The One I Want

by Scott, S. L.

  I thought Mr. Christiansen was his trigger, but Drew coaxes something else out of him—romance. He slows and kisses my cheek, wanting to make it last longer. I love it and could bathe in his charisma, revel in his care.

  “Faster, Mr. Christiansen. Harder. I want you so badly.” But then again, sometimes you just want to have it all as hard as you can. “Yes! Yes!” My head digs into the pillow, and I urge him on with my heels on his ass.

  Whether it was the name or the speed or the pressure or all of it coming together at once, we do the same. Lying on the bed, we both stare up at the ceiling and try to catch our breaths.

  I say, “I need a shower.”

  “Upstairs or downstairs?”

  “My place.” When I turn to the side to find him staring at me, he smirks. “I’ll grab the bowl.”

  * * *

  You would think sitting across from my boyfriend’s mother . . . wait, boyfriend? Is that what Drew is? Do I have a boyfriend, or do I have a friend with benefits? And at what age do we stop calling them boys? I think Drew is my manfriend from here on out.

  Back to the business at hand.

  Although the rain outside put a damper on our shopping adventure, brunch is still on. I’m not embarrassed in the least sitting across from Cookie Christiansen at Sunday brunch. Nope. There’s also no shame being here with his sister-in-law and her best friend, Tatum.

  I think I’m too tired to care with the level of energy required.

  I sip a mimosa and then finish my bacon and eggs before moving that plate to the side and making the small side of pancakes the star of the show. To be honest, I’m exhausted, but the last thing I should be doing is thinking about why. I was worried when our conversation turned to forever and marriage last night. But somehow, we got over that bump. And the sex afterward was sensational. He’s glorious in bed. Attentive. Passionate. All that intensity turns into hot, provocative—I don’t notice them staring until the conversation stops, and I look up with pancakes shoved in my mouth. I chew and then wash it down with more liquid. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  Tatum says, “I never thought of Andrew that way.”

  “What way is that?” I brace myself because I’m not sure if she’s going to compliment him or go for the jugular.

  Sitting back with an all-knowing grin, she says, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s gorgeous, like his brother.” Her eyes momentarily connect with Natalie, who grins like a woman comfortable in her own skin. To me, Tatum says, “But the glow of your skin, your hair . . . You even cleaned your plate. Everything about you is . . . enviable.” Leaning forward, she adds, “You looked beautiful last night, but today you look—”

  “Like you’ve spent the day at the spa and had the best massage of your life,” Natalie says.

  I sort of did if three orgasms relax your soul.

  “I need to meet someone.” Finishing her mimosa, Tatum sets the glass on the table, and adds, “Sex with Andrew must be incredible.”

  Cookie raises her hand. “Check, please.”

  30

  Juni

  Cookie insisted . . .

  That I stay the night.

  We have coffee together in the morning.

  And to hear all about me, my childhood, and my family.

  Drew called it. We found a list she created the night before for herself, so I had time to prepare—run, hide, or stick around and participate. He was kind enough not to hold it against me if I chose to leave.

  I stayed.

  She certainly loves to check things off lists and did with each item we accomplished. While Drew worked out at the gym at five in the morning, I got up shortly after to get in that bonding time.

  I could handle the first two no problem. She even came down to the apartment after coffee to hang out and proceeded to pick out my outfit.

  She has great taste—a spring pink, short-sleeved sweater, and though it’s still before Memorial Day, white pants because in LA they wear white year-round. In reality, I don’t think Cookie makes excuses or justifies anything she does. If it makes her happy, she goes with it. She’s easy-going like that.

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I walk into the living room where she’s been looking around. I told her she was welcome to. Holding a gold frame, she shows me the photo. “This might be my favorite.”

  Out of all the framed photos my grandmother kept of her glamorous life, the photos of my mom, and eventually some of me, she chooses the one of me on my sixteenth birthday. The sun was setting at the country house in the Berkshires, and tall trees filled the background. It’s a simple close-up photo, but you would have thought a professional photographer had captured the moment.

