by Kat T. Masen
“Chances are slim.” I cringe, then immediately follow with a genuine smile. “Fine, why? I thought that work thing was canceled.”
“They switched the dates. It would be nice to get out for a few hours, have some adult time,” she says innocently. “I love my girls, I really do. But sometimes, I think I’m going to go insane. They aren’t the type of girls to sit in the corner and color. Actually, yes, but the walls not in the books. I’m a terrible mom, aren’t I?”
I steal the bagel from her plate, and with a mouthful of cream cheese, I tell her, “I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy, Charlie. I think you’re doing a great job. They’re alive, aren’t they?”
“Yes... I guess so.” Her tone becomes serious. “It’s because I work. Well, at least part-time. Maybe if I were a stay-at-home mom, it would be different.”
“I don’t think so,” I disagree. “My mom worked two jobs since I was born. I turned out fine.”
A laugh escapes her mouth, followed by another one, until she’s giggling uncontrollably. “Way to cheer me up. You did turn out fine.”
I throw the rest of my bagel at her face, the cream cheese smacking her in the forehead. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“That’s what family’s for. Like hemorrhoids just lingering around your anus annoying the fuck out of you.”
My throat closes in. The comparison turns me off the blueberry muffin, which a couple of minutes ago was teasing me relentlessly next to the bagel.
“Please don’t ever say that again,” I growl in disgust.
She smiles happily, standing up from the table. “I’m off to get ready for work. Behave yourself. I don’t want a call that you’re locked up again. And speaking of which, you owe me big time for that.”
“Uh-huh.” I motion for her to scurry on, and the second she leaves the kitchen, I let out a bothersome huff then yell back at her, “And don’t you dare give the girls sugar that night.”
***
All day, I can’t stop thinking about tonight. Part of me wants to make up some excuse because I just can’t be bothered with her. And the other part of me—sadistic Noah—wants to meet with her, so I can push her buttons and irritate her just like she does to me.
I bury myself in work for most of the day, and when there’s an hour left, I get a text from her.
Morgan: I’m sorry, Mr. Mason, I won’t be able to meet tonight. I will organize another time to complete this. Regards, Morgan Bentley
What the fuck! I reread the message, making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. She bailed on me. I’ve been reading the wrong signs, and why I care I still have no idea. Fuck! Just as I’m about to send a text back, Karina, one of the girls in finance taps on my door.
“Hey, Noah.” She smiles.
Karina has been tailing me since day one. Cute, but young. Younger than I usually would entertain. Fresh out of college, young.
“Oh, hey Karina,” I respond with a forced smile.
“You look annoyed,” she points out, motioning for the cell that sits in my hand.
“Just an unprofessional client.”
“I know what you mean. Today, I spent an hour on the phone arguing about an invoice. The person on the other line had the audacity to tell me to go back to high school.”
Ouch. Like I said, she is young.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, tired and desperate to get out of here. Maybe Lex will be up for a drink tonight. I need male bonding time more than anything.
“Oh yeah, duh.” She laughs, walking further into my office. “A bunch of us are heading to Melrose for a drink. Just wanted to see if you’re free to come hang with us?”
I could fuck her. I mean, she’s easy. Wearing that low-cut top and jiggling around with her tits bouncing everywhere. But much like my almost-dirty text to Zoey, this would be a way to vent my frustrations with Morgan. Buried in some other woman’s pussy.
“How about I meet you guys down there?” I suggest.
“Sounds like a plan,” she cheers. “Okay, so see you there, Noah?” She stumbles awkwardly out of the room, leaving me alone. I’m still annoyed as to why Morgan would flake on our meeting, and the more I think about it, the more riled I become. I take out my cell and dial Kate’s number.
“Hey, what’s up, my Californian homie?” she answers, way too cheerful.
“Would it be wrong to go to drinks and screw a twenty-two-year-old?”
“That depends. How did you meet her?”
“At work,” I reply.
