by Emma Hart
I bit my lip. “I can arrange that for you, Mrs. Carlton.”
“Oh no, darling. He handles me personally.”
Thank Heavens for small mercies.
“Let me put you on hold for a moment, and I’ll see if he’s free.” I pressed the button and put down the phone before she could say anything else.
Getting up, I made my way to Cameron’s office just in time to see him pick up his cell and put it to his ear.
I folded my arms over my chest, smirking. “I just saw you pick that up. I know you’re not talking to anyone.”
He groaned, putting it down. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “She wants to look at the Barfield Lodge. I offered to arrange the viewing, but apparently, you deal with her ‘personally.’”
Sighing, Cameron met my eyes. “Patch her through.”
I grinned, turning around with a bounce in my step as I went back to my desk and picked up the phone, hitting the hold button again. “Mrs. Carlton? Mr. Reid is available. I’m putting you through now.”
I tapped the button to redirect her call to his line before I had to listen to her nasal tone again. There was only so many times you could hear a sound that felt like nails down a chalkboard before you wanted to rip out your own eyes, no?
Day two, and I was already starting to wonder if I was cut out for this job.
I wasn’t exactly a people person. Especially not at the grocery store, because the doors are not where you have a fucking conversation. Neither is the middle of the aisle.
I digress.
I put the phone down and sat back at my desk. My bottle of water was still ice-cold, and I sipped as I checked the email account. There were a few unread ones, so I worked my way through those, then moved to familiarize myself further with the properties on the books.
I worked quietly for an hour, answering the phone whenever it rang. It wasn’t until the sensation of being watched crawled over my skin that I finally stopped and looked up.
Into the perfect blue eyes of my boss. And he was grinning. A big, bright grin that made him ten times more handsome.
That sigh? It was my ovaries.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt you,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh, um. It’s okay.” My traitorous cheeks flushed lightly. “I was just—” I paused to wave the information on an eye-wateringly expensive house I was reading. “Catching up on some information.”
Cameron walked over and took the paper from me, leaning on my desk. “Starting at the most expensive end, I see.”
“Yeah,” I replied slowly. “I’m a little torn between imagining myself winning the lottery and buying this house or hating the people who can.” I tilted my head to the side. “I’m in a relatively good mood right now, so I think I’m on the lottery side right now.”
He laughed.
“Do you need anything?”
He smiled at me. “Yes—I have a phone call in around ten minutes. Could you order lunch from this deli?” He handed me a flyer I hadn’t realized he was holding. “They do the best sandwiches, and they’ll deliver them.”
“Sure.” I looked down at the flyer. “How do I pay them?”
“Tell them you’re calling from my office and they’ll add it to the tab. Ask them for my usual, and they’ll sort it out and deliver it.” Cameron stood, then stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Hey, Mallory?”
I held the phone in front of me. “Yes?”
“Do you have plans for lunch?”
“Avoiding my mother who I know is downtown with my aunt,” I replied. “Why?”
“Why don’t you order yourself something and we’ll eat lunch together?”
“You want to eat lunch with me?” I blinked at him.
“You seem to have the hang of this job,” he said with a shrug. “And, hell—you’ve already lasted longer than the last girl.”
“It’s my second day.”
“Exactly.” His lips twitched to one side. “Order yourself something, and when I’m done with my call, we’ll take lunch.”
He disappeared into his office and shut the door before I could argue with him.
Great.
Lunch with my boss.
My boss who was hotter than hell and had almost run me over less than a week ago.
I glanced at the listing for the multi-million-dollar house and snorted as I pushed it away.
I was definitely broaching on hating the people who lived there now.
CHAPTER SEVEN – MALLORY
If you’ve ever thought that having lunch with your boss after two days would be weird, you would be correct.
Especially a boss who was as hot as Cameron Reid was.
Now, look. Don’t judge me. I knew that eyeing up my boss was, quite frankly, an absolutely fucking stupid idea. The problem was, I was a woman, and I had a little thing called hormones going on.
Do you know what the problem with hormones is?
They have a mind of their own.
So today, my hormones didn’t care that the walking hunk of hotness opposite me was my boss. Nope. They just wanted to crawl across the table and climb him like a koala.
Nom nom nom. Right up the abs that I imagined were behind that starchily-pressed white shirt and perfectly-tailored gray jacket.
Like a ladder. Ab by ab by ab.
Jesus, I needed a life. And some help. Professional help.
And a blindfold so I stopped staring at my boss like he was a pepperoni pizza and I was on a low-carb diet.
Not that I’d ever do that, you know. I liked carbs too much. My ass could tell you that much. I was this-close to busting a seam on my jeans.
Maybe. I mean, I couldn’t really see my ass in jeans, but the possibility was always there.
“So, what happened with your last job?” Cameron asked, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Those bright blue eyes focused wholly on me. “Casey called for a reference, and your boss was more than willing to give you one.”
I sighed and sipped my water. “He retired. He’s pretty old. To be honest, he gave us a lot of time to get new jobs, but I just wasn’t lucky.”
