Wicked Sunshine

by Justine Winter

  No, darling. It’ll be me fitting in you. I escort her out of the room, calling to Olivia to schedule next week’s meeting as she hands Miss Kennedy her coat.

  As the elevators ding to signal their arrival, she hops on, turning to face me as she presses the button for the ground floor.

  “Goodbye, Miss Kennedy. It’s going to be a pleasure working with you.”

  I’m graced with a tiny smile. “Goodbye, Mr. Rush.”

  As the doors close on the beauty, I head back to my office with one potent recurring thought.

  I’m completely fucked.

  Shit.

  Chapter Four

  ~ £ ~

  My week has dragged. Painfully. Slowly. Torturously. Nothing, and I mean nothing will budge any of the thoughts I have about Miss Maya Kennedy. I’ve worked out, a lot. I’ve visited all my usual hook-up spots; clubs, bars, hotels.

  NOTHING WILL WORK!

  She’s sabotaged my sane existence after only one incredibly brief meeting. Half an hour in her presence is all it’s taken for me to become an over-excited puppy awaiting our next encounter.

  And I have no idea how one person, though amazingly hot as she is, can make such a lasting impression on my psyche. Is it because she freely speaks her mind about her distaste of my actions? Or is it because, unlike most other women appearing in my life, she isn’t interested in throwing herself at me?

  Is that it? Has she just become the chase I’ve been so desperate for, for years? Or have I really been blowing things out of proportion because I told myself I can’t have her until this job is done?

  That’s gotta be it. Right? I’m just making her seem ten times more beautiful in my memory than what she really is because she’s currently unattainable.

  Jesus Christ, Grayson. Get it together for fuck’s sake. What’s one girl when there are dozens more falling at my feet every day?

  So here I am, sitting at my desk bright and early, practically bouncing in my chair with anticipation. Today, I get to see her again. Today, I decide whether her work is worthy of a Rush title. And no matter how eager I may seem to you, Miss Kennedy will never know. I’m a professional after all.

  Most of the time.

  “Mr. Rush. Miss Kennedy’s here to see you,” Olivia’s voice buzzes over the intercom.

  “Send her in.” I stand in preparation, straightening my suit as my office door is opened, and for a second I forget how to breathe.

  My voice is hoarse from the air desperately needed in my lungs. “Good morning, Miss Kennedy. Please have a seat.”

  I use the distraction of sitting to regain my composure, but I can’t take my eyes off her. I was wrong before, my memory has been spot-on. She’s mouth-wateringly sexy, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from pursuing her.

  Nothing.

  I need her. I want her. Maya Kennedy will make it to my bed.

  “Mr. Rush. I have your samples here.” She hands me a portfolio, and I purposefully graze my hand on top of hers, hearing her slight intake of air at the electricity coursing between us.

  Yes, she’s affected by me again. I can work with this.

  I flip through the file, keeping my gaze neutral. I’m not about to let her off easily, but she’s right. She has a gift for creativity.

  I ‘mmmm’ and ‘ahhh’ here and there, letting the room fill with tension. I’m practically buzzing with energy at the prospects.

  “This one,” I say, pointing to the third. “This is the one. But, how about changing the white background to black? I think that’ll work better. Much sexier,” I say as I look at her over the pages.

  Yet she remains nonplussed. “I assume you’ll be focusing on romance novels?”

  I smile gently. “Doesn’t everyone love a good fuck story these days?”

  I’m impressed with her casual reaction as she offers me a raised brow. “Sex sells, Mr. Rush, but only when the hero is deserving. Readers don’t like to be fooled by willing victims.”

  Is that some convoluted way of telling me I don’t deserve to fuck her? Or, perhaps, is this an attempt at telling me I have to try harder to win her over?

  Fuck, we’re back to that weird logic women are so good at again.

  “I have no intention of letting readers go without some satisfaction when they purchase a novel under the Rush House name.”

  “How dutiful of you.” Her smile is tight like she’s stopping herself from saying something more. “Is that all?”

