Sabrina nods, and it's all I can do not to intervene, not to put myself between her and Alex's hate-filled glare.
"I-it's over a million dollars," she whispers.
Acerbic and sardonic, Alex claps like Sabrina is a kindergartener who has just said one plus one is two. "That's right, Ms. Guy. You have risked a million dollars in profit to this company because you didn't pick up the phone, call one of our vendors, and get a contractor who can do the same things Peter can do. Now, tell me what you are going to do right now."
Sabrina's shoulders droop. "I'm going to have someone lined up just in case Peter has another family emergency."
"Good job, Ms. Guy," Alex says calmly, watching Sabrina like he's waiting for her to say something else.
Not realizing his stare is still boring its way into her head, Sabrina writes a note to herself in her notebook, though I'm sure she'll not need a note to remind herself of Alex's demand.
"NOW! MS. GUY! NOW!" Alex yells so loudly that every single person in the room (except Falan and Gabe) jumps in shock.
Sabrina hops into action, and I notice her hands are shaking as she pushes her chair out and shamefully heads toward the door. I can tell by the way her shoulders are trembling she's on the verge of crying.
I grit my teeth and slit my eyes in Alex's direction. As soon as Sabrina leaves, he, Falan, and Gabe share a private laugh. If I weren't so afraid Wyatt would hear about it, I'd tell Alex I think he's an asshole.
Instead, I keep my mouth closed just like everyone else in the room and wait for my turn. Fortunate for me, my project is three months ahead of schedule. In fact, if I had known about Sabrina's predicament, I'd have insisted that Roman, the system analyst on my team, step away from my project and help her.
I'll have to remember to make that offer so she'll know she has options if Pete has to take off again and she can't get another analyst from one of our vendors.
Thankfully, the rest of the meeting is uneventful. I am disappointed to find that Sabrina has left by the time the team meeting is over. When I go to find her, Nona, her secretary, says she had a headache and will be back tomorrow.
* * *
It's nearly ten o'clock; it's pitch black; and I'm heading home. I make one more phone call to Sabrina, and it, too, goes straight to voicemail. I don't leave a message. She's told me over and over how much she hates to listen to messages. She prefers text messages, but I'm driving. I know my phone has voice-activated texting, but I'm too tired to go to the trouble.
I'll catch up with her in the morning.
I'm not surprised to see that Colt's parking spot is missing his Range Rover. He won't be home for another hour or two. The apartment is dark and quiet. I head straight upstairs, throw on some running shorts and a sports bra, and head for the apartment building's gym.
In most cities, a gym would be deserted this late at night. Not a gym housed within an apartment building catering to up-and-coming professionals in the middle of Houston. I won't have to fight for a treadmill, but I won't be alone either.
I'm happy to find my favorite treadmill is open. I love it because it faces the floor-to-ceiling window, offering me a panoramic view of Houston's skyline, a stunning site from this angle. Putting my earbuds in and listening to Imagine Dragons, I start the machine and know I won't stop until I've run five miles.
Forty minutes later, I climb off, breathing hard and drinking from my water bottle.
"Baylee." Zeb says my name like it's a chant. I glance over at him and he winks. "Did you run five tonight?"
I stick out my tongue and roll my eyes his way because he's constantly mocking me, calling me a wimp if I don't log at least five miles.
"Yes," I say, secretly happy that running five miles is barely a challenge for me anymore. When I first started, I was lucky to make it a mile. In fact, I'm only able to run five miles without stopping because of his playful taunting, constant challenges, and, at times, his bets against me.
I had no idea how competitive I was until Zeb began using my trait as a weapon against me.
"That's my girl," he says, running on the treadmill and talking to me as if he were standing still. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever gets winded.
"Is Colt still at the office?" Zeb asks, reaching over and grabbing his own water bottle. He has his shirt off so I can't help but notice how fit and toned he is. Instead of drinking the water, he squirts it on the top of his head and wets his long, sandy curls. He's using his water to cool off rather than for hydration, and I'm sure every woman in the gym appreciates that.
