Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  Fate’s mouth gaped open as a shirtless Keaton Slade poured himself a cup of coffee at the breakfast bar.

  “Close your mouth, Buchanan. You’re wearing the same clothes you left in. Yesterday.” Gwen at least had the decency to be blushing when Fate looked over at her.

  Both of these people knew what had happened back in June. And she knew they’d slept together. Not like they were going to run to Mr. Maxell Senior and tattle on her. She hopped up on a stool and held a cup out for Keaton to pour her some coffee as well.

  “Dean came over to the bar and started an argument with me.”

  “Sounds like him,” Keaton broke in as he filled her cup.

  “Shut up,” Gwen commanded in his direction. “Go on,” she said, nodding at Fate.

  “Then Owen told me to stop flirting and slapped me on the ass. Hard.” She shuddered at the memory.

  Keaton groaned. “Bet that went over well.”

  “Jesus Christ, Slade. The woman is talking.” Gwen shook her head.

  Fate laughed. Clearly, these two had an interesting dynamic that went beyond the bedroom.

  “It got out of hand, and the next thing I knew, Dean had punched Owen, I was fired, and we both got kicked out by security.”

  The man across from her let out a low whistle.

  “Yeah, so that was my night.”

  Gwen snorted. “Like hell it was. Get dressed and get a move on, lover boy. I need to hear the details and I know she won’t tell me anything else with you here.”

  “I feel so used,” he grumbled as he lumbered over to give her a kiss.

  Something about the way he did so, like he meant it, sent Fate’s stomach twisting inside her. This didn’t look like the awkward one-night-stand morning after. Well, it did. But it also looked like it had the potential to be something more. Something she’d closed herself off to the second she’d walked in on Trevor and Melissa.

  “Seriously, go. She’s going to clam up and I won’t get shit.”

  “Going, I’m going,” Keaton mumbled as he leaned in for one more kiss. For a moment, he looked lost. Then his eyes lit up and he reached behind the plant in the corner of the living room. “Ah. There it is.” He retrieved his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  Fate raised an eyebrow at her roommate, but Gwen gave a slight shake of her head.

  “Always a pleasure, ladies.” He finished his coffee and nodded to each of them as he placed the mug down on the counter. “Thanks for the coffee, Gwen. And for the night of amazing—”

  “Oh my God. Go!” Gwen demanded, her face turning redder by the second.

  Fate couldn’t even have stopped the explosive laughter if she’d wanted to.

  As she was working to regain control of herself, Keaton winked at her. “Fate. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around. As in around our favorite hot-tempered CFO.”

  Well, that sobered her right up. “Um, okay. Bye, Keaton.”

  Once he’d closed the door behind him, Fate turned to Gwen and the two women engaged in a stare down that would’ve broken hardened criminals.

  “I had too much to drink,” Gwen huffed out, accepting defeat and dropping her head into her hands. “He’s a really good dancer. And I’m a fucking idiot.”

  Fate got up from her stool to join her friend on the couch. “Nah. You might’ve fucked an idiot. But you’re not a fucking idiot.”

  “He is an idiot,” Gwen confirmed. “He’s smart as hell, but most of the time, he just acts like a giant doofus. He confused me.”

  “Never trust a man who can dance. Or one who can make you laugh.”

  Gwen’s smooth forehead wrinkled. “Who said that? Elizabeth Taylor? Marilyn?”

  “Um, no. My mom.” Fate shrugged. The woman was a mess most of the time. But she’d given some decent advice over the years.

  “Yeah, well. I wish she would’ve said it to me. Preferably sometime before last night.”

  “Do you regret it?” Fate asked quietly. It was the same question she’d asked herself a million times since June. She still hadn’t come up with an answer.

  Gwen sipped her coffee and stared into space for a moment. “Nah. I mean, I regret that I drank that much. And I wish I didn’t have to see him at work in case things get awkward. But I actually had a great time last night.”

  Fate pondered her roommate’s words. What would it be like to be the kind of person who could let go and just have a “great time” with a guy without it tangling her up in some convoluted mess? She had no idea. She’d had sex all of once in her life and look what a gigantic ordeal that was turning out to be.

  “You think I’m a slut,” Gwen said quietly, startling her back from her thoughts about Dean Maxwell.

  “What? No. I don’t.” Fate turned to reassure the other woman. “Hello, chick who gave up her v-card to a random stranger on the beach here.” She paused to point at herself. “I was just thinking that I’m kind of jealous. Must be nice to just be able to enjoy yourself for a night without worrying yourself sick about every single thing that could possibly go wrong. Like, oh, I don’t know. What if that random dude I just slept with turns out to be my boss?” Fuck my life, she thought to herself. She finally knew what FML stood for on all those things people posted online. Made perfect sense now.

  Gwen laughed softly. “So you didn’t…enjoy yourself last night?”

  “Yeah, I kind of did. But probably not like you mean.” She sighed and leaned into the soft, chenille couch. “I was already exhausted and the drama at the club sucked the life right out of me. After he’d calmed down, Dean took me to his place. We talked a little. He gave me a foot rub. I passed out on his couch and he carried me to his bed. Pretty sure he slept in a different room.”