  I stop her hand from grabbing the portfolio, taking one last look before I decide this is what I want.

  “The quill,” I say, pointing to the feathered end. “It needs to be brighter. I want it to pop!” Like the sound of hymens breaking by reading such stimulating text. “I do like the quill,” I add, thinking out loud.

  “I figured the feathers were a subtle hint at seduction. You know, considering your company’s motto.”

  I look up from the logo to catch her gaze, doing my best to dazzle her with my pearly whites. “That’s quite symbolic, Miss Kennedy.”

  I catch the slight blush to her cheeks. Fuck, she’s intoxicating.

  “I’ll have these changes done by the end of the day. Would you like to proof another paper copy, or will email suffice it this time?”

  I think about the day ahead, wanting nothing more than to see her again, but I can’t. I’m a wanted man by many, and it fucking kills me, literally rips a notch on my dick to have to turn her down. What? You don’t think I’m going to say heart, do you? Please, give me some credit. My heart belongs to no one but me, nothing will change that. Not even this smoking-hot brunette with her lip caught between her teeth.

  Fuck, that’s enticing.

  Oh, and here comes a teenaged erection, waving the white flag.

  “Email will be perfect,” I say, handing my personal business card to her. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Rush.” She gathers her stuff together to leave.

  “Please let your boss know that her substitution has already exceeded my expectations,” I say, thinking my compliment will earn me another one of her boxer-destroying smiles, but what I get in return is far from it.

  “Why? Because I’m only a junior?”

  Okay, I’m pretty sure I deserve that dig, but why the hell can’t women take a compliment when one’s given? Every time, it’s ‘do I look good in this?’ And when the poor bastard answers honestly, his motives are always questioned. Take a hint, ladies, accept the bloody praise gracefully. Life will be much better if you do.

  “Not at all. It generally takes me between five and ten meetings to really pinpoint the creative flair I need for each project. You sold me in one.”

  Her mouth hangs open for a moment or two, and I’m assaulted by the images of those plump lips of hers wrapped around my cock.

  Don’t look at me like that. If you were a guy, you’d be thinking it, too.

  “Then I’m glad my creativity pleases you, Mr. Rush.” She shakes my hand before she leaves, her cool touch soothes the burning inferno inside my palms.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I promise.

  ~ £ ~

  “Fuck off! There’s no way you’ve made a decision that quickly already. I know you, Rush. You’re meticulous at everything.”

  I finish wrapping my hands, and join Cam in the boxing ring. “I’m still meticulous, but I’m telling you, what Maya can do is pretty much perfect already. You’ll agree with me when you see. Ready?” I say, bringing my guard up as he holds the sparring pads.

  I keep my breathing even, jab-jab-duck, right-right-left-right-duck, and so on until my heart rate is elevated, my body’s sweating.

  “Are you sure it’s the work and not the girl that has you satisfied?” Cam asks, switching from pads to gloves.

  “Oh, come on. You know I don’t fraternise on the job.”

  “Yes, but you also don’t refer to many women by name. It’s usually ‘the blonde’, or ‘bar girl’. I’m t
elling you, dude. You’ve got a thing for this chick whether you admit it or not.”

  I block his punch with my guard, taking a few hits until I can recover. Okay, so maybe Cameron’s right, and knows me too well. Maybe he does realise that I intend to see this further, but as for calling her by name?

  Well, the truth is, I’ve been sober long enough to catch it. I know that’s despicable, but the brutal honesty, ladies, is that if I’m out having a good time, drinking back a few beers, and you come on to me the last thing I’m going to remember is your name, because at this point the only brain alert enough to listen is the one I’m going to be stabbing in your pussy.

  “What happened with your ‘dilemma’ in the end? You fuck ‘em both?”

  I get a few sneaky hits in before his guard catches up. “You bet I did. But Jessie, man, she’s a gymnast. I had no fucking idea just how flexible women can be. I swear, the book of Kama Sutra had nothing on what we were doing.”

