Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  Fate nodded but couldn’t get words to come up over the lump in her throat. Gwen filled the silence.

  “And judging from the way he was ripping your clothes to shreds with the power of his mind, all our new boss wants now is a chance at round two.” She shrugged. “But if he starts harassing you, I will threaten to go to HR on his ass. So if you want him to back off, say so.”

  Fate sucked in a healing breath. “You’re right. I’m freaking out over nothing. He’s probably slept with half the girls we work with.” She rolled her eyes at her own dramatics. The only one making a big deal out of this was her. Time to pull up her big-girl panties and get on with her life.

  “Uh, yeah. Probably.” Gwen made a strange face that involved rolling her lips inward as if she were dying to bust out in laughter. After composing herself, she stared at a spot over Fate’s shoulder. “Um, Fate, that thing I said about you wanting him to back off. Do you?”

  She finished chewing the bite of cucumber she’d just taken and swallowed. “I don’t know. I mean it’s not like he really did anything other than stare like a man possessed. It was just a shock for both of us, I think. I just don’t want everyone knowing, you know? It’s bad enough that I’m probably going to be waiting on my support staff at Lux every night.” She took a drink of her tea before shaking her head and laughing at her own pathetic situation. “I can just see it now. Hey, did you send that report I asked about? Oh, and by the way, can I grab you another beer?”

  Gwen nodded in sympathy. “Yeah, that’s…um… Hey, Fate, I need a concrete answer. Do you want him to back off or not?” Gwen’s expression was morphing from amused to panicked.

  Fate had a mouthful of salad and couldn’t answer right away.

  “Swallow your damn food. Now.”

  Fate did as she was told and gaped at her friend. “What the—”

  “Ladies,” a male voice interrupted. “Kind of early for lunch, isn’t it?”

  Both women looked up at the handsome stocky-built sandy-haired man with a goatee standing next to their booth. Fate recognized him from the meeting but couldn’t remember his title. Keaton Something. Some type of financial guy.

  “We could say the same to you,” Gwen informed him. “But since this isn’t elementary school and there’s no set time for lunch breaks, we won’t.”

  Fate watched as the man regarded her friend with a raised brow. Her tongue went thick and dry when she realized that he wasn’t alone. Dean Maxwell—a.k.a. her random beach hookup, a.k.a. her new boss—was standing behind him. Every cussword she knew flitted through her head.

  “Touché, Ms. Scott.” Keaton winked. Gwen smirked at him in response, but his smile only widened. “Care to help me order? I think I need your marketing expertise and an in-depth cost-benefit analysis of pastrami versus salami.”

  “In other words, our friends need to sit down and discuss how to work together after seeing each other naked. Got it.” Gwen smiled at Fate, who glared back at her. So much for no one knowing. It was obvious that Keaton already knew. Fate didn’t bother to correct Gwen and clarify that they hadn’t actually seen each other completely naked. Seemed irrelevant at the moment.

  “Oh how I love an honest woman. Too bad you’ve already ordered or I’d buy you lunch.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Gwen shot back at him as she slid out of the booth with her lunch in hand.

  “You’re right. I’m a cheap bastard.” He shrugged and the two of them walked away, leaving awkward silence behind them.

  Fate watched as the man she’d been unable to forget for the past three months slid into the booth across from her. She squirmed under the intensity of his glare. For the love of pastrami on rye, one of them was going to have to speak first. Taking a deep breath, she decided it might as well be her.

  Here went nothing.

  “I enjoyed your speech this morning,” she told him. Like that was what he wanted to talk about. “Did you actually mean any of that or did someone else write it for you?”

  Whoa. What the fuck was her problem? “Excuse me?”

  “Just seemed a little scripted is all.” She shrugged and lifted a cherry tomato from her plate. He watched intently as she placed it in her mouth. That sweet, perfect mouth. His thoughts traveled south. Dammit. He had to get this under control.

  Obviously this woman was a one-and-done and didn’t want anything else to do with him. No shit, genius. Hence why she dropped off the grid. To think, he’d wasted an entire summer looking for her. It stung. But he had a career—no, a whole company—to consider. He could be professional. He had to be.

  “We seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot here.” He attempted to smile warmly at her.

  “Interesting choice of words.”

  He’d said “gotten off.” Apparently, she wasn’t going to make this easy. For either of them.

  “Yes. I think you’ll find I’m not nearly as articulate as yourself. Your presentation this morning was impressive. Not scripted at all.”

  There. Women loved flattery. That much he knew.

  She didn’t smile or thank him like he’d expected. Of course not. She wasn’t in the habit of doing what he expected.

  “Which part did you find particularly engaging?” Her expression was even as she waited for his answer.

  “Um, which part of what? The presentation?”

  She nodded.

  “The part about, er, all of it. The bringing stuff in-house part, backing off the outsourcing. Good ideas. Innovative stuff.” He hoped to hell that’s what her presentation had been about. He’d been drowning in memories of being inside her.

  She grinned, and as much as he hated the feeling of being busted, he loved the sight of those two sexy dimples on either side of her mouth. His tongue ached to reach out and taste her sweet smile. So he clenched his teeth shut and waited for her to tell him that he was full of shit.

