The CEO

by Shealy James

  2. The number of times I have worked out since living here.

  1. The number of actual events I have attended as an “Event Manager.”

  I was pleased that it seemingly rained less in Seattle than it did in Georgia, despite the rumors, so I decided to brave the walk to work once I believed I finally understood the fickle weather. After pinning up my wild brown hair in a loose bun to keep it from going crazy on my walk over, I headed on my way. I would do almost anything to avoid getting behind the wheel of a car, and the twenty-five minute walk was nothing. I could have even stopped for coffee if I wanted.

  It also was not my intention to bring my car to Seattle, but my dad was worried about me walking at night. My parents thought danger lurked beyond every corner. To be fair, I wasn’t exactly known for paying attention to my surroundings. Even if I carried mace or some sort of weapon, it would probably take me more time to find it in my purse than it would for the killer to murder me. Note to self—be more responsible. I was an adult after all…well, sort of. Did anyone ever really feel like an adult?

  As soon as I had settled in my office for the day, Tara marched in my door and sat in front of me. She looked a little disheveled this morning, which wasn’t unusual for her. She was cool as a cucumber from about ten o’clock on, but before then all bets were off. “You okay?” I asked, trying not to laugh at her apparent frustration with mornings.

  “I was doing fine until Sabrina called. Apparently she scheduled a dinner with a couple of corporate donors for tonight and forgot to put it on the calendar. She just put it on her calendar because she was going to go while I attended the lecture series. I’ll be honest, though—I don’t feel comfortable sending you to the dinner without you having met these people first. They can be difficult, and we can’t risk losing their generous donations by being represented by someone who hasn’t had the time to learn the ropes. The son of the Mitchells who founded the college will be at the dinner, and he and his wife can cause problems for us if we don’t tread carefully.”

  “That’s fine. I went to the lecture last week. I think I can handle hosting the event alone. Dr. Clarke will be there to introduce the speaker from his department, and I can handle the reception. I brought red velvet cupcakes,” I told her proudly. My cupcakes were a thing of beauty. They were more of a winter treat, but since when were delicious cupcakes not welcome at a party?

  She sagged with relief. “Oh good! I was afraid you were going to think I was bailing on you. Don’t worry. Every lecture runs the same. There will be between thirty and fifty people there, but no one stays past nine. You can either come in late tomorrow or take off early on Friday, but remember we have that cocktail reception at Bistro 79 on Friday.”

  I smiled easily at her. She seemed so grateful I was doing my job I began to wonder how Sabrina used to handle things. “Sounds perfect. I’ll see how it goes. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Nope. Just call those vendors and the volunteers for the Fun Run in September to confirm the date. We want to make sure no one backs out. Oh, and check the RSVP list for the anniversary party. I need to start making phone calls to make sure the important people received their invitations if their assistants haven’t called yet.”

  “Sounds good.” I immediately turned to my computer to pull up the list of vendors she had sent me earlier in the week.

  Before she left my office, she turned back to me. “You know, I could kiss that stupid Mark Stevens for letting you go. You have been the best thing to happen to me since low calorie margaritas.”

  I laughed and then gave her a pointed look. “I thought Ryan was the best thing to happen to you.”

  “He was until he tried to give me a key to his place.” She wrinkled her face, clearly expressing her distaste. “I don’t want or need that kind of relationship. I thought we were just casually dating. He thought we were moving on to the next level. Stupid man.” She rolled her big brown eyes.

  “So, did you break it off?”

  “No. I just told him I needed space. I’m hoping I meet someone new on Friday who would be into a monogamous, casual relationship that’s going nowhere. I mean, is that really too much to ask?”

  I wasn’t considering dating again, but maybe I could try what she did. Meet new guys and see if someone caught my attention. No commitments of any kind. It would have to be exactly what Tara described though, casual and monogamous. I was a lady after all. “I think it sounds perfect.”

  “Too bad, girl. You aren’t my type.” She winked at me as she walked out.

  “You’re too crazy for me anyway!” I yelled after her.

