Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  Those fantasies he’d had about having her at the beach house needed to come true. Sooner than later so he could get the hell on with his life already. He’d have to work through this weekend to get the numbers together for the board and his dad on the insourcing project, but next weekend, he was taking Fate to his beach house so they could finish what they’d started back in June. He just hoped he could convince her to see that this would be mutually beneficial. In so many ways.

  He needed to get her off his mind so he could concentrate on the job he was supposed to be excelling at. Twice Mr. Tenor had called him out for spacing when he should’ve been listening. The man was kind enough not to draw his dad’s attention to the fact, but it was only a matter of time.

  Convinced that this was the best way, that she’d be able to see reason and give him what he wanted, he went back to annoying her via email.

  When Nicole came in to tell him that she was taking off for the evening, he startled. He’d been so lost in the paperwork his dad had shoveled on him after their tense lunch together that he hadn’t checked the time since.

  “It’s after five, Mr. Maxwell,” his assistant said softly.

  He rubbed his fingertips across his eyes. “Right. Sorry. Feel free to leave at five. Sometimes, I’m buried under a mountain of paperwork and just can’t get away from my desk.”

  “Must be really stressful,” the woman said as she closed the door behind her.

  His eyebrows shot up. Was she about to quit or seduce him? He wasn’t sure. She had the look of a nervous cat.

  “Something bothering you, Nicole?”

  One corner of her mouth tugged up in a small smile and she bit her lip. It was intentional. Unlike Fate, who turned him all the way on without even meaning to. He didn’t even want to think about why he was comparing this woman to Fate. But the differences were glaring. This woman’s clothes were too tight, her hair bleached a shade lighter than what matched her skin, and she was very obviously aiming for office sex kitten of the month.

  Fate made him hard just by existing. She was unassuming. Naturally just an enticingly carnal creature. His assistant, however, wasn’t unattractive, but she was nothing he’d risk his job for. She was definitely trying. Hard. Too hard.

  Once she reached his desk, she stopped advancing on him. “I was just wondering if there was anything else I could do for you. You know, to help with all the stress.”

  He cleared his throat and tried his damnedest not to notice the come-on hidden in her words. “Oh, well, that’s very thoughtful of you. But I’m good. Just staying late to run some numbers and—” And oh shit. Fate.

  She was due in his office any minute. Her walking in on his assistant throwing herself at him was not going to help him convince her of the plan he’d devised this morning after her impromptu visit to his office.

  “And I have a meeting scheduled for right about now, so you can go. Have a wonderful evening.”

  Please get the fuck out.

  “I didn’t see a meeting on your calendar. I’m pretty sure most everyone has left for the day.” She stepped around his desk and he sighed. Loudly. “You know, I was supposed to be your dad’s assistant. But I asked them to let me be yours instead.” She propped herself on his desk and waited for his response.

  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t really give a shit either way. He forced a smile and stood. “Good choice. My dad’s a tough guy to work for. Let me walk you out.”

  “Mr. Maxwell, are you trying to get rid of me?” The blonde pulled a pouty face that irritated him.

  He hated for grown women to pout. Such a turn-off. Not that he was turned on to begin with.

  “Forgive my rudeness. But I do have that meeting I mentioned so…”

  So go the hell away already.

  A year ago, a woman making the first move would have been enough to seal the deal. But he had another deal to negotiate now and this woman was in his damned way.

  He’d gently taken her elbow and begun to steer her to the door when she stopped abruptly. She turned to him with a wicked gleam in her light eyes.

  “Lock the door and I’ll help you work off some of that stress.”

  Jesus. Why today, of all days, was this woman pulling this on him? He had a feeling that it had to do with Fate, the way she’d barged in earlier. Women were nuts and had that animal-defending-its-kill mentality when it came to men. He’d seen it before. Clearly Nicole thought she possessed some type of claim on him and Fate had trampled on it. The steely determination in the woman’s eyes was kind of sad in a way. For a second, he almost felt sorry for her.

  “Or don’t lock the door,” she said. Having given up on waiting for a response from him, she dropped to her knees. Holy mother of—

  He didn’t even get to finish his thought. The door in front of him opened and in stepped Fate.

  “Hey, I brought—”

  Green eyes met his and then flashed to the woman fumbling with his zipper on her knees in front of him. Damn.

  He was lost deep in her gaze as shock, confusion, and finally the familiar streak of pain he knew so well colored her eyes.

  “Fate, it’s not what it—”

  “Sorry. You were right. I shouldn’t barge into your office. Here.” She dropped a folder onto the end table nearest to the door and backtracked so fast that she nearly tripped. The door slammed as she shut it behind her.

  Yanking the blonde to her feet, he glared at her. “You’re fired,” was all he said before running out of his office. After her. The woman he was pretty much making a career out of chasing.

  God, she was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How many times in her life was she going to be dumb enough to think that a man wanted her and only her? Only to walk in on the evidence to the contrary.