  “Oh, that part. The topic of the entire presentation. Well, makes sense you would’ve heard that part.”

  “Look, I’m done playing around here.” He leaned in close in case any of their coworkers were nearby. “No, I couldn’t concentrate on your presentation because I was distracted by the memory of burying myself deep inside you and those sexy little noises you made when you came. So, my bad. Email me the damn thing and I’ll write a report on it if it’s so important to you. But don’t sit here and act like you don’t remember. Like you didn’t vanish into the damn wind three months ago.”

  He could tell he’d shocked her exactly like he’d intended. Her green eyes rounded. She pulled her full bottom lip in with her teeth and he had to fight with everything he had not to lean a little closer and do the same.

  “What do you want me to say?” she whispered. “I’m sorry? I was having the worst day of my life and then you dropped down from the sky and asked me what you could do to make it better.” She looked as if she might cry. Jesus.

  “No.” He rubbed his hand over his face. Hell of a first day this was turning out to be. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just… I looked for you. I had no idea what had happened. For all I knew, you’d walked out into the damned ocean.”

  She snorted, and for some reason, it made him angry. “Do the women you sleep with usually contemplate suicide immediately after?”

  That was low blow. Some of them got pretty nuts, actually—when they realized he was done with them. “No. They don’t usually run off and go into hiding afterwards either. But apparently, you aren’t most women.” That was an understatement if ever there was one.

  “No, I’m not,” she said barely loud enough for him to hear.

  As she fingered the pearls around her neck, his traitorous gaze dipped to her chest. The dress she was wearing was tight fitting but modest by most standards. It was doing things to him nonetheless. Probably because he knew exactly what was under it.

  “So how do you want to play this?” He leaned back in the booth, deciding to give the headstrong woman the upper hand. “You want to
pretend it never happened? Want me to buy you dinner? Flowers? What? You tell me, because if I’m being honest, I have no clue what the proper protocol is here.”

  Her brows dipped and she stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Then she made a breathy little noise that both turned him on and pissed him off. “Right. You expect me to believe you haven’t slept with half the woman we work with.” She did her little snorty thing again. “Okay.”

  Usually he was a pretty even-keeled guy. But this particular female seemed to know exactly what to say to make his blood pressure rise to a dangerous level.

  “How about this? How about I don’t pretend to know anything about you, and you don’t pretend to know everything about me?” He propped his elbows on the table and leaned in once more. “I’ll behave like the professional I am, and you can go on with your high-and-mighty bullshit pretending you didn’t let a stranger pop your cherry without even getting his name first.”

  He almost reached into the air to attempt to grab those words back. But he wouldn’t have been quick enough anyways. They hit her with the same force a slap would have. She recoiled and pain smeared all over her pretty face.

  “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” He was a grown man, not a sixteen-year-old walking hard-on. He could admit when he’d taken something too far.

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” She bit her lip again and looked around. Probably for someone to rescue her from the asshole in her booth. She squared her shoulders before she spoke again. “But you’re right. It happened, and my being a bitch about it isn’t going to change anything.”

  He watched her chest heave as she took a deep breath. He’d put that dark shadow of hurt in her eyes this time. The same one she’d had when he first met her. He’d done some shady things, most of them to women, but this was stabbing him square in the heart. The worst part was she didn’t cuss him out like he deserved. She was just going to take this from him. Because he was her boss. The realization made him sick. He’d become his father’s son after all.

  “Fate, I’m sorry—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Mr. Maxell, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m going to level with you. At the moment, I need this job. I can assure you that I’ll be looking for another one immediately. As soon as I find something, I’ll submit my notice to you personally.” She grabbed her purse and scooted out of the booth before he had time to fully process what she’d said.

  “Wait.” He gripped her wrist as she stood. “Relax. I don’t want you—”

  “I don’t want you either,” she snapped, tearing her wrist from his grasp and stalking towards the exit.

  “To quit,” he said quietly in the air to no one. He really didn’t. And he didn’t want her to call him Mr. Maxwell either. He wanted her to call him Dean. Softly, in the stillness of a darkened bedroom after he’d made love to her like he’d planned to do back in June.

  “Looks like that went well.” Keaton’s eyes were on Fate’s retreating figure as he approached.

  “She’s just…got a lot on her plate right now,” Gwen offered from beside him.

  “Don’t we all.” He shook his head, angry with himself for having spoken to her like he had. She didn’t deserve that and he knew it. “I’m pretty sure Fate hates me,” he told them, letting his shoulders sag in defeat.

  “I’ll say,” Keaton piped up with a harsh laugh. “Both literally and metaphorically speaking.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  Two full weeks went by, and none of the companies she’d applied to even called her for an interview. Probably looked kind of fishy that she wanted to leave a major medical conglomerate after just three months.

  Work had been hectic, but Dean Maxwell had left her alone. Well, except for the detailed analysis he emailed her on the presentation she’d given. Had to give him credit—he was a hell of a lot more intelligent than she’d realized. He’d also pointed out a few weaknesses in her strategy for moving services back to American workers.

