Four Sides of a Triangle: An Austen & Cufflinks Novel (The Austen & Cufflinks Series Book 1)

by Heather C. Myers

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell him, taking advantage of the hand he’s offered me and allowing him to help me up.

  His hands are soft.

  “You’re all wet,” he comments, looking down at my torso. Which just happens to be covered in coffee and hot chocolate stains, and transparent, and I’m wearing my royal blue Fredrick’s of Hollywood bra. At least my nipples can’t be seen because I wouldn’t know what to do.

  “I forgot an umbrella,” I say dumbly. Oh my gosh, my hair is probably stuck to my face and the ponytail I put it in is probably getting tangled. The moment I walk into the office and my hair dries, I’m going to have fly-aways that cannot be tamed.

  “Well, where are you going?” he asks me, glancing down the street. He has a nice tenor voice. It’s then that I realize he’s lifted the umbrella, preventing the two of us from getting wet by the rain. Which means we’re standing quite close… “I’ll walk you.”

  “Oh no,” I say. Though I’m smiling, I can’t help but notice the feeling my face normally gets when it’s blushing. “I couldn’t make you do that. Not when I’ve spilled hot liquid on you and your probably very expensive shirt. And you’re probably heading somewhere, so I’ll just be on my way. It’s just across the street – no need to walk me there.”

  “You’re heading to Swift?” he asks me. “So am I. I’m James Morris –”

  “I’ve heard so much about you!” I exclaim, but then I falter. “Actually no, I haven’t heard anything about you, really, except you live in New York with your mother, you’re a writer, and you saw Kim Harden in New York over the holidays.”

  “Kim?” he asks. “Oh, right, the brunette who seems to be dazzled by New York lights. Well, you know about me. Who are you, exactly? My father writes about his job more often than I can keep up with, but I think I would have remembered if he mentioned anyone as pretty as you are.”

  “Please.” I know my blush is only increasing but I have to roll my eyes. “I’m soaked. My makeup is probably running. My hair is frizzing up as we speak. And I’m sure I’ve flashed more people than I have in my entire life.”

  “Your makeup is not running,” he says as we cross the street together, umbrella still providing us with shelter, “your hair is not frizzing, and I should probably thank you for wearing white today because blue is such an amazing color on you.”

  I know I should probably be offended, but he’s so darn charming that I can’t help but laugh. Once we get into the building, we share an elevator together. Since James Morris has never been here before, I offer to show him to his father’s office.

  “You never answered my question,” he says once the doors close. I lean over and press 2. “Who are you and what is someone like you doing at a corporation and not walking runways?”

  “Come on,” I say. This time, I don’t blush and I feel kind of put off by the compliment. I’m not a girl who can’t take compliments or anything, but please. Even if James Morris is very handsome and it’s flattering to know he finds me reasonably attractive, surely he can come up with a way better pick-up line. “My name is Madeline Perkins. I’m Robert Swift’s PA.”

  “I know you,” he says. “Not personally, of course. But it definitely says something about a woman if she can hold her own against the notorious Mr. Swift.”

  “We’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re saying.” I’m not sure why I say that nor am I sure where I get the notion that he’s insinuating Robert and I have that sort of relationship. But I always get the feeling that, upon first finding out who I am and what I do, people just assume we’re sleeping together.

  “Oh, I would never have thought that,” he says as the elevator bell pings. We’ve arrived on the second floor, where Harold Morris is. “Just that you’re a strong woman, keeping Mr. Swift in line. But it wouldn’t be too off-base to say that Robert’s probably, more or less, dabbed his pen in the company’s ink, would it?” The doors slide open and we step out. Interestingly enough, Kim isn’t at her desk, but there’s a black box on it. “Look there. Kim has her moments of being beautiful, right, and Robert loves beautiful women. And there’s a gift on her desk. I’m going to go find out who it’s from.”

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, my eyes widening as I watch as he heads over to the desk. “You barely know Kim! What’s someone going to think? Oh my gosh…”

  He picks up the box and seems to search for some kind of note. He looks at me, placing the box on the desk. “No note,” he informs me, and walks around so he stands by me once more. “Well, you work with Swift. Is he the kind of guy –”

  “Kim and Robert?” I ask. “Yeah right. She’s definitely not his type.” And he would never even go for her, not because she technically works for him, as that’s never stopped him before, but because he knows I don’t like her. But I keep that piece of information to myself. “And no, he’s not a gift-giving type.”

  I ignore the fact that I’m playing with my necklace as I say that.

  “Well, you never know,” James says, looking down at me. “Maybe Kim’s the right girl.”

  “We’re just speculating,” I point out. I bite back the retort that Kim is definitely not the right girl. As if. “We don’t know who it’s from. Who knows? It could be from her family or maybe even your father or something. Definitely not Robert. No.”

  “Maddy!”

  Speak of the devil…

  Walking out of Harold’s office is none other than Robert, and he stops short when he catches me talking to James Morris. Jeez, he’s probably ashamed of my appearance – I look horrible. Maybe I can go home and change… The look on his face right now really is really making me feel subconscious.

  “I want to see you in my office,” he says in a charmless voice. “Now.”

