“And Josh. He’s staying for the pitch.” Maxwell gives me a wink, a knowing nod. He’s trying to be supportive of whatever January has up her sleeve, but I can tell he’s humoring her.
“Um, does he have to?” she asks.
I clench my jaw together. She wants me gone.
“Yes, January, Josh is my right-hand man. And your brother.”
“Stepbrother,” I clarify.
“Ex-stepbrother,” she emphasizes.
“Right,” Maxwell chuckles. “Still, we’re family. Let him hear your pitch, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, causing her tits to bounce in that tiny dress, but she is focused on her meeting, and I try to focus too as hard as it is. “I want to share with you my business idea. I call it Unrequited Love. If you look at the documents in the folder,” she says. “You’ll see I need an investor, and I was hoping that investor could be you.”
“January,” Maxwell says, sitting down in his leather chair. “If you want money, just ask. You don’t have to go through all this.”
I grimace, preparing myself for her reaction to his words.
“I want an investor who believes in me.”
“I believe in everything you do, January.”
She frowns, clicking to the next slide in her presentation. “But I want to know you think this is a solid idea.”
I smile, loving her enthusiasm. My cock does too, but I'm making it promise to chill the hell out.
“Sweetheart,” he says. “Show me your plans.”
January exhales, seeming to realize this is her opportunity. Maxwell is giving her his undivided attention like a good father should. She begins to show us the mock-up for her logo, her branding, her social media following. All of it looks great. “And the best part is, I am going to give 25% of my profits to women in need. I want to raise money for women who are struggling and in crisis. Of course, I will need someone to work alongside me for that. But I have that, and all the other positions I need to hire outlined here in this packet.”
“But what are you selling?” Maxwell asks.
“Lingerie,” January says with a smile.
I try not to choke on my goddamn tongue. Has January been sewing lingerie? The idea is just too damn hot to consider.
“Is that too awkward?” she asks, with a giggle.
Maxwell laughs. “No. I live in Los Angeles, sweetheart. I’ve seen and heard everything.” He looks through her papers. “I knew you’d been sewing a lot, but I guess I didn’t realize what you were making.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you. The things I make are kind of risqué pieces.”
Maxwell chuckles, looking over at me. “Sex sells. Anyone can tell you that. It looks like you have a real plan here: an online store you want to start and a high-end niche market like you as your target customer. I believe in you, January, more than anything, and if you want to sell underwear, more power to you. I’ll back you 100%.”
“Really?” January’s eyes light up.
“Really.” Maxwell stands and formally reaches for his daughter’s hand. “Okay, then we got a deal.”
“Thanks,” she says. “Guess I was nervous for nothing.”
“Now that that’s settled, what are you kids doing tonight?”
“I’m just heading home. I only came into the city to get you that paperwork,” I say, standing.
“No wild party? Come on, Josh, you’re only young once,” Maxwell jokes.
“And what are you doing, Dad?” January asks.
“I was invited to a party.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Well, have fun. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”
Maxwell chuckles. “I don’t think love is in the cards for me, sweetheart. But you never know. What about you, sweetheart?”
“I’m just going to get an Über home. Nothing crazy for me, either.”
“An Über?” Maxwell sighs. “Why won’t you let Tony drive you?”
“I’d rather be a normal girl, Dad.” January laughs. “Besides, I want to stop at Taco Bell, and your driver is a vegan. He gave me dagger eyes last time I asked him to take me to In-N-Out.”
Maxwell shakes his head, laughing. “Fine. Josh, can you drive her home? I’d feel safer. New Year’s Eve means there are crazy drivers out.”
I look at January. She shrugs. Okay, not exactly enthusiastic, but not opposed. “Of course, sir,” I say.
Maxwell laughs. “Josh, you're a son to me. You’re family. You can't call me sir. How many times have I told you that?”
“Plenty of times, sir,” I say, the word slipping from my mouth.
He laughs, clapping me on my back. “All right, son. Go, make sure my daughter gets home okay.”
Chapter Four
January
I should feel over the moon. Ecstatic. High on life.
But as I get into Josh’s car, I realize something. Yes, I can have the business I want, but it kills me to know I will never have the man I want.
Josh didn’t so much as look at me during my pitch to Dad. It’s like being in the same room with him is torture. And now he is driving me home. I can't think of the last time I’ve been alone with him. Years probably.
It’s everything I want, but nothing I can have.
Tears fill my eyes as Josh slides in the driver’s seat.
Why am I getting emotional right now?!
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head, unable to answer. What would I say? Oh, I just got the green light for my business, but what I really want is you? Obviously, no.
“I’m just going to drive then,” he says, turning on the car. The moment he does, a podcast starts playing. It's one I've already listened to. It's all about being a girl boss, a leader, an entrepreneur. I've listened to every episode, and it gets me out of my head enough to stop crying.
“Sorry,” Josh says, punching it off.
“You’re listening to Take Charge?” I ask wiping the tears from my eyes. “You’re listening to the interview about spatulas?”
“Yeah. It's pretty good stuff, isn't it?” He looks over at me. He has dark hair that I long to run my fingers through. It's cropped short, just the way I like. He has a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and his bright blue eyes match the sky.