  Time passed quickly, and before I knew it the clock said five. I ran into Tara’s office and told her I was headed home to get my car and change. I was sticky from rushing home in the heat of a Seattle summer, which was really nothing compared to the Deep South, but I still wanted a shower before I threw on a different outfit.

  After drying my hair and curling it into soft curls, I threw on fitted black pants with a loose black blouse and black pumps. I figured I needed to be comfortable since I would be cleaning up after the reception. With a quick swipe of red lipstick, I was out the door.

  I arrived at the lecture at six fifteen and started setting up. When Dr. Clarke arrived a half hour later, a few of the guests were already seated. I had met Dr. Clarke at the lecture the week prior, so he came over and spoke to me briefly before he moved on to greet other faculty members and guests. I tried to be friendly to guests who came over to get a beverage or had questions about the lecture, but for the most part I tried to remain out of the way, seeing as I was just there to manage the event. I stood in the back of the lecture hall where I would take my seat as soon as Dr. Clarke took the stage, but I kept getting the feeling I was being watched. When I glanced around the room where professors, students, and community guests stood around talking, I saw no one looking my way.

  Waving it off as paranoia from running my first event alone, I signaled to Dr. Clarke to begin. He took the stage, and I took my seat in the back row near the exits. As I tried to listen to Dr. Clarke while he listed the credentials of the guest speaker, a Mrs. Daphne Pearce, I felt my skin prickle with awareness again. This time my paranoia turned into discomfort. When I felt a presence behind me, a shiver trailed up my spine and every nerve in my body was on high alert.

  I started to turn, but the man came around to the side and leaned down. “Is this seat taken?” he asked quietly. His deep voice was incredibly sexy, but it was the sight of him that left me unable to speak. I was forced to shake my head to answer his question, even though my ingrained southern etiquette dictated speaking when spoken to. It would’ve been easy to blame my inability to verbally respond on that same southern etiquette, because my upbringing also dictated it was rude to speak during a lecture or presentation—and rudeness was intolerable—but that wasn’t the case. What made me unable to function, let alone form words, was the stunning man who was now sitting next to me, smelling delightfully sinful. He was tall—really tall—and wearing a three-piece suit. I had never seen a man in a three-piece suit outside of a rented tuxedo at weddings, if those even count, but the difference the vest made was really unbelievable. This man was sexy with a capital S-E-X. If I could have formed a coherent sentence right then, I would have come up with a better word than sexy, but words just weren’t happening.

  I imagined reacting similarly if Henry Cavill sat next to me, and while he wasn’t wearing a cape like Superman, he rivaled Clark Kent for his good looks, minus the awkward geek thing and the glasses. He would probably look hot in glasses, though. This guy would look hot in a paper bag. In fact, it might have been easier to get through the lecture if he had stuck a paper bag over his head. That face could distract the panties off a dead woman.

  My heart was pounding against my ribs, and I found myself sitting up straighter and discreetly wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, then folding them primly in my lap. I was divorced, not dead for goodness’ sake. Mothe
r Teresa would have noticed how attractive this man was. I tried to avert my eyes while silently begging the good Lord not to let me embarrass myself, but through the corner of my eye I saw the man’s impeccably combed brown hair and flawless profile. He sat casually with one ankle crossed over the other knee, so the knee of his top leg was close, too close, to my leg. I crossed my legs to the opposite side to gain some distance, because I was having a hard time not “accidently” touching him.

  Mr. Sex-on-a-stick had a strong jaw with a straight nose—very manly. His cologne and long eyelashes, combined with his light eyes of some indiscernible color and his grin when he asked if the seat was taken would be enough to give a girl an orgasm. If I had ever had orgasms—which sadly I hadn’t—I would have combusted. As it was, I could feel my body’s reaction to him down there. I guess it was good that he just rendered me speechless. An unexpected orgasm on top of a sudden onset of mutism would have been rather humiliating. Damn Tara for leaving me here by myself.