  He heads over to the elevators and I realize I’m supposed to follow. James mouths, ‘Good luck’ to me, which is sweet because considering how unlike Robert Robert is being, I think I may need it.

  Chapter 13

  You’re wet,” he tells me flatly, cocking his head to the side as his eyes descend upon my chest. “I can actually see the black lace on your royal blue bra. Is that from Fredrick’s? I’ve always preferred their line to the more common Victoria’s Secret.”

  “Where I get my underwear is none of your business,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and feeling my face flush again. How many times am I going to turn red today? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m wet because I forgot my umbrella because you called me so late to tell me you want me to bring you coffee because it’s cold because it’s raining.”

  “I can see the coffee ended up on your already transparent shirt,” he says. The elevator lets us out onto an empty seventh floor. Luckily, Robert has his office on the top floor, and unless he has a meeting scheduled, no one’s really up here except him and me. So no one has to see me do my walk of shame. “How, exactly, did that happen?”

  “Considering I’m wearing fairly new heels and I was somewhat paranoid that I was going to be late, I maybe rushed a bit,” I say, slipping through the door to his office he was holding open for me. “Jeez, Robert, is there a reason the air conditioner is on or something?”

  He grins at me and heads over to his desk. He’s so technologically advanced that he types something into his computer and the heater suddenly switches on. I feel my tense muscles start to relax, but unless I can run home and change, I’m probably going to be cranky and cold.

  “I saw that James Morris had some coffee on him as well,” he says, heading over to his cabinet. His voice is innocent, conversational, but his eyes are sharp. He knows there’s more to the story that I’m telling and he wants to know more.

  Which is so typical of Robert.

  “That’s because I bumped into him when I was on my way down,” I tell him. “You know, because I was falling and everything. In fact, if it wasn’t for him being there at that exact time, I probably would be taking two weeks off and billing you for very expensive dental surgery
.”

  Robert grabs something from inside the cabinet and tosses me one of his work t-shirts. It’s blue and white and would probably drown me if I put it on. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s clean and dry and it actually smells like Robert. And Robert smells nice, like cologne and something purely masculine, purely Robert, like wood dust from his workshop. I clutch the shirt to my chest, but make sure that I’m not pressing the dry cloth to my wet body.

  “You should change,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “As much as I love the way you look right now, your skirt hugging your thighs and your – well, your backside in ways I never thought possible – and the fact that your hair is tousled and your face looks so… natural, I can’t have people like James Morris distracted by your outfit. You know, it’s unprofessional.”

  “Of course I know that,” I say. “You know, I can just go run home and change. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Maybe later today, but I need you to make a few calls right now,” Robert says. “I’m not sure if you remember me punching Brick Scott a few weeks ago, but that cost me a couple investors. I need to either win them back or look for a couple more, guys who aren’t afraid to trust a guy who can throw a punch. Some of those potential investors are international, which is why you need to do it now in order to catch them before they leave the office. Here’s what I’ll do for you though, because you really do need to get out of those clothes or else you’ll catch a cold. Especially since something’s been going around the office. And then what would I do?”

  “I’m sure you’d somehow carry on,” I say, a smile on my lips.

  “I doubt that Maddy, I really, really doubt that,” he says. “So I’ll have Sam head back to my house, since he has the keys and everything, and have him fetch a pair of your pants there. And I’ll have him fetch an umbrella for you, and bring me my coffee. I’ll even throw in a hot chocolate for you. Don’t deny that you got one for yourself before, in your eagerness to see me, you fell. Plus, I’m sure it’ll help keep you warm.”

  “You have my pants?” I don’t even really pay attention to the rest of what he said after the fact that Sam is going to go to Robert’s place to get my pants.

  “Don’t you remember?” He takes a step towards me, his grin mischievous. “When we met… You took care of me… Spent the night…”

  “In one of your many guestrooms,” I finish.

  “Yes, well.” He shrugs his shoulders. “You forgot your pants, remember? You wore your pajamas home in order to change because you were washing the clothes you had on. You just forgot the pants, because you slept in the shirt and, if I’m not mistaken, my pajama bottoms. Which you still have, by the way. So I saved them.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had them because…?”

  “I thought you were being a girl. You know how girls forget something at their guy’s place or in their guy’s car or something? It’s like an excuse to go back and get it, right? So I thought you were just doing that.”

  “You know I don’t play silly games like that,” I say.

  “Well, now I do,” Robert says almost defensively. “Maddy, you seriously need to change into my shirt before you catch a cold, okay? I’m on the phone as we speak, though I think now would be the appropriate time to remind you that you have seen me naked plenty of times and I have seen you naked a grand total of zero times.”

  “Imagine that.” I look at the shirt, knowing it’s going to be too big on me. I bite my lip thinking, listening to Robert mumble something on his cell. Suddenly I get an idea. When he hangs up, I point at his waist. “I need your belt.”

  His head cocks to the side again, but there’s a special kind of light in his dark eyes, and his lips curl into one of his brilliant smiles. “See? That’s what I’m talking about, Maddy,” he says, undoing his belt. “You’re right. It’s only fair that we both get naked. In fact, you should probably get updated on my anatomy because I think that my biceps have gotten bigger. I know; we all thought that such a thing was impossible.”