It may be the dead of winter, but we're in California, and the sun still shines brightly. He looks perfectly tanned, and I wonder what he does to get so much sunshine. I want to ask him so many things: where he lives, why he moved out of the city, what his house looks like. I also want to ask him why he always ignores me, and even why he gets more handsome with age. I want to know why I have never been able to be his friend, even though I want to be so much more.
But I don't say any of that. Instead, I bring my attention back to the conversation at hand. “I love this host. She always asks the best questions.”
“It's terrific to listen to interviews about people taking charge of their destiny. Being a good leader and a good boss matter to me.”
I wipe my eyes, unable to take my eyes off of him. “That's what makes you so special, Josh. You're always so thoughtful. So on point. My dad is lucky to have you.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I don't know how he manages with you not working at the office anymore.” I twist my lips. “Why don't you work in the office anymore?”
He coughs, turning on the highway. “I don't want to talk about it,” he says tightly.
Right. Of course, he doesn't. Josh never wants to talk about anything with me, especially not about himself.
I swallow, knowing the truth. Josh and I may be in the same car, but he's a million miles away. He's never wanted to share space with me, and by his cold response, I’m reminded that nothing's changed. We drive in silence until we get to Taco Bell.
“We’ll have three Taco Bell Supremes, a crispy taco for her, and a beef burrito for me. And a chalupa.”
I laugh. “How do you know my order?”
He looks over at me, his blue eyes appea
ring to be a cloudy gray. My pulse stops for a moment, and the car suddenly feels charged with heat and longing.
But then a voice breaks through the loudspeaker. “You’re total is fourteen thirty-three. See you at the next window.”
Just like that, the moment passes, and Josh pulls the car ahead, looking away.
When we get to the house, I thank Josh for the ride. “You wanna come in and eat?”
He nods, giving me a rare smile. “Sure. I could make you a strawberry Italian soda.”
I smile despite myself. “You remember my favorite drink, too?”
Josh shrugs, pushing open his car door. “I remember lots of things, Princess.”
“Yeah?” I ask nearly choking on the word; his use of ‘Princess’ gets me worked up. I need to know if it was intentional. “Name one other thing about me that you remember.”
He closes his eyes. Maybe he rolls them. I want to believe, though, that there is a smile on his perfect lips. “There are so many things. Um, how about this— when you went to your senior prom, you wore a pink satin dress that didn't reach your fingertips, and your dad told you to change. And you told him—"
I smile. “That I can dress how I want when I want and where I want.”
Josh laughs. “Yeah, exactly.”
“You remember that?”
“You are very memorable, January.” He walks around the car and opens my door like a gentleman. My belly flip flops, and I tell myself to get rid of the butterflies. Josh is acting like a brother, an ex-stepbrother, sure, but he's just being friendly, and still taking care of the little girl who was always in the way.
But when we walk toward the door, and his hand rests on the small of my back, I wonder, I wonder for just one second, if maybe he remembers things about me because… I stop myself. I close my eyes. I refuse to get my hopes up. Josh removes his hand and opens the front door.
I breathe deeply, my body missing his touch. Wishing his hand hadn’t moved away. Wanting, with all that I am, that he would hold me tight.
Instead, we walk to the kitchen and the housekeeper Marelda smiles at me and asks if I'd like anything to eat before she leaves for the day. I tell her no that I'm fine, and she puts on her coat and places her purse on her shoulder.
“Happy New Year,” I tell her.
“You too, Miss January,” she says. “And it’s so good to see you, Mr. Josh.” She squeezes his arm. “Will you two be alright tonight? Not getting into any trouble?” she asks.
Marelda has been our housekeeper since I was a little girl. She’s watched me grow up, and she's seen Josh grow up too.
“I'm not going anywhere tonight,” I tell her. “So, you don't need to worry about me. I don't know about Josh. He probably has some hot date.”
Josh chuckles. “No, I'm going back home. I was just making sure January is okay before I leave.”
“She's lucky to have you,” Marelda says, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll see you next year, January,” she says with a laugh, leaving us alone in the house.
I’m suddenly nervous. Josh and I have spent many days and weeks together here, but it's never felt like this. It never felt like we were alone. We walk into the kitchen, and Josh pulls out club soda, a cup of ice, heavy whipping cream, strawberry flavoring, and begins to prepare me a drink. I watch in amazement, realizing Josh knows this place well. We’ve shared a lot of good times here with my dad over the years. I wouldn’t trade those memories, but I do wish he’d never been my stepbrother. It makes the thing I want so impossible to have.
He roots around the drawers looking for a straw. I tell him they're in the far cupboard, and he grabs one, then gives me the glass.
I sit down on a barstool and watch him as I drink. He grabs a bottle of vodka and makes himself a vodka soda with a lime. “Do you want your beverage spiked?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I don't drink.”
Josh grunts. “Right. How old are you now?”
“I'm twenty.”
“Is that why you're not going out tonight? It's not legal for you to go to a bar?”