  After grabbing her purse from her desk, she bolted to the elevators at the end of the hall. She’d come up with a preliminary proposal herself and basically thrown it in his office. Tears pricked her eyes. He had known that they were supposed to meet to go over this, and he’d been getting a blowjob at the exact moment she was supposed to be in his office. For a meeting that was his idea. He didn’t know about Trevor, but even so, it was shitty.

  While smacking the elevator button several times in a futile attempt to make the damn thing hurry the hell up, she heard something. Dean’s voice. Her name. Great. Maybe he was coming to ask if she wanted to join in. Sick son of a bitch that he was.

  At that moment, she hated him with the fiery fury of a dozen hells. It made zero sense, but she blamed Dean Maxwell for Trevor’s actions. For her mom’s accident. For the searing ache slicing into her chest at that very moment. Okay, only the third one was his fault, but she hoped he caught herpes from his “assistant.” Bastard.

  “Fate. Dammit. Wait a second.” He appeared at the end of the hall just as the elevator doors opened.

  She wanted to confront him. To tell him that she’d actually entertained the ridiculous idea of sleeping with him again. And he’d blown it. Or his assistant had. Literally. But she didn’t have the strength for that discussion, so she stepped into the elevator and hit the door close button as hard as she could.

  Once the steel doors met, sealing her into the safe, little compartment, she breathed a staggered sigh of relief. Wiping the few pathetic tears that escaped, she ignored the plummeting feeling in her stomach. It was the elevator causing it. Not having seen Dean with another woman.

  She’d known it was possible—no, probable—that he’d slept with women from the office. She just didn’t necessarily want to see it. Or him. Ever. When had her simple life gotten so messy and complicated? Oh yeah, the day her fiancé screwed her best friend at her rehearsal dinner, prompting her to throw herself at the next guy she saw.

  Gathering herself, she took one last healing breath as the elevator dinged and the doors began to open into the parking garage. She’d go back to her apartment and have a glass of wine. Or maybe a bottle. Or two. Whatever it took to forget that warm summer night whe
n she’d let Dean Maxwell inside her in more ways than she wanted to admit.

  Just as she stepped forward to exit the elevator, he appeared. As if she’d conjured him with the power of her mind. He was breathing hard, his chest rising noticeably with each intake of breath as he backed her into the elevator. As soon as he was all the way in and the doors closed, he reached over and pressed the emergency stop button.

  “Jesus, Dean. You scared me—”

  “And you scared me. You left me. You fucking disappeared like I was nothing. Like what we did meant nothing. Like we were done.” His voice was bordering on angry, as if it were taking all of his remaining energy to keep calm. “I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.”

  “Dean,” she said softly, wanting to look away from the intensity of his stare but unable to force her eyes to cooperate.

  “Fate.” He was so close that she could hardly think straight, bracing his hands on either side of her head and leaning in until he was literally filling every inch of her line of sight. His scent and his frustration tempered the small space between them. “I looked for you. Everywhere. And since I was pretty sure you weren’t between any other woman’s legs, I didn’t look there. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  He hadn’t been with anyone since her. She hated how good it felt to hear him say it.

  “So what, you held out all summer, but now, any woman who steps into your office after hours is fair game?”

  He pressed his gaze into hers so deep that she felt it down to her toes. “No. That girl threw herself at me while I was in the middle of kicking her out of my office. I was waiting on you. I’ve been waiting on you since the first time I saw you. Hell, maybe even before that.”

  Okay, now she was confused. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I. But I want you to come back up to my office so we can work on the proposal like we planned. Please.” The desperation in his voice filled her with a satisfaction that she knew meant she was one twisted individual.

  But no way in hell was she going back into that office.

  “No.”

  He let out a low growl of frustration. “I’m not asking.”

  She arched a brow at him. Thankfully, she was finally able to breathe normally as she spoke. “Yes, you are. And the answer is no. I’m not going back in there. Not any time soon. If you want to work on this proposal, then we go somewhere else. Either one of the restaurants nearby or my place. But not your office.”

  “My place,” he demanded.

  “No.” She bit her lip and shook her head. If she went to his place, she’d get confused. Last time she was there, he’d been extremely kind to her. She’d had to escape like an animal being hunted before she jumped him. Again.

  “Why not?”

  A buzzing sound filled the elevator. They’d been stopped for too long.

  “Because. We’d be alone and I don’t want to end up in a compromising situation with my boss. Have you forgotten that, Mr. Maxwell? That, technically, you’re my boss?”

  If he thought she was some tramp like his little assistant, he was mistaken. She had held on to her virginity with an iron first until the night Trevor had shattered her into a million pieces. She’d done what she’d done afterwards to regain control of her life. She wasn’t about to let go of it now.

  “Fine. Your place it is. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.” He backed up and she let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Then he pressed a button and the doors opened.

  “Fine.” She stalked out past him on wobbly legs.

  Please, God, let Gwen be home.

  At exactly fifteen minutes since she’d left him, Dean knocked on the door of her apartment. She’d changed into jeans and a plain, gray V-neck shirt. Thankfully, Gwen was home. So was Keaton. Making himself right at home, actually, as he cuddled on the couch with her roommate while they ate Chinese food from takeout containers.