“How about your colleagues?”
“You mean my tall, thin, blonde-haired, blue-eyed colleague who could charm a condom onto a monk?”
“That’s an interesting way to describe someone.”
I snorted into my hand. “Sorry. My brain can’t always define between boss and friend.”
“Carry on. By all means, you’re a breath of fresh air.” He laughed, folding the napkin and sitting back. His lips were curled into an unfairly delicious smile.
Shit. I needed to eat this sandwich before my hormones took control of my brain. It was bad enough that my brain was in control of my brain.
I smiled behind my hand. “Well, not everyone likes my brand of fresh air.”
“Fresh air is overrated.” He smirked. “Tell me about your family. I think you mentioned a crazy aunt and grandpa?”
“That’s a rabbit hole you do not want to go down,” I warned him. “Do you always talk this personally with your assistants?”
“No. But considering that I grew up with my only long-term assistant, I’m more than familiar with her weird family.” He grinned.
“You make it sound like you’re horribly picky with your assistants.”
“Worse than Mariah Carey needing tea.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“The women in my family outnumber the men. I’m subjected to far too much celebrity gossip when I’m forced to my mother’s house.”
I wished celebrity gossip was all I was subjected to at my mother’s. It was far preferable to knowing—and witnessing—the fact your parents had a more active sex life than you’d ever have.
Not to mention adventurous.
I still wasn’t over seeing them doggy-style it on the staircase.
“I admit,” Cameron said, picking up his mug of coffee. “I am picky, but I have to be. I like my ass
istants to be… just so. And, honestly, Casey is a hard person to follow. She’s worked here since she graduated high school, for my father before me. She knows the business inside and out.”
“What happened to the person who covered her maternity leave?”
“She was from an agency. She was only ever temporary, and I know Casey hoped that I’d hire her, but she just didn’t have that…something.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “She couldn’t handle the clients. This might sound strange, but I’m sure you’ve already figured out there’s a divide in the company.”
“You mean you deal with the rich people?”
He barked out a laugh. “Basically. This was my grandfather’s business, and all his contacts have filtered down through the generations. Word of mouth is a great thing—if someone is happy with how I broker a deal, they’ll pass on my information to someone else. But the clients can be…difficult.”
“Like Cynthia Carlton?”
“She’s something.” He paused, visibly fighting a laugh if the light in his eyes was anything to go by. “She’s hard work, but she means well. She’s a good friend of my mother’s, and yes, she’s challenging. Like my mother,” he finished on a mutter.
“You should meet mine,” I muttered right back.
“She calls me every morning to see if I ironed my shirts correctly and makes me send her pictures,” he drawled. “Being an only child isn’t that fun.”
“I wish I only had to send my mother pictures of my shirts,” I shot back. “I have to set an alarm so they know to stop having sex before I get home.”
He froze. “Are you serious?”
“I have endless therapy sessions with a bottle of wine that says I am, sadly, deadly serious.” I sighed and cradled my water, having pushed the leftovers of my delicious sandwich out of the way. “It’s their… thing.”
“I am far more thankful for my parents now,” he said, lips twitching. “Is it better now that you’re working?”
“It’s better because my kooky relatives are in town,” I replied. “My great-aunt is a walking, chain-smoking, whiskey-drinking menace, and she loves nothing more than to argue with my cigar-loving, scotch-downing grandfather.”
“Are they related? Blood, I mean? Or marriage?”
“Blood. Brother and sister.” I wrinkled up my face and checked the time. “I should clean this up and get back to my desk.”
“I got it.” Cameron stood with a half-smile, gathering up the wrapping from his sandwich. “Get yourself a coffee and go back.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I can—”
“Mallory, despite what my cousin may have told you, I’m not a dictator. I can clear up sandwich wrappers, especially when having lunch together was my idea. My mother raised a gentleman.”
My cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean—um, I wasn’t trying to say that…”
He laughed, tossing the ball of the wrapper into the trashcan. “I’m teasing you. I’ll clean up. You get back to work.” He threw me a wide grin that held more than a hint of charm in it.
Still, I balled my wrapper up and threw it in the trash. “There. Now I don’t feel so bad.”
Another laugh escaped him, and he pushed my bottle of water across the table to me right as my phone rang.
He raised one eyebrow. “Looks like your lunch hour’s up.”
Ugh. Amanda didn’t miss a trick.
I wanted to sigh, but I had no time. Instead, I had to rush over to my desk in my heels, almost tripping on the way there. If it weren’t for the desk being within reaching distance, I’d have fallen flat on my face.
Thank Heavens for small mercies. Like desks. And closed doors, so Cameron had never seen me trip.
“Good afternoon, you’ve reached Cameron Reid’s office. Mallory speaking. How can I help you?” I breathed, trying to steady myself.
“Mallory?” Great Aunt Grace’s voice harped at me down the line. “Is that you?”
I slumped again the desk. “Aunt Grace. You know I’m at work?”