  She didn’t know if she should thank him for taking the time to look at it or if it was his way of one-upping her. Again.

  “You can go on with your high-and-mighty bullshit pretending you didn’t let a stranger pop your cherry without even getting his name first.”

  The words were on a constant loop in her head. Somehow, what she’d done with him hadn’t felt dirty until he’d said those words out loud.

  To make matters worse, things at Lux were getting complicated. For starters, the new uniform made her feel like a high-priced hooker. And she’d been right about having to wait on people from Maxwell. Luckily, none of them had recognized her. Yet.

  She’d been put behind the bar for most of her shift, and the bar manager, a pain in the ass with frequent ‘roid rages named Owen Bentley, was really struggling with the concept of keeping his hands to himself.

  As if that weren’t enough to ruin her evening, on this particular Friday night, Dean Maxwell and his sidekick had strolled in. She was exhausted from the extra hours she’d been putting in with Gwen on perfecting the Insourcing Plan—ISP as they’d taken to calling it—and Owen was in a mood. One where he thought it would be fun to see how many times he could get her to lean into the cooler so he could check out her ass.

  After the fourth time she caught him, she nearly threw a bottle of Amber Bock at his head. Asshole.

  Why, for the love of God, was she neck-deep in assholes all the time? Her mama always said, “Ain’t no man you can’t have long as you can be what he wants.” Well, she was really and truly screwed, then. Trevor Harris and Dean Maxwell had both made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t capable of being what any man wanted. And she damn sure wasn’t going to be Owen’s free show to ogle.

  “Hey, Owen, when you’re finished memorizing my ass, could you grab me a bottle of Johnnie Blue from the well? I’m all out up here.”

  For a moment, his mouth gaped open, and then he twisted it into his trademark leer. “For you, sweet cheeks, anything.” He made sure his hand passed slowly over her backside as he slinked by.

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten. You need this job. You can’t pay for your mom’s rehab and survive without it. After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes. And wished she hadn’t.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Dean Maxwell was staring at her from the other side of the bar.

  He’d obviously come straight from work, though his jacket was gone and so was his tie. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeves were rolled up, showing off those tan forearms she liked so much. The bar lights glinted off his chunky silver watch. For crap’s sakes, the man made watches sexy. She nearly dropped the bottle of vodka she was holding.

  She licked her lips in an attempt to moisten her instantly dry mouth. “Workin’, Mr. Maxwell. Same as always. What can I get you?”

  His eyes were filled with questions, but she didn’t have the strength or the energy to answer any of them.

  She sighed and set the vodka down. “Seriously, I work here. A girl’s gotta live and New York ain’t cheap. Can I get you something, or should I check with my other customers while you locate your ability to speak?” She glanced down the bar at the full line of people waiting.

  “You’re not making enough as an assistant director of marketing or what?” He leaned in and the lights shining on his handsome face played tricks on her. Was he concerned? Amused? Kind of looked like he was angry, though she couldn’t imagine why.

  She huffed out a big breath and stepped closer so the only thing between them was the wooden bar. “I’m an assistant to the director, as you well know, and really, it’s none of your business.”

  “It damn sure is my business. How can you do your real job if you’re out every night, prancing around half naked behind the bar till God knows when?”

  The mental image of her leaping across the bar and throttling him was the only thing that kept her sane. “I can assure you, Mr. Maxwell, this job is as real as the one I do fo
r you. And if you have a complaint about my performance, then we can discuss it Monday morning. Otherwise, order your drink so I can move on.”

  “That’s enough flirting, sweetheart,” Owen called out from behind her. He slapped her so hard on the ass that she jumped. “Get back to work. Got a full boat out here.”

  Tears of shame pricked her eyes. Of all the people from work to have to see her like this, of course it would be him. Of fucking course.

  She turned to tell Owen to keep his hands off her, but she was nearly tackled as Dean Maxwell leapt over the bar and grabbed Owen with both hands. “You sorry son of a—”

  “Fate, call security, now,” Owen commanded.

  She just stared as Dean pressed the man up against glass racks. Both of them were bluish from the lights, and she was literally struck dumb by the abrupt turn of events.

  “First, you apologize to her. Second, you keep your goddamn hands to yourself or I will have this whole fucking bar shut down.” Dean’s voice had taken on a low, growling tone she’d never heard him use before. Shivers ran up her spine hard and fast. She tried to ignore them so she could think straight.

  “Dean, it’s okay. Jesus. Please let him go.” God, she’d just called her boss by his first name while he was pinning her other boss to the wall. She was certain she’d wake up tomorrow officially unemployed. Great. Her eyes began to fill at the thought. She ran over to step between the two angry men. “Seriously, he didn’t mean it. Please let him go.”

  “The hell he didn’t.” Dean tightened his grip on Owen. “Apologize.”

  “Sorry, Dean. Didn’t realize that particular piece of ass was already spoken for,” Owen sneered in his face. “Kind of funny she never mentioned having a boyfriend.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief as Dean released him. Until he cocked his fist back and punched Owen square in the mouth. She flinched at the sickening sound of contact.