Scorchin' (The Hot Boys Series Book 2)

by Olivia Rush

  “Yes,” I said. “And I also remember that not working one little bit.”

  “Well, scan the place and find a guy who you think might be a little more receptive to your oh-so-charming ways. This place is full of schlubs who wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl if she fell into their lap—shouldn’t be hard. And once you’ve done that, check in with me.”

  “OK,” I said. “I think I can handle it.”

  “I know you can,” he said with a smile that was both warm and a little cocky.

  He took off toward the front desk and was soon chatting it up with the receptionist. She was a young, pretty girl, and her face lit up as soon as big handsome Stone approached. I could only imagine what sort of lines he was using with her.

  Whatever he said, however, it worked like a charm—she stepped out from behind the desk and led Stone down one of the hallways that went deeper into the office.

  Then it was just me.

  “Easy mark, easy mark,” I said, looking over the dozen or so nearby men and women.

  I knew I had to think of something fast—standing around was a quick way to get noticed by security.

  Then, I spotted my man. Down by one of the coffee machines was a dumpy, heavyset guy in a suit that looked like it cost more than my apartment was worth. He was leaning against the wall, an oversized bodega sandwich in his hands. I watched as he brought the packed-full mess of meat, cheese, and bread to his face, took a bite, and proceeded to force a squirt of mustard out the other end and onto his tie.

  “Ah, god dang it!” he cried out, attracting the attention of a few nearby employees.

  He made a few weak attempts at wiping off the tie before realizing he was stuck with an off-yellow stain for the rest of the day, then turned his attention back to his sandwich.

  “OK,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “Here we go.”

  I took one last look in the large mirror on one of the lobby walls—surreptitiously undoing the top button of my blouse as I did—and headed in the man’s direction, a big, stupidly friendly smile on my face. He looked up at me as I approached, his eyes going wider and wider with each step I took.

  “Hi, there!” I said, sticking out my hand. “How are you?”

  He hesitantly offered me his free hand, the other still holding on to his sandwich. I glanced down at it, noting instantly that it was covered in smears of mayo and mustard. I guess I didn’t do a very good job at hiding how grossed-out I was, because he noticed and proceeded to wipe his hand on his pant leg.

  “Ah, nice to meet you,” he said, offering me his now-clean hand.

  I took it and gave it a gentle, lady-like shake, that same big smile on my face. I noticed the man’s wrinkle-fanned eyes glance down at my cleavage not once, not twice, but three times.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said. “You look like someone who’s very, very busy, but my name’s Callie Sullivan with New York Weekly. I was doing a piece on some of the most successful financial firms in the city, and I was hoping to talk to some of the most important people here.”

  A tinge of red formed on the man’s face—the compliment clearly tickled his ego just right.

  “Paul Wildy,” he said. “And, yes, if you’re looking for one of the most important people here, you’ve found one. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been with Brass-Winthrop from the beginning. Kind of made the place what it is today.”

  I clasped my hands together in positively girlish delight.

  “Really?” I said. “That’s so interesting. I’d love to talk to you more about everything you’ve done to make this company, like, so successful.”

  Paul looked around for a moment, as if expecting someone to come around the corner and scold him to get back to work.

  “Well, nothing would make me happier than to spend my lunch break talking to a pretty little thing like you.” He brought his sandwich up to his face and took a huge bite, obliterating half of the thing so fast I couldn’t believe it. “Right this way,” he said in between chews. “We can have our little chat in my office.”

  He turned and waved over his shoulder for me to follow him. Paul broke into a quick waddle, and I could sense right away that he was eager to get me alone in his office. The two of us made our way through the wide, elegant hallways of the firm, weaving through the employees that darted purposefully here and there.

  Eventually, we came across a large, glass-enclosed space with two long rows of advanced-looking computer equipment. I stopped for a moment, taking in the sight. Then, stepping out from behind one of the computer bays, I saw Stone. He was looking over the equipment with a serious expression on his face. Part of me wanted to wave to get his attention.

  “Come on, sweetie,” said Paul. “Try not to get distracted.”

  “Whoops!” I said in a ditzy voice. “Sorry!”

  We continued on and soon arrived at a large office with a sweeping view of the financial district. The space was large and tastefully decorated with rich, dark leather furniture.

  “Have a seat,” he said, sticking out an arm toward one of the room’s chairs as he made his way to the expensive-looking, high-backed seat on the other side of his desk.

  I reached into my bag and pulled out my laptop, opening the file with all of the notes I’d taken about the firm. I was ready to wring every last bit of information I could out of this guy .

  “So!” he said, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands across his big belly, the sandwich sitting on the desk like a half-eaten third party to our conversation. “You want to know all about Brass-Winthrop.”

  “I’m new to all this journalism stuff,” I said. “And I just want to write the best piece possible. Thank you so, so, so much for letting me talk to someone important like you.”

