by Lola Darling
I take a slow step toward her, the air between us alive with tension. We can’t touch, not here, but our eyes on one another are enough of a promise of what’s to come that I can stand the separation. For now. “Hmm, well, it may be a difficult case,” I answer slowly, then grin when she swats my arm and huffs. “But you know what they say. Every new case is an opportunity in disguise.” I lean in, just inches away from her, and breathe my next words so low that no one else in the room can hear. “But you, my beautiful girl, will always be worth fighting for.”
Epilogue
Six Months Later…
CHLOE
“Is that the last one?” I call up the steps as the movers brush past me with another armful of boxes.
Max sticks his head into the stairwell, hair mussed, forehead damp with sweat. “Not yet.” He jogs down the steps toward me. His T-shirt is sticking to his chest and his abs, which affords me quite the view from where I’m waiting at the bottom of the steps, hands on my hips. I let my eyes graze over him as he heads my way, and not for the first time in the last 6 months of my life do I marvel at the fact that I get to call this sex god mine.
The sex god, however, sure does come with his share of baggage.
“I think there’s another six boxes in the truck, and then the stuff I stuck in the car last night.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes, though I’m grinning at the same time. “Seriously, dude, how do you even own this many things?”
“It’s 90% books,” he protests. “I have a lot of reading to keep up with.”
“When was the last time you actually read any of those books?” I laugh.
He wraps his arms around my waist in response, and tugs me against him, sweat and all. God, he smells great when he’s been working out. He calls me weird for saying so, but I can’t resist him in moments like this, or when he’s fresh home from a long run around the neighborhood of our new home, half an hour outside the city, a cozy little two-bedroom that even has its own backyard. I’d forgotten what that was like.
I’d forgotten what having anything besides a day job felt like.
Max dips his head to kiss me, long and slow. I taste salt on his lips, mingled with that pure essence of him that drives me so wild. I slide my arms around his neck, my hands tracing their way up to get lost in his mussed black hair, which he’s let grow a little bit now, almost down to his ears. It looks sexy on him. Not business proper the way he dresses at the office. More like I’m in charge, and I’m going to take advantage of you right now.
His tongue slips between my lips, and for a moment, I lose track of time. That is, until another mover stomps past us, more of Max’s books in his arms. This is the last load of things from his old apartment. Most of his day-to-day stuff was in the house already, but since his lease didn’t end until now, we waited to haul the remainder of his possessions over. I’m slightly regretting our stalling now that I’ve realized how many stacks of books he had hidden around his place, though.
I lean back a little, biting his lower lip just before I break away from the kiss entirely.
“You know, no amount of kissing is going to make me forget to tease you about how many copies of Lord of the Rings you own,” I point out.
“Probably not,” he agrees. “But it might make you forget to get annoyed about the new bookshelf I bought for the dining room and besides, I saw that copy of Man Candy on your nightstand, babe,” he says teasing me about my own guilty pleasure.
“Oh, brother,” I treat him to the eye roll he’s got coming. ”Where are we going to—”
“Relax, it’s a small one this time! Last one, I promise.” He extends a pinky to me, and I lean in to bite it in response.
“I get to eat your pinky if you’re lying,” I mutter.
“Well, you do know how I enjoy it when you eat me,” he replies, winking.
I roll my eyes and shove him, though not hard enough to actually push him out of reach. I enjoy feeling his arms around me too much, damn him. “Do I?” I peer up at him. “Or do I just enjoy the view while I do?” I wink.
“I knew it.” He stands straight, shaking his head with a morose expression. “You’re only using me for my looks.”
I snort and swat his chest lightly. “I’ve got bad news for you buddy, you aren’t getting away that easily. I’m in this for the long haul. Even when you’re old and gray and fat from eating too many In-N-Out burgers—”
“First of all, there is no such thing as too many In-N-Out burgers,” he corrects me with an arched brow. “And second of all. Good.” He bends to kiss me again, gently this time. “Because you’re stuck with me, too, gorgeous girl. I hope you know what you’ve signed up for.”
