Finding Mr. Happily Ever After_Edwin

by Melissa McClone

  Usually, HR was notified of impending restructures or layoffs, but nothing had come down from the executive level. Jazz, as HR director, was as much in the dark as everyone else. She’d been tempted to ask Xavier to call Win, but she decided against that. She hoped things would improve next week with the arrival of a new month. June and the promise of summer might turn employee attitudes around.

  The CEO’s personal assistant, an energy-drink-fueled woman named Freya, knocked on Jazz’s open door.

  “You’re wanted upstairs,” Freya said.

  Being pulled into a meeting at the last minute wasn’t anything new, but Jazz wondered if she’d find out what was going on. Her knee bounced. “When?”

  Freya’s mouth slanted. “Five minutes ago.”

  Nerves knocked together but only for a moment. Jazz needed to be composed and professional. She grabbed her tablet and stylus pen with surprisingly steady hands, stood, and straightened her skirt. “Where?”

  “Executive conference room.”

  Jazz could be there in minutes if she didn’t fall flat on her face from nervousness. “On my way.”

  As she left her office and headed to the staircase—that would be faster than the elevator—worried faces watched her. She plastered on a carefree smile to keep more gossip from being spread. She didn’t want others thinking the worst.

  Pot. Kettle. Black.

  But considering the possibilities was part of her job. Mitigate damage within the rules and regulations of the company. She’d been mulling this over since the first rumor spread like a norovirus.

  Best-case scenario, the sale—if it had happened—wouldn’t change anything. The lost productivity, wondering, and gossiping happened in this kind of situation.

  Worst case, everyone lost their jobs, and only the executive team and top technical people stayed on. She prayed that didn’t happen.

  Whatever did, though, she and her team would implement the plan. Unless the buyers brought in an outsider to do the dirty work. Then she’d be fired.

  On that pleasant note, she arrived at the conference room. The tinted glass allowed her to see one person inside. A man. The door was ajar, but she knocked anyway.

  “Come in,” a slightly familiar voice said.

  With a steadying breath, she pushed open the door and entered the room.

  The man sat at the large table. She did a double take.

  Win Forrester.

  She froze. Except her heart didn’t get the memo and beat triple time.

  What was he doing here?

  He rose. “We meet again, Jazz Michaels.”

  Every nerve ending danced with awareness. He remembered her. That shouldn’t matter, but she’d been crushing on him. Dreaming about him, too.

  “Hello.” Her pulse sputtered as if it couldn’t speed up or slow down.

  Why was her body reacting that way? Was she dreaming?

  She squinted to see if he disappeared. He didn’t. The same gorgeous face, straight white teeth showing in a grin, and careless hairstyle that likely took expensive product and patience to achieve remained.

  “What are you doing at InstaLove?” she asked.

  “Close the door, please.” His voice was firm, nothing like at the party. She remembered Xavier saying the man had a ruthless side for business.

  Jazz pulled the door closed and then faced him.

  He motioned to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

  She lowered herself into the chair, grateful that sitting would keep her knees from giving out. If only she could say the same thing about her heart. The thud-thud-thud kept getting faster.

  He sat back in his seat, his strong hands resting on the arms of the chair.

  Based on his all-business tone and mannerism, this wasn’t a social call, not that she’d expected one, but daydreams streamed through her head. Nothing new. She’d been fantasizing about him since the night they’d met.

  C-R-U-S-H.

  “Are you settled into your new apartment?” he asked.

  The question caught her off guard. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask anything personal. Jazz cleared her throat. “Yes, but how did you know I moved?”

  “Xavier.”

  “I didn’t realize you kept in touch.”

  “He worked for me for several years. I want to see him succeed in his new endeavor.”

  “He will.”

  Win’s gaze locked on her. He rested his arms on the table in front of him, leaving her flustered and warm. “You sound certain.”

  “I know Xavier.” She wiped her palms over her skirt. “He’s an intelligent, amazing man.”

  “He said something similar about you. Yet, the two of you divorced.” Win leaned over the table, curiosity on his face. “Why is that?”

  Jazz couldn’t tell him the truth about their marriage—that it had been a business arrangement—but she could say something else.

  “I’ll always love Xavier,” she admitted. “Some people, however, are better off not being married to each other, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be the best of friends.”

  Not a lie. Just not the entire truth.

  After being assaulted at a company function in San Antonio, she’d felt unsafe and fearful. Therapy had helped her move forward and regain a sense of normalcy, so had Chase and her friends Emily and Simone. But going through that had changed Jazz. She tackled more things head-on now. No more holding back what she wanted to say or do. Even though Win Forrester occupied her dreams and made her feel like a silly teenager, she wasn’t going to sit there and wait for him to speak.

  Jazz raised her chin. “You never answered my question about why you’re here.”

  Mischief flickered in his eyes. “Forrester has sold InstaLove.”

  The words slammed into her. The rumors were true. She hadn’t wanted to believe them, but there was one thing she didn’t understand. “Why?”