  Fate had had the unfortunate experience of living above a Chinese restaurant when she’d first moved to New York, so the scent wasn’t particularly appetizing.

  Keaton had offered some to her, but she’d politely declined. He’d been feeding Gwen a dumpling from his chopsticks when the knock came. She hadn’t told them that he was coming. She hadn’t been able to find the right words.

  “Um,” was all she said to Dean in greeting when she opened the door.

  “Um yourself,” he said, giving her an appreciative once-over. “Smells like Chinese food in here. I’m starved.”

  “Dean?” Keaton called out.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Both men said in nearly perfect unison.

  Gwen hid an impish smile behind a purple throw pillow.

  “For one, I don’t answer to you. And for you two, I’m here for work-related reasons.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at his friend.

  Keaton snorted. “Okay, well, I don’t answer to your bitch ass either. And I’m here in an attempt to break as many of your dad’s bullshit policies as I can.”

  For a moment, the tension in the room threatened to smother her. But then both of the guys burst out laughing.

  Dean sat down next to Keaton and grabbed a random takeout container. “No kung pao chicken? What the hell?”

  “Help yourself,” Fate mumbled, lowering herself into the oversized chair adjacent to them.

  “Have you eaten?” Dean asked, thrusting a container of chicken fried rice in her direction.

  “Not really all that hungry at the moment.” And odd sensation that reminded her a lot of introducing her first boyfriend to her mom was making her all tingly and lightheaded. She didn’t care for it.

  “It might be a long night. You should eat something.” He was still holding the container out.

  She rolled her eyes and took it. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Feel free to call me daddy anytime, sweetheart.”

  Now it was Gwen’s turn to snort.

  Fate gaped at the man across from her. Then she glared at him. “Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously, I can do this proposal myself. In fact, this afternoon I—”

  “What proposal?” her roommate inquired.

  She and Dean took turns explaining the mental health benefits program they were attempting to institute at Maxwell. After they were finished eating, the four of them began discussing the multiple issues they would need to cover in the preliminary proposal.

  Fate got out the version she’d drafted that afternoon, and surprisingly, it was Keaton who ended up strengthening it the most. Fate wholeheartedly agreed with Gwen. The man acted like a damned fool most of the time, but he was smart as hell.

  Several times while the four of them brainstormed and took turns reviewing the document on Gwen’s laptop, Fate was distracted by Dean looking at her in a way she couldn’t decipher. He looked…hungry. Which was crazy since he’d just eaten his way through enough Chinese food to feed a small village. But the intensity of his gaze pulled at something low in her stomach and she had a feeling that his hunger wasn’t food-related at all.

  After she yawned for the third time, he nudged Keaton and the two stood to leave. “I’ll run this down to Kim Parker in HR first thing tomorrow morning,” Dean said, lifting the folder with the final copy of the proposal in it. “Goodnight, ladies.”

  Fate curled up in the chair and honestly considered sleeping there. Until Dean leaned down on his way past.

  “Go get in the bed, beautiful. I’m not above carrying you. Again.”

  Goose bumps broke out over her flesh when she glanced up at him. Suddenly, she wasn’t the least bit tired.

  He grinned, his arrogant expression making it clear that he knew full well the effect he had on her. “Get some rest. I have another proposal to discuss with you tomorrow.” With that, he turned and followed Keaton out of the apartment before she could demand that he tell her what in the world he was talking about.

  Fate breathed in the expensive cologne
and clean soap smell she was quickly becoming addicted to. She spread her legs farther apart so the man above her could wedge himself firmly between them. Tightening her thighs around him as she dug her fingers into his muscular back, she softly moaned his name. She stared into his warm eyes as they darkened from light gray to a deeper shade of hazel.

  “Fate,” he said urgently, gripping her harder. “Fate,” he said again, practically shouting this time. “Fate!”

  Sitting up, she realized it wasn’t Dean Maxwell calling her name but her roommate instead. Jesus.

  “I’m up. I’m up,” she grumbled, throwing the blanket off of her.

  Gwen was already dressed and handing her a cup of coffee. Despite Dean’s demands from the night before, she’d sat up and talked with her roommate about her and Keaton until nearly daylight. She’d dozed off in the chair after all. Her back was killing her and her neck had a crick from hell in it.

  “You should wear the black dress you wore to your interview. Poor Dean Maxwell won’t know what hit him.” Gwen winked as she stumbled past her on her way out of the bathroom.

  She was too tired to make a decision of that magnitude, so the black dress it was. She paired it with a beige cardigan and the garnet jewelry that matched. Her hair was a mess, so she gave up and pulled it into a messy but hopefully still professional updo the best she could.

  “You staying late with the boss man?” Gwen asked as they walked out to her car.

  “Um, I don’t know, actually.” She stopped to wiggle her foot deeper into the nude heels she’d borrowed from Gwen. He’d said that he had another proposal to discuss with her, but she had no idea what it could be about.

  Gwen unlocked the doors with her remote and looked at her over the roof of her black Jetta. “Well, I can take the train with Keaton and leave my car again if you need me to. No reason you should have to take the bus.”