Forbidden Fruit: Volume 1

by Harley, Lisa M.

  “It’s fun,” was all I could think to say.

  “Good. I appreciate you doing me this favor. I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined spending your first spring break.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You’re actually doing me the favor. I need the extra cash.”

  “That so?” he asked, shifting against the desk. His knee ghosted against mine, and I swallowed.

  He looked at me expectantly, so I kept talking. “There’s this dress . . .”

  He chuckled. “There’s always a dress. You sound like Vivian.”

  “I’ve been invited to a fraternity formal.” Dean glanced at my hands as I played with the fabric of my pants, so I stopped instantly. He still didn’t speak. “It’s next weekend, and I need a dress for it.”

  “Won’t Gary buy it for you?”

  “Normally, yes. But dad said this one was too much. I believe the word he used was astronomical.”

  He nodded knowingly. “How much is it?”

  “Nine hundred and sixty-five dollars. Including tax.”

  That heavy, dark eyebrow arched again. “For a frat party?”

  Inside I was cringing, but for some reason, my hands were digging in my purse for my phone. He leaned over when I pulled up the picture, and his cologne wafted under my nostrils.

  He made a noise of approval. “I don’t know much about fashion,” he said, “but as far as dresses go, that’s a very nice one. And I imagine you’d look very nice in it.”

  I tugged on the ends of my long, light hair. Before I could thank him, he continued.

  “I’m not sure how much Gary told you, but my secretary, Grace, is out for her honeymoon. She’s very good at her job, and without her, my life feels a bit chaotic. I understand this is just a temp thing for you, however, I run a multi-million dollar business. While you’re here, you’re not Gary’s daughter. You’re my secretary. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes, Dean.”

  “Mr. Brittany,” he corrected immediately. “That’s what all my employees call me.”

  “Yes, Mr. Brittany,” I said with a hint of a smile.

  His eyes searched mine, and he cleared his throat. “Very good. You seem to take direction well. If that’s true, we should have no problems.”

  “Consider me yours for the next five days,” I quipped. “Whatever you need.”

  He hummed to himself, clasping his hands in his lap. “I’ll be paying you under the table, but as I told Gary, it will be generous. Just enough for you to get yourself that dress. But in exchange, I need your full attention this week. That means staying until the job is done. I requested my secretary not plan her wedding for this time of year, but clearly she did it anyway.”

  I giggled into my hand, but his expression didn’t change, so I stopped and put it back in my lap.

  He gestured behind me. “Grace has left instructions at the desk for you. I’m not even sure what they are, but she should’ve outlined it all in the notes. You get one hour for lunch at noon, but other than that, you should be working on something at all times. If you need something to do, talk to June in reception. Try not to bother me unless it’s absolutely pressing.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, standing. His eyes scanned over my eggshell blouse and grey slacks, which hung from my hips since they’d sold out of my size.

  “Where’d you get that outfit?” he asked.

  “Um, Ann Taylor. I’ve never had an office job so I just—”

  “No explanation necessary,” he said, rising with me. “June takes lunch orders; you’ll find my list of preferences in Grace’s notes. If I’m feeling like something specific, I’ll let you know. Otherwise choose from the list. You’re dismissed.”

  I left the room with a dry throat. Walking into the office I’d felt apprehensive but easy. Suddenly my body was tight from his tone. His shift from my dad’s friend to my boss was palpable, and I wasn’t entirely sure who this man was. But I was sure of one thing: I did not want to upset him.

  Chapter Two

  It was almost seven o’clock when I arrived at my empty dorm with Chinese takeout. My friends would’ve been in Cabo San Lucas for over forty-eight hours now and drunk more than half that time. I sighed, stripping off the bland, button-down blouse and tossing it on the floor. I’d barely changed into my pajamas when my cell phone rang, displaying my dad’s smiling picture.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey, Sunshine. How’d it go today?”

  I shrugged. “Fine. It was pretty boring thanks to some mindless projects. I never realized Dean was so uptight, though.”

  He chuckled lightly through the phone. “He takes his business seriously. I doubt he’s too keen about employing an eighteen-year-old for the week. If I were anyone else, he wouldn’t have considered it.”

  “Why not?” I bristled.

  “That position is for a woman whose career is being a secretary. Not a kid trying to save a few bucks between classes.”

  I sat at my desk, which doubled as a dining table, and picked at something invisible on its surface. “What could possibly be so hard about a secretarial job?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Alex.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “I’ll give him a call,” he continued. “See if I can’t get him to ease up.”

  “No,” I blurted. “It’s fine. I just didn’t know he was like that. I thought he was, like, cooler.”

  “Before his divorce, he was more devoted to that job than his own wife. After, he took it to an inhuman level. Everything he does is for that company. He makes time for me when I drive into L.A., but it’s because I’m one of his only friends and I don’t do it often.”

  I pulled at my bottom lip, thinking. He’d still been at the office when he’d dismissed me for the night, and I’d only seen him leave long enough for a meeting partway through the day.