  Six

  Jazz kept her chin up and her spine straight. Her insides trembled, but her hands remained steady. “Why did you sell InstaLove?”

  “We received an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

  That made sense, except something told her there was more to this. Might as well make a wild guess. “No other reason such as wanting out of the love business?”

  He blushed.

  That was unexpected. And interesting.

  “Love should be separate from business,” he said in a professional tone.

  Maybe, but again, she sensed he wasn’t telling her everything. She leaned forward until her stomach hit the table. “Why do I hear a but coming?”

  His smile flashed, catching her off-guard once again. The brilliance of his grin took a decade or more off his face. Not that being in his early-thirties made Win old, but she’d never considered him adorable until now.

  He opened his mouth and then closed it.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’ve been told I have a poker face.” His words sounded amused yet bewildered. “How can you read me so well?”

  “I wish I knew.” That was one hundred percent the truth. She’d just had…a feeling.

  “Well, you’re correct.” His expression appeared more perplexed than angry. “Even though you wouldn’t let Xavier give me your phone number, I decided I wasn’t giving up my pursuit. But appearances matter, so my staff announced offers for InstaLove would be considered.”

  This wasn’t happening. She leaned back and gripped the edge of the table. She had to have heard him wrong. “You sold the company so you could…”

  “Ask you on a date.” He grinned like a kid on a shopping spree in a video game store. “How am I doing so far?”

  Nervous laughter escaped. She stared, dumbfounded. Okay, some billionaires were eccentric, but he had shareholders to report to. “That’s…”

  “Romantic?” he offered in a hopeful tone.

  “Insane.”

  Her answer didn’t seem to bother him.

  Jazz should be flattered, but she was up
set about what might happen to InstaLove and its employees. “Did you at least get a decent price?”

  “The significant return on our investment thrilled the board.”

  She didn’t share his or the board’s enthusiasm. “This company means everything to the employees. We’ve worked hard to make it successful. What happens to the staff?”

  His gaze turned serious. “You’re an employee. I’d do nothing to harm you or anyone else. No one is losing their job.”

  She blew out a breath. At least that was something.

  “Changes will occur at the executive level in the not-so-distant future,” he added. “A transition plan is in place. One you’ll be hearing about after the pending sale is announced.”

  “When will that happen?”

  “Before the end of the business day.”

  She tried to make sense of what she was hearing, but the man across from her had turned her world inside out. “Why tell me now?”

  “I didn’t want to wait any longer to see you.” He wet his lips. “I want to invite you to lunch.”

  “Lunch?” she repeated.

  “That meal between breakfast and dinner.”

  “Ha-ha.” Except she wasn’t amused. He’d sold the company where she worked and was causing her insides to short circuit. Being in the same room was doing strange things to her.

  Toasty things. Tingly things. Tummy-twisting things.

  Uh-oh. She’d better stop that before she did or said something she’d regret. This was where she worked, not a pick-up bar.

  “Does the corporate headquarters have rules against fraternization?” she asked.

  “I commend you for your professionalism.”

  Jazz hated how his words filled her with pride. He was a stranger. His opinion of her shouldn’t matter. “It’s my job to address these issues.”

  “There are no rules against dating coworkers at any Forrester entity, including InstaLove, as long as one employee doesn’t report to the other. I trust my staff to be professional and keep their personal lives out of the office.”

  “If dating isn’t prohibited, why didn’t you just ask me out?”

  “As I said, appearances matter. I have stricter rules for myself since everyone at Forrester, Inc. reports to me, and I report to the board of directors and the shareholders. My great-grandfather founded the company. I won’t allow a hint of impropriety, a conflict of interest, or a suggestion of favoritism to taint the Forrester reputation.”

  Not only handsome but ethical, too. Her respect for him grew.

  She wanted to say yes to his lunch invite, but something was holding her back.

  Not Xavier.

  Herself.

  Something about Win made Jazz want to give up control and forget reason. That scared her because the two other times she’d felt this way had left her heartbroken.

  But what if she never got this chance again?

  “One lunch.” As if he sensed her hesitation, Win’s gaze remained on hers. “That’s all I’m asking from you. I can’t explain what happened at Xavier’s party, but when I saw you, it was like lightning struck. All I’ve wanted since then is to spend time with you again. I’ve never felt this way before.”

  Oh, boy. She’d felt the same way. This guy was trouble. Maybe if she went out with Win, she’d get him out of her system. And her out of his.

  “Okay,” she said. If only to stop him from doing something else stupid. “But only if you let me pay for my meal.”

  “That’s fine.” His bright smile would fuel the lights on Broadway. He stood. “Let’s go.”

  Seven

  Outside the building, Jazz found a black limousine idling at the curb. A uniformed driver with a thick beard opened the door for her, his oversized muscles straining visibly beneath his jacket. “Welcome, Ms. Michaels. I’m Royce.”

  Jazz hadn’t expected the chauffeur to know her name or introduce himself. She wasn’t used to riding in limos. “Thank you.”