  Paul tilted his head to the side and smiled, my compliment settling nicely on him. “Well,” he said. “Where to begin? Brass-Winthrop started years and years ago, back when you were just a glimmer in your parents’ eye…”

  And he was off to the races. Paul went through the history of the company in painfully exhaustive detail. He glided over the parts that didn’t involve him, fluffed up the parts that did, and by the time he was done with the little retrospective, he’d made it sound like he was the center of this place’s small universe.

  None of this was any of the information I’d wanted, but I sat in rapt attention anyway, biding my time until I could get to the good stuff.

  “And that brings us to today,” he said. “A year poised to be our most profitable yet—no small thanks to yours truly, of course.”

  “Wow,” I said, really amping up the ditz factor. “That’s so amazing. This is all gonna be really good stuff for my article.”

  Then I decided to get right to it.

  “And I bet you guys are really worried about all the fires that’ve been going on, right?”

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  “You mean those fires in the offices around the city?” he asked. “Sound like a bunch of accidents to me. Probably old buildings not being kept up to code.”

  Part of me wanted to tell him everything I knew, but I realized this would be the easiest way to absolutely ruin my cover. Plus, I needed more pertinent information at the moment.

  “You guys seem like a really, really, high-tech firm. I saw the room with all the computers and stuff in there? That was so neat!”

  The pleased expression returned to Paul’s face. “That’s right,” he said. “Brass-Winthrop is absolutely one of the most forward-thinking financial holdings firms out there today. On those servers are the financial records of every client we have, total holdings upward into the billions. And not just that—those computers perform millions of calculations a second, all for the express purpose of finding the best investment opportunities for our clients.”

  “That’s, like, so amazing,” I said, twirling a stray curl with my finger. “I had a boyfriend who was into all that stuff, and whenever he’d tell me about it my brain would just, like, tur
n off. I don’t get any of that computer stuff!”

  Paul seemed to see opportunity. “Sounds like you need a gentleman who’s a little more attuned with what women want,” he said, shifting his bulk in his seat and leaning toward me.

  I made the effort to keep him on track. “And, what would happen if all of those computers broke or something?”

  “Well, first of all they’d never ‘break,’” he said. “Secondly, all of the information is backed up at the end of each day. We’d simply take the information from the previous day and start from there.”

  “But, you’d, like, lose all of what happened that day, right?” I asked, very intrigued but still doing my best to stay in character.

  “Sure,” he said. “It’d be a costly setback, but we’d be back on our feet by the end of the next workday. Nothing stops the forward march of Brass-Winthrop.”

  His statement seemed to stir his soul, and Paul leaned forward and clenched his hand into a triumphant fist.

  I’d gotten the information I needed, and it was time to book it. “Um, Mr. Paul, thank you so much for everything,” I said. “I’m going to put all of this stuff you told me in my article, and I’m sure it’ll make it one of the best ones I’ve ever written. My boss will be, like, so happy!”

  “Pleased to help, young lady,” he said. “Anything for an…eager little up-and-comer like yourself. Why, I remember when I was your age, just getting my start in the city.”

  I knew if I didn’t cut him off right away, I’d be there for the afternoon.

  “OK, thanks!” I said, springing up out of my seat and moving toward the office door.

  Paul got up to escort me back to the lobby. I couldn’t believe how happy I was to see Stone seated there waiting for me. Once he got a glimpse of Paul, his hand on the small of my back as he led me to the lobby, I spotted a small smirk break out on his face, the tinge of jealousy unmistakable.

  Paul held out a business card with his name written on it.

  “Now, young lady, if you need any more, ah, exclusive information, please feel free to call me. I’m sure we can work something out.”

  He gave my back a little pat as he flashed me one more knowing smile before turning and heading back to his office.

  “New friend?” asked Stone, approaching me after Paul had left. “Don’t want to intrude, after all.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, giving Stone a jab in the ribs as I led him back to the elevator, eager to put what I’d learned to use.

  21

  STONE

  A half hour later, Callie and I were seated at a small, round table at a nearby outdoor café. Her laptop was open to the notes she’d taken during her “meeting.”

  “So,” she said. “This guy said that all of the financial information is on those servers, and that they’re backed up on a daily basis. That means that if someone wanted to get into them and, I don’t know, steal information on trades, move money around, whatever, they’d be able to do it, get rid of the servers, and then the firm would be forced to start from the previous day’s information. They’d have no idea anything had happened.”

  “That’s right,” I said, sitting back and crossing my arms over my chest. “And any discrepancy with the records would be lost. If someone did steal anything, no one would ever know.”

  “And what did you find out when you checked out the server room?”

  “I learned that they’re on the same sprinkler software system as the other buildings. And I chatted with one of the employees who knew a little about the servers—he told me that those things put out enormous amounts of heat doing their calculations, and have extremely advanced cooling systems. If those systems broke down, it’s entirely possible that a fire could break out. And if the sprinkler systems had been turned off in advance…”

  “The fire would burn until the entire room was torched.”

