LOL #3 Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Anthology

  Lacey Silks

  www.laceysilks.com

  This Never Happened

  Julia Kent

  A stolen kiss with her professor two months ago comes back to haunt a young woman when fate—and Mother Nature—bring them together.

  DESCRIPTION: Jamie told her to pretend the kiss they shared two months ago never happened, but when fate intervenes and traps Shelly with him in a her boss’s getaway cabin at the ski resort where the two now work, they can’t deny their attraction. Or the gliding ottoman that has a—oh, dear.

  That’s not an ottoman.

  Set in the New York Times bestselling Her Billionaires world of Mike, Laura and Dylan, this is a sweeter romance, with a few spicy elements thrown in for flavor.

  GENRE: New Adult Contemporary Romance, 11,500 words (approximately 56 pages printed). This is a standalone short story with a happy ending. The characters are connected to Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling Her Billionaires series, but you don’t need to have read that series to enjoy this story.

  HEAT LEVEL: Mostly sweet, some spice!

  Turn the page to begin reading This Never Happened by Julia Kent, or click here to return to this anthology’s Table of Contents.

  This Never Happened

  Julia Kent

  Chapter One

  Shelly Jordan walked into her boss’s office and found him standing, tall as a redwood, in front of the giant picture window that faced the ski lift. Mike’s head was tipped up and his hands were planted on his hips. Rays of sunshine poked through between the handful of clouds, bouncing off Mike’s blonde locks. One leg was bent, just slightly, giving him an uneven look, but not an unstable one.

  It was as if nature had made him just a little unbalanced so he could look that hot.

  She’d spent the last three years accepting the fact that her crush on good old Mike was long gone. A thing of the past. When she’d started working at the ski resort the week after she turned sixteen, Mike had been the guy who trained her on everything.

  A ski instructor, he even knew how to work the grill in the tiny cafeteria in the lodge, explaining patiently how to make fried eggs and sausages for breakfast sandwiches for the crack-of-dawn crowd. She’d learned that everyone was a Jack or Jill-of-all-Trades there, learning nearly every job just in case you needed to fill in.

  That had been five years ago. And for the first two, she’d loved him with an unrequited burning that had died the day he brought his new girlfriend, Laura, around. And, later, Dylan, their partner. And—finally—the adorable and amazing little miss Jillian, their daughter they were raising together. All three of them, in the weirdest, most loving, relationship Shelly had ever seen.

  And yet.

  Nothing like a big, giant avalanche of hope-killing snow to snuff out the torch you carry for someone. Three years to get over him had been more than enough to give her perspective. But she could still look at him and admire, right? He was like Michaelangelo’s David. Even if you couldn’t make love with him, you could stare and enjoy the reverie.

  Five years ago Mike had been a ski instructor. Now he owned the entire resort after receiving an inheritance with nine zeros at the end.

  She wasn’t exactly that meek little sixteen year old, either.

  Everything had changed.

  She cleared her throat, willing herself out of the past and back to the present. Mike turned around, a bit startled, his face going from pensive to to friendly.

  “What’s up, Shel?” She was his Operations Manager now. Not bad for a twenty-one year old with a GED and a few accounting courses from the local community college under her belt.

  “You got a call from someone. Bad signal, though. Said he’s on his way for your two o’clock meeting and will be a little early, if that’s okay.”

  Mike crossed the room and sat at his desk. “That’s Jamie. He’s a financial auditor I hired to come and take a look at how we’re doing with the books.”

  Her heart seized. “Jamie?” she squeaked. She knew a Jamie in accounting. In fact, he’d been her professor and—

  “Right. He’s a professor at the Mount. Teaches part-time, but does the audit thing full-time.”

  Oh God.

  “James Cantrelle?” Shelly choked out. Please don’t be him, she begged the world. Please.

  “You know him?” Mike’s eyebrows arched up in surprise, making his impossibly-blue eyes stand out even more. His hair was getting long, back to the way he wore it before he’d shaved it for his old girlfriend, Jill. The one before Laura. When Jill had been diagnosed with cancer Mike had shaved his head, which had made Shelly kind of fall in love with him. She had just been hired here and—

  Stop it, she chided herself. Just stop it. You’re over him.