“Uh… hell to the no. Remember what Charlie said… don’t shit where you eat.”
“You’re no fun,” I complain. “And when Charlie said that, she was referring to you.”
“Why the sudden urge to get your pants off? Besides, what’s happening with Scarlett?”
“Absolutely nothing. I still haven’t met her,” I respond, defeated.
“Why? I’ve already bought a dress to wear to your wedding. It’s low-cut with just the right amount of cleavage to attract the single men, but not so much that I outdo the bride and get called a slut.”
I laugh through the receiver. “She’s out of town, but her assistant—”
“Uh-oh,” Kate interrupts. “Why do I sense something brewing on the horizon?”
“Nothing’s brewing,” I shut her down immediately. “It’s so far from brewing that the seeds haven’t even been planted yet to be even considered brewing material.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that her assistant is weird. Plus, she keeps flaking on me, making my job difficult to do.”
Kate laughs at some inside joke that I’m yet to be included in on. “Oh, why didn’t I see this earlier? You want to shag her assistant.”
“Shag?”
“Shag, get her panties off, tap that ass. As you American folk so kindly say.”
“It’s not like that, Kate. I just—”
“Can’t stop thinking about her?” She fills my mouth with words. “It’s a trap.”
“A trap?”
“Yeah. That whole ‘playing hard to get’ thing. It does something to our brains which makes us think we should chase them. It’s just like in school. When someone likes you, they do all these nasty things to make you think they hate you when in reality they’re just crushing on you.”
Is Kate right? Had I been looking at this the wrong way? Could it be as simple as she’s crushing on me? The idea—as lame as it sounds—is not as farfetched as one may think.
Kate receives some email about a deal falling through, so she panics and practically hangs up on me. Whatever I try to do, it just doesn’t sit right with me. I pack up my stuff and walk to the car. All I can manage to do is sit for a while, staring out of the window.
I’ve been with many women of all different shades and colors. And as infuriating as this is, I don’t know what irritates me more—her canceling our meeting or the fact she’s wasting my time and I haven’t even met Scarlett yet.
And there’s Kate’s theory.
In a rash move, I slam my hands on the steering wheel, letting out a frustrated roar. Overwhelmed by the complexity of her constant mood shifts, I decide I have to do what’s best for me in this situation.
Confrontation.
I need to find her, right now.
Chapter Twelve
I turn on my GPS and drive myself to Scarlett’s office. I have no idea what I’m going to say. Battling the traffic only elevates my already irritated mood. There’s an endless sight of brake lights and equally frustrated commuters getting nowhere.
Inside my head, I’m talking like a madman, airing my frustrations with no conclusion. I almost miss the off-ramp, swerving the car last minute with a bunch of drivers releasing their horn at my reckless driving. Finally, I reach the office at the exact time we’re supposed to meet at the restaurant.
Driving the car close to the building, I park behind another sedan and place my sunglasses on, disguising
my face and lowering my body incognito.
In my entire life, I’ve never been on a stakeout. Except for every Christmas up until I was twelve, I would wait for Santa to arrive who obviously turned out to be mom.
For ten minutes I wait until I see Morgan carrying a bag and her laptop toward a white Mercedes. She doesn’t see me and dawdles as if she has nowhere to be. She’s dressed fancy today, wearing an ivory pencil dress that stops just below her knees. Around her waist is a skinny black belt, accentuating her attractive curves.
You’re not thinking clearly. Stop looking at her damn clothes and focus on HER!
I open the door to my car, marching toward hers at a fast pace. “Morgan,” I call out stupidly.
She turns around abruptly, shocked at the sight of me. Pursing her lips, and relaxing her worried frown only minutely, she stumbles out, “What... what are you doing here?”
“Why did you cancel our meeting?” My voice is filled with malice and judgment.
“I had another commitment that came up…” she says, uncertain, adjusting her posture and straightening her back “You can’t just turn up here. It’s very unprofessional, Mr. Mason.”
