RoughRider
* * *
#talldarkandinterested
WHEN I WALK into Thistle, I see Ben sitting at a corner table, his arm around the back of the chair next to him as he gazes out the window. With his suit jacket hanging behind him, I can see that his white dress shirt is bright and crisp, and it’s accented by a dark red tie. His hair is once again begging me to run my hands through it.
My heels click on the tile floor as I approach the table, and he looks up, smiles, and stands.
“Good morning,” he says as I slide into my chair.
“Good morning.”
Once I’m seated, he sits back down, still grinning at me. After a second of silence, he says, “You look great.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress comes over immediately to get our orders, and I take a quick look at the menu before ordering coffee and wheat toast. Ben orders an omelet with extra bacon and toast, giving me a sheepish look when the waitress departs.
“I did a long run this morning,” he says. “I don’t normally eat that much.”
“So you’re a morning person?”
He shrugs. “I’ve realized I kind of have to be. I end up working late most nights, and I don’t get workouts in if I don’t do them first thing.”
“Do you like your work?” I give the waitress a nod and a smile as she sets down our mugs of coffee.
“I love it.”
“How long have you guys been in business?”
“Since we finished grad school. We were twenty-six then, so . . . six years?”
I’m connecting some dots, and I feel a swirling sensation in my belly. I realized when I read last night’s message that RoughRider seems to be a man who has seen me in real life. Ben exercises, loves his work, and is thirty-two years old. All those things sound very familiar to me. Could he possibly be RoughRider?
“Remind me how old you are?” he says.
“Twenty-eight.”
He gives me an appreciative look. “You’ve accomplished a lot for someone who’s not even thirty yet.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s nothing I find sexier than a woman with drive.”
I give him a mischievous smile. “Not even a lacy, little thong?”
Ben’s brows arch, and the corners of his lips turn up in a smile. “Are you free for a date this weekend?”
I pretend to consider. “I might be free Saturday night.”
“What can I do to persuade you for sure?”
“Hmm . . . if I am free, what do you have in mind?”
For the first time in I can’t remember how long, I’m flirting. And it feels good. Ben is hot and smart, and even though we’re right across from each other at the table, I want to be closer to him. The thought that he’s trying to woo me on the side adds even more sex appeal.
But why? What would make him do that? I know I need to keep my suspicion under wraps and see how things play out. But at this moment, not only am I hoping Ben is my mystery man, I’m also hoping he really is a rough rider.
“Dinner at Nobu and dessert at my place.” Ben holds my gaze as he tells me about his plans for us.
He’s not beating around the bush. I like that. If I accept this date with him, he’s hoping it will end with the two of us sweaty, exhausted, and tangled in his bedsheets.
“Okay.” I smile at him, hoping for the very same thing.
I’m still feeling warm and excited when I walk into my office forty-five minutes later. That is, until I see a uniformed Chicago Police Department officer and two other men in suits standing by Jane’s desk.
“There she is,” Jane says, smiling nervously.
Fuck. My first thought is that somehow, things were worse with the employee I fired than I realized. Did she somehow trigger a police investigation with her creative money mismanagement? I can’t afford any bad press right now, with new investors freshly onboard.
“Ms. Mills,” one of the men in a suit says, extending his hand. “I’m Detective Aidan Pierce. Do you have time for a few questions?”
I’ve done nothing wrong, but I still feel my blood pressure rising by the second. What if something happened to one of my parents? Or to Coop?
“Of course, come on in.” I lead the way into my office, and Jane scurries over to close the door.
“Feel free to grab a seat.” I gesture at the chairs in front of my desk and the loveseat along the wall.
“Thanks, but we won’t be long,” Detective Pierce says.
He looks about my age, with serious brown eyes and the trim physique of a runner.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, unable to stand the suspense any longer.
“Absolutely. We don’t mean to alarm you. I would have called to schedule an appointment, but we were in the neighborhood.”
“No problem at all.” I lean against the corner of my desk, waiting for him to tell me why they’re here.
“We’d like to access some of your company records. Communications between Isaac Carter and Isabella Moore.”
I nod with realization, and my shoulders drop with relief. “The woman who was stalking him?”