“Did I call your work phone?”
“Yes.”
“Then I know you’re at work, child.”
I gritted my teeth. “What do you need?”
“We’re out of strawberries.”
I froze. Was she for real? She called to tell me we were out of strawberries? “Seriously?”
“Yes. There are none, and I made pancakes for lunch. I wanted chocolate sauce and strawberries with them.”
“We…don’t have chocolate sauce either, Aunt Grace.”
“Oh.” There was a brief pause. “Then I guess I need chocolate sauce and strawberries.”
“I’m at work.” I rounded my desk and sat down. “I can’t run to the store for you right now. You’ll have to make more tomorrow.”
There was a crash from the other end of the line.
“Aunt Grace, what was that?”
“Nothing!” she shouted. “I found the sauce. We’re good! You work hard, babykin!”
Babykin? What the fuck was babykin? And why was she calling me it?
“Aunt Gra—” I was cut off by the line going dead. A deafening beep sounded in my ear, and I groaned.
Goddamn it, Aunt Grace.
I put the phone back into the cradle and tapped the keyboard to wake up my computer. Strawberries and fucking chocolate sauce. How did she even get my work number? How did she even know where I worked? I was pretty sure I’d never given that information up.
Not to her, at least. There was no way I wanted her showing up here with a random idea. She might have only been here two weeks, but people could lose a job in two minutes.
I didn’t want her to be the reason I lost mine.
“All right?” Cameron asked, adjusting his black tie against his white shirt as he walked toward my desk. “Anything important?”
“Is my aunt asking me to get her strawberries and chocolate sauce counted as important?” I asked honestly, meeting his eyes.
His lips twitched. “Is she buying a house to eat those in?”
“I’d prefer she didn’t buy one in the area.”
Cameron turned toward his office, laughing. “Nope, not important.”
As he shut his door behind him, I couldn’t help but laugh myself.
He wasn’t wrong.
***
Me: I need a new job.
Jade: Why? What’s wrong with urs?
Me: My boss is too hot. I keep thinking about him with his shirt off.
Jade: Do I need to hire u a stripper?
Me: For what?
Jade: U need to get laid.
Me: Strippers don’t sleep with you, idiot. Hookers do that.
Jade: K. Do u need a hooker then?
Me: No. I need some self-control. And Aunt Grace to not email me @ work to buy her strawberries.
Jade: Oh God. Did she get a hooker?
Me: You’re impossible. Why do I put up with you?
Jade: I bring u the good wine when ur sad. Do u need the good wine?
Me: I always need the good wine. Srsly, my boss is too good to be true. He bought me lunch today.
Jade: Maybe he’s just being nice. U should try it.
Me: Being nice is overrated. And he probably is, but he’s too perfect.
Jade: ?????
Me: He’s hot as fuck and buys me lunch and wants to get to know me and doesn’t want to get in my pants. What’s wrong with him?
Jade: Is he gay?
Me: I doubt it. But if he is, men have a gift I don’t think they deserve.
Jade: K. Maybe he fancies u.
Me: I don’t think so. Maybe he just bites his toenails?
Jade: Only u could go from something hot to something so gross.
Me: It’s totally probable. He has a tab at a deli on the fancy side of town. The only tab I have is my credit card.
Jade: U have one at HLS.
I groaned. Hook, Line, and Sinker was our local dive bar, and we loved it for the cheap drinks and the world’s best wing
s. We frequented it far more than I cared to admit, and because the owner, Hank, was a softie, he let us open tabs.
Mine was definitely due.
I made a mental note to pay him the next time I walked through the door.
Me: So do you. Hank knows I’m good for it. But that doesn’t solve my super-hot-boss problem.
Jade: Uve worked there for two days. Settle ur tea kettle, Mal.
Me: Fine. You come meet me for lunch tmrw. See how you feel about him.
Jade: It’s a date. I bet he’s not that hot.
Me: Twenty bucks says you’re wrong.
Jade: I’ve seen ur exes. Done.
CHAPTER EIGHT – CAMERON
I pushed open one of the heavy doors that made up the entrance to my parent’s house. As always, I cringed at the ostentatious show of wealth on display, from the perfectly polished marble floors to the oversized diamond chandelier that hung in the center of the hallway.
If you asked my mother, she wasn’t showing off.
She merely liked shiny things.
I’d told her before that only worked with magpies and toddlers, but she’d stuck to her guns thus far.
For what it was worth, I really did think she just liked shiny things. She also had the bank account to have lots of shiny things.
“Mom?” I called into the silent house. “Where are you?”
“Mrs. Reid said to tell you she’s in the study.” Isabelle, the full-time housekeeper, appeared from the living room to my right with a duster in her hand. “And you’re late.”
I chuckled at her stern look. “I know I’m late. She’s lucky I’m here at all if she keeps sending her friends to buy houses from me.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes and smiled. “And what would you do if she didn’t, huh?”
I reached and took her hand. “I’d be able to have time to romance you, Isabelle.”