by Violet North
Carly smiled as she turned onto the road to her parents’ house. It was a great plan.
The song on the radio changed, and it was one she’d heard while she was with Donovan at the cottage. Suddenly, it was as if she was back there again, in his arms.
They’d eaten at the Italian place. The food was delicious, but Donovan was eager to leave. Carly thought he drove home a little too fast.
When they arrived back at the bungalow, his hands were all over her while she fumbled with the key on the front porch. They slid down her sides, over her rear end, and then she felt him push his hard groin against her while one of his hands came around and cupped her. She knew his large body shielded the maneuver from any curious eyes on the street, but she still felt a tiny thrill of concern that someone might see. Then his fingers found their mark under her short skirt and through her panties, and she forgot about modesty. She’d gasped and involuntarily pressed into his hand. Then she swore at the door, which seemed to respond by finally falling open.
Carly turned in Donovan’s arms and he moved forward to get through the door, kicking it shut behind him while his mouth and fingers seemed to be everywhere at once. He backed her up toward one of the barstools next to the kitchen counter.
“Should we go to the bedroom?” she gasped.
“No time,” he replied, picking her up by the waist and setting her on the stool. She didn’t remember how their clothes got off, but neither of them were wearing any, and Donovan quickly donned a condom, pulled her hips to the edge of the seat, hooked her knees over his elbows, took one of her nipples into his mouth, and then pushed himself into her while he sucked on it.
She gasped and came almost immediately, and then held steady while he stroked hard four or five times before he came with a shout.
It had been so fast for both of them that they’d had to do it again, slower, in the bedroom later.
The memory was so real that Carly throbbed and shifted around in the driver’s seat. She had to fight hard to resist the urge to reach between her legs.
She wondered if she’d ever have such amazing sex again.
Carly pulled into her parents’ driveway behind her dad’s Saturn and took a deep breath, making herself think about something else. She saw the curtains move in the front window, and a minute later, her mom opened the front door, smiled, and waved at her. She didn’t have to force herself to smile back. Carly was happy to see her mom, and she jumped out of the Kia and hurried up the walkway to the porch.
“Hi,” she said, giving Trista a big hug.
“Hi, honey. How was your vacation? Did you and Penelope have fun?”
Carly snorted. “Penny didn’t show up. She got an opportunity to go to the Yucatan Peninsula with Ty and dig in some ruins. They left the day I got to the cottage. But I had a nice time.”
Her mother ushered her into the house and gave her a quizzical look. “You weren’t bored by yourself? Did you make any friends in the other cottages?”
“Um. Yeah. There was a houseful of college kids a couple doors down and a pretty nice guy and his dog next door in the other direction. So I had people to talk to when I wanted.” Carly felt uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. She and her mom had a great relationship, but not close enough for Carly to tell her the specifics of her affair with Donovan. “How were things here while I was gone?” She prayed the diversion would work.
“Just fine, dear. Your father did some golfing, and I was asked to be on the Board at the Children’s Hospital, so that’s kept me super busy. In fact, I have a meeting tonight. I wanted to stay home and hang out with you.” Trista waved a hand in front of her. “Actually, I’ll tell them I can’t come. It won’t hurt to miss one.”
“No, you shouldn’t do that, Mom. I’m not going to be much fun tonight anyway. I need to do laundry from my trip, and I wanted to research the Newton Weekly a little bit. Really, I’ll just be in my room most of the evening.”
Trista raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure? I feel bad abandoning you your first night home.”
“I grew up here. I’ll be fine. Go to your meeting!” Carly slipped her shoes off and entered the family room. She plopped down on a big brown armchair. “Where’s Dad?”
“He met some of his golfing buddies at the pub. They do that every other Saturday now. He has a cheeseburger and a couple beers and they play pool and tell golf stories. He enjoys it.”
“That’s good.”
“I made a big salad. It’s in the fridge, and there’s a container of grilled chicken in there you can throw on top.” Trista looked into a mirror in the hallway by the front door and fluffed her hair.
“Thanks,” Carly said. “That sounds good. I ate too much heavy food on vacation.”
Trista glanced over her shoulder at Carly. “Did you have too much wine too?”
Carly grinned. “I had some wine,” she admitted.
A scratching sound caught Carly’s attention, and then a brown ball of fur came flying around the corner from the hallway into the family room with nails scraping the hardwood floor. It launched itself into her lap. Carly laughed and leaned back so the little dog couldn’t lick her face. “Tiny! Come on, stop!” The cockapoo sat on Carly’s legs and cocked his head to the side.
“Aw, he missed you,” Trista said.
Carly couldn’t help but think of Gus while she gave Tiny a pat on the head. The two dogs couldn’t be more different. Gus was big, calm, and steady, and Tiny was small, hyper, and a little nuts. He jumped off Carly’s lap and chased his tail manically. She laughed at him. “He needs a friend, I think.”
“No way. We’re not getting a puppy. Your dad and I don’t have time. Are you planning on being home enough to take care of one?” Trista raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at Carly.