I roll my eyes. “Josh, I live in LA, and my dad's a millionaire. If I wanted to go to a bar, I would. It's not my scene. It's never been.”
“It was never mine either,” Josh says.
“I know,” I tell him.
“Yeah, you remember that?”
I stir my drink, a smile spreading across my lips. “Yeah. I remember lots of things too.”
I see Josh smile. It’s as if he's smiling despite himself, and hope sparks in my heart.
“What do you remember, Princess?” His eyes meet mine.
That time he meant it. He is trying to wind me up, and it’s working. I exhale, blowing the air through my lips. I look at him across the island. This man looking back at me is so attractive that I get squirmy in my seat. ‘I remember when you were a sophomore at UCLA, you held this auction, and you raised like $100,000 for the women's shelter. I remember thinking, wow, Josh is one of those guys who gets it. It was an amazing event.”
“We helped a lot of people,” he says humbly.
“I remember this other time, my dad was short-staffed, and you needed a job for the summer, so you volunteered. You took the job with him, and suddenly you were working in PR making this ridiculous salary and —"
Josh cuts me off. “You think I sold out.” He takes a drink.
“No, not at all,” I say backpedaling. “I’m sorry. That story got out of hand. I was trying to say something I remembered and instead— “
“I like working in PR because I like working for your father. And sometimes, it’s okay for dreams to change. I thought I’d join the Peace Corp or something, but I changed my mind.” He shakes his head, pushing away from the island. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I should go.”
I don’t precisely understand what changed for Josh, why he kept working for my dad if he wanted to do something else, but I can tell he’s already on edge. And in no shape to drive. “You just had a double vodka. I don't think you should be going anywhere.”
He relents, exhaling, and running a hand through his hair. “Right. Well, now I know what you think of me, I guess.”
“No, you don’t. You have no idea what I think of you, Josh,” I say. “You don't know anything about me.”
“You're right,” he says. “I didn't even know you wanted to own your own business.”
“Well, my dad is the only one who will take me seriously; no one else at that office does — certainly not Liza. It’s probably going to be a disaster and— “
Josh cuts me off. “I take you seriously, Princess.”
I look up at him wanting to believe his words. “You do?”
He nods. “I always have.”
Chapter Five
Josh
She looks at me across the island, and suddenly, our food from Taco Bell is long forgotten. At that moment, I want to tell her everything. To spill my guts and to let her know that it's always been her. Her. Her. That, for me, it still is.
“I thought you hated me,” she says.
I clench my jaw, and my hands turn to fists. “Hate you?” I manage to choke out. “How could you think I hate you?”
She slides off the stool and walks around to stand across from me. “Maybe because you've always tried to find any excuse to get away from me? Because you've always looked away when I walk in the room? Because you always seem to want to back out of plans if I'm involved. It's hard not to take those things personally, Josh.”
“You got it all wrong,” I tell her. “You have it all wrong, January.”
“Do I?” she asks.
My body is hot and alive. I need her to understand me. Hell, maybe I should've have explained things a long time before, but I didn't, and now January is all grown up, and I'm a man. Hell, I’m probably a man who's not good enough for her, but I'm a man, nonetheless. A man with a hard cock and a longing to make her satisfied.
She drops her shoulders, sighing and
turning away. She walks over to the couch and plops down. The hemline of her skirt rises high on her thigh. She begins sliding down her thigh-high boots, moaning in pleasure as her feet are free of the heels.
“Well, you made that rather confusing, Josh, to say I've gotten it all wrong,” she says. “I mean, I'm pretty good at reading people. I know that most people think I'm an idiot or a joke or a child.” She runs her hands over her clothes. “And I know I don't do much to help change their preconceived ideas of me, but Josh, you've never once made me think anything besides what I assume. That I'm a bother.”
I walk over to her wanting to do so much more than walk. I want to run to pick her the fuck up, pull her into my arms, and kiss her hard. I want to pull down that tiny little dress of hers and kiss the tops of her tits. I want to pull her nipples into my mouth and suck them as she's running her hands through my hair, with her lips on mine, and until her pussy is sinking on my big, thick cock. I want so fucking much. I want her because it's always been her.
“What are you thinking?” she asks. I can’t exactly tell her what I was just imagining. I wait too long, though, and she shakes her head. “This is what I'm talking about, Josh. You're so hard to read. I can never— “
I can't take it anymore. I walk over and pull her to stand. I run my hands through her hair and lift her chin. I press my mouth against her lips, and I breathe in her perfect pink kiss.
She tastes like bubble gum and spun sugar, and she's the perfect kind of treat. God. I love this girl. And me kissing her? Fuck. It's my goddamn fantasy.
She moans against my mouth, and I kiss her deeper, longer, and our lips part, our tongues collide. They crash together. It's a kiss that is written in the goddamn stars. It’s a kiss that is written on my heart.
I have waited so long, so damn long for this — my whole fucking life, and now January is in my arms and I am kissing her, and my cock is so fucking hard. I could come here and now.
She presses her hands against my chest, but they're not drawing me closer. Instead, they are pushing me away.
January's First: Kisses at Midnight Page 2