  Besides, she had worse things to obsess about than her stupid ex-crush on Mike.

  “Shelly? You okay? Is there something about Jamie I need to know?”

  How could she possibly answer that?

  “He was my professor,” she answered slowly. Those four words could have been thousands more, because they meant nothing. And everything. All at once.

  “You took a class with him?” Mike’s interest shifted from concern to politeness as he began to open mail.

  All she could do was nod. The ski lift made its slow ascent up the hill in the distance, each chair filled with smiling skiers, the little kids dangling their skis and wiggling, the adults stretching back and relaxing. She’d worked here for just about a quarter of her entire life. The snow, the lift, the night-time lights, the snow machines — all of it was embedded in her DNA.

  Mike stared at her, hands paused in midair with an envelope, expecting a response. She reached up and pulled on a lock of her ginger hair. She was growing it long, the waves new to her. It had been short forever, but some part of her decided to make a change last year.

  Right around the time she started taking classes with Jamie.

  “Three. Three classes.” Every accounting class he offered, she took. The reason why, though, was about to unfold in horrifying detail.

  Shelly’s eyes took Mike in, from blonde, tousled locks to sapphire eyes. He wore a teal turtleneck and a cream cabled sweater over it, faded jeans and hiking boots finishing the look. If someone took an REI catalogue and mashed it up with an L.L. Bean ad, they’d have Mike.

  Maybe blend in a Thor movie poster for good measure.

  And then there was Jamie…

  Her eyes raced to the clock over Mike’s desk. 1:42 p.m. Eighteen minutes before their meeting.

  “Is he any good?”

  Mike’s words hung in the air. She turned a furious red, her whole body running hot instantly, and not for Mike.

  “Excuse me?” she sputtered.

  Mike’s face morphed into something not quite suspicious, not quite amused, but close to both. “I may not be the best guy when it comes to reading people, but you’re on fire right now and won’t look me in the eye. What is up with you and Jamie?” Mike asked. He sat back in his aero chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Even under the thick sweater his biceps bulged, wider than Shelly’s thigh.

  Which was tingling.

  Mike wasn’t going to let her out of this conversation, was he? And yet, she had to get out of here before Jamie arrived.

  Er… Professor Cantrelle.

  Had to. Because…

  Tap tap tap.

  Mike’s eyes shifted from her to the main door to his office. The door was ajar, and inch by inch it opened, slow and steady. A shock of pale blonde hair poked around the edge of the door, making Shelly’s entire body flush hot now, her cheeks just the first in a succession of appendages and skin that sought out the boiling point.

  If she flushed any more she’s start to whistle like a tea kettle.

  Blue eyes. Impossibly tall body. Tree truck legs.

  Professor James Cantrelle entered the room, and if he weren’t in a navy suit and wing tips, he’d be Mike Pine’s twin.

  Chapter Two

>   Jamie crossed the room with those long legs, eating space the way Shelly ate her way through coconut shrimp. He was halfway across the room, eyes on Mike, when he realized she was there.

  Those blue eyes pinned her in place.

  Much like his arms and lips had two months ago.

  “Shelly?” Jamie’s eyebrows folded down, face carefully neutral.

  “You’re early.” These were the only words she could blurt out that didn’t involve expressing a desire to be horizontal with him.

  “You’re here.” His eyes took her in, the slow hunger growing in them, like witnessing a lion spotting an injured gazelle. She wondered what he saw. Shelly wore her typical work clothes—jeans and a v-neck sweater, boots, and her shoulder-length red hair in a loose braid with large chunks floating at her shoulders. No make up.

  The ski resort offices were casual, and she never knew when she’d be called into the Kid’s Korner to double as a substitute babysitter. Heels and suits wouldn’t do.

  But Jamie… oh, sweet merciful creator. His suit made her want to call him Mr. Grey and submit to some handcuff and silk scarf treatment that normally lived in her imagination.