  “But you’re just a temp, Alex. I don’t mind telling him to lighten up on you.”

  “No,” I said, my mind made up. If Dean Brittany thought that job was too much for an eighteen-year-old, I’d show him—I’d be the best damn secretary that office had ever seen “It’s just a few days. I can take it.”

  “All right, then. Your call. Your mother says hello.”

  “Ask her why she sent me to Ann Taylor for work stuff. I’m the youngest one in the office by probably ten years, but I look the frumpiest.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” Dad said in his attempt at a stern tone. “You need to cut back on the shopping. It’s enough that we’re paying all your expenses on top of your tuition. Don’t you have a little money saved from your birthday? Maybe you can get a few outfits with that.”

  I glanced at the blouse on the floor, wondering why I cared when everyone I knew was gone the whole week. “Never mind,” I said. “I’m there to save money, not spend it. I’ll make it work.”

  “And, um—how are you, you know, feeling?”

  I sighed. “Fine, I guess. Work is actually a good distraction. I only thought about Trey about a million times, which is an improvement.”

  “It’ll get easier,” he said. “I know sometimes a breakup can seem like the end of the world, but trust me, you’ll get over it quicker than you think.”

  I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Once Trey saw me in the dress, everything would change.

  When I hung up the phone, I checked my texts, e-mails, and missed calls. Even though Trey was out of the country, I was tempted to send him a message. I’d hoped he’d have realized his mistake by now and called. I sniffled back the tears trying to break through, checking one last time to make sure I hadn’t overlooked anything.

  Fight it as I did, I couldn’t help picturing him sprawled out under the Mexican sun with all our friends—tan, laughing, and chugging ice-cold Pacifico from the bottle. I should’ve been there too, but when he dumped me the week before we were supposed to leave, one of us had to stay behind.

  The answer to getting him back was the dress. A few days earlier
, during a well-deserved session of retail therapy, I’d locked myself in an oversized, white dressing room and stepped into gold. The answer to my despair became clear. The gilded sequins illuminated my tan, and my illuminated tan made me look thinner, fitter. It hugged in all the right places but wasn’t too revealing or short—just enough to get attention. It was a miracle dress. Against the sparkling metallic shine, my blonde hair was silky, smooth, and bright.

  The night after I’d tried it on and been denied the money by my parents, Dad had mentioned Dean’s temporary position. I knew then—the universe wanted me to have that dress. It wanted me to knock Trey Richards off his feet so I could be there to help him back up.

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday morning, with my vow to impress my new boss fresh in my mind, I arrived at Brittany Industries twenty minutes early. Dean’s closed door told me he was not to be disturbed—I knew this from a highlighted note left by Grace. I took my place at my desk sheepishly, annoyed that I somehow felt late.

  My computer dinged with a message almost immediately.

  Mr. Brittany

  Welcome back, Ms. James.

  I stared at the blinking box on Grace’s computer. Did he think I wouldn’t return?

  Admin

  Thank you. Can I get you coffee or anything?

  Mr. Brittany

  Got it already.

  I read the message twice, chastising myself for not arriving in time to get him his coffee. When he didn’t continue, I picked up on Grace’s list where I’d left off the night before.

  Mr. Brittany

  Which color is Ann Taylor today?

  I blinked at the screen and then to my blouse, flushing red. I touched a button near my neck before responding.

  Admin

  Green.

  Mr. Brittany

  I suppose Grace failed to note that I’m extremely detail oriented.

  Admin

  She didn’t. I’m sorry. It’s light green. Not forest. It’s almost gold-ish.

  Mr. Brittany

  Sounds like pea green.

  I smiled to myself.

  Admin

  Yes. It’s pretty horrendous.

  He laughed from behind the closed door.

  Mr. Brittany

  I’ll have the roast beef sandwich today.

  Nothing came after that, so I opened Excel and began the tedious task of data entry. When I sensed June hovering over my desk, I looked up. Her pink blouse was far more fitted than mine, the button between her large breasts clinging for dear life.

  “I need his lunch order,” she said.

  I glanced at the clock, surprised by the time. “A sandwich from around the corner.”

  “Cool. Some of us are going to O’Brady’s in an hour. Want to come with?”

  “I have plans,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  Just before noon, I knocked and entered Dean’s office, unpacking food onto his desk and trying not to listen in on his conference call. Before I could leave the room, he called after me, covering the mouthpiece. “You’re a communications major, aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “I need you to write me a press release before you leave tonight. My PR company is backed up, and it’s too small to bother them with. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” I said immediately even though I’d never written one before.

  “You sure?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

  I straightened my shoulders. “I can handle it.”

  “Then I’ll e-mail the details. That’s all.”

  I left the office shortly after, but it wasn’t to eat. I drove to the closest mall, suddenly self-conscious about my wardrobe. I quickly picked some inexpensive things that were more similar to what the other girls wore. I hoped, as I looked at myself in the dressing room mirror, that Dean would like them.

