the evening. I thought maybe we could get to the club a little early for a few drinks and an appetizer before the show starts.”
“Sounds perfect.”
We grab a cab to a place called Lazy Bird. It’s tucked away in the basement of The Hoxton Hotel. It has a bit of the same speakeasy vibe as The Violet Hour, the place Decker almost kissed me. I wonder to myself what he’s doing this weekend besides working on that report.
We’re too early for the live music, but we’ll get enough of that when we see West Side Story later at the Civic Opera House. It’s not too crowded and the atmosphere is laid back and friendly. Alexis orders us a couple of Blackthorns, a house drink made with Irish whiskey. It’s a bit malty but goes down smooth.
Alexis and I grew up together but went our separate ways after high school. I pursued law and she earned her teaching degree. She tucks her strawberry, bobbed hair behind her ear and sips on her drink. “Tell me everything. Work, relationships, spill the tea, bitch.”
“There’s not much to tell, really.”
“Puhlease. I’ve spent all my free time with the girls for the past five years. I need some adult talk.”
“Honestly, I work a lot for one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. It’s my dream job. I have a fabulous apartment in Dallas. I’m happy.”
“And… you’re still single? Tell me the juicy bits. I want to live vicariously through you.”
“Yup. Single and not so ready to mingle.” I gaze lazily around the room taking note of the décor. There’s an old fireman’s map of the city hanging on the wall.
“Why not? You’re a total catch.”
I swallow my drink quickly. “I don’t need a man to be happy. I have B.O.B.”
“Who’s he?”
I can’t stop laughing. “Battery operated boyfriend.”
Her brows go up. “Oh.”
“Don’t you…”
“God no. Tucker would have a stroke. He’d get jealous of the competition.”
I snort and change the subject. “Tell me about the girls.”
“Mags, Maggie is my oldest. She’s my tomboy. She reminds me of you in ways. She loves sports and is looking forward to camp this summer. It’s for soccer. Then there is my Bella bean. She was a preemie and still small for her age, but she has the loudest personality. Kid is always singing and making a spectacle of herself.”
“She’s just like you then.” I grin.
“Totally.” She laughs. “Drives her father crazy.”
“I can’t imagine living with two of you.”
“Hilarious.” We chit chat a bit more about her decision to return to work now that her girls are both in school. “What about you, though? Think you’ll ever settle down and do the family thing?”
“Maybe for the right guy, if I ever meet him. But I love my work. The job I’m in town for is my big shot at making partner at the firm. Life’s good the way it is. I work a lot. Don’t have time to get involved with someone.”
“You’ll meet your Mr. Right. I know it.”
“Mr. Right Hand.” I wiggle my fingers at her, and she can’t stop laughing. I shake my head and order another drink. I don’t want to think about dating anyone at the moment.
Decker
Looking at the time in the right-side corner of my computer screen, I should be long gone by now, but I’m late getting this report back to Tate. Weston wants biweekly reports of our status. I should’ve had it ready this morning, but my weekend got away from me. I expected Tate to be on my ass over it, but I’ve been too busy to cross paths with her. My morning was spent with one of my largest clients. Cole Miller owns a billion-dollar franchise of fitness centers and spas geared toward females, and there was an incident over the weekend. An employee snapped a photo of one of the patrons and posted it to their social media. They made derogatory comments, and the victim lawyered up. I’ve spent the majority of my day combing over the membership terms and agreement while waiting for him to get me a copy of his liability insurance policy.
The whole thing is a real shitstorm. He issued an apology on behalf of the company, but people are out for blood. It’s being tried in the court of Twitter and frontier justice is on the horizon. The post has been removed but there are screenshots floating around. I have my team sending cease and desist letters out to people posting about the gym. It’s already getting nasty. Cole has a reputation for being a bit of a brawler and a player. He’s a former MMA fighter and the media loves dragging his name through the gutter of every rag tag gossip mag and site.