“Why are you calling me Mr. Mason? I don’t understand you.” I raise my voice above normal level, unable to control the anger that’s built up on the drive over here. I run my hands through my hair. Something I do when I’m frustrated and want to shout at someone.
“I need to go.” She opens the car door and I grip her arm, perhaps a bit too tight. She stills, unwillingly making eye contact with me. Her chest rises and falls, and somewhere beneath this tough exterior of hers, I know my presence is doing something to her. I just need to find out what.
“Noah,” she speaks, in a calmer, more pleasant tone. “I really need to be somewhere.”
I let go and stand close, obstructing her way. A wave of insecurity almost knocks me down, the emotion crushing my ability to think straight.
“Is that somewhere another man?” I blurt out of nowhere.
What the fuck, Noah? Is that what this is? Jealousy?
Pausing and turning my way, her eyes plead with me to back off. “No, but please… I need to go. I’ll text you tonight with somewhere we can meet up tomorrow. Scarlett’s back, so maybe we can meet at her place,” she says, defeated.
Scarlett. How easily I forgot about the real reason behind all of this.
And as if her personality has different buttons, her face contorts into a bitter stare. “Isn’t that who you’re after? Scarlett Winters... the movie star?”
My grip on her arm is tight.
Like she’s my possession.
The wicked bitch from the west.
I release my grip, instantly pleasing her. With my hand free, I raise it to her chin and pull it closer to me, slowly twisting as I caress her face with merely one stroke. Behind all the animosity, her eyes reflect defeat. And with the gentle rise and fall of her chest beating against mine, my own chest tightens, restricting my breathing. Yet, even without releasing a breath, the excitement streams through my veins and settles in the pit of my stomach.
This mad, sexual, tormented feeling pushes me to inch my mouth closer to hers until I feel her warm breath against my lips. “I want a lot of things, Morgan. I’m selfish that way.”
I could take her right now. Spread her legs and push her against the car. My mind is conjuring up a million different ways I can fuck her, yet I’m brutally interrupted when she shoves my chest in the opposite direction creating distance between us.
Clearing her throat while opening her car door, she blatantly says, “I’m not a giver, Noah. I like to receive. I’m selfish that way. Remember that, for future reference.”
Leaving me standing like a fool as the engine revs, I stare in disbelief as her words echo in my ear, watching her car drive away while I stand in the middle of the parking lot in sheer and utter confusion.
***
I’m not up for drinks with the work crew and instead settle for a tea party with the girls. The complete opposite of what I’d normally do back home. I’m beginning to grow fond of my nieces, despite my initial distaste for children.
Ava decides we need to bring out the fancier china since I’m the honored guest.
“Uncle Noah,” she says in a weird, overdone British accent. “Would you like some more tea?”
“Yes, please,” I say, drinking the air with my pinky raised.
“I’d prefer to be addressed as Your Highness.”
Lex is sitting across from me, covering his mouth with the little cup. Charlie hides her smile as well, at the same time Amelia announces the food is served.
“So what are we eating today?” I ask, staring at the blank plate.
“We’re eating a delicious sponge cake and caviar.”
“Together?” I cringe.
“Yes, Sir Mason. We here at the Edwards’ mansion enjoying only fine dining,” Amelia states confidently.
We all pretend to eat our sponge cake and caviar until Addison loses interest and stumbles to the other side of the playroom to amuse herself with some building blocks while babbling in her baby talk.
“Miss Addison is a horrid guest,” Amelia raises her voice.
“What about me?” Ava asks with big round eyes.
Amelia is quick to scold Ava, “You haven’t touched your caviar. At all. It’s rude manners to leave any plate with food.”
“I’ve eaten all mine,” I announce, at the same time Charlie and Lex follow.
“I can see,” Amelia announces. “Oh, would you look at the time?” She looks at her wrist, vacant with no watch. “I believe Miss Ava and I have an appointment to attend.”