She shook her head. “Nope. I have to hit it hard at the newspaper. I want to impress the editor and move up fast.”
Trista sat on the ottoman at Carly’s feet. “You will, honey,” she said, reaching to squeeze Carly’s knee. “You’ve always been a hard worker, and you’re as smart as they come. I know you’ll do well at the paper.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Carly patted her mother’s hand and then stood. “I’m going to bring my suitcases in and get started on that laundry. And thanks for the salad. Oh, and for letting me live here.”
Trista laughed. “Dad and I are happy to have you here,” she said. “Empty nest syndrome isn’t much fun.”
As Carly went out to the car to fetch her bags, she thought about what her mom had said. She was glad her parents were happy to have her home with them, but she didn’t intend to stay long. She hoped they’d be okay when she left again. She didn’t want her mom feeling lonely.
But Trista had the Children’s Hospital, and Carly knew she volunteered at the library and history museum a lot. And her dad had golf and his golfing buddies. She was sure they were fine. Her mom was probably just trying to make Carly feel better about landing back at home.
Unbidden, a vision of Donovan popped into her mind again, and she hoped he’d be fine without her too. She shook her head to get the picture out and scoffed at herself. Of course he’d be okay. She shouldn’t give herself so much credit. He was a sexy young man who obviously had some money. He probably already had a dozen girls lined up to take her place.
She was surprised when that thought made her stomach clench.
Carly found herself hoping those memories would fade fast and leave her in peace.
Chapter 10
Carly checked herself in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. Her black slacks hung perfectly, just like they had the other ninety-nine times. Her white blouse, with the top button open to show off a silver chain with a round diamond pendant, was wrinkle free, and the black suitcoat lay over it just right. She went to her closet and got the black patent pumps she’d had since senior year of high school. They were comfortable, classy, and easy to walk in. She stood back in front of the mirror and gazed into it again. “May
be I should wear a different color shirt,” she mumbled.
“That one’s perfect.” Carl Roberts leaned against the doorframe. His mustache bobbed when he spoke, and his bald head held all the wrinkles her suit coat didn’t.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. You’re going to knock ‘em dead, girl. Your mother has breakfast ready. Come on out and have some before you go.”
Carly chewed her lower lip and watched herself smooth her coat in the mirror. “I think I’m too nervous to eat.”
Her dad came in and stood behind Carly, placing his hands on her arms. “You studied hard, got your degree, and talked these people into hiring you,” he said. “Those were the hard parts. Now all you have to do is go in and do what you were taught. You’ll be a grizzled, cynical, old reporter in no time.”
Carly felt a pang. “That’s what I’m worried about,” she muttered, turning toward her dad.
“What do you mean?”
“What if I do so well at the paper that I do become a wizened, hardened journalist in a few years? What if I’m so cynical and addicted to work that I don’t know how to love someone? I could become an old maid.”
Carl chuckled. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. You’re smart, funny, and cute. I bet you’ll find some guy in the newsroom on your very first day. In fact, I bet you’ll be beating male reporters off with a stick.”
Carly grinned but tried to make a pouty face. “You have to say that. You’re my dad.”
“I’m your dad, but I don’t have to say it. I could just keep my mouth shut like I do when your brother worries about not finding a nice girl.” He winked and gave her a bear hug, and Carly tried not to worry about it wrinkling her clothes.
When he left, she looked at herself in the mirror again. She was as ready as she was ever going to be. Might as well jump into this day and get it over with. Once she’d met everyone and sized them up, Carly would know more about what she had to do to succeed at Newton Weekly.
When she got to the kitchen, Carly’s stomach growled, and she decided she could eat a little breakfast after all. Trista greeted her with a smile and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. They ate in silence, and then Carly stood and put her plate in the dishwasher.
“I got a travel mug and some lunch ready for you.” Trista motioned to the silver thermos and brown paper sack on the counter. “Have a great first day.”
“Thanks.” Carly kissed her mom on the cheek and then bent to pet Tiny, who sat at Trista’s feet staring at her intently, obviously waiting for a morsel to drop.
Carly left the house with her lunch and coffee and got into the Kia. She took a deep breath and then started the car and backed out of the driveway.
The thirty minute drive to the paper’s main office felt like much longer. Carly fought butterflies in her stomach the entire time, trying to chase them off with deep breaths and calm thoughts. When she got to the nondescript, small brick building in the otherwise quaint and bustling Newton downtown, she circled the block twice wondering where to park and getting more and more stressed. Her palms sweat on the steering wheel. Finally, she saw a sign for a parking structure on the next block and pulled into it. She was early enough that, even with that setback, she walked into the lobby with ten minutes to spare.
A blond receptionist who appeared to be in her mid-thirties sat at a desk in the center of the room, and she smiled at Carly. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
“I’m Carly Roberts. It’s my first day. I’m a reporter. A junior journalist, I mean. I’m new.” Wow. As first opinions went, she didn’t think this woman was going to be left with a good one of her.
But the lady smiled bigger. “Welcome, Miss Roberts.” She stood and came around the desk to offer Carly her hand. “I’m Jessica. They said you’d be coming and asked me to show you around a little bit. I work at the front desk and also do some legwork for the reporters—look up addresses for them and that kind of thing. Like an assistant.”