“Right. We need to collect the evidence from here, if possible. If we can access all communications between the two of them, that would be ideal.”
“Absolutely. Anything we can do to help. I appreciate you guys taking this seriously.”
“Miss Moore was arrested, but she posted bond, so make sure Mr. Carter has security.”
“We have. I have someone with him when he leaves his home, and I have surveillance on him at night.”
The detective nods and looks at the door. “Can we take a look at those records right now?”
“Sure. I’ll have Jane take you over and tell everyone to share anything you need.”
I walk over to open the door, stopping with my hand on the handle. “Uh . . . I feel like I should let you guys know that some of the work we do here is . . . sexually explicit. It’s all between consenting adults, but . . . you know, there’s dirty talk and such.”
The other detective tries to hide his grin, and Detective Pierce meets my eyes with a reassuring look. “I’m a Marine, ma’am. Nothing I haven’t seen and heard before. And I’ll cover these guys’ ears and eyes if needed.”
We all share a nervous chuckle, and I take them out to Jane’s office and explain to her what’s going on. She looks relieved as she gets up to offer them coffee and be their ambassador. Did she think I was getting arrested or something? The thought amuses me.
As soon as I sit down at my desk, my first urge is to write an email to RoughRider. I decide to give in to it.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: good morning
Dear RoughRider,
How’s prison life? I figure that’s probably your big secret. Can’t tell me who you are because you’re currently living in a cell.
I really shouldn’t be as open as I’m being with someone who could be, well . . . anyone, but I’m one of those people who doesn’t hold back. It’s not like I’ve given you my ATM PIN or anything, right? You do know about the color of my lingerie and my affinity for soggy Oreos, though. Please don’t tell your cellmate.
Your message last night was really nice. I’m curious, though, is that you talking to me or you showing me how a real alpha talks?
Hope your day is going well. Try not to get shanked before you write me back.
S
* * *
Within five minutes, my inbox dings with a response.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: good morning
Good morning to you too. That’s quite a theory you have, but fortunately, I’m not in prison. I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. See the halo glowing above my head right now?
I’m glad you liked my message. As to your question—it was both. Me talking to
you and showing you how a real alpha talks are one and the same.
Since I hypothetically held you and we talked until we fell asleep last night, this morning you would have woken up to me kissing your neck and letting my hands slowly roam every inch of you. You’d feel your effect on me pressed definitively against your thigh. I’m a patient man, and I’d wait to go further until you were breathing hard and begging for more.
I’d tell you about the rest in great detail, but I’ve got to get to work. You probably don’t want to hear about it anyway.
RoughRider
* * *
#letsgetfoxy
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: good morning
Dear RoughRider,
Ha. Did you forget that sexy words are the very foundation of my business? If I wanted to hear dirty talk, I’ve got plenty of options, not to mention a vivid imagination of my own. I know how to lie back, close my eyes, and fantasize about how much I love the feel of a man giving it to me exactly how I like it.
I’d tell you how that is, but you probably know already, right, Pussy Whisperer?
S
PS: How much do I love owning a company where I can send out emails like this knowing IT won’t blink an eye? Dirty is our status quo. That sounds like a great ad line . . .
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: a good morning indeed
Hey, thanks for making me so . . . enthused at work. That’s never happened before. I had to sit behind my desk for a few minutes after reading that last message.
And I’m no Pussy Whisperer—no relationships in a while, remember? But yeah, I bet I do know how you like it. Slow and sensual at first, building and building—so damn good, getting faster, until you’re close to the edge, and then slowing way down until you’re whimpering for more. Faster again, and then slow, so slow, until you’re so worked up that just a couple long, hard thrusts finally get you there. And it’s good, yeah? I’d ask you even though I already knew, just so I could hear you say yes in that satisfied purr of yours.
Don’t try to tell me you didn’t like that. Those guys you employ may do it for most women, but not you. I’m the only one you wanted to hear that from. And you’re the only one I want to say it to.
RoughRider
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: a good morning indeed
There are lots of things I’d like to say right now, but I’m going to keep this simple, because when I ask multiple questions, you’re adept at avoiding some of them. So I’m only asking one.
Have we met before?