  Still making a conscious effort not to stare, I turned to face the front, trying to play off my shock and awe as interest in what the speaker was talking about. The lovely woman, whose name I had now forgotten even though I looked at it every day for the last eight days, was now speaking. She sounded like the teacher from Charlie Brown because the man next to me was flooding my senses. I glanced over at him again and noticed his hands rested lazily over his leg. No wedding ring, no tan line, and no indentation like the one that had misshapen my ring finger. I crossed my arms over my stomach to keep my hands out of sight, more for me than him. There are just some things you don’t want to think about while you are imagining ripping the clothes off the man sitting next to you.

  For the next forty-minutes I sat stick-straight in that chair, with my legs and arms crossed and heart racing, breathing in the gorgeous man’s air. I missed the entire lecture, and it wasn’t until he stood to leave our aisle that I realized the lecture was over.

  “Where are Tara and Sabrina?” he asked. His deep voice spoke clearly and almost caressed the words as they escaped his mouth. That could have been my imagination running away with my libido, though.

  Mentally shaking off the reaction my body was having to the man, I managed to tell him Tara was at a dinner with the corporate donors, and Sabrina had decided to be a stay-at-home mom. Then I introduced myself. “I’m Eve, Sabrina’s replacement,” I said and held out my trembling, yes trembling—how embarrassing—hand to him. He looked at my hand, then back at my face without ever removing his hands from his pockets. With a naughty grin, he nodded and turned down the aisle to speak to the other guests. Strange man. Strange, sexy man.

  I realized my hand was still outstretched, so I immediately pulled it back and headed to the lobby where a dessert reception was to be served. Mentally kicking my ass for behaving like a giddy schoolgirl, I checked that everything was set up properly for the guests, then opened the doors so guests could flow in and out of the rooms.

  Guests drank wine or coffee and ate everything from cannoli to baklava to my homemade red velvet cupcakes. They were standing around the high-top tables in groups, chatting pleasantly. I smiled at the fact that my first event went off without a hitch. Granted, it was a weekly event that practically ran itself, but either way it was a success.

  Laughter filled the lobby and echoed in the small but open space. I scanned the room to watch as guests were starting to leave when I caught sight of the sexy stranger. He was passing a glass of wine to the woman who had been the guest lecturer. She took the glass and gave him a grateful look. In return he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, catching my gaze when he did. I quickly turned and busied myself with cleaning up the empty plates and glasses. I knew the lecturer was a “Mrs.,” so the sexy man must be her husband. Lucky her. I bet she had orgasms. I almost gasped at my wayward thoughts. Mind out of the gutter, Eve!

  My mind went back to his bare fingers. Well, one finger in particular. Some men chose not to wear a wedding band. If I married a man like that, I would insist upon it, even though I had never been a jealous person before. I would even consider handcuffing myself to that gorgeous man, so everyone would know he was mine. It was a good thing I was never getting married again. It was those kinds of crazy ideas that ended up causing women to snap.

  Dr. Clarke came over to me as I was cleaning up empty dessert trays. He was a kind, older man who looked like a stereotypical college professor. His navy blazer had seen better days, but he probably only wore it when he did events like this. He placed his hand on my shoulder to get my attention. “Thank you, Eve. You did a nice job tonight. Tara should leave you in charge more often. That red velvet you brought was delicious.”

  I smiled at his compliment of my cakes. “Thank you, Dr. Clarke. Have a good evening.”

  “Do you need any help cleaning up?” he asked as he picked up his brief case and pulled out his umbrella, obviously ready to leave.

  “No, sir. You go on home. Tara is letting me come in late tomorrow, so I’ll make sure to take care of all this.” He smiled and nodded before he slid his little old man hat on his balding head and headed out the door.

  The last few people left shortly after him, leaving me alone in the lobby to clean up what remained of the reception. As I boxed up the last of the cannoli, I heard the lobby door slam shut. I jumped when it startled me and looked up, thinking I would see Tara at the door coming to check on me. Never did I expect the sexy stranger standing at the door, with that naughty grin on his face and his hands comfortably in his pockets as he watched me from across the room. The tingling in my spine was back, and my hands were back to sweating. What was with this man?

