Afternoon Delight Scrivener

by Piper Rayne

  Afternoon Delight Scrivener

  Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2018 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  * * *

  Cover design: RBA Designs

  Line Editor: Gray Ink Editing

  Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer

  Created with Vellum

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  * * *

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About the Author

  Also by Piper Rayne

  Chapter One

  “Addison and Clark.” I glance up from my phone to try and give my taxi driver the directions through the rearview mirror. He nods and says something that I can’t hear because he’s talking into his Bluetooth instead of to me.

  I shrug and continue to hammer out the message with my thumbs.

  Me: I’m going to be about ten minutes late.

  Three dots appear below my message and I envision my date sitting at the bar waiting for my arrival.

  Glen: K.

  Me: Do you like the bar?

  The three dots appear and then disappear. I keep the phone poised in my hands for a few minutes before giving up on a response and dropping the phone in my lap.

  A manila folder rests under my purse on the backseat of the taxi that I need to drop off before I can begin my weekend. I glance out the window at everyone rushing down the streets to get to their Friday night plans. That should’ve been me.

  When Glen reached out through Coffee Meets Bagel, I was skeptical. CMB is known to attract guys who are looking for commitment. His profile picture was a gym selfie and though it might have stirred up the lady parts, I’m working on having my brain override my vajayjay’s radar these days. My brain said this guy smells like trouble—especially after the beach guy’s picture who ended up being a catfish.

  After I didn’t respond to his message right away, another message came through. He said he knows the picture is lame, but his friends convinced him it was the way to go. I asked if the picture was him and he told me if I showed up on the date, I’d find out it was in fact him. He was playful and funny, and he hooked me. And now I’d volunteered to deliver this damn package and ruin what could very well be the story we tell our potential grandchildren with, first I had to drop off papers at a tax attorney’s office for my boss.

  The taxi stops, and the driver says nothing, so I hand over the cash and rush out of the car back onto the streets of Chicago.

  “This tax attorney is doing pro bono work for us?” I mumble to myself staring up at the high-rise building.

  Walking through the revolving door, I’m greeted by a security desk before I can access the elevators. Shit. I should message Glen again to say I’m going to be even later than I expected.

  I approach the tall man who looks as annoyed as me for being here on a Friday night. “Hello, I need to head to” —I glance at the envelope— “Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm.”

  He taps a few keys. “I think they’re closed already.” His face is void of any emotion.

  “Can you tell me if there’s a…” my eyes glance to the folder again. “Mr. Bennett?” The last name causes my stomach to gurgle.

  “Let me call up.” He presses some buttons on the phone, listens for a second and then hangs up. “No one is answering.”

  I lean over the counter, splashing on my please eat out of my hand smile. “It’s Friday. You want to go home. I want to go home. I promised my boss that I’d get these on the desk of Mr. Bennett.” I cough, bile rising up my throat with the mention of the name. Victoria is really going to have to take care of this in the future. “Can I please just go up to their floor and see if their door is unlocked?”

  He shakes his head, giving me a look I’m way too familiar with, silently asking if I’m crazy.

  “What can I do?” I ask. “Money? A date?” I look at his left hand. “No. Are you a fan of winter sports?” I’ll totally pull Skylar into this. “My cousin is a Winter Classics skier and her fiancé—” A large palm lands in front of my face.

  “Give me your name.” His fingers position on the keyboard.

  “Chelsea… Chelsea Walsh.”

  He types my name in, and I smile when he pulls a visitor badge out.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I take it from his hand and put it over my head.

  “If no one is up there, they have a drop box beside their door. You can leave your package there.”

  I thank him again and walk steadily to the elevators, dodging people desperate to start their weekend.

  I end up riding the elevator by myself to the thirty-third floor. The elevator doors ding open and I file out, my head swiveling right and then left. Spotting the door with Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm, I head over to it to find a list of the names of all the associates and thankfully there’s Bennett second from the top.

  Hold on Glen, I’m almost on my way.

  My hand pulls on the frosted glass door and it must be my lucky day because it opens.

  I step into the darkened reception area. Looking around, I find no one. Heading down a hallway, my eyes zero in on the names on the doors while peeking my head into vacant offices. Finally, after passing the conference room, I see the last name Bennett and peek my head inside to find it empty with the light on. Hopefully that means he’s in the bathroom or something.

  I pull out my cell phone, seeing Glen has messaged me back, but instead of responding to his I shoot one off to my boss Hannah.