  “Exactly.”

  I shook my head, still trying to process everything.

  “I was all ready to chalk this up to being some kind of series of coincidences, but this is all looking more and more suspicious the more we learn.”

  Callie widened her gorgeous blue eyes and leaned forward excitedly. “You think we’re on the verge of some kind of criminal conspiracy?” she asked, her hand clasping on to the edge of the table, grabbing it so hard that our coffee cups jostled in their saucers.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said. “We’re total amateurs, remember? We could be barking up the wrong tree for all we know.”

  “I’m a journalist,” Callie said, her tone taking on a serious edge. “And I’ve got a gut feeling about this. And my gut tells me ‘international criminal conspiracy.’” She smirked. “I bet this goes all the way to the Kremlin or something.”

  I let out a dry laugh as I took a sip of my coffee. A hush of silence filled the air for a moment.

  “You know what?” said Callie.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “I think we make a really good team, you and me. Maybe if we manage to crack the case and save the day, we can start up a detective agency.”

  “Sure,” I said, “I’ll just squeeze that in between working at the station and being a single dad.”

  “I bet you could do it,” she said. “You’re basically a superhero already.”

  She then gave me a warm smile followed by the brushing of her foot against my leg under the table.

  This girl was casting a spell on me that only got more intense by the day, and part of me just wanted to give in and let her do it.

  I watched as she brought the cup of coffee up to her lips and took a long sip, her electric blue eyes fixed on me all the while.

  “You know what else I’m thinking?” she asked, her voice now low and sensual.

  “What’s that?” I asked, feeling my cock come to life at her words.

  “I think we really, really ought to finish what we started in the elevator.”

  Check please.

  The next week went by at a pace so quick it was startling. I did my days at the station and was soon back at the apartment with Jason. Callie and I met up a couple of times to go over notes and for…other reasons.

  One afternoon, as I sat on the balcony having a cup of coffee while waiting for Callie to come over for another one of our sessions, I took the time to really think about what was going on between us.

  Callie was…something else. She was beautiful, ambitious, intelligent—just about everything a man could hope for in a woman. It was almost shocking just how much more mature and composed she was than the girls I’d gone through during my player days, and it seemed like with each passing day she meant more and more to me.

  I’d never been so quickly taken with a woman before, not even with my ex. Everything was happening so fast that I was torn between two wants—one, to put the brakes on everything and not let it all get out of hand, and two, to just let go, come what may.

  It almost felt like too much to handle at times. Emotions developed between us so fast that it seemed impossible to even find a moment to catch my breath. And I wondered if part of me liked it that way.

  One Saturday morning the three of us were together, Callie and Jason in the living room playing one of Jason’s video games and me seated at the kitchen bar, tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

  “See?” said Jason, pulling off a pretty impressive long-distance shot that I saw out of the corner of my eye. “It’s stupid just to run into the middle of a fight like that.”

  “But it’s boring sitting around and hiding,” said Callie. “Isn’t the point of these games to do stuff, not to wait around?”

  “Sure,” said Jason. “If you want to die super fast.”

  I smirked as I listened to the two of them have their back-and-forth. My eyes were on my tablet, however, and as I scanned through all of my usual news sites I couldn’t help but notice how…quiet things were in the city. No shootings, no major robberies, and no fires. Sure, I’d know about a
ny fires that broke out in the city before they’d make it to the papers, but it was still strange to see it in writing.

  “OK,” said Callie, standing up. “I think you’ve humiliated me enough for one day.”

  “Lame!” said Jason. “You’re being a sore loser.”

  “I’m not being a sore loser,” said Callie. “I just know what my limits of punishment from a six-year-old are.”

  “You should practice more,” said Jason.

  “Maybe I will,” said Callie. “I’ll come back and show you who’s boss.”

  She mussed Jason’s hair as she made her way over to me and plopped down into the chair next to mine, her red curls bouncing like copper-colored springs as she took her seat.

  “What’s new in the world today, big man?”

  I shook my head, my eyes still locked on the screen.

  “Nothing,” I said. “And it’s weird.”

  “What are you, Batman?” she asked with a smile. “You looking for some crime to fight or something?”

  I clicked off my tablet and set it down on the bar before taking a sip of my coffee.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It just all seems so strange that the fires would stop so abruptly like that.”

  Callie’s sunny expression turned to one of disappointment.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said. “I could’ve sworn that you and I were really on to something with the lead at that last place. You tell your boss about it?”

  “I did,” I said. “With a few careful edits of just how I got the information. He said that the best we could do was get in touch with them and make sure they had all their fire safety equipment up to code. And they do.”

  “Too bad the problem isn’t the code being up to spec. It’s the software.”

  I drummed my fingers on the bar counter.

  “I suppose I should be happy,” I said. “Whatever was behind the fire situation looks like it just solved itself.”