  “You alone here?” he asked nonchalantly, his deep voice stirring something inside of me. Ignoring my visceral reaction, I focused on the question. My brain immediately went haywire and wondered why the sexy man would corner me alone in the lobby. Great. Less than two weeks into my new job, and I am going to get murdered. Murdered! To make things worse, I wanted to bed the man who was going to murder me. What the hell?

  I started taking inventory of my surroundings. In my purse I had my cell phone and my keys. I could get out my cell phone and call 9-1-1, but I would either be dead or kidnapped by the time they showed up. My car was too far away to set off the alarm. I could try and stab him in the eye with the corkscrew I had just put in the wine box, but then what? Run? I couldn’t run fast in these shoes. Maybe I should go ahead and take them off just in case, but if I kicked him I would have a better chance of inflicting pain with my shoes on. Okay, shoes stay on.

  “Eve?” His deep voice saying my name weakened my knees. He wasn’t coming any closer. Why was he biding his time? He looked like a lion waiting to pounce. Didn’t anyone tell him not to play with his food?

  At least he would have been in the guest book. Someone here knew him. His wife. Surely she wouldn’t cover for him since he didn’t go home with her. Wouldn’t she be wondering where he was? I was suddenly hoping she would come looking for him.

  My mom and dad were going to be so upset if I wound up murdered. First, I failed at marriage, and then I failed at surviving. I could see my tombstone now. Evelyn Elaine Bryant, Failure at Life.

  “You okay?” His deep voice pulled me out of my morbid thoughts, because he was now standing right in front of me. “You look pale.”

  I blinked rapidly. “If you’re gonna murder me, could you hurry it up?” I blurted out. Shame! That is what I felt in that moment. I wasn’t even a good victim. I didn’t try to get away. What was wrong with me?

  He let out a surprised laugh. “You think I want to kill you?”

  “Why else would you be here asking if I was alone?” I took a step back. Maybe he was giving me a chance to escape.

  “I asked if you were alone, because, like you, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be here by yourself. I’m not going to hurt you.” His confused expression transformed into a naughty grin. I glanced up to see his green eyes gl
ittering. “I came back to walk you out and invite you to a late dinner.”

  There was no way I could eat around this man. I wasn’t sure I could handle being alone with him. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Thank you.” I tried to dismiss him. I really couldn’t look at him anymore. He was male perfection. Strong jaw, check. Sexy grin, check. Broad shoulders and trim waist, check, check, check.

  “See…” He started to move around the table with the grace of a panther. “I don’t think you are fine. I think you need someone here to watch over you, just in case any actual murderers try to get you. Gorgeous girls like you need to be more careful in a city like Seattle.” He looked right in my eyes as he assessed me mere inches from where I stood with my arms crossed protectively over my stomach.

  I took a step back and turned to the table so he was at my side. “Thanks, but I’m good. No need to watch over me. You should go on home to your wife.” I turned to grab my purse and the box of leftover desserts to take home for later. I had a feeling I was going to need something sugary after this evening, or maybe a bottle of wine or a bottle of Xanax. One or all of those should do the trick.

  His brows furrowed. “My wife? I’m not married.”

  “Wow. I bet she really appreciates you saying that.” I rolled my eyes at him and moved past him toward the doors.

  He followed right behind me. “I’m not married. I’m not in a relationship at all if you would like to go ahead and get that conversation out of the way.” He grabbed my arm before I could push on the door. I stared at where his hand rested and could feel his touch throughout my whole body. Butterflies burst apart in my belly, and a deep need formed even lower. I wanted his hands on me…or at least my body wanted his hands on me. “What about you, Eve?”

  I pulled loose of his grasp but remained standing in front of him. His smug grin and demeanor screamed sex, but his eyes, his hazel or green or bluish eyes, gave away the man beneath. “What about me?”