  “You seeing her again?” I ask, noticing the shit-eating grin spread across his face.

  “When the sex is that good, I owe it to myself to ride the train again.”

  I laugh between hits. “There’s plenty of express routes out there, Cam. No need to settle on one yet.”

  “Yeah, but not all girls are as adventurous as this one either.”

  We finish up our workout, knowing our booked slot is coming to an end. Yes, I may own the gym, but I’m a businessman at heart. There’s no profit in selfishness.

  I check my phone as I empty my locker, noticing a slew of emails piling up as usual, but one name catches my eye.

  Maya Kennedy.

  Mr. Rush,

  As discussed, the improvements to your logo.

  I hope this pops to your liking.

  Maya Kennedy.

  Junior Graphic Designer

  Enhance Graphics & Design

  I click the attachment, downloading the image to screen. With the changes made, it’s spectacular, exactly what I need. “Look at this. Tell me this isn’t our logo.”

  I shove the phone in Cam’s face, grabbing the rest of my shit out of the locker.

  He whistles with appreciation. “I guess I owe you an apology, Rush. But I still believe you plan to fuck her.”

  I snort. “Of course I do. That was never out of the question. Just as soon as I get all files sent over, I’ll turn on the charm. Win-win situation for the both of us.”

  “I don’t think so, dude. Judging by your conversations already, I say she’ll play hard to get. A woman that respects herself enough isn’t going to be falling into bed with you willingly.”

  “Well, that was harsh,” I say, punching him in the arm.

  He shrugs it off. “You’ve got a womanising reputation, Grayson. I’m just saying, don’t be surprised if she turns you down.”

  I know he’s right, but it still fucking wounds my ego. I need to get Maya Kennedy out of my system. She’s becoming a toxic substance to my mind. Conversations, thoughts, actions; every day they’re centred around her, and I don’t even know her.

  I’ve probably spent a combined ninety minutes in her presence, and look at me! This is not the Grayson Rush I know. I never spend more than ten minutes thinking about any girl in particular. Usually it’s just a mouth, a pair of tits, a cooch.

  Not someone with a fucking brain that knows how to use it well.

  And now I’m all fired up again with frustration. What happened to my workout release? I need a distraction. A mantivity - that’s a manly activity by the way.

  “Let’s get out of here. I need to shoot some targets.”

  “Are we talking paintball, firing range or Xbox?”

  I look at my watch, seeing that it’s already ten o’clock. “Xbox. Too late for anything else,” I say sullenly, knowing it’s probably for the best.

  In the short ride back home, I take the time to respond to Maya.

  Miss Kennedy,

  Overwhelmingly satisfied with such beauty.

  Grayson Rush

  CEO Rush Enterprises

  I hit send, unashamed with the double entendre, and return my phone to my pocket whilst Cam stares at me.

  He shakes his head. “Yeah. There’s no way this is going to end well. I can’t wait!”

  Chapter Five

  ~ £ ~

  It’s the first Wednesday morning of the month which means I’m at the Foundation, making sure everything’s running smoothly. Sure, I can check numbers on a computer screen, but I like being here, seeing all the good work going on in my name.

  I’m walking through the corridor when Doctor Ross, our main therapist here at Rush To Me, steps out of his room with a young Hispanic family at his side. I smile politely, leaving them to it, when I hear my name being called out.

  I return to the good Doc, shaking his hand in greeting. “What can I do for you?”

  “The Rodriguez family here wanted a word.”

  I look at the man and wife, noticing how she clutches on to her young daughter’s shoulders. She doesn’t look much older than five or six, and the fact they’re here for therapy makes me feel even more disgusted with the world. Why should a child that young need counselling? It’s sickening.

  I should clarify. I’m not blaming the parents here, I’m blaming the bullies. The sick sons of bitches that have this desire to make other people’s lives so unbearable that they end up needing help. Or worse¸ not asking for it. It’s a twisted society.