I shrug. "I guess."
Zeb catches a hint that there's trouble in paradise and takes a few minutes to remind me—once again—he's available. "Don't forget to call me if you ever decide to kick him out."
"Yeah, yeah! You men are all alike. Jobs up here,"—I put my hand above my head—"girlfriends and wives down here." I put my hand down at my knees.
Zeb laughs, and I can tell he wants to agree with me. "If you were mine, you'd be up there with my job... if that makes you feel any better," he says, laughing.
"No offense, but I won't settle for being anything less than the most important thing in your life," I say, winking at him like he winked at me earlier.
Knowing he'd never commit that to any woman, Zeb gives up.
"Why don't you and Colt meet me and the guys over at The House of Blues tomorrow night?"
Walking backward, I shake my head. "No can do, Zeb. I have a date with my man. It's the first one we've been on in months."
"See there. I would take you on dates at least once a week if you were mine," he yells, and I can hear him still laughing when the door closes behind me after I've gone.
Back at our apartment, I glance over at the bowl near the doorway. No keys. No wallet. No phone.
Colt's still not home.
When we first moved here, I would call him and remind him he needed to come home and get some rest. After a few months, it began to feel like nagging. Now, I just go about my business and welcome him with open arms when he finally makes his exhausted way to our bed.
I jog upstairs, stripping off my sweaty clothes as I go, and head toward the bathroom. The giant quartz shower is the master bath's most positive attribute. Right now, I want to turn the water on until it's scalding and stand under it until I'm clean all the way down to my marrow and the iciness of the day is washed down the drain.
After I wash my hair, scrub my body, and shave my legs, I hear a bump. I poke my head around the doorless shower and see Colt.
He's so tired that he has dark circles underneath his eyes. As soon as he sees me, he brightens up and asks, "Can I join you?"
My heart squeezes. I need him, and I want him to know my love is unconditional. I nod.
He flashes me a crooked grin and strips. I can't help but enjoy the show. After he loosens his tie, I step out of the shower—soaking wet—and begin unbuttoning his shirt. I slide it off his shoulders, leaning over and kissing his chest.
Spurring me on, he moans when I rise up, twist my head, and give his neck—near his ear—the same attention I've just given his chest. With a familiarity I've never known with another man, I slide my hands even farther down, unbuttoning his pants before unzipping them. After his pants drop down to his ankles, he steps out of them, and I slip my hand down into his boxers, wrapping my fingers around him, pumping him until he's rock hard.
"I thought we were going to shower," he says hoarsely.
"We are," I say, dropping to my knees and sliding his underwear down to his ankles and waiting for him to step out of those also.
Teasing him, I stay on my knees and put my face right in front of his erection. Through a veil of lashes, I glance up, silently asking if he wants me to take him in my mouth. I'm met with the stare I love so much that it makes me wet.
When he nods, I lick the precum off the tip of his penis before I take him in... all the way to the back of my throat, a feat I've never been able to accomplish before.
"Jes
us, Baylee! That feels so fucking good," Colt moans, fisting his hands in my hair and guiding himself in and out.
At that moment, I'm determined to suck, twirl, and pump until he comes. He needs a stress release, we're both consenting adult, and I love this man with my entire heart.
If this makes him feel good, I'll do this for him every night for the rest of his life.
A few minutes later and just before I'm sure he's about to blow, he pulls me up until I'm standing, drags me into the shower, and says, "Put both your hands on the wall and spread your legs."
Colt and I have been together for years and never once has he been so direct about what he wants from me. I'm instantly turned on by my more aggressive lover. I do exactly as he asks. I guess he doesn't feel like my legs are spread far enough apart because he uses his feet to spread them more.