  As she climbed in, careful of her skirt, she slid along the back seat to allow room for Win. The interior smelled like…she took another sniff…not leather, but money. Not surprising given how nice it was. Every surface gleamed. The bar contained bottles of top-shelf labels, ones she’d seen in the homes of Sliders’ players during parties. Her fingertips ran over the buttery leather seat. Softer than her couch or chair.

  Jazz had spent time around professional athletes who made millions from their contracts and endorsements, but Win’s world was far removed from what she’d experienced in San Antonio. That unsettled her, a way she didn’t like feeling.

  One lunch, she reminded herself.

  She could handle that.

  Buttons of various shapes and sizes, some illuminated, called to her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to press them, even if she wanted to see what they did.

  Instead, she clasped her hands on her lap. “Is this how you get around the city?”

  He nodded. “If I’m not using my helicopter.”

  O-kay. Not different worlds. He lived in another galaxy.

  Her mother had worked two jobs to keep a roof over their head and food on the table, but Jazz wasn’t poor now. Still, she found having a helicopter at her disposal inconceivable.

  Win scooted across the seat, close enough that his thigh pressed against hers. “Xavier mentioned your passion for non-profit work.”

  “Yes.” Jazz tried to ignore the heat his touch brought despite the layers of his pants and her skirt. “I volunteer with two local groups, and I help Xavier as needed, but one day I plan to found a non-profit of my own. I’ve worked with teens for years, and I would love to help those at risk or from single-parent homes transition to the adult world after they turn eighteen.”

  “Why not now?” he asked, as if doing so were a no-brainer. For him, it was since he had money to waste. She didn’t have that luxury.

  Jazz lifted her chin. A man as wealthy as him wouldn’t understand her reasons, but she wanted to tell him, if only to remind herself what she should be doing to make her dream come true. “I need more experience before I make a career change, and I also have to save more money.”

  “You have a plan,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “An ever-changing one, but yes, I do.” She’d first developed the plan when she thought the foundation would be hers and Chase’s in San Antonio, but over the past two years, she’d refined her vision to better fit the New York area. “Volunteering and community service is where my passion lies, so if I combine that with my career…”

  “You’ll be in heaven.”

  Her lips parted. She was shocked he understood given how much money he had. “That’s the plan.”

  “The more we can pursue our passion, the happier we’ll be.” Once again, his words surprised her. “Succeeding is the icing.”

  “I like icing.”

  “Me, too.” His gaze held hers. “I like you.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Then I’d like to get to know you.”

  Jazz’s heart bumped. Tingles spread across her body. “So what’s your passion?”

  “Making Forrester thrive.” He laughed. “I can tell by your expression that sounds boring and not noble.”

  “Work is your passion?”

  He nodded with enthusiasm. “People call me a workaholic, but I say I’m fortunate to have found my dream job in the one intended for me from birth. Few are that lucky.”

  “They’re not.” All three of her exes were fortunate like Win. Nathan was a world-class photographer. Chase had been named an All-Star and MVP. Xavier ran his own non-profit.

  Their accomplishments thrilled Jazz. One day, she hoped her dreams came true, too. That made her wonder about the man who’d be part of those dreams.

  The limo double-parked on the street in front of a small café Jazz had never been to. Royce hopped from the vehicle and opened their door, but Win was the one who took Jazz’s hand to assist her out. His touch brought more tingles danci
ng across her skin.

  The temperature was warmer than usual for late May, or maybe her intense attraction—and proximity—to Win was to blame for the sudden, stifling heat. As he escorted her inside, he hadn’t let go of her hand.

  Without a word, the hostess, who was dressed in a retro polka-dotted dress and black lace-up boots, led them to a secluded table behind a six-foot-tall partition made of old shutters hinged together. Jazz appreciated the welcoming, open feel with high ceilings and wood-paned windows hanging on the walls like artwork. The vibe was more rustic chic than urban hip.

  A glance at the menu showed reasonable prices. That was unexpected, but then again, everything since she’d walked into the conference room had been. “Come here often?”

  “The staff considers me a regular, but I try not to loiter,” he stated in a businesslike manner as he studied the list of dishes.

  Jazz understood why he came here so much. She hoped the food was as good as the overall atmosphere and inviting decor. The shutter partition was tall enough to provide privacy but short enough to allow natural light from the front windows and not make her feel isolated.

  “It’s a comfortable place for a lunch date,” she said.

  As he peered over the menu, amusement gleamed in his green eyes. “So this is a date?”

  Heat pooled in her cheeks. Her breaths came quicker, so she tried to slow them.

  Was she so far removed from the dating scene she could no longer tell what was what? She swallowed.

  Don’t panic. She forced her lips to curve upward. “You asked me out to lunch, so I assumed—”

  “You’re cute when you blush.” He reached across the table to run his fingertip along her jawline. As before, a trail of tingles followed the path of his touch. “This is a date.”

  “I haven’t dated many people.” The words fell from her mouth. “I would have felt stupid if I’d been wrong.”

  “That’s why communication is so important. It’s easy for mix-ups to happen, but in this case, there wasn’t one.”

  Thank goodness. She read her menu.