  I laugh, shaking my head as I grab the belt from his hand. “I don’t think so, Robert,” I say, and then circle my index finger at him. “Go on. Turn around. No peeking, okay?”

  “Fine, fine,” he says, doing as I bid him. “But one of these days, Maddy, you are going to be begging me to get naked, and then I’ll have to remember this day and think about it.”

  “For all of two seconds, I’m sure,” I murmur under my breath, unsure if he’s heard me or not.

  Because my clothes are filled with rain water, it’s decidedly more difficult to slip them off, especially the skirt. However, I’m quite grateful for the reprieve I’m given when I slip off my shoes and allow my feet to bury themselves in the carpet. It’s only when I have my clothes off do I realize I’m standing in merely my underwear in Robert Swift’s office with Robert in it. And yet, I haven’t taken my eyes off him; he hasn’t turned around. I’m suddenly aware that I have a lot of faith in him to honor his word with me, just like Robert has enough respect for me to keep it.

  Right, well, I should probably put on the shirt, just in case he has a mirror or something.

  But I don’t think he does.

  I don’t even have to undo the buttons to the front of the shirt because it’s that loose on me. It’s actually quite comfortable, and it’s not as short on me as I thought. In fact, the hemline is a couple of inches underneath my derrière, so while it wouldn’t be professional to walk around work in this, it could definitely pass off as a dress anywhere else. Except maybe at a church, or mosque, or synagogue, or something religious.

  I notice Robert’s scent wafting through my nostrils and taking over my senses as I position the belt around my waist, needing to go as tightly as it can. This, of course, raises the hemline, but not by much, and I feel much more sophisticated, or however sophisticated one can feel in their boss’s shirt. The sleeves are so long that not even my middle finger can be seen unless I roll them up, which I do. I refrain from putting on my shoes until I get pants on.

  “Okay,” I call out to Robert. “You can turn around.”

  He does, and his mouth is already open, ready to say something when he cuts himself off. He’s looking at me with a look I don’t quite recognize, his eyes going from my feet all the way up my legs, to my waist where his belt is, up to my exposed collarbone, and then up to my face. I know it’s not the ideal outfit, but at least it’s dry, it’s covering all the necessary parts that need to be covered, and the heater is on so I’m not cold or anything. I wonder if the belt has bunched up the shirt so much that it makes me look fat, and suddenly, I’m rethinking the whole belt thing.

  “You have the most astonishing pair of legs I have ever seen,” he tells me, his eyes dropping to my exposed legs once again. “I mean, whenever you wear skirts, I know you have some stems, but they always reach your knees so I never got the full effect of them. And that birthmark there…”

  “Oh my gosh, my birthmark,” I say, and I turn red again. I totally forgot about my birthmark. And normally, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kind of like it, considering I’ve had it my entire life and I feel like it gives my left upper thigh some character. But unless I’m at a beach in a bathing suit, there’s no reason for anyone to see it. Especially not Robert. I feel it’s just an intimate part of me that only my friends and two ex-boyfriends know about.

  “It’s great, Maddy,” he says in a low voice. “I didn’t know you had a birthmark.”

  “Well, I told you that there are many things you don’t know about me,” I remind him. “So where are the numbers you need me to call? I might as well start this now while I wait for Sam to get my pants. Do you mind if I use your office?”

  “No, not at all,” he says as I take a seat in his chair. He walks around his desk so he’s standing next to me, and opens the top right drawer before he pulls out a crimson colored phone book. “I moved the book. The names I need have been highlighted.”

  “Hey, Robert?”
Okay, I have no idea why I’m about to ask this question especially when I already know the answer. It’s like James Morris planted this seed in my head and unless I water it, it’s going to be a burden on me. “You’re not really the gift-giving type, right? I mean, unless there’s a reason behind it. But you’ve never given a girl a gift before, have you?”

  “Are we including you in this conversation?” he asks, turning so he’s facing me. Because I’m sitting and he’s standing, he looks much taller than he normally does, something I’m sure he’s reveling in right now.

  “What? No.” I shake my head. “I don’t count.”

  “Then no,” he says. “I don’t give gifts for no reason.” At the end of his statement, however, I pick up a note of hesitation, and this causes my stomach to churn. But I don’t know why. “I mean, not yet. Who knows? Maybe there is that special girl for me that you keep blabbering on about and then maybe I’ll get her gifts or whatever. I don’t know. It’s probably never going to happen. Why do you want to know?”

  Oh my gosh, James may be onto something. Bachelor-for-life Robert Swift is slightly more open to there being That Girl, even for a monogamy-avoiding partying playboy alcoholic? Since when did this happen, you may ask? Well, I’ll tell you. Just around the time the holidays hit and finished, like I don’t know, around the time Kim came back from her New York trip.

  Maybe…

  Maybe Robert and Kim really do have something together…?

  But no, Robert would never do that. He knows how much I dislike her, and okay, yes, maybe he thinks some of the tension between Kim and me is ridiculous, but still, he wouldn’t go behind my back and date Kim. We don’t have any secrets from each other.