  “I remember that day,” I say, staring at a girl so different than how I feel today. Taking the frame from her, I admire the innocence in my eyes. “I had really hit my stride back then. I knew what I wanted and how I was going to achieve it.” Setting it back on the bookcase, I add, “Funny how life can have a totally different plan.”

  “Plans are plans. Nothing more. They’re not set in stone or carved into the universe. They’re just ideas until they’re set in motion. Women go through many moon phases as well. Some things are meant for us, and some things aren’t despite the plans we made.”

  “There are plants that only bloom at night. I always thought it was because they craved the moonlight.”

  “The moon is a powerful force.” She sets her empty mug in the sink, and asks, “It’s not?”

  “No, they open when their pollinators are most active. How romantic is that?”

  “Very. It’s as if they sense their soul mate and bloom for them.”

  She gets it. I knew she would. “You can leave the mug there. I’ll deal with it later.” Noticing the time, I ask, “Would you help pick out jewelry to go with my outfit? We can finish talking in the bedroom.”

  She’s not flashy, though she has a rather large diamond ring, diamond tennis bracelet, and diamond earrings. She’s wearing a fortune, but each piece is tasteful that nothing overwhelms, and she’s the one who stands out.

  I pull out my most prized treasures, gifts from grandparents to mark special occasions and others I inherited. Continuing our conversation as she looks at the tray of brooches and pins, I say, “My life was set in motion from the first word I’d ever spoken.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Tree.”

  That makes her smile. “It’s a great first word.” Holding a brooch in the shape of a daisy, she says, “This is the one.”

  “My grandfather gave that to my grandmother the day she gave birth to my mom. He told her when he saw it in the store, he knew he was having a daughter. My mom’s name was Daisy.”

  Rubbing my arm, she says, “Andrew told me about your parents. I’m very sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Surprisingly, I feel relieved he told her. It’s not something I want to go into every time someone finds out. I would have for Cookie, but I’m glad I don’t have to.

  “This brooch is so beautiful, like your mom’s name.” She pins it, not asking if the diamonds are real or crystals. I have a feeling she knows just from looking at it because she says, “I believe in wearing our fine jewelry without waiting for occasions. Every day should be celebrated.”

  I like Cookie. Just like Natalie said I would. She has a personality you’re drawn to, something in her aura that tells you she’s kind. I’ve missed having a mother figure around. I know that I’ve actually been very lucky having Gil and Nancy. They’ve given me a sense of family, even more so than my own parents did if I’m honest. I click more with Gil, though. Sports, people-watching, donuts. He and I just understand each other so easily. But I’ve missed a mother’s presence in my life. Not that I think Cookie will be that for me, as there’s no promise of forever with Drew. But if I were to wish for someone, it would be someone like Cookie. “Can I ask you something crazy?”

  “The crazier, the better is right up my alley.”

  I couldn’t ask just an
yone, but based on the list she made Drew, I feel safe to assume I can ask her. “Do you believe our course is set before we’re born?”

  Her gaze moves past me to the windows as she remains still in thoughtful repose. When her eyes return to me, she says, “I think destiny plays a part, but you have to have an open heart and mind.” With a laugh, she adds, “I’m sure you were warned about me. My sons and husband are more on the . . . how should we say, serious side of life. I think that’s why they were drawn to their professions.” Sifting through the open jewelry box, she finds dainty pearl earrings. “Classically beautiful.”

  As I put them on, she says, “The guys think they’re humoring me, but it only takes one unexplainable event to occur, and they’re coming to me wanting to know what it means.” I slip on my heels as she sits in a blue velvet chair I have in the corner. “My husband trusts my instincts and now carries a crystal in his pocket. He’ll be the first to say it was his hard work and my faith that it would all work out. Nick . . .” Her bond is revealed in a smile for herself.

