by Layla Hagen
There is so much hope in Lucas's gaze. And light… more light than I've seen in months. I'll have to find a way to thank Christopher for this.
"Here you are," Sienna exclaims, entering the room. "I left you two alone for two minutes with clear instructions to stay in the living room."
Chloe smiles coyly, then hides her face in my arm.
“It was more than two minutes. You talked on the phone for a looooong time.” Lucas grins like the little devil he is. Sienna rolls her eyes at him.
"It's okay, Sienna, we were done anyway. Lucas, Chloe, go with your sister into the living room. I'll walk Christopher out."
The kids grudgingly follow Sienna out. Christopher and I leave the office too.
As soon as we're on the front porch, I shudder. The crisp autumn air raises the hair at the nape of my neck, and I rub my arms in an attempt to warm myself. The porch is my second favorite part of the house, after the living room. Come Halloween, there will be pumpkins along the entrance, and come Christmas, we'll unpack the family's decoration boxes, and the house will look like we're Santa's elves.
"About Lucas." Christopher begins, snapping me to reality.
"I'm sorry he cornered you like that," I say honestly.
"No problem. I can drop by." He rubs his jaw, his brow furrowed in concentration. "My schedule is packed during the week, but I can do weekends."
"Weekends would be great. Thank you. It'll mean a lot to him." My throat suddenly clogs, and I switch gears to professional again. "Let me know after you check your schedule with your assistant. I'd like for us to go shopping as soon as possible since some furniture can take a long time to be delivered. It won't take more than two hours."
He groans. "Hate shopping."
"I promise I'll make it worth your while."
He grins at this. "Any chance I get to see you in your thong? I can clear up my schedule for an entire day if thongs are in the cards."
"Christopher! No more no-filter lines or unintentional flirting."
A slow smile spreads on his face. Leaning in, he shoves a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at my earlobe. The slight touch sets all my nerve endings on fire. "Who said it was unintentional?"
Chapter Five
Victoria
"Crap!"
The curse escapes my lips as I push my body to the limit, doing the last of my sit-ups. Once I'm done, my body goes lax, and I lay my head on the exercise mat. Once upon a time, I used to go to a gym, but now I'm working out from home. I like the privacy, but I have to admit that being around other people who were going through the same hell was a great motivator. My breath is labored, and I close my eyes, attempting to cool off. My abs and booty are going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but it's all worth it to stay in shape. I do the routine three times a week, on the floor of my living room after the kids are asleep.
I push myself up on my elbows when my phone beeps with an incoming call. I put the phone on loudspeaker and lie back on the floor, trying to compose myself.
"Hi, Isabelle."
"I'm interrupting your workout again," she exclaims.
"Don't worry, I was done. Now I'm trying to remember how to breathe normally."
Isabelle is my business partner and my best friend. We worked together at the old company, and after I started my own business, she asked if I needed a partner. I was happy to say yes because it was reassuring to know I wasn’t completely on my own, and I loved the idea of working with my best friend.
"I want to run a few things by you, boss," she says, making me cringe. Even though we're partners, I realized early on that Isabelle relies on me for the heavy decision-making, and she wants my approval for everything. The problem is I've never been much of a leader, and being practically thrust in this position hasn't been easy. I listen to her patiently, offering my opinion.
"Great. See you Friday at lunch, then," she finishes. We have a weekly meeting where we bring each other up to date and draw plans for the next week, assessing whether we're on to meet our monthly goals.
"Sure."
After hanging up, I notice I have a text message waiting for me.
Christopher: Finally found time for the shopping trip.
Swallowing hard, I hover with my fingers over my phone, a familiar longing taking hold of me. Since his cryptic “Who said it was unintentional?” good-bye one week ago, we’ve only texted once. He told me his schedule was packed for the entire week, so he couldn't fit in the shopping trip. His weekend was also full already, but he assured me he could train Lucas the next weekend. We still haven't scheduled the shopping trip, hence his message.
Grinning, I begin to type back. Damn it, what's the spell this man has on me? Whenever I hear from him—or think about him—my face splits into a smile of its own accord. Midway through typing, I decide to call him instead. Sitting on the floor with my legs bent in a yoga pose, I dial his number and hold the phone to my ear.
"I was beginning to think you wanted to bail on the shopping trip," I say instead of hello once he picks up.
"I already admitted I hate shopping, but I'm a man of my word. Found time on Thursday or Friday after lunch. Can you make it on either day?"
"Friday works. And on Saturday we're on with Lucas's training?"
"If you're still up for it."
"I am."
"You're great for doing this." The more I think about it, the more I appreciate his gesture. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's one of the reasons why I smile like a lunatic every time I think about him. "I wanted to help him, but I'm no good at soccer. I could teach him shenanigans galore, but he's a bit too young for that."
"What kind of shenanigans?"
"Oh, sneaking out through the window when he's grounded, things like that."
"You do know you're the one who’s supposed to be the one grounding him, right?"
"Shucks, you're right. Conflict of interest."
That’s another role I've been thrust into that I'm not really fit for—being a parent. I love being the kids' sister, but joking aside, I often lie awake late at night, wondering if I'm parenting them the right way. I wish parenting came with a set