A second later, he has his erection pressed against my entrance while reaching his hand around and teasing my clitoris. He enters me fast and hard... just like he'd done the week before. After the unprecedented oral foreplay, we are both on the edge of orgasms. The heat building between my legs, starting where he's massaging me, entering me, is gloriously consuming.
"Come for me, Baylee. Show me how much you love me, babe," Colt says excitedly.
An instant later, I convulse around him and scream his name. Following my lead, he comes inside of me, and my knees buckle. He wraps his arms around me and holds me up while he finishes me off with a few final pumps.
"Goddamn, Baylee! I don't think I've ever come that hard before. What the hell are you doing to me, babe?" Colt says, and even to my own ears I hear his regret.
I twist around, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him long and hard. "I'm showing you how good it is for us. I'm showing you that I'm willing to do anything for you. I'm showing you that all you have to do is ask and I'll give you whatever you want," I say around our kiss.
Colt kisses me deeper, grabbing my ass in the palms of his hands and sliding inside me again. I wrap my legs around him and hang on tight while he thrusts in and out. This time, he's slow and sweet, kissing me and swearing he will love me for the rest of his life. Everything about our love making this time is different. It's as if Colt wants me to remember this one after we are old and grey, and when I do finally release, I'm absolutely sure I will.
As soon as I convulse, Colt explodes and drives himself deeper inside me. The hard wall to my back gives him the resistance he needs to embed himself as far as possible. For several minutes afterward, I feel small residual orgasms breaking free and weakening me further.
Colt knows I can't walk. Not after that. He picks me up, grabs my robe from the back of the door, and carries me to the bed. I sit on the edge of the mattress, slipping my arms into the robe before crawling under the covers and snuggling into my pillow.
A few minutes later, Colt joins me and pulls me over to him until my cheek rests on his chest. I give his chest one final kiss and am about to doze off, when Colt says, "Baylee, that was the best sex I've ever had... the best sex I'll ever have in my life. Thank you for doing that for me," he says, and again, I feel a sadness hiding behind his words.
"Me too, Colt. That was amazing. In fact, if you play your cards right, I'll think about doing that again tomorrow night after our date," I say, giggling.
If he can't be happy about the best sex ever, I'll be happy enough for both of us. A few breaths later, I doze off only to be awakened by Colt mumbling in his sleep.
"Baylee, let's run away and get married," he says before pulling me close and breathing deeply enough to let me know he is truly asleep.
Basking in the warm love spreading through me and snuggling deeper into Colt's chest, I grin because I know I'm right about tomorrow night's date. He'll propose, and I'll accept.
Sigh.
CHAPTER 4
LEMONS CAN'T ALWAYS BE MADE INTO LEMONADE
Baylee
"Holy shit!" I mumble, staring at myself butt naked in the mirror of my bedroom.
I've spent the afternoon in the spa having people touch, poke, prod, and wax things that should never be touched, poked, prodded, or waxed.
All in the name of love.
Secretly, I have to admit even to myself that I've never looked so silky, shiny, and new... all the way down to my new Brazilian bikini wax.
It was completely embarrassing to book that appointment and even more embarrassing to have myself waxed down there, but I have a grand plan geared toward keeping Colt happy. This is all part of it.
I giggle to myself.
Something tells me my degradation will be the least of his concerns when he finds out what I've done for him.
I only have an hour before the car arrives to drive me to Hyatt's Spindletop Restaurant. That's where Colt's meeting me tonight. He knows how much I love looking out at the city while the rooftop revolves, and I love him all the more for picking that as the location of our date.
I plan to toast our engagement with lots of champagne, so I hope he's booked a room for us. I have every intention of living in the bubble of our new commitment for one whole night before we let the rest of the world join us.
I sigh happily again. It's all I've been doing since last night when I overheard him talking in his sleep. It was all I could do not to wake him and accept his dream proposal. If he hadn't been so beautiful and peaceful sleeping, I might have.