S
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: a good morning indeed
Sorry it took me so long to answer—work was calling.
Yes, we’ve met before.
RoughRider
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: Another question
That worked well—let’s do it again. Are you keeping your identity a secret because we have a work relationship of some kind?
S
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: Another question
No more details. I just wanted you to know I’m not some random crazy guy.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: okay then
So you’re a known crazy guy. I feel much better now.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: okay then
Do I seem crazy to you? Really?
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: okay then
No, I’ll admit you don’t. Will you tell me if you’re one of my investors?
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: no
I said no more details, woman. And to clarify, that subject line means no, I won’t tell you.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: you’re infuriating
You did not just call me “woman.” When you can pick your knuckles up from the ground long enough to write out a response, at least tell me what the 16 in your screen name stands for.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: giving in
Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s the number of years left in my sentence.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: so funny
Ha. While I do love being toyed with and left in the dark, I have to leave the office for a meeting in five minutes. You’ll have to aggravate someone else for the rest of the day.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Let’s have an email date tonight. I’ll be home around nine. Meet me here then? Or we can IM if you’d rather?
* * *
By nine p.m., I’m not upset with RoughRider anymore. If anything, I’ve been counting down the minutes since Jack fell asleep while I was reading to him half an hour ago.
I thought about standing him up. He pretty much assumed in his message that I’d want to have an email date with him, and I didn’t like that. Or maybe I just didn’t like that he was right.
But then my afternoon meeting with some investors ran over, and I was on my way to meet Carmen and Jack for a later dinner at a pizza place when I got a call from Andrew Benson, the Chicago Sun reporter who wrote the article about Alpha Mail. He said he wants to write a follow-up, and I said of course. Then when I got to the pizza place, Jack was dressed as Darth Vader. As soon as I saw him, the last of my aggravation melted away. I told Carmen the good news about the follow-up article, and we were in high spirits all evening.
I’m really looking forward to my date with Mr. Anonymous when I sit down on my bed and open my laptop.
It’s not something I could explain to anyone. I don’t know who he is, but I feel like I can talk to him about anything. Maybe that’s the appeal, though. I have nothing to lose because I don’t know who he is.
Why doesn’t he want me to know, though? That thought nags in the back of my mind. I’m wondering if RoughRider is just Ben trying to get to know me better in a playful way. If it’s him . . . the thought gives me butterflies. If I have a real-life date with the man who has a knack for pissing me off and turning me on at the same time, well, that sounds very good.
I’m daydreaming about what Ben looks like under those suits of his when my email inbox updates with a new message.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: hey
How was your day?
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: hey
It was good. Long meeting, great dinner. How about you?
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: hey
Yeah, mine was good too. This is my busy season at work, and it’s my favorite time.
I downloaded an IM app called Foxy. You have it?
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: hey
It’s installing right now . . . okay, done. I’m setting up my
account . . . searching for your user name . . .
* * *
SIENNAM: Hey, are you there?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yep. Thanks for downloading that. Should be easier to chat this way.
SIENNAM: So, mid-August is your busy season at work. Do you work at a heating and cooling place?
ROUGHRIDER16: My lips are sealed, remember?
SIENNAM: *eyeroll*
ROUGHRIDER16: *wink*
SIENNAM: Do you wink in real life?
ROUGHRIDER16: lol, not often, no. Why, you like it?
SIENNAM: I just admire a good winker is all. I’m a bad winker.
ROUGHRIDER16: A good winker? Am I the only one who thinks that sounds dirty?
SIENNAM: Yeah, I think you’re reaching . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: Well, it rhymes with wanker. . . .
SIENNAM: Are you British?
ROUGHRIDER16: Nope.
SIENNAM: Tell me something about yourself.
ROUGHRIDER16: Okay . . . gimme a sec. . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: I beat a ninety-year-old at chess last weekend.
SIENNAM: Um, sweet? Did you flip over the table and scream “In your face!”?
ROUGHRIDER16: Nah. He was happier about it than I was. He’s a chess wizard, used to teach it when he was younger. He lives in the same nursing home as my grandpa, and we’ve been playing chess every weekend for more than six months now. It was the first time I won.
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