I know how the guy feels; I’ve experienced their wrath before.
Picking the phone up, I dial my house. Molly picks up on the third ring. “Collins’ residence.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m just wrapping things up here at the office. I should be home within the hour. Is she upset?” I didn’t expect to be here so late and miss dinner tonight.
Molly’s tone softens. “She’s fine. She knows you’re doing the best you can.”
I groan internally and stare out at the Chicago skyline. The Willis Tower lights up. I wish things could be different. “Tell her I love her, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I will. Oh, there’s a plate for you in the oven.”
I grip the phone tighter. “Thanks, Molly.” I end the call. Guilt eats at me, but some things can’t be helped. I can’t be two places at once.
Not needing to hurry any longer, I run the report once more and get it ready to leave on Tate’s desk so it will be waiting for her first thing in the morning.
I stick the file under my arm, grab my briefcase, and lock up for the night. I nod at Gene, one of our security officers as he does his sweep of the floor. “Night, Mr. Collins.” He clicks his flashlight off.
“Has everyone gone home?”
“I believe so.” He steps into the elevator and holds the door open. “Going down?”
“Not yet. Have to drop this off first.” I motion toward him with the file in my hand.
The elevator door shuts, and I continue to Tate’s office. As I near, I notice a soft glow of yellow light on the floor. If I were a coward, I’d leave the file on Quinn’s desk with instructions for her to see Tate receives it first thing, but I’m no pussy. I can’t go around avoiding her simply because I find her attractive.
Tapping my knuckles lightly on the heavy door, I wait for her to invite me in. The sound of her heels clacking across the floor grows louder as she approaches. My heartbeat kicks up a notch.
The door pulls open, and her eyes widen when she sees me.
“Mind if I come in?” I take a step forward, not bothering to wait for permission.
She steps back, opening the door wider to put more distance between us. “It’s your building.”
She looks much taller today, and I can’t help but look at her feet to see what shoes she’s wearing. They’re snakeskin, and she looks hot as fuck in them. I drop the file on her desk and my briefcase in one of the chairs.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Going over the report. I made a few notes and I’m busy tomorrow. Have a big case developing.”
“No need. I took care of it. In the future if you say you’ll have a report on my desk in the morning, I expect it to be on time.”
“Is that so?”
Tate doesn’
t respond. She stands there, fuming.
I stroke my beard, amused. “I don’t need you riding me, sweetheart.”
“Listen up, sweetheart.” She takes a few steps toward me and her eyes flash with irritation.
I don’t know whether to be intimidated or turned on.
Tate puts both hands on her hips. “If I were riding you, you’d damn sure know it.”
My teeth clench. The thought of her straddling me plays front and center in my mind. She’d be in nothing but those fuck-me stilettos. Her hair would tumble down her back while she bounced on my thighs, grinding on my cock, my fingers biting the curves of her hips. It would culminate with her bow-shaped lips forming a perfect O while she comes.
“That a promise?” My gaze rakes over her body, taking her in as she stares me down. She’s wearing a yellow skirt that’s brighter than the sun, her tanned thighs peeking out the bottom. The top two buttons of her blouse are undone providing a glimpse of dark lace underneath. With every breath she takes, her breasts expand and contract and I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.
I cross the room in three long strides. Grabbing her face between my palms, I look into her eyes ready to get lost in them. Those tempting red lips part, and her mocha-scented breath wafts over me. Tate leans in, and my hard cock brushes up against her stomach. The smell of her perfume invades my nose, and all I can think about is claiming her mouth, until Weston’s voice sounds in the dark recesses of my mind and tells me not to get involved or I’ll blow more than just a load in my pants.
I mentally curse Weston Hunter for sending Tate Reynolds here to torture me.
Dropping my hands, I pull away as my pulse hammers in my ears.
“This can’t happen.” I storm toward the door not looking back and suck in a deep breath. I’m losing my goddamn mind.
Fuck, this woman is impossible to be near.