  “Of course I’m here,” she snapped, turning to anger to cover for the swirling enormity of thousands of feelings pulling her to him. “I work here. I’m the Operations Manager.”

  “You never told me that.” He tilted his head to one side, eyes flashing, studying her. Amusement tickled the corners of his eyes, but there was nothing funny about any of this.

  “You never asked.”

  She wished life had a pause button, so she could press it and get a few minutes to pull herself together. Wouldn’t that be nice? She’d have to log a request with the creator of the universe and demand such a thing, because without it she was about to fall apart, melting into a puddle of Shellygoo as the guy she crushed on met the other guy she crushed on and they discovered they were dopplegängers.

  Mike stood and came around the front of the desk, his eyes taking Jamie in from stem to stern. “Mike Pine,” he said, extending a hand. His knees bent slightly, and Shelly realized he was so accustomed to bending down when he shook hands that he did it reflexively.

  But Jamie was Mike’s height.

  “Jamie Cantrelle.” He gave Mike a quizzical look. “Funny. We’ve spoken on the phone and emailed so many times and yet we’ve never met in person.”

  Mike took in Jamie with eyes that had the same bemused look. “Yeah. You’d think I’d have heard about a finance guy who looked like my second cousin. There aren’t a whole lot of nearly seven foot tall guys in central Massachusetts.”

  To Shelly’s horror, they both slowly turned and looked at her.

  “What?” she yipped.

  Mike laughed and jerked a thumb toward Jamie, who unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing a pale blue shirt that hugged his abs.

  “He’s kind of familiar,” Mike answered.

  Jamie leaned against Mike’s desk, his thigh pressed into the wood, a smirk on his face as he said to Shelly, “You never mentioned Mike.”

  “Do all your students mention their bosses?” she barked back. Her face wouldn’t stop blushing and she needed to escape. The door was blocked slightly by Mike, who might as well have been a telephone pole in the way. Perhaps she could quietly jump through the picture window…

  “When they look like, well… my older brother… ”

  Mike arched an eyebrow. “Older?”

  “I’m twenty-seven,” Jamie said with a jut of his chin. Shelly knew that. She’d googled the hell out of him. Twenty-seven. Two years with a big accounting firm. PhD in hand by twenty-four. Consulting company he owned. Hometown: Orville, Ohio. Siblings: two brothers. Favorite sports team: Cleveland Browns.

  Marital status: no ring.

  Mike’s shoulders slumped. “Alright. Older.”

  The two men laughed, Mike moving just enough for Shelly to step closer to the door.

  “My phone. Gotta go. Just got a text,” she announced, absolutely lying. Her phone was in her purse in her office.

  “Where are you hiding a phone?” Jamie asked, looking at her ass. Of all the days to wear her tight jeans.

  “Why are you looking at my ass?” she shot back. Mike’s turn to pinken a bit, his discomfort swift and disturbing. Those ocean eyes turned cloudy, pinging between her and Jamie. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, even though the bright sun on white snow outside made the world seem so open and free.

  “I’m not—” Jamie protested, cutting his own sentence off. Caught!

  He, on the other hand, didn’t look uncomfortable at all. His eyes were clear and forthright, taking her in with an appreciation that made her feel like the only other person in the world. Suddenly, Mike wasn’t there. Wasn’t important.

  Jamie chuckled with a self-effacing embarrassment. “Sorry. Go answer your phone,” he said quietly, stepping close to her. Mike frowned but pretended to rifle through some papers on his desk.

  “It’s fine,” she said in a loud voice, working desperately to ignore his scent, a mix of cologne and soap that made her body go hard and soft, frozen and melting, all at once.

  “In fact,” she declared, stepping away from him and squaring her shoulders, “let’s pretend this never happened at all.”

  The look of complete shock in his eyes was what she’d been going for.

  What she hadn’t anticipated was the hurt there, too.

  It haunted her as she strode out of the room, grabbed her purse from her desk and strode right on out to her car, forgetting her coat, her afternoon calls, and her sense of professionalism.

