Spring Training

by KB Winters

  I shook my head slightly. None of that mattered anymore, something had worked and starting tomorrow she would be in the office, and I could set to work figuring out what made Megan Louise Sinclair tick—and even better—what made her scream.

  I adjusted myself under cover of my desk. Just thinking about all the things I wanted to do to her—and make her do to me—had me rock solid. She was a woman out of a fantasy; her dark hair, jade green eyes, full, pouting lips, fair skin, sensual curves, and then there was whatever secrets she was hiding. I had no idea what they were, but I was determined to find out. Megan was the kind of girl who was full of mystery, and I would be the one to unravel each and every one of them.

  Before I let myself get too far gone in fantasy land, I called over to HR to let them know we would have a new addition. There was the paperwork and benefits package that would need to be completed in time. I wanted Megan in the marketing department, but she’d made it clear that wasn’t what she wanted. That was why I’d offered her a position with customer relations. It would be her job to get her fingers on the pulse of what customers wanted, and that would naturally meld with marketing, because it would be her job to brief the marketing department on customer and potential customer feedback. Once she got into the conference room with that pack of morons, there was no way she’d be able to contain her true thoughts and ideas. She was a fire cracker and wouldn’t be satisfied with doing half the job.

  It would all work out perfectly, and in the meantime while she was whipping the Shock Watches campaign into shape, I could figure out what I wanted to do with her.

  * * * *

  “Mr. Christiansen, a Megan Sinclair is here to see you,” Cara announced over the phone the next morning at ten am.

  A rush of excitement surged through me. I’d been up half the night running through different scenarios of how I wanted our initial meeting to go. Most of them had ended with Megan naked, sprawled across my desk, begging for more—but in reality, I knew it would be best to keep the first day as professional as possible. This was a long game, not a one night stand. “Send her in.”

  I sat down at my desk, straightened my tie, and glimpsed at my hair in the reflection from my computer monitor. I was fussing with the sides that were a little more grown out than I usually liked—my regular barber was on vacation and his fill in hadn’t been up to par—when the door opened with a whoosh and Megan took three tentative steps inside. For a moment she looked around, her face frozen in some kind of wonderment. which was understandable. My office was larger than most apartments and divided into three areas—my desk took up one third of the space, a massive sprawling oak piece that had been commissioned by my grandfather after his first line of watches sold out, then there was a partial wall which had a conference table, bookshelves, and a kitchenette, and beyond that was a gas fireplace with two massive leather wing backs and a wet bar—which had been my own personal stamp on the place.

  “Good morning,” I greeted. I stood and extended a hand to her as she shifted her eyes back to me. She was dressed to kill, in a black skirt that was high at the waist and accentuated her curvy hips—the skirt was fairly tight fitting around her thighs but flared out past her knees. She was wearing black stockings, and I wondered if there was a garter belt holding them up. Fuck. My cock twitched, and I knew I needed to stop thinking about her panties before my admiration of her body became common knowledge.

  She took my hand and I let my grip linger a moment longer than necessary as our eyes met.

  “Good morning,” she replied, pulling her hand from mine slowly.

  I waved her towards the empty seat across from me and she perched on the edge as though expecting the need to flee. I had no idea why she was so nervous and on edge, but it made me want her more. To protect her. “Did you find the place okay?”

  She nodded and pulled her gaze up from where it had been roaming over the gleaming surface of my desk. I didn’t have much on the massive beast of a table which only made it appear larger. I could never understand why people clogged up their workspaces with pictures, knick-knacks, and even mountains of paperwork. When I took over the company I rapidly diminished the amount of papers transferred in the office. I made it my mission to bring Timeless Timepieces into the digital age—preferring everything electronically dispersed and stored.

  Now, if only I could attract the clients of the digital age—but, that was another battle for another day.

  “Yeah, it was really easy, thank you.” She was getting shy again, keeping her hands to herself, and barely able to meet my eyes.

  I wondered why she was hiding her fiery side. Didn’t she understand that was the most attractive thing about her? Her internal spice and passion?

  “So, I know we talked about it a little at the coffee shop, but here’s what I’ve been thinking, I don’t have the official title for your position yet, but in summary, what I want you to do is interact with customers and the target groups we want to cultivate as customers which means a lot of time on social media, at events, as well as monitoring other companies in our space to see what they’re doing and keep tabs on their marketing angles. Once a week, maybe more at first, you’ll brief the marketing department on the feedback of the public so that they can get a better handle on what we need to do to push the company, more specifically, the Shock Watches line back to the front of the pack.”

  Megan nodded, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind.

  “Will that work?” I asked, raising a brow.

  “Yeah, I mean, I can do all of that.” She looked down again and there was something clouding her face.

  I leaned forward. “Megan, is something wrong? I realize it’s a little different than my original job offer, but it’s still in the same vein.”