“I always read my contracts before I sign,” I remind him, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him back. “And this one? I’ve got to say I am more than happy with the terms.”
I rest my head on his chest, my gaze traveling out front to the sprawling lawn outside, and in the distance, the little copse of trees that I think reminded us both of the mushroom forest, when we found this apartment. Standing there, on the brink of starting our future together, nestled in this house, I can’t think of anyone whose stacks of boxes I’d rather share, or anyone in the world whose arms I’d rather be in.
“One more thing,” he adds, a mischievous note in his tone.
“There’s not another load of boxes, is there?” I reply with a raised eyebrow in warning.
He smirks. “On my honor, Your Honor.”
I laugh, my cheeks flushing a little as one of the movers passes us at that moment. Good thing Max likes it when I blush. “What is it?”
“I filed my change of address form with HR today.”
My throat tenses up. It’s been an unspoken not-so-secret at work that we’re together. Neither of us said anything, but neither of us didn’t say anything, either. Not even when Martha “popped by” my office to interrogate me about who I’m dating now, since I “look so happy and full of life all the time lately.” And not even when Hannah stopped touching Max’s arm all the time and started making subtly annoyed comments to the other secretaries about my man-thieving ways.
The only time I came close to saying something was when Paul summoned me to his office about two months ago, fully recovered and back to work, albeit with greatly reduced office hours.
“You and that Davis kid get along pretty well, huh?” he said, the question evident in his eyes, though at least unlike everyone else, he didn’t try to ask me point-blank.
“We do,” I admitted, trying to study his expression, to glean some idea of whether or not he approved.
I didn’t need to study him too closely. Paul’s expression broke into a broad grin. “I met my wife at the office, you know. Total cliché. Boss falls for his doting secretary. But we made a great team, before I let it all fall to shit by not putting her first enough, not being there for her.” Paul’s eyes narrowed, then. “If he ever stops putting you first, believe me, he will rue the day.”
I laughed softly. “You know? I’m not even worried about that, honestly.”
Paul’s smile deepened. “That’s when you know it’s the real deal, kid. So don’t you two worry your heads about any of the particulars here. Concentrate on what’s most important, Chloe. Don’t lose sight of that.”
It was the closest thing to a blessing we were going to get, I knew, and it was plenty for me. “I won’t,” I promise him.
“What did they say?” I ask, and it feels a bit ridiculous, two grown people needing to ask a third party for permission to fall in love, but it’s the way of the world nowadays, I guess.
Max just laughs softly. “They said, and I’m quoting here, ‘About damn time, you two.’”
I laugh too, and this time when he pulls me into his arms, I relax against him completely, sighing with content. “Well then. I guess it’s official now.”
“I guess so.” He bends to nibble on my ear, and that rain of shivers he always manages to induce trickle down m
y spine. “Team MacDav for life.”
I punch him this time. “Oh my God you are so damn cheesy.”
“Told you so.”
“This is your idea of a romantic line?”
He bites my ear again a little harder. “Well, I could say I love you but you’re probably sick of hearing that one.”
I roll my eyes, even as I bury my hand in his hair. “Never.”
“Well then. I love you, Chloe.”
“I love you too, babe.”
“And we’re changing the name of the house to MacDav, by the way. I’ve already filed the paperwork.”
I wriggle out of his arms and glare at him. “Motion to appeal.”
“Denied.”
“On what grounds?” I cross my arms.
“On the grounds that I say so.” He loops an arm around my waist and pulls me against him in one smooth motion. As our bodies crush together, his heat spilling around me, he leans down to claim my lips once more, kissing me long and hard.
“Fine,” I reply when we part. “On one condition.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
I grin. “Tonight it’s my turn to be the judge.”