  We walk back out. “What happened with Nick? He and Natalie seem like the perfect match.”

  I grab a water bottle, and she stands at the island, and says, “They are. They have such a wonderful energy together. I knew if I could get him to open his eyes, he’d see what the universe was telling him. When he finally did, he met Natalie. It’s quite a love story. I’ve encouraged her to write a book about it. The third time was a charm for them. No matter how many obstacles were thrown in their path, they just never got over each other.”

  “Sounds like a fairy tale come true,” I say as I fill my bottle from the fridge spout.

  She holds the straps of my bag before her. “You have yours already written in the stars. Going back to your original question, I believe in destiny, but sometimes, it needs a helping hand.”

  Taking the bag, I settle it on my shoulder. “You never told me about Drew. What was his first word?”

  Pride bubbles up, and she says, “Leaf.”

  Leaf. He’s speaking my language.

  It’s tempting to tell her about our other connection, the one with the science fair project and my parents. Not to mention how we first met, when I rambled on about removing grass stains, but since he asked me not to, I keep that to myself.

  Not so subtly, she says, “I hear you’re interested in botany?”

  * * *

  I hitched a ride with the boss.

  It was my idea to be dropped off a block before we reached the building to be on the safe side. He refused at first but changed his mind when I promised to make it up to him by wearing his favorite shoes next time in bed or on the kitchen island. The location is yet to be determined.

  I’m seated at my desk when he comes from his office, and says, “The lobby looks nice, Ms. Jacobs.”

  “Thank you.”

  I look around, almost forgetting that all those plants had homes on the two floors of CWM, but I hadn’t had time to place them in their new homes in the office the morning they arrived. Also, the jungle vibe seemed to bother him, and I have a soft spot for that side of Andrew. So I might have accidentally on purpose forgotten to correct his assumption regarding the wildlife habitat in the lobby.

  When I think about it, maybe I should be offended that he actually thought I’d leave a ficus mingling with a bamboo palm. My God, I’d have to be a lunatic to group a Dracaena with a Fiddle-leaf. They originated from completely different parts of Africa.

  It’s probably best if I let that go, though.

  He lingers in the doorway while I take a call. After I transfer it, he asks, “Do you mind sitting in on my meeting this morning?”

  “Is there something, in particular, you want me to do during the meeting?”

  Acting unlike himself, he comes all the way into the reception area and leans on the counter like we’re going to have a little chitchat. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about commitment.”

  I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I’ll give him time to get there. He continues, “There aren’t a lot of roles in the company, but we could start having you try them out. I heard you sat in with Nick recently when Barbara was out. Mary has a dental appointment this morning, so I wanted to ask you first.”

  “I’ll help however I can. If that’s where you need me, I’ll be there.”

  “I think,” he says, cautiously, lowering his voice. “I want you to stay if that’s something you want as well.”

  Kissing is out of the question, and so is hugging. Touching of any kind would be inappropriate in the office, but damn, does he make it hard to resist him. “I appreciate that, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine financially.”

  “I’m not worried about your finances. I’m worried about losing you.”

  The heat hits my cheeks like a spark to a match. “You’re—”

  The elevator doors slide open, and he’s quick to move away from the desk, from me. Rousing hellos fill the area when three men step into the reception area. I watch as he greets who I assume are the Everest brothers, shifting right back into CEO Andrew. His posture tenses, his handshake firm from the veins in his forearms bulging.

  All four men stand around sharing stories of a recent night out. I’d rather listen, but the phone keeps ringing, only allowing me to catch bits and parts.

  Margie . . .

  . . .Flirting with you.

  You’re a single man . . .

  . . .You should get out more.

  I guess they’re more than clients, but also friends since they seem to know him so well. I’m a professional and can temper my jealousy, but it’s tough with them still going on about it. Through the laughter, I catch Drew’s eyes on me. There’s nothing he can say to make this situation better. We have roles to play, after all.