I giggle again. I just can't help myself. My man is about to make me the happiest woman on the planet. The world is a beautiful place, and I won't pretend it's not.
While I'm daydreaming about tonight's proposal, I slip into the black lace bustier—complete with garter—that I bought after Colt ripped to shreds my brand new lingerie last week. In a hurry, I roll up my black hose and attach them to the garter. Deciding I need to get a visual, I run into the closet and find the heels I'm wearing tonight.
They are six-inch black patent leather Lady Peep Christian Louboutins. I gaze into the mirror and think if my outfit last week drove Colt crazy, I can only imagine what this—and my new waxing—will do for him.
He's going to love me so much he may charter a jet and fly me to Vegas tonight for a wedding.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I imagine Wyatt's reaction. He would cut Colt off cold if he did that. Wyatt is all about grandiose affairs when it comes to family celebrations. He uses them as a chance to bring his clients close to him and remind them what he's done for them in the past while selling them something they need right now.
He got where he is by being perceptive and insightful. I may not like him (most of the time), but I have to admit, he is the shrewdest of the shrewd.
The final step in getting dressed is slipping on the black, body-hugging halter dress I bought at the Galleria this afternoon. After I have the entire outfit on—lingerie hidden beneath, hair and makeup perfect courtesy of the spa—I study myself.
While I have to admit I've not done any of this for myself—every bit was done for Colt—I have to confess I clean up pretty well, and I think he'll be pleased.
My final chore is that of switching purses. The oversized Michael Kors I carry to work will never work with this outfit. I dig through my closet and pull out a tiny clutch I can carry in my hand. It's not nearly big enough for me to put my phone in. I quickly decide I'm not going to need a phone tonight with Colt. He and I need quality time together. The phone will be nothing more than an unwelcome distraction.
As I glance guiltily at my cell, I remember that Sabrina was still out sick today. I tried calling her several times but haven't heard from her.
I'll go to her apartment tomorrow or Sunday if she doesn't return my call, I pledge to myself.
She's a great friend, and she needs to know there are lots of people supporting her. I've already met with her team and my team, and we've all agreed to put in as many hours as we have to in order make her project the most successful project ever taken on by Triple R Enterprise.
Alex, Falan, and Gabe are goi
ng to shit a brick when they find out what we can do working together instead the way they like to work by pitting the project managers against each other.
Ring. Ring.
Damn! The car's already here.
I grab my lipstick off the bathroom counter and a few twenty's from my purse and head downstairs.
Standing in front of me is a man holding a vase filled with more roses than I could possibly count.
"Oh my God! They're beautiful!" I exclaim, taking them from him and putting them on the entryway table.
While he waits patiently, I open the card.
After tonight, our world will be different, but my love will still be the same—Your Colt, Always
My hands shake with excitement. I rush back toward the door.
I'm ready to go.
I'm ready to be with Colt.
I'm ready to begin our future together.
* * *
I make it to the restaurant before Colt, but I don't mind. The view is one I could watch forever and be absolutely, positively content.
When I finally hear a voice clear beside me, I glance over and see Colt. He wears a stunning black suit that reminds me why I can't keep my hands off of him. He may be gorgeous, but he looks weary. He's had a long day, and instantly, I regret the fact that my proposal is being overshadowed by the stress coming from his office and his father.
I stand to greet him, offering him some of my strength. When I do, he takes in the entire package, holding me at arm's length while he admires the shoes, the dress, and my cleavage. I decide not to tell him what I have underneath.
That's a surprise for later.
I smile sweetly and glance down modestly.
"Baylee, you look beautiful. You didn't have to get dressed up. I just wanted to have supper with you before I go back to the office," Colt says matter-of-factly.
I tilt my head to the side. "I thought you and I we were on a date and that we would spend the evening together," I say, trying my best not to put conditions on our time together. Colt has enough people putting conditions on him with Wyatt in the picture.
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