  Me: Mr. Bennett isn’t here. Can I drop the envelope on his desk?

  Hannah as usual, replies instantly.

  Hannah: Sure. Just leave it somewhere he’ll see it first thing on Monday.

  Me: Got it.

  I drop my cell phone back into my purse and slowly walk across the room and place the envelope on the chair. As I straighten up, I notice a baseball sitting next to the keyboard like someone had been playing with it and just set it down.

  My jaw drops and my gaze scatters across every surface, spinning around investigating each piece of art, photos, anything I can find to tell me this isn’t…

  Then as though I hadn’t breathed the entire time I’ve been in this office, the smell of him hits my nostrils. The once familiar scent of the ocean breeze, his deodorant and fresh linen from his clothes. He never was a cologne guy.

  Other than a picture of a dog on the table behind his desk, it’s filled w
ith baseball memorabilia of the Cubs. A die-hard Cub’s fan certificate is framed and on display, so others know he didn’t jump on the bandwagon two years ago when they won the World Series. It’s proof that his family has borne the Cubbie fever for generations.

  “Do you make it a habit of sneaking into people’s offices?” His voice is coy and flirtatious.

  I squeeze my eyes shut then grip the edge of the desk before my knees give out. Shivers run up and down my spine.

  Crazy train. All aboard!

  “You can at least show your face,” he says, continuing his usual play. “I promise I don’t bite.”

  “Unless I want you to.” I spin around, my knuckles white as they tighten on the edge of the desk.

  Now it’s his jaw that slackens as he realizes his ex-wife is standing in the middle of his office.

  Chapter Two

  “Chelsea?” he asks, like he’s not sure it’s me. This isn’t a twenty-five-year reunion. It’s been five years. Five years since I’ve seen those deep chocolate eyes, the messy brown hair. He’s grown even more attractive over the years. More mature. Manlier, leaving that boy next door look behind with our divorce papers.

  “Dean.” I’m able to cool my voice to make sure he doesn’t realize how affected I am by his presence.

  His gaze flows up and down my body and I swallow past the lump in my throat and heat spreads like lava over my skin.

  Thank God for those spin and yoga classes and grilled chicken and vegetables. Eat your heart out asshole. Check out what you missed out on.

  “You look amazing.” One thing about Dean is that his eyes always tell his truth and it’s clear that his compliment is genuine.

  “Wish I could say the same.” I cross my arms, finally finding my inner lioness.

  He chuckles, rocking back on his heels and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, but his tie and vest are still in place along with a silver watch adorning his wrist. The sight of him in his gray suit stirs up the lady parts something fierce. Not that I’d ever let him know it.

  “I was expecting a Victoria to do the drop-off.” He disregards my comment because that’s the problem with two people who know each other so well. He can tell my truth just as well as I can his, and he knows I’m full of shit.

  “Sorry to disappoint. Paperwork is on your chair.”

  I desperately want to flee this room, but he’s blocking the door and there’s no possible way I can get closer to him at this point. I might be able to roar like the lioness from afar, but I’ll crumble like an overzealous cub if either of us move.

  “So, you’re working for Hannah Crowley?” He leans his shoulder on the doorframe, no intention of moving. Go figure, the man tormented me all through our relationship—just in a good way back then.

  “Yes. I’m her marketing manager.”

  “I like the idea of the foundation…giving girls empowerment, letting them know they have a voice.”

  “Yes, it’s a wonderful thing she’s put together.” I pray I look more relaxed than I feel. My heart is pounding inside my chest like a college drumline.

  “You like it?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

  He’s all cool and calm like he always was, while I sit here trying not to let my big girl image falter. He might be the only man on this planet who has the capacity to do that.

  “I do.” I look around his office. “So, you’re a tax attorney?”

  He chuckles again, his strong, broad shoulders rising and falling. “Crazy, right? After I recovered and finally got my shit together, went to law school.”

  “You picked the most boring part of the legal system?” I raise an eyebrow.

  A smile continues to tease his lips. “It’s more interesting than you think.”

  “I should get going.” I step forward, not interested in partaking in a where-are-you-now conversation.

  He glances to my left hand for a second and a full smile creeps up his lips. “How about dinner?”

  I wrinkle my forehead. He’s still insane.

  “I don’t think so.” I step away from the desk with the hopes he’ll step further into the room, so we can circle around one another until I’m at the door.

  “Why not? Unless your wedding ring is being repaired, doesn’t look like you’re committed. Did I ruin you for all other men?” He laughs to show it’s a joke, but his comment only lights the fuse on my anger and resentment.