THE END
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HIS NAUGHTY INTERN
The best sex is hotel sex…
Welcome to the Rexford, the most luxurious hotel in town. My internship is a dream come true – until I walk in to my first meeting and discover my one-night stand at the head of the boardroom.
Controlling billionaire, Dominic Rexford: CEO - and the man I was secretly hired to seduce.
Now, I just want to keep my head down and stay out of trouble, but Dom has different plans.
He wants a repeat of our wild night together – and he’ll do whatever it takes to get me back between those 700-thread count sheets.
I’m in trouble now…
Chapter One
“I look like a slut.” I stare at my reflection in horror – and a little awe.
“You’re the prettiest slut I’ve ever seen.” My cousin Callie gives a wink in the mirror, working a flat iron through my hair.
“I don’t know…” My stomach is already in knots thinking about the night ahead of me.
Callie squirts hair shine on her hands and rubs it between her palms. It smells like coconut and expensive salon. “Just trust me, Juliet,” she says, then coughs with enough force to produce a loud wheeze.
“Go lie down,” I order her, then give her a gentle nudge towards her bed. Our other roommate, Emily, enters with a steaming mug of something.
“Drink this,” she adds, handing Callie the mug.
Callie sniffs and wrinkles her nose. “What is it?”
“My grandmother’s recipe. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”
Callie collapses with a groan – which quickly turns into another round of hacking coughs. Emily pulls me back, worried.
“Don’t get Juliet sick! She starts her internship tomorrow.”
Just the mention of it makes me even more nervous. How I landed an internship placement at the most prestigious historic hotel in Chicago is still surreal. I start tomorrow…
After I go play hooker tonight.
Not hooker, I correct myself quickly. Bait.
Nerves start a dance inside my stomach. My face must betray something because Emily claps her hands together. “You have nothing to worry about. You look amazing. Your hair… It’s so shiny!”
I touch it again, smoothing my fingers down the long strands and my mouth hangs open a little bit. Because, damn. My hair is never straight, or smooth, or anything but a hot mess. I blame my Irish ancestors. The women in my lineage weren’t the sleek, dark and sexy Celts you always see in movies, but rather, the ‘carry water and build stone walls’ kind that gifted me with a head of coarse, thick and unruly auburn hair. Usually, I couldn’t care less: I just pull it back in a braid or ponytail and forget about it.
But not tonight. Tonight, I’m full on shampoo-model, because-I’m-worth-it hot.
And I need to be, thanks to Miss Sick Day currently hacking her lungs up in bed. Callie works as a decoy for a private investigator. She gets people to talk, incriminate themselves or otherwise display some kind of asshole behavior that can be caught on tape and used in court. She loves the excitement of it, and she’s cut out for it with a svelte body and the sleek beauty that promises seduction. Small talk and flirting come naturally to her. And while she’s working her magic, a hidden photographer takes pictures or video of the whole thing.
I’m the woman who’s been so invested in earning her hospitality management degree, she forgets to put on deodorant some days. But with Callie laid up in bed, she needs someone to fill in on a job tonight. And since she’s been letting me stay here on a way reduced rent while I work my way through school, I couldn’t really turn her down.
I check my reflection again, nervous. Callie has turned me into a pretty slut, just like she said. Smoky makeup sets off the green in my hazel eyes, the shimmer pink on my cheeks accentuating my heart shaped face. My lips are glossy red and look plumper than usual.
“Now put on the dress,” Callie orders, still bossy even from bed.
“I told you, blue isn’t my color…” I hesitate.
“And I told you, it’s peacock, not blue.”
“Big difference.”
“Here.” Emily holds it up eagerly. “I picked out shoes and jewelry too.”
I take them with a sigh. “I don’t know why you couldn’t do this instead of me.”
Emily’s eyes widen in horror. “Go flirt with some strange guy in a bar? No way!” She shudders. “Besides, they would never hit on me in the first place.”