  ~*~*~*~

  It took me almost two hours to complete the press release. Each time Dean passed my desk, I shielded my computer screen with my body so he wouldn’t see the several open windows explaining how to write one. He never looked, though. I waited until he was out of his office to place the finished product on his desk.

  When he returned around four in the afternoon, I sat up and smiled, but he blew by me on his cell phone without even a nod. It was an hour before my computer pinged, drawing me from my work.

  Mr. Brittany

  Sheridan file

  I left the desk and found June in the break room with a small group of girls from around the office.

  “Um, June?” I started. “Mr. Brittany sent me a message that just said ‘Sheridan file.’”

  “I guess you figured out he’s not a man of many words,” June said.

  I smiled. “He seems to speak a lot in commands.”

  The girls laughed in unison.

  “What?” I asked.

  “We have a running joke about what he’d be like in bed.” She lengthened her spine in her chair and lowered her voice. “Touch my cock. Not like that. Lower. No. Higher.”

  Everyone giggled, but my throat felt thick.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” June teased me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I-I just—he’s like fifty.”

  “So?” she said. “He might be a little rigid but fifty or not, I’d fuck him.”

  I furrowed my brow as someone snickered. “What?”

  “Don’t you think he’s sexy?” asked a dark-haired girl.

  “He’s handsome, but . . . he’s, like, my dad’s friend. Do people his age even have sex anymore?”

  The room was silent until they simultaneously burst into raucous laughter.

  “How old are you?” someone asked.

  “Eighteen.”

  “Oh, sweetie. You have a lot to learn still.”

  I cringed. “But my dad uses Viagra.”

  June snickered as she said, “So then obviously your dad still does it.”

  “Gross.” I shook my head. “I can’t think about that. Do you know what that Sheridan message meant?”

  She nodded and stood to lead me to the filing room. I located the one marked “Sheridan” quickly since they were alphabetized and hurried back to his office. I knocked once and entered. “I have the file, Mr. Brittany,” I said.

  “Great,” he muttered without looking up.

  I set it down and furtively scanned his desk for the press release.

  “Was there something else?” he asked and glanced up. His eyes stopped on my new pencil skirt only long enough for me to notice. It sat high on my waist, hugging every slight curve on the way down. This time it was my size, maybe even a little small. I’d paired it with a fitted, heather grey “V” neck sweater that stopped at the very top of my cleavage.

  “Did you change?” he asked.

  “I spilled coffee on my green blouse, so I ran out at lunch.”

  His eyes flickered over my face until the silence became uncomfortable.

  “Wait,” he said as I turned to leave. “Alexandra?”

  I looked back. “Yes?”

  His fingers rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. Finally, he held up the one I recognized as the release. “What is this?” he asked.

  “Um, the press release you asked for earlier. Was something wrong?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Three somethings.”

  I bit my bottom lip and cursed myself. I’d checked it over and over for any possible mistakes. “I’m sorry.”

  “In the future, don’t bring me anything that’s not perfect.” He showed me the paper again before placing it on the desk. He nodded once, beckoning me. I walked to the desk, stopping at the lip.

  “See this?” he asked. With a red pen, he made a circle on the page.

  I leaned in. “Um.”

  “Come closer.”

  I bent forward, twisting my head to see where he was pointing.

  “Closer.”

  I glanced up. For the first time since he’d shifted into boss mode,
his deep blue eyes sparked. He nodded me on with an expectant look, so I folded myself over the desk. He held up his palm, stopping me at a ninety-degree angle.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said tentatively.

  “Then rest your elbows.”

  My eyes widened marginally, but I held his gaze as I placed my forearms on the desk’s surface. He looked at my hands, balled into fists. When he didn’t speak, I uncurled all my fingers and flattened them so they framed the release.

  “Here,” he said, indicating a sentence, “the verbiage is entirely wrong.”

  I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m not that familiar with your industry.”

  “Is that an excuse?”

  “No,” I said immediately. “I’ll fix it.”

  “The whole release is too long. I need you to cut it down but keep the same amount on information.”

  My breasts rose and fell faster with the increase of my heart rate. They were directly in his line of vision, my cleavage bared to him, but he didn’t look once. His eyes only jumped between my face and the press release.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And here,” he said, tapping the end of the pen, “you forgot a comma.”

  “I’ll fix that too.”

  He handed me the paper. “Get it to me before you leave. You’re dismissed.”

  I had the acute sensation I’d done something wrong—not just my errors on the press release, but something that materialized as a pit in my stomach. My breasts were so in his face that it seemed inappropriate. Yet he hadn’t even looked.

  It took me over an hour to correct my mistakes because the release was as concise as I thought possible. This time, I e-mailed it to avoid disturbing him.

  He stayed locked in his office until well after six, and I stayed too, having never heard anything else about the press release. There was plenty to do after all, since I’d barely made it past the second page of Grace’s list. A few minutes before seven o’clock, a message from Dean popped up on my screen.