Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  Dean grabbed a fork, making sure to get torte, sauce, and a raspberry on it. “Here. I think it’s important to get the whole experience.”

  Fate opened her mouth, but her eyes were wary. He wondered if being fed was a pet peeve like the ordering. Oh well. It was too late now.

  Once the dessert had entered her mouth, she closed her lips around the fork and the wariness in her eyes turned to a heat-fueled, satiated gratification.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned, licking a drizzle of sauce that escaped before covering her mouth with her hand. “That was almost better than sex. No offense.”

  Dean accepted the challenge. “In that case, I guess I’ll have to work a little harder.”

  As if he’d flipped a switch, Fate’s interest in the dessert shifted to him. “Then we should probably get back to the beach house.”

  She could feel it too then, the ticking clock counting down their remaining moments together. He heard the urgency in her voice.

  “Finish your dessert, baby. Then I’ll take you home and you can be my dessert.”

  “I’ll take it to go.”

  “Works for me.” Dean signaled the waiter again.

  Within a few minutes, he had the pasta he’d ordered for their dinner later, an extra take-home box for Fate’s chocolate torte, and the check.

  They’d barely made it to the car when his phone began the relentless intervals of buzzing from an incoming call and chiming of the voicemail notification.

  “Maybe you should answer it,” Fate suggested softly.

  Dean continued to ignore it while opening her door. “It’ll keep.” Whatever had his dad so determined to reach him wasn’t likely to change between now and tomorrow. “Want to grab some wine or something on the way home?”

  Home? Oh shit. He’d definitely said ‘home.’ Home was in Manhattan. In separate apartments. He’d meant the beach house.

  Fuck.

  The phone had thrown him off-kilter and he’d called the beach house home.

  He pulled into the wine and handmade gifts store parking lot mid-panic attack. This was exactly what Keaton had warned him about. Playing house with Fate for the weekend was dangerous. For the both of them.

  “Sure. I really liked the—”

  “You know what? I’ll just let you run in and grab some while I return this call. That all right with you?”

  “Wine we had with lunch,” Fate finished despite his rude interruption. “And that’s fine, Dean. Wine I can handle. Be right back.”

  He watched her exit the car knowing he’d done it again. The Dean Maxwell Bipolar Express, she’d called it. He’d yanked Fate aboard for a hot-and-cold ride in which his feelings swung from one end of the spectrum to the other without warning.

  He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to keep her. He didn’t deserve her, but holy mother of hell, he was falling in fucking love with her.

  How did I let this happen?

  Dean took a deep breath once she’d disappeared into the store. She held a part of him, had taken it that first night they met and it had belonged to her ever since. Without her, without the piece of him she held, he felt incomplete.

  The buzzing in his hand redirected his attention to his phone. Keaton this time. Dean answered, hoping maybe his friend could give him some insight into why his dad was blowing up his phone.

  “Miss me?”

  Keaton’s laughter filled the line. “Like I’d miss a case of genital warts.”

  “Words can hurt, man. What’s up?”

  “Other than my dick, not a whole lot. I was actually calling to see if you’d proposed yet. Gwen and I have a pool going and there’s a lot of money on the line. If you could get on it, say, before midnight tonight, you’d really be helping a brother out.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “You’re welcome. So proposals aside, how is it going? Did you two crazy kids reenact the night on the beach yet?”

  “First of all, it’s barely seventy degrees here. And secondly, you’re walking a fine line between making conversation and earning an ass kicking.”

  Keaton full out laughed at Dean’s threat. “I’ll take that as a no. In any case, I’m actually calling to let you know that your dad has been doing some investigating. I gave him the runaround when he called me, but I’d say he’s figured out what—or who, rather—inspired the new company mental health benefit program by now.”

  “And how exactly did you figure it out?” Dean was pretty sure Fate didn’t go around broadcasting the situation with her mother.

  “Well…I know the future Mrs. Maxwell’s roommate in a biblical sense. Your current weekend companion received some mail from a rehab facility in Dallas yesterday. I’ve never known you to have a specific interest in providing additional mental health benefits for employees until now. Also, I can do simple math.”

  “I looked into it. Several other companies offer similar programs. It’s a reasonable—”

  “Save the explanation for your pops, man. I don’t care if you let your dick make your professional decisions. Sometimes, it seems to be a little brighter than you anyway.”

  “You’re hilarious, Slade.”

  “I was being serious, Maxwell. In all honesty, maybe you should just lay it out there. Let your dad know that this is the real deal with this chick. He’s plowed half his support staff. You know that as well as anyone. What can he really do to you?”

  Fire me. Take my title, my job, and my livelihood.

  His dad could do a lot of negative shit to him. He’d threatened him with it enough times during college that Dean knew he was serious.

  A beeping sound interrupted their conversation before Dean could answer. He pulled the phone from his ear to glance at the screen.

  “That’s him calling me now. I should answer.”

  “Enjoy your weekend. Don’t let the man get you down.”

  “Hey, Keaton?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What makes you so sure this chick is ‘the real deal’?” Dean asked, quoting his friend directly.

  “The short answer?”

  Dean grunted in response as the phone continued to signal that he had another call.