“That’s a lie and you know it,” I tell her, but Emily shakes her head stubbornly. She’s the sweetest girl in the world, but not exactly giving Kanye a run for his money in the confidence game. She prefers to spend her nights working late at her jewelry studio, creating amazing designs.
But Emily isn’t the only one worried about attracting men tonight. I’ve got serious doubts about my ability as bait. I’m not anti-social. I’m just not good at flirting. Or handling myself around sleazy men without biting their heads off. In my mind, the guy I’m targeting tonight is just another grease ball, out to find the first hot, willing chick he can get his dick into. In order for the gig to work, that chick has to be me.
Only with no dick-sticking.
I shed my sweats and tee-shirt and reach for the dress. “Not so fast,” Callie stops me and points to the chair beneath the window. A brand new bra and panty set are laid out, both a pretty cream color, the bra with lacy cups and satin straps. The bra is push up, not that I need it. I’ve been blessed with a lot going on up top, but when I ditch my old bra for the new one, I’m immediately glad it has the little gel support pads inside.
Because, damn again.
“Don’t look at my ass,” I warn them as I change into the panties, and then step into the dress. Callie whistles behind me before I’ve finished smoothing the satiny fabric and I twirl because I can’t help it. The V-neck top is deep, showing off the inside swell of my breasts and creating a sexy valley of cleavage. The wrap top snugs my waist while the skirt shimmies over my full hips, the hem swishing mid-thigh. It’s perfect for an hourglass figure like mine.
Emily squeals. “You look hot.”
And with their help, I do. The dress is conforming and revealing and… well, the sexiest thing I’ve had on in forever. I wear jeans and baggy shirts to class. Pretty much the same on the weekends.
Except tonight.
Oh, God.
Callie’s phone buzzes. “Okay, Jules, you’re up. The target checked in at The Drake a half hour ago.” She throws off the covers and comes over, gripping my shoulders in her hands. I give her a dubious look, hoping she isn’t spreading her germs all over me. She eyes me like a coach ab
out to give a pep talk.
“Listen, Juliet. It’ll be easy; I swear. Text Rob when you get there and he’ll tell you where to meet, and where to intercept the target. Make small talk. One look and he’ll be interested, I promise—you look so good—he’ll make a couple passes at you, Rob will snap a few pics and you’ll be done. Easy.”
Panic sets in. I’m a confident woman, sure. I’m smart. I read, a lot. Put me in a classroom and I can talk my way through a debate like no one’s business. But this?
“You’re doing me a huge favor,” Callie says, like she’s reading my mind – and the fact that I want to bolt. “I can’t lose this job, and I promise I’ll owe you forever.”
She coughs and I can’t tell if it’s real or if it’s a guilt-cough. Either way, her face is pale but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes have that glossy-fever glaze. I soften. She’s done enough favors for me in our time, the least I can do is help her out with this.
I tuck a limp lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’ve got it, Callie. No worries. Just get better.”
Emily pushes me out the door with a final good luck hug, and then I’m on my own. Luckily The Drake isn’t far, and double luck it’s one of my favorite hotels in the city.
My dad always had a thing for Chicago’s early architecture, and when I was younger we’d spend countless hours touring remnants of the city’s past. From the time I could first appreciate Chicago School style and pick out the neo-classic revival scattered throughout the city, he and I bonded while poring over old photos and documents showcasing early buildings. Now that he’s gone, visiting some of our favorite cornices and columns helps me feel like a part of him is still here, watching over me.
It’s no wonder I followed my heart into hospitality management. Stepping through the doors of a luxurious hotel is like stepping into another time, another place, where you can be anyone and nothing is out of reach. I always wanted to be a part of creating that fantasy, and tomorrow morning, I finally get my chance. After months of class work and papers, I’ll be starting an internship at one of the best hotels in the city. It’s a competitive course, and I beat out dozens of applicants to make the grade. I know my dad would be proud.