“Nice to meet you, Jessica.” The round-faced blond was doing a lot to ease Carly’s nerves. Her eyes were expressive, and she had an open, friendly demeanor.
Jessica showed Carly around the small building. There was a tiny breakroom where she left her lunch. They saw the mail room and then the conference room where Jessica said daily meetings to assign stories were held promptly at 9:15 am. They went past Harriet Grove’s office. She was the HR woman who’d interviewed and hired Carly, and she waved as the two women walked by her open door.
One large room contained fifteen or so cubicles, and Jessica showed Carly which one was hers. It held a small desk, a sturdy chair, and a computer. Carly’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the nameplate someone had placed on the desk. She’d never had a nameplate before.
“The cubicle right next to you is empty right now.” Jessica’s brow creased. “It’s Samantha’s, but she hasn’t been to work in a couple of weeks. She’s not answering phone calls, and no one has seen her.”
“That’s terrible!”
Jessica nodded. “Yeah, we called the police after the first day because it just wasn’t like her to go off the grid like that. They say they’re working on her case, but we haven’t heard anything.” She looked around and then clapped her hands. “Okay, I think that’s the five cent tour. I’ll take you to see the editor now. He always likes to chat with new reporters for a few minutes on their first day before the morning meeting.”
Carly’s nerves reared up again. This was it. The editor. She needed to make a good impression on this guy right from the beginning if she wanted to do well here. She wiped her palms on the sides of her pants and followed Jessica down a short hallway to its end, where a door was open. A dark-haired man stood in the room, his back to them. Jessica tapped the door frame twice. “Mr. Parker, the new reporter is here.”
The man turned around, and Carly’s jaw dropped. There, not ten feet away from her, with his way-too-perfect goatee, new beach tan, and model-ready hair, stood Donovan.
Chapter 11
“Good luck on your first day. I need to get back up front,” Jessica said, her tone breezy.
“Th . . . thanks,” Carly stammered, her eyes never leaving Donovan’s face.
Donovan’s brown eyes bored into her. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms, but he otherwise didn’t show any surprise. On the other hand, Carly was sure her bottom jaw almost rested on the ground and her eyes threatened to pop out if they got any wider.
“Come on in and close the door,” he said quietly.
A vision of him crossing the room to take her in his arms and kiss her deeply and passionately danced into her mind as Carly turned to do his bidding. She imagined him running his hands down her back and cupping her rear end, yanking her toward him so she could feel the hard length of his desire through her business suit.
But when she turned back toward him, Donovan was sitting in the chair behind his desk. Carly felt a flash of disappointment, but she swallowed it and moved to sit across from him.
“Hi,” he said softly once she was seated, and a soft grin appeared on his face.
“Hi,” she answered.
“So, you’re my new journalist?”
Carly nodded. “So, you’re my new editor?”
“Apparently.”
“Well, isn’t this serendipitous?” Carly let herself smile. She was so happy to see Donovan it was hard to contain.
He chuckled. “It definitely is.” He cocked his head to the side and studied her, tapping his fingers on the arms of his chairs.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Carly whispered.
“Me either.” Donovan hesitated. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
Relief flooded through her. She’d been beginning to think he wasn’t happy to see her and wondered if he would fire her.
“But I don’t think we should continue the relationship we had at the ocean.”
His words fell on her like a heavy weight. She didn’t answer but sat wait
ing for him to say more.
“I’m your boss now, and we’re back in the real world. I’m almost always working, and you’re going to be busting your ass too.” He leaned forward and shuffled some papers on his desk. “You know, I’m the youngest editor the Newton Weekly’s ever had? My dad bought the paper when I was a child. He built it up to be a success, but the internet changed the way people consume news. We’re an online subscription now, but we have to keep the cost low for people or they just won’t pay. I’ve had to fire a lot of people to stay profitable. It’s a slog for me every day, trying to keep what my dad built going and not lose it all.” Donovan winced, and Carly could almost see the weight of his father’s expectations sitting on his shoulders.
“Anyway, I don’t really have time for a relationship.” He looked up at Carly, his eyes soft. When he spoke again, his voice was so low she had to lean forward to catch his words. “I hope you understand this isn’t about you. I loved what we had—what we did—at the ocean. But we wouldn’t be able to do the same thing here in our real lives. Keep it without strings, I mean. And I don’t want any strings right now.”
Carly bobbed her head up and down a tiny bit. “When do you want strings?”
“Maybe when I’m thirty,” he answered. “That gives me four years to bust my hump and get this paper wildly successful and running on autopilot.”
“I see.” Carly knew he was right about one thing. She’d never be able to simply have fun with Donovan in this setting—in their real lives—like they’d had on vacation. She would definitely want more.
She already did.
But she simply said. “Okay, boss. I got it.”
Donovan’s face fell for a second. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she wouldn’t have seen it because he quickly transformed it into a smile while he stood up. But she had seen it. He’d looked sad for an instant.