  She shook her head, and when she looked up at me her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. Wow, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Um, is there a restroom, I could—”

  “Right through here,” I said, jumping up and leading her to my personal bathroom. She gave me a watery smile before shutting the door and I circled back to my desk to let her have her privacy.

  What the fuck just happened?

  I knew that the first two times I’d presented the job to her she’d been adamantly against it, and I hadn’t forced her into taking it, she’d called me. So, why was she now acting like I’d just given her the rules to life in prison?

  I was debating letting her go when she reappeared. Her face and chest were blotchy, but her eyes were dry.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, as she took her seat again, this time she leaned back and rested against the cushions.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Mmhmm. Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. You were saying something about the marketing and pushing Shock Watches,” she prompted.

  I tried to shake off the rattled feeling and move forward. “Right, you may or may not know, but my grandfather actually started Timeless Timepieces, and then my father took over for him when he retired. Then two years ago, my father passed away and the company was turned over to me.” I paused to gather my thoughts. Talking about my dad always got me worked up, and with the room already charged with emotion I knew I needed to choose my words carefully. The two years had flown by in the blink of an eye and hadn’t given me nearly enough time or space to fully move on from his untimely death.

  “Timeless Timepieces is well-known for our top of the line quality watches, sleek designs, and exclusive brand. However, my vision is a little broader. I want to retain that exclusivity but gear it in a new direction.”

  “Hence Shock Watches,” Megan added.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, like I told you at the symposium, I’m not into sales. I’m an artist, well, an aspiring one,” she said.

  “I understand. You won’t be in the marketing department, but I will need your feedback and will differ to your judgment on the more artistic aspects of each campaign.”

  Megan s
miled and a hint of her spark ignited in her eyes.

  “What?”

  She waved a hand and tried to conceal her amusement. “I just don’t picture you as the differing kind of guy. It’s pretty obvious that you’re used to getting what you want, and when initially met with a closed door, you maneuver it until it opens.”

  She was smiling and the comment had obviously not been meant as a jab, but for some reason it pierced right through me.

  “I’m sorry,” she continued, her smile falling away. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I relaxed my shoulders back not even remembering them bunching up in the first place. “You’re right, except for one point; I don’t maneuver myself to get what I want. I work my ass off. My reputation on campus might not be in relation to my work ethic or my commitment, but that all changed the second I stepped into this office. This job might have been handed to me, but I’m here every day to carry on my family legacy and build something that will sustain long after I’m gone.”

  Megan’s smile melted away completely at my harsh tone, and a look of horror took its place on her face. “I’m sorry, Grant. I swear, that’s not at all what I meant. It was a compliment, actually. When I first met you and you offered me a job I never thought I would accept, and yet, here I am.”

  “I see,” I said, as a hot sear of regret flashed over my skin. I let it melt away before lightening my tone to add, “Well, that’s a gift I’ve always possessed, knowing exactly what I want, and I don’t give up, even if I have to wait.”

  Megan’s cheeks flushed and I relaxed again, relieved that the conversation was back on solid ground.

  “Why did you accept? I’ll be honest and say I didn’t see it coming.”

  She shrugged at first but then took in a deep breath. “You wanna know the truth?”

  “Always.”

  “I’m a little bit of a mess,” she deadpanned.

  I smiled. “Is that on your official resume? I don’t have a copy of it.”

  “No, but it probably should be.” She took another deep breath and my heart raced. What could she possibly be holding back? She looked caved in, as though the weight on her shoulders had given way and she couldn’t keep upright.

  “Megan?”

  Her eyes flashed up to mine and I could see a glimmer of pain flash before she continued, “My father might lose his job, and he’s a single parent. My mom died after I was born. I have four older brothers and of them, only one is self-sufficient. I had to pay for college on my own, and the only reason I’m making it work right now is because I added another year and don’t have to pay anything back until I graduate. So, as of right now, I have less than a year to get my shit together to not only pay off my loans, but help my family if my dad does get laid off. And, let me tell you, as an artist, it’s not going to be so easy to walk into a cushy job with a decent salary less than a year after graduating.”

  She finished speaking and clamped her lips together—her eyes still wide as though she’d surprised herself by laying out her confession.

  The information rattled around my brain for a moment as I processed it. Nothing that came to mind off the bat seemed as though it would be appropriate to say. Everything would be an echo, hollow, in comparison to her overwhelm of emotions and my own feelings of pain for her. I may not know her well, but there was something about her that had bonded her to me from the moment that we met, and I didn’t want her to carry such a heavy burden all alone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know why I told you all of that.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door to the office and I could practically see her thoughts. She was going to run.

  “Megan, wait,” I said.

  She snapped her head back around to me.

  “Thank you for opening up. I wish your circumstances were different, but I have to say I’m glad you’re here and I know you’re going to do great things.”

  She nodded and a small smile tugged at the corners of her full lips. “Thanks.”

  I stood up and she followed my lead. “I have your paperwork over at the conference table, and we can go over your benefits as well—salary, medical, vacation, standard things.”