  Sixty minutes later she found herself parking at a meter in the city, eyes salty with dried tears.

  Of all the times not to have a best friend. And yet she kind of had one. The only person in the world she could turn to.

  Let’s pretend this never happened.

  If only I could, Jamie. If only I could, she thought as she shoved quarters through the slot and turned toward the diner where, if she couldn’t find solace, she’d at least get a good meal full of comfort food.

  Chapter Three

  “You look like you saw a ghost, honey,” Shelly’s grandma said with alarm as she set a hot cup of coffee in front of her. Shelly wasn’t really Madge’s granddaughter. Not legally. Years ago Shelly had come in to Jeddy’s when she was fourteen and living in a foster home nearby. Desperate for a job, she’d begged the old waitress to let her do anything. Literally anything.

  Madge had handed her a cleaning caddy full of supplies and told her to clean the bathrooms. An hour later they sparkled, so fresh Shelly ate a plate of spaghetti off the floor to prove her point.

  Madge had anointed her an honorary granddaughter. “Any woman who’s willing to go that far always has a job with me,” she’d said. “Now get your ass up off the floor and don’t ever do anything like that again, Shelly. Never debase yourself trying to prove your worth.”

  She’d worked at Jeddy’s for two more years, until the state had moved her to a new foster home in Fitchburg. That family let her use her savings to buy a rattletrap beater car and she’d found a job at the ski resort. The day she’d turned eighteen she’d gotten her own little shithole apartment in the Cleghorn neighborhood and the rest was history.

  A GED, a few classes at the community college, and a huge gaping hole in her chest where love was supposed to live.

  Let’s pretend this never happened.

  She never forgot Madge. Never forgot how to clean a bathroom that well, either. She trekked out to Cambridge a few times a year to see her old friend, who was the closest thing to a grandmother she’d ever had.

  “I didn’t see a ghost, Madge, but I did see an asshole.”

  Madge sat down across from her, grabbing a glass of ice water and giving Shelly a hard once over, evaluating her. The old woman didn’t try to hide it, those clever eyes studying her. Shelly began to squirm. She hated being looked at.

  Staying under the radar
kept you safe when you had no one on your team.

  “It’s that professor, isn’t it?”

  How in hell did Madge do that? How did she just know? Shelly had told Madge about the kiss, crying and snot bubbling over a creme de menthe sundae two months ago. But that was ancient history.

  “It’s all over your face, Shelly. You look like a woman haunted. Besides, I knew he’d come back into your life. Dropping his class wasn’t going to cut it.”

  “I didn’t tell you I—” How did she know that?

  Madge sighed, long and slow. “Because that’s what you do. You panic and run away. I had a hunch you’d drop out of his class the minute you realized he liked you right back.”

  Shelly’s stomach twisted. “He doesn’t—I didn’t—it’s not like… .”

  Madge spun a wrinkled hand that looked like a pickled orange peel. “Keep going. Talk in circles. You know you’re hot for his bod and you—”

  “Madge!” Shelly squealed.

  “And you like him enough to run away.”

  “That is ludicrous! If you like someone, you don’t run away from them.”

  “Exactly.” Madge’s word hung in the air like an unpleasant scent. She stood slowly, then sped away. “I’ll be back with your food. We’re not done!”

  Shelly guzzled her water. Hmph. Not done. As if Madge really understood. The last time Madge was a virgin was probably long before cars had been invented.

  The old woman was right, though. Jamie had been the one to confess he had feelings for her first. Shelly’s crush hadn’t gone unnoticed, because it turned out he crushed right back.

  And that kiss—that achingly beautiful kiss after class, during his office hours, his lips soft and strong at the same time, arms wrapping her in a tight embrace that felt so safe. His cologne had enveloped her, mouth saying ‘hello,’ hands saying more… .

  Reality had intruded damn fast as Jamie had let go, pulled back, forehead touching hers, and said in a ragged voice, “I can’t. You’re a student, and I just—”