  As they shift toward the door, he gestures to me and makes the introduction. “This is Ms. Jacobs. Ethan, Hutton, and Bennett Everest.” With that simple deed, I feel seen again.

  I stand to shake each of their hands and then offer to show them to the conference room.

  So much money is verbally tossed about and not one of them bats an eye, not even Drew. This is his element, the arena where he performs his best. He’s handling billions of dollars in their portfolios, and they’re letting him. I find myself smiling, so impressed listening to him win their trust.

  I don’t know if I have a right to be, but pride swells inside just watching him. He’s a masterful dealmaker, and his knowledge in his field is so sexy.

  The meeting ends when lunch begins. More handshakes are exchanged, deals being sealed, and talk of contracts being sent over.

  If I didn’t adore Ice Cream Drew so much, CEO Andrew would give him a run for the money after that performance.

  The men are escorted to the elevators. Drew stays until the doors close. Turning toward me, he says, “Will you stay?”

  “I don’t know,” seems to be all I can say. “Answering phones isn’t my dream job, but as much as I enjoy being by your side during a deal, I guess I never saw myself as an assistant either.”

  “Stockbroker? HR? Accounting? A financial advisor?”

  “That you’re thinking about me, I’m so touched, but I need to give this some thought.”

  Laurie comes through the door, staring down at a box in her hands. “Juni, you received a package from—oh, Andrew. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. May I help you with something?”

  “No.” Scratching the back of his neck, he says, “I’m good. Thank you.”

  Satisfied, she turns to me and sets a box on the counter. Agent Provocateur is printed across the box. When she glances at him again, he legs it out of there, “Excuse me.” I restrain my grin.

  She waits until he’s out of earshot and even peeks to make sure the coast is clear before she taps the box with her nails. “I know you’re not responsible for what is sent to the office, but receiving this type of gift—”

  “What type is that?” I know the brand of e
xpensive lingerie and own several sets, but I think it’s good for her to be specific, if not entertaining.

  “Sexy lingerie. It’s not appropriate to have at the office. I didn’t read the card, but I had to sign for it since you were in a meeting. Please ask your admirer to refrain from sending these types of gifts. Thank you.”

  She turns, not wanting a discussion but to deliver her policy. Done.

  As for me, I smile as I read the card, but I’m not sure I understand what it means. I lift the lid and peel away the tissue to find two pairs of the same red lace underwear. Ah. Now the card makes more sense.

  One for me and one for you.

  He doesn’t have to sign it for me to know who the sender is, but I am surprised he’s playing this daring game. I transfer the calls to the service and head for the restrooms. Not sure what Drew’s plans are for lunch, but I take a chance and check. Two can play this game.

  “Come in,” he says, his tone gruff.

  When I open the door, he’s quiet with his dark eyes steady on my every move. Closing the door behind me, I stay pressed to it with my hand on the knob. I’m not scared of him. I’m trying to remain a consummate professional. Consummate?

  What an odd word. Even stranger that it’s the same word for intercourse for sealing a marriage as used for skill and exemplary behavior. Ugh. This word is going to bother me now. Like platonically.

  “Juni?”

  “I received the gift. Laurie wasn’t happy.”

  “Were you?”

  “I can’t wait for you to rip them to shreds.” I click the lock.

  As if a starter pistol has gone off, we both fly across the room, our mouths crashing into each other’s as our hands fumble to get our clothes off. Within minutes, maybe even seconds, I’m bent over his desk, and he’s rolling on a condom. “Now you have one handy?” I note in a bit of irony.

  “I took a chance this morning and threw it in my wallet.”

  His breathing deepens as his hands slide up my back. Moving back down, he says, “You have the best ass.” His mouth is on it, a lick and a gentle bite, and then he’s nipping at my hip, teasing the red lace strap. “I knew these would look so fucking good on you.”