  “Mr. Rush, my wife and I wanted to personally thank you for all you’ve done for our little Ava. Without the Foundation. . .” The father stops, losing his composure, and it’s all I need to have my heart swell with pride whilst simultaneously shattering with empathy. I know that look well. The look that says he can’t afford to pay for his daughter’s recovery. Sure, there’s the free health service, but waiting lists are so long it’s easy to get lost in the system. Forgotten about. I’ve been there before.

  I grip his shoulder, a smile spreads across my face. “Mr. Rodriguez, it’s my honour to provide the care your daughter needs.” I bend to my knees so that I’m at eye-level with the girl. “Hi, Ava. My name’s Grayson.”

  She smiles shyly, holding her hands to her mouth.

  “Did you have fun today with Doctor Ross?”

  She nods enthusiastically. “He gave me a wowwipop for being so good.”

  “I bet he did,” I smile. “Is that your favourite food?”

  Her brows crease as she thinks hard, and it’s absolutely adorable. “No, I wove Happy Meals!” She jumps up and down excitedly, clearly satisfied with her choice.

  “Nice,” I say. “I like Happy meals, too.”

  “You do?” she asks, eyes wide.

  “Want to know what my favourite part about it is?”

  She nods, transfixed.

  “The toy,” I whisper. “And do you know what the best thing about living in London is?”

  She shakes her head.

  “There’s a really, really, really big toy store here.” I hold my arms out wide to mimic its size. “Do you know what it’s called?”

  “Umm. . .” She puts her finger to her mouth and starts swaying back and forth. When she reaches her conclusion, her hands fly out in a big circle. “HAMWEYS!” she yells, bouncing up and down on her feet again.

  I laugh at her energy, digging in my pocket. “You know, I think today is a special day.”

  “It is?” Her brows crease again.

  I nod slowly, and hand her four red notes - fifty pounds each. She looks at me confused. “I think you should take mum and dad out for the afternoon. Get some lunch, get a new toy from Hamleys. What do you think? I believe that’s enough.”

  Her eyes widen with surprise as she stares down at the money in her hand. “Ummm. . .”

  “No, you’re right,” I say, handing her one more. “Now that should be enough.”

  She rushes into me, wrapping her little arms around my neck as she squeezes hard. Now I’m shocked. Speechless. Unsure what
I should do, so I hug her in return.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gwayson.”

  I chuckle at the absurdly cute way she says my name. “You’re welcome.” I stand, and take in her parents, expecting some arse-chewing for having over-stepped my mark. But when I see the mother’s tears, I freeze.

  Fuck. What have I done?

  I begin to apologise, realising I should’ve asked when she barrels into me, crushing the air out of my lungs as she embraces the life out of me. “You’re a good man, Mr. Rush. Thank you.”

  She returns to her husband, who clasps my hand in a firm grip. “I will never be able to repay you for everything, but if there’s ever anything I can do for you, know that you have my help.”

  I shake his hand and watch them go, waving goodbye to little Ava as they disappear.

  “Tell me why you’re not married with children again?” Doctor Ross asks as he remains occupying the space in the hallway with me, arms folded, smirking.

  I laugh at his statement. “Because I’m not a one woman kind of guy?”

  He shakes his head, his grey hair flops over his eyes. “You can’t fool the therapist, Grayson. I see the things you’re not saying.” He taps his temple as though he’s suggesting he’s some kind of Jedi mind-reader.

  I sigh. “I’ve spent most of my life taking care of people. I’m not ready to settle down yet.”

  He turns back into his office, no doubt getting ready for his next appointment. There isn’t a moment to waste at the Foundation. In the few months it’s been open, the client list has grown exponentially. It’s all further proof of the help needed in the world.

  “I think you’re closer to settling down than you think,” he says, and closes the door on my face.

  What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

  ~ £ ~

  Having a gourmet meal from a restaurant brought to my office for lunch is one of the many perks of being rich. Never mind the fact that I own said establishment, and am friends with the chef. Of course.