  Keaton took a breath that was audible through the line. “You were different after last summer. Which, hell, was great for me because you stopped snatching up all the beautiful women in your path and they were happy to have me as a consolation prize. But everyone can see it—the possessive way you watch her at work, like she belongs to you. Trust me, it isn’t the bullshit company policy that’s keeping guys from asking her out. It’s you, caveman.”

  Dean felt the familiar constriction in his chest. “I gotta go, man. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Later.”

  Dean stabbed the button on the screen to end Keaton’s call and answer his dad.

  “Dad,” he greeted his caller stoically. “Something I can help you with?”

  “I know where you are, Dean,” his father responded gruffly. “And I know she’s with you. I’m going to tell you one time and one time only—this will end badly.”

  Dean snorted. “I didn’t realize you were so interested in my personal life. Speaking of personal lives, how was dinner with Brynn last weekend?”

  Two could play at this game. He knew that Brynn had likely been the one to tell his father he was here and describe his guest. But that was a two-way street, and if Daniel Maxwell was going to make threats, Dean had some shit he’d kept to himself that he was more than ready to reveal.

  “You may not believe me, son, but I have your best interest at heart. There is a reason I enforce the company policy strictly even though I don’t adhere to it. I can handle the fallout and I’m very selective about who I break the rules with. There’s an NDA involved before I move past any boundaries with anyone. Did you have Fate Buchanan sign one before you took her to the beach house?”

  It was the first time his dad had openly admitted his own transgressions. His honesty left Dean at a loss for words.
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  “Look at it this way, Dean. Say you return from your weekend getaway and things just don’t work out. Maybe Ms. Buchanan now feels uncomfortable at work. Maybe she decides she needs the money but can’t deal with being in such close proximity to you every day. Then what? How long until she sues you for sexual harassment—or worse?”

  “She’s not like that.”

  His dad huffed out a breath. “They never are, son. Until their heart gets broken and there’s money to be made. I learned the hard way. I’m hoping you won’t have to. Hell hath no fury, Dean.”

  “This is the difference between you and me, Dad. You might be better at choosing women willing to sign your papers and accept your legal stipulations, but I chose one who actually gives a damn about her job and her reputation.”

  And me, his subconscious added. Fate wouldn’t do anything like that to him. He was almost positive she wouldn’t.

  “Dean. Listen to me. Please. I understand where you’re coming from. I do. But you need to end this little flirtation now before it gets out of hand. The company is at a point of major transition involving shareholders, and the competition is only getting stronger. It wouldn’t make it through a sex scandal involving the CEO’s son. Either you end it or I will.”

  Anger boiled to the surface, up in to Dean’s throat and out his mouth. “Do not fucking threaten to fire her. She needs this job and she’s damn good at it.”

  His words were met with silence. Then a sigh.

  “Fine. I won’t fire her. Keep this up and I’ll fire you.”

  The line went dead. So did any hope Dean had of continuing what he and Fate had beyond tomorrow.

  Fate left the small market with two bottles—one a cheap white zinfandel for herself and the other an expensive champagne for sharing along with what was left of dessert.

  Dean was disconnecting a phone call when she climbed back into his car.

  “I like cheap wine,” she confessed, showing him the pink bottle with the silver label. “But I got some good stuff too.”

  Her smile slipped from her face when she saw how distraught Dean was.

  “Dean?”

  “I’m fine with whatever. You ready?”

  “Sure.” She buckled her seatbelt while he backed out of the parking space. A truck pulling an enormous boat behind it blared on the horn as it barely missed clipping Dean’s bumper.

  “Fuck. My bad,” Dean muttered under his breath, waiting until the coast was clear to pull out onto the road a second time.

  “You okay?” Fate had a feeling the phone call he’d been on was the cause of the most recent mood swing. Likely, his tenacious caller had had news Dean hadn’t wanted to hear. She was pretty sure their weekend-only agreement didn’t entitle her to privileged information about his personal life, but if it was going to cause him to act like an ass during their brief time together, then she felt it was okay to ask if he was all right.

  “I’m fine.”

  Two “fines” in the span of two minutes. Not a spooner or a sharer then.

  They rode the few blocks to the beach house without speaking, and Fate felt herself growing exasperated.

  Arguing was for couples. She’d done enough of it with Trevor for a lifetime. This wasn’t about that. What she had with Dean was about hedonistic pleasure and nothing more. She refused to let him control her disposition with his constantly changing emotions.

  She didn’t wait for him to open her door once they pulled into the driveway. He did have the key though, so she didn’t hurry. After walking calmly to the house, she held her bottles of booze and waited.

  Dean carried the bag with the leftovers and their dinner in them as he came toward her with an absolutely expressionless face. He moved past her and unlocked the door. He held it open without speaking.

  “Wine now or later?” she asked as she strode through the doorway.

  “Up to you.”

  He was like a zombified version of himself. She took several deep breaths, refusing to allow him to manipulate her emotions any more than he already had.

  “I think now is good.” Fate found two clean, black-stemmed wine glasses in the cabinet and set them on the counter.