  “He gave you a foot rub?” Gwen shook her head in disbelief. “Marry him.”

  Fate laughed, but her roommate’s expression remained stone cold serious.

  “I’m not kidding. He defended your honor, massaged your feet, and tucked you in. All without making a move. If you tell me he served you breakfast in bed, I swear, I’m going to marry him.”

  And he paid for my mom’s rehab in one fell swoop.

  Gwen misunderstood the pain that flashed across her face.

  “Oh God. Sorry. No one should ever joke about moving in on your man after what happened. Ever.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t even thinking. I was totally jo—”

  Fate cut her off by putting her hand up between them. “No. Stop. He’s not my man. I was…thinking of something else.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, hon, but he took your virginity, Keaton says he spent the entire summer trying to find you, he punched out another man for touching you, and you just spent the night at his place. If he’s not your man, whose man is he?”

  Now there was an excellent question.

  Monday morning, her stomach was a bundle of tightly knotted nerves. She’d worn a red shift dress Gwen had insisted on and she could barely breathe as it was. As soon as she got to work, there was an email from Dean in her inbox.

  To: Fate Buchanan

  From: Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

  Subject: Health & Wellness Program

  Talked to HR and Benefits Department about that program we discussed. Need you to stay late tonight so we can draft a proposal.

  She smirked at the screen. Of course he was Daniel Dean Maxwell The Second. Junior was too commonplace for him. She spent ten minutes perfecting the wording on a response.

  To: Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

  From: Fate Buchanan

  Subject: RE: Health & Wellness Program

  Mr. Maxwell,

  Since you asked so nicely, I’d be happy to stay after and draft a proposal with you. In fact, there’s no need for both of us to stay. I’d be more than willing to draft a proposal and submit for your approval this afternoon.

  It seemed like she’d barely hit send before a
reply came back.

  To: Fate Buchanan

  From: Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

  Subject: Asking Nicely

  Do you have somewhere to be this evening, Miss. Buchanan?

  God, he was so nosy. She quickly typed out a reply.

  To: Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

  From: Fate Buchanan

  Subject: RE: Asking Nicely (Which You Didn’t)

  Do you consider this an appropriate line of questioning, Mr. Maxwell?

  She almost didn’t hit send. For one, the banter was getting a little flirty and she knew that company emails were probably monitored. And as much as it drove her nuts, he was technically her boss. Or he would be in a few short months. If she hadn’t found something else with another company by then.

  Hell with it. She clicked send. And once again, he replied quicker than she’d anticipated.

  To: Fate Buchanan

  From: Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

  Subject: Appropriate Lines of Questioning

  Do you consider it inappropriate, Miss Buchanan? If so, I can assure you, I only ask because I am swamped with meetings this afternoon and won’t be able to even glance at your proposal until after work. I’d like to get this handled immediately so that HR can begin instituting this valuable program as soon as possible.

  If you find yourself with extra time on your hands and are opposed to the prospect of staying after work with me, please feel free to draft a proposal detailing the parameters of the program we discussed Saturday morning. Had you joined me for breakfast, we could’ve discussed this in further detail and saved ourselves from having to stay late this evening.

  No he did not just put that in a work email.

  She shoved her hands against her desk, rolling her chair backward so she could get out. Several of the other marketing assistants glanced at her as she stalked out of the bullpen. But she didn’t care. She walked the perimeter until she found the door with his name on it. She burst in without knocking, startling an attractive blonde typing on a computer.

  “Um, I’m looking for Mr. Maxwell. The Second,” she added, hoping he could hear her wherever he was.

  “He’s through there,” the blonde said, pointing at the door behind her. “Let me see if he’s avail—Hey!”

  Fate didn’t wait around to listen to the rest. She stormed through the second door to find him sitting at his desk with his hands poised above the keyboard.

  “It’s fine, Nicole.” Dean nodded at the blonde, who’d followed her in.

  “Yes, Nicole. That will be all.” She shut the door firmly behind the woman before turning abruptly to face the man with an annoyingly amused grin on his face.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Buchanan?”

  Oh, the possible answers to that question were limitless. He was wearing a charcoal-gray suit with a red tie that matched her dress perfectly. An unwelcome image of letting him tie her up with it flashed in the forefront of her mind.

  She swallowed, forcing her thoughts to return to a PG rating. “First of all, if you keep emailing me, I won’t be able to get anything done. Much less the proposal. Secondly, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from mentioning any…interactions we have outside of work in company emails.”

  His grin was infuriating. And also extremely sexy. Which she found even more infuriating.

  “I can assure you, Ms. Buchanan, any emails I send are strictly confidential. I’ve taken great measures to make sure that no one is able to monitor them, nor do they go to a company server. And to be quite honest, I’d rather we draft the proposal together this evening when we can both devote our full attention to it.”

  “Okay. Well. Good to know.” She bit her lip. “And this evening is fine. I was just trying to save you the trouble of having to work late.”