“Would that appointment happen to be Alvin and the Chipmunks on TV?” Charlie questions them.
They both nod before disappearing into the living room. The three of us relax, finally indulging in adult conversation.
“So, tell me what happened. Did you get the info you needed?” Charlie is quick to jump to the subject of Morgan again.
“Not really. She’s supposed to text me with details on meeting Scarlett tomorrow.”
“Noah, what’s going on? She’s Scarlett’s assistant, right? There’s a contractual agreement in place to complete this book. I don’t understand why she’s delaying this.”
Neither do I. I hate this uncertainty, and not only does it drive me insane, it questions my professionalism. I don’t want Lex and Haden thinking I can’t complete this project within the timeline given. But I hate to admit that emotions are running high. Unfamiliar emotions.
“Charlie, I honestly don’t know. I can’t explain it. Morgan is... there’s something and I don’t know. I’m sorry, Lex, I’m trying to get to the bottom of this.”
Lex shakes his head and comments, “Here it is in black and white. She’s obviously attracted to you but is holding back because she’s either in a relationship or she values her career too much. It has nothing to do with your professionalism. You’re great at your job, Haden only has positive things to say about you. Don’t let this cloud your vision and your aspirations.”
“Since when did you become Dr. Phil?” Charlie chuckles.
“Since I’m forced to listen to you and Kate go on and on about relationships. That, and you forcing me to watch Sex and the City in bed almost every night, and because this happens to me all the time,” he says plainly.
Charlie reacts, “I hate to admit it, but it’s true. The problem with you, my dear husband, is that you’re extremely handsome and carry that dominant CEO persona. You’re like the ultimate book boyfriend.”
“Oh no, here we go with the book boyfriends,” Lex complains.
“What’s a book boyfriend?” I ask.
Lex humors me, cutting Charlie off before she answers. “It’s a man, usually a male lead in a book. Quite often he’s handsome, tall with a muscular build, light eyes with a sharp jawline. He has a tattoo inked somewhere on his body. Most often he’s rich, CEO… oh, and who could forget..
. extremely hung.”
I burst out laughing, Charlie shakes her head as she chuckles along with us.
“Oh, he’s described it just right.” She laughs. “Basically your dream man, but on paper.”
I turn to Lex. “Should I even ask how you know this?”
“Both Charlotte and Presley enlightened me one evening. From a marketing and sales perspective, it made sense. The books we published who had these strong male characters of that description are our bestsellers. Don’t underestimate the power of a horny reader.”
“Book boyfriends, huh? Interesting. So you think she’s attracted to me? I’m a book boyfriend?”
“Oh, c’mon, Noah. Don’t play coy. The women fall at your goddamn feet which is why you’re in LA in the first place. I’m your cousin, so to me, you’re gross on so many levels. But you do have that charm women seem to fall for.”
“Gee, thanks for the confidence boost,” I drag out.
“All right, not to come across wrong. You’re young, handsome, and have a successful career. You drive a nice car and women love that. The thing, though, is whether or not you’re attracting the right woman,” she informs me. “This Morgan doesn’t seem to be the right one. You need to meet Scarlett. She’s more your type. I even Googled some facts.”
Pulling out her phone, she continues, “She’s a Lakers fan, and so are you. She dates only guys who have brownish hair, that’s you. So see, match made in heaven.”
I look at Charlie with a bleak face. Really? How on earth is that a match made in heaven? “I’m not a relationship guy. I like to fuck women, that’s it. I don’t crave anything else.”
“We had a deal,” Charlie reminds me.
“Yeah... yeah. I haven’t forgotten. I can’t guarantee you that Scarlett and I are the perfect match.”
“Don’t listen to Charlie,” Lex interrupts. “If you want to fuck women, then go for it. Most men would love to be in your shoes.”
Charlie turns to face Lex, and he’s quick to shut her down. “Not me. So don’t give me those devil eyes. I fought long and hard for you. You’re stuck with me for life.”