  I crossed over to the large wooden conference table that had been carved to match the grand desk. There were four chairs on each side, and one on each end. It wasn’t used very often, mostly because I didn’t like having people in my space, but for my meeting with Megan I wanted privacy. There was a tablet lying at the head of the table and it had been pre-loaded with all of forms I needed to go over with her. I pulled out the chair at the end and ushered her into it.

  She looked up at me with a sweet smile that made my heart pound against my chest. “Medical? And vacation? I can only work part time, remember?”

  I nodded and took the seat next to her. “I do. But, I want you to be well taken care of.”

  The statement hung between us, full of meaning. Her eyes were dark and veiled as she studied me and her lips slightly parted, as though she was about to speak.

  Without giving her a chance to break the moment, I cupped the side of her face with one hand and drew her closer until I could crush my mouth to hers, my lips and tongue unable to wait any longer to explore her soft lips. Megan melted into the kiss, and I easily took control, silently directing when to go deeper. With the flick of my tongue, her lips opened further, granting me access to every sweet inch. She tasted like peppermint and chocolate and I couldn’t get enough. The tip of her tongue tangled with mine in an exquisite dance that set my mind on fire with possibilities. I let my hand slide down her cheek and over the delicate, silky skin along the side of her neck, stopping only briefly to twist around a lock of her raven hair, before continuing down, over the exposed edge of her collarbone.

  She pulled away as my fingers were just getting to the subtle curve of her chest and when I opened my eyes, startled by her abrupt movement, her eyes were wide and I could see fear building behind them.

  “Oh God,” she breathed, not blinking. “Oh my God.”

  I held up a hand to calm her impending panic attack, but she covered her mouth, as though to hide the evidence and her breaths became shorter and harder.

  “It’s all right, Megan.”

  She shook her head violently, her hand still glued to her mouth.

  I grabbed her hand and gently pulled it away, keeping it enclosed in my fingers.

  “Is that what this is about?” she asked, her voice in a panicked whisper.

  “Megan, you’re a beautiful woman, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to kiss you. But, that’s not the reason you’re here, or the reason I’m hiring you. Everything I’ve told you is true, you need to trust me.”

  She nodded slowly at my words, but I could tell they were only sinking in so far.

  Something flickered in her eyes before I could say anything else, and she snapped back to business. “So, the forms?” She pointed her gaze down at the tablet that had gone back to hibernate mode.

  I gave her one last glance, before going through the forms with her one at a time, answering questions, and explaining the benefits package as though nothing had happened.

  Chapter Eight — Megan

  I was still kicking myself an hour after I’d left Grant’s office to get back to campus for one of my design classes. It was one of my favorite classes and under normal circumstances it was one I basked in soaking up every single second of the instruction and hands on experience, but after everything that had happened, it was hard to keep my thoughts in one place. What was I thinking? What was he thinking? What did it mean? Where did we go from there? I mean, really, when you make out with the CEO on the first day, what room do you have left?

  I buried my face into my hands as the professor continued her power point presentation like nothing had happened. She obviously had no idea that among her students, sat a girl who could easily contend for the title of the world’s most naïve. Even with all of Grant’s assurances, it was hard to see past what
had happened and truly believe that he wanted me to work with him because of my ideas or my attitude, but then at the same time, it was hard to imagine him wanting me to work for him just to get into my pants.

  First of all, a man like Grant was probably drowning in hot, available women. Sure, he’d been borderline flirtatious and suggestive with me since the day we met, but I’d chalked it up to his natural charisma, energy, or Chi and let it go. But now, that argument was a little too weak to believe. I wasn’t the type of girl to constantly obsess or bash myself over my looks. I’d long ago accepted my facial structure, skin type, body shape, and all that and learned to be comfortable in my own skin. However, that didn’t mean I thought I would ever find myself in the running to land the attention of one of LA’s hottest bachelor’s—and a billionaire—to boot.

  The world has clearly gone mad.

  I looked across the room and watched as Max scribbled notes on a legal pad. We’d met in a different art class in my first semester and had been friends ever since. Then later on, his friend Taylor hooked up with Jeanine and we had all blended together, but since the night at the burger joint, none of them had called or even sent a text to see how I was. Somewhere along the lines, Jeanine had become the group ringleader and since she was the one who was all butt-hurt about the job offer, it appeared the boys were taking her sides. Taylor made sense, he was her boyfriend after all, but what was Max’s deal?

  I sighed. Jeanine would definitely ex me out of the group once she found out that I had accepted the job offer with Timeless Timepieces. If she were to go one step further and find out that I’d made out with Mr. Hottie Billionaire in his office…I couldn’t even imagine.

  The whole thing was infuriating to think about. Shouldn’t friends be happy for one another? I wasn’t the type to gloat or lord it over my friends if something good happened to me. But, I did expect support and at least one “atta girl” now and again, which hardly seemed like I was asking for too much.