  “I always work late. But thank you for your concern.” He nodded at the door.

  She recognized the gesture. Dis-missed. Got it.

  Something about him being so cool toward her was bothering her. A lot. This was not the same man who had punched Owen so hard that he’d nearly spit teeth.

  “Dean,” she said softly, causing his head to snap up. When his steely hazel gaze met hers, she had to force herself not to smile. “Don’t you think people will start to talk? I’m mean, you know, say things about us if we stay after hours? Together?”

  For a moment, he just stared at her, shamelessly letting his eyes rake over her dress. “No more so than they will if you keep storming into my office dressed like that.”

  Okay, he was walking a fine line between flattery and pissing her off. “Excuse me?”

  At that, he stood. She watched as he stalked forward, coming closer and closer until she was backed against the office door.

  “Do not barge into my office like a woman possessed. Understand?”

  “Oh, I understand.” She hated how small her voice was. How small he was making her feel. Screw him. She’d never set foot in his damn office again. “And I forgot. I actually do have plans this evening. We’ll have to work on the proposal some other time.”

  She turned to reach for the door handle, but strong hands gripped her. He was pressed tight against her back, breathing into her left ear as he spoke. “I’m being watched. My dad can hump any woman in this place and no one will say a word. But if he catches me even thinking about what that dress makes me think about, he’ll come up with a million and one ways to keep me from getting this promotion.”

  Her knees threatened to give out. She reached back to grab him out of instinct, just to have something to hold on to. His answer was a low growl in her ear as he let his erection brush against her backside. A whimper escaped her lips and she could practically smell the ocean.

  “Are you trying to get a replay of what happened at the beach?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “No what?”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s a company policy forbidding it.”

  His eyes widened as she spoke, but like the professional he was, he quickly regained his composure. “Actually, the policy forbids intracompany dating. We both know what happened at the beach wasn’t that.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting something, Mr. Maxwell?”

  He leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed hers. “I’m not suggesting anything, Fate. But you can stop with the Mr. Maxwell bullshit. Keaton calls me Dean at work and I didn’t even have to fuck him.”

  “Can I call you Michael Phelps?” She let her finger trace the pattern of his tie while she waited to see if he’d get it.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Since you were kind enough to show me your gold-medal abilities and all.”

  At that, he grinned. A cute, boyish grin that lit up his entire face. It was infectious, and despite herself, she smiled back at him.

  This. This right here was what had led her to trusting him on the beach. When he dropped the arrogance and the intensity and was just…himself. Handsome and boyish and considerate.

  “You should get back to work. Before you get us both into serious trouble.”

  The idea sent a shiver thrilling up her spine. Mmm, trouble with Dean and that red tie sounded like an excellent idea to her lust-fogged brain.

  “How much weight do you think your desk can hold?” she asked, looking around him.

  His face blanked. He glanced over his shoulder at his desk. “I don’t—” Realization hit him hard and he glared back at her. “You have three seconds to vacate this office or we’re going to find out.”

  “See you this evening, Mr. Maxwell.” She quirked a brow since she was trapped in his arms and couldn’t leave without him letting her.

  He stepped back and released her. “I’ll be here,” he said evenly.

  “So will I.” With that, she exited his office as calmly as she could manage.

  The woma
n was trying to kill him. Or ruin him. Or ruin him and then kill him. He was going to have to spend an hour online reading about world tragedies to calm the erection she’d left him with. So much for not slipping up. Not even a week in and he’d damn near had sex with an employee. In his office. On his desk. Before lunch even.

  An idea was forming in his head. One he couldn’t shake any more than the sweet, warm scent of whatever kind of perfume she wore. It reminded him of the cookies his mother used to bake. Kind of explained why, every time he was around Fate Buchanan, he was consumed by the overwhelming desire to taste her.

  There’d only been a few women he’d slept with more than once or twice in his life. He could count them on one hand. Candace, a football groupie who was always hanging around him in high school. Danielle from college, who had a habit of showing up at his apartment half drunk and half dressed. And Brynn, the thirty-something divorced woman who owned the beach house next to his and had a similar mindset when it came to sex. It was a means to an end. Nothing more and nothing less. Each of them had just sort of presented themselves as opportunities on multiple occasions.

  He’d never in his life sought a woman out for round two. Or three. But the thought of never getting to be inside Fate again made him sick to think about. She wanted it, too. He was certain of that after what had just happened in his office. The hungry way she’d eyed his desk. And his tie. For some reason, his red tie seemed to be doing it for her. He made a mental note to buy more like it.

  He needed to get her out of his system. Fuck her as many times as was necessary until the newness wore off. By the third or fourth times with the others, he’d barely even cared anymore. Sure, it was probably going to take a few more times than that with her, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. But not here. It couldn’t happen here or anywhere in town where someone might see them. He’d already made a scene at Lux and used his own credit card to pay for her mother’s rehab. Anyone could easily find out about either of the two and nail his ass to the wall. He’d been sloppy. His mind was clouded by his unfulfilled sexual need to finish what he’d started.