  She paid no attention to her brooding housemate as he was putting leftovers in refrigerator and focused on finding a wine bottle opener. After thoroughly searching through every drawer in the kitchen and coming up empty, she wanted to cry. What kind of person didn’t have a wine bottle opener?

  “Here,” Dean said gently, coming up behind her and taking the bottle off the counter. “It’s over here.”

  He moved to a strange-looking apparatus that was barely noticeable on a small butcher block beside the refrigerator. She watched as he effortlessly used the medieval-looking contraption to pop the cork from her bottle.

  “Thank you.” She took the bottle from him and poured two glasses.

  Their fingers skimmed during the exchange and it sent a bolt of lightning through her body. Fate swallowed her first glass quickly, while Dean barely paid attention to his. She was pouring a second when he cleared his throat.

  “Can I help you? Because, honestly, whatever happened on the phone obviously worked you up into a tizzy. Drink some wine, Dean, and chill out. You’re giving me a tension headache.”

  “We’ve covered why I brought you here. But you never really answered why you agreed to come. Tell me.”

  Fate narrowed her eyes at him. “Orgasms mostly. You promised them. Though I have to say, I was expecting much less angst and much more sex.”

  “Is that right?” He looked down his judgmental nose at her. “And that’s all? Swear to me you are just here for sex, Fate.”

  Fate took a long swallow of her cool, crisp drink. “What the hell else would I be here for?”

  He shrugged and finally took his piercing gaze away from her. “I don’t know. Technically, I’m your boss, so now I guess the ball is in your court. You could sue me. You could sue the entire company if you wanted, say I abused my position of authority over you, harassed you at work, made you feel as if your job depended on being here with me. There’s plenty of evidence to support that claim.”

  Rage consumed her from head to toe. Fate would’ve thrown her glass against the wall if it weren’t a perfectly good waste of wine. No man was worth wasting wine over.

  “You’re right, Dean. I lured you onto the beach months ago so we could have that random encounter knowing that you’d end up being my boss. Then I avoided you as much as possible while somehow making you want to pursue me. I’m here now as part of my elaborate plan that involves fucking you blind so I can record the whole thing and show my lawyers before I sue you. You caught me.”

  “Fate… I’m sorry. I—”

  “No. No more of this bullshit, Dean. I’m done.”

  She whirled around to leave, but he grabbed her arm. Acting on instinct, she slapped him hard across the face. Her palm instantly burst into flames.

  She’d slapped him even harder than she’d slapped her cheating ex-fiancé. She was angrier this time. Angrier with a man she barely knew than the one she’d dated for years. Nothing made sense. Black spots appeared on the edges of her vision.

  She took advantage of his momentary shock to try and escape, but he only gripped her again, pulling her backside tight against his front.

  “I said I was sorry. You’re right. It was a ridiculous accusation and I shouldn’t have voiced it out loud.” His words were moist and warm in her ear.

  “Go to hell.”

  “Forgive me, Fate. We don’t have enough time left for you to stay angry.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “How about I fuck you until you forget why you’re mad?”

  A hissing sound slid through her clenched teeth. “Good luck with that. I’m not sure you’re up for it.”

  Dean pressed his erection into her backside. “Oh, I’m up for it. Spread your legs.”

  She contemplated denying him. Pictured herself storming upstairs and locking herself in a
guest room. But dammit, the asshole owed her some orgasms. So she moved slightly, allowing him access.

  “If I don’t come, you take me home. Tonight. Got it?”

  Dean let out a dark chuckle. “Sweetheart, if you don’t come, I’ll change my name to Fate’s Bitch and replace the sign on my office door.”

  “Deal.” Her knees weakened when he slid a finger beneath her panties.

  “Fate?” He parted the swollen lips between her legs. She hadn’t even realized how aroused arguing with him had made her until he dipped into her wetness.

  “Y-yes?”

  “What do I get if, no, when, I make you come?”

  “W-what do you want?”

  His hand zeroed in on her clit, and she used all the strength she had left to remain upright. Dean continued holding her upright with the arm around her waist. She clutched the edge of the countertop for added support.

  “I want to own you. I want permission to fuck you whenever, however, wherever, until we decide we’re done. Mutually. And I want exclusive rights to your body until then. That thing you said about not being exclusive? Fuck that.”

  He parted her with two fingers before sliding them inside her. Fate cried out from the intrusion.

  “What was that, baby?”

  “Okay,” she said with a quivering voice. “I said okay.”

  Dean placed an openmouthed kiss on her neck just below her ear. “Why, Ms. Buchanan, I’m disappointed in your lack of enthusiasm. How about a more courteous answer?”

  Fate clamped down on the two fingers thrusting in and out of her. “Yes, sir. I would love for you to fuck me whenever, wherever, and however. So long as you make me come. And you sign in blood that you will stop with your hot and cold bullshit. If you accuse me of anything other than using you for sex, I walk.”

  “I can do better than that. I can sign your body in my come, baby. That work for you?”

  Her inner walls trembled at his erotic promise. “Fuck me now, Dean. Please. Enough talking.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She heard the quick tear of his zipper just before he thrust into her from beneath her dress. She lost her breath as her panties slid alongside her clit with his expert fingers.