  “Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean I’m not committed.”

  Way to go, Chels. Lie.

  “So, you have someone?” He stands straighter but never leaves the doorframe.

  “Well...”

  “I did ruin you.”

  “No. You. Didn’t,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Relax, Ches. It’s a joke. Good to see you. I wanted to reach out a few times, but never knew how you’d take it.”

  “How I would take it?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I mean you were the one who walked out on me.”

  “Excuse me?” My inner bitch has come out to play. Forget this polite crap. Hannah will understand when I kick her tax attorney in the balls.

  “If memory serves, I woke up one day to an empty bed.”

  A cynical huff leaks out of me. “Glad to see a law degree didn’t change you. You’re still the arrogant jackass you’ve always been.”

  “What am I missing?” he asks, and I swear my blood runs hot enough to boil a lobster.

  Forget him, I’m going to shoulder check him on my way out.

  I stomp toward the door.

  “No worries, Mr. Bennett, Victoria Clarke will be your contact at RISE from this point on.” I bulldoze forward, thinking I can push right past him and into the freedom of the hallway.

  He steps into the center of the doorframe, his broad shoulders and tall figure filling the empty space. I almost tip forward into his chest from the sudden stop.

  “I’m kidding, Chels,” he whispers and there’s those damn chocolate eyes front and center and fixated on me again. “There’s not a day that goes by that you don’t cross my mind.”

  His smell reappears like smoke filling a room. I shouldn’t inhale the toxic scent, but I do, and my body relaxes instantly.

  “I have somewhere to be.” I ignore his confession. A confession I’ve waited five years to hear. A confession I thought I’d get a day after I packed my bags and left. He never came after me. He never fought for us.

  “Where?” he asks.

  I look him square in the eye, hoping like hell he can’t see the wetness that’s been threatening behind my lids since I first heard his voice. “I have a date.”

  “A date?” He seems surprised.

  “Is it that hard to believe?” I say with venom.

  He shakes his head. “Not at all. So that means you’re single then?”

  I hate to admit to him that I have yet to find anyone special. “Yes.”

  He steps forward, our chests only millimeters apart. I crane my neck to look up at him. “Cancel and let me take you out. We can catch up.”

  My entire body is on fire. How did the pull to this man not die after I signed away my right to be a Bennett? The electricity is still a magnetic pull between us.

  “You’re dreaming if you ever think you’ll lay a hand on this body again.”

  “I asked for dinner, not a fuck,” he says, no emotion crossing his face. His eyes are cloudy now and I can’t tell what exactly he wants from me.

  “I see a law degree didn’t erase your crass side.” I tilt my head to the side, jut my hip out and wait for his comeback.

  “Don’t worry Chels, I can still be as crass as you need me to be to get you off while you ride me.” He winks and my lady parts scream and fight, wanting to be heard. To let him show us how great he is. I refuse to give in though. I’m no longer the doe-eyed girl I once was.

  “I only liked the cowgirl position because your dick
was so small it was the only way I could feel it.”

  A slow grin warms his face. “Keep telling yourself that. We both know I wasn’t even all the way in your mouth before you’d be choking during a blowjob.”

  He stands there all smug. I take my two hands and plant them on his apparently still muscular chest and shove him so I can escape. God help me. He falters back and I storm out of there.

  “Chels,” he pleads as I walk steadily out of the office.

  “Fuck you, Dean.” I raise my middle finger in the air and luckily since everyone has left for the day, the elevator comes before he can chase me down. Not like he would. He didn’t when it mattered, why would he now?

  When the elevator doors close, I will the tears to wait. A drop trickles down my cheek. By the time I’m on the first floor, walking across the lobby to the security desk to drop my visitor badge, I’m wiping away my tears.

  “Thank you again,” I mumble, dropping the badge and continuing to the revolving doors. Once I’m back outside on the sidewalk of a perfect spring evening in Chicago, I flag a taxi down and slide in, finally allowing myself to crumble.

  “Nearest red line L station,” I say and bury my head into my hands.

  The tears are hot and fast and uncontrollable. Not because of the sparing match he outwitted me in. I couldn’t very well continue on the path of the small penis. Back in college, all his locker room buddies were jealous that a guy who had everything got to have a huge dick, too. Once his pro ball prospects crashed and burned, they probably said, ‘at least he’s got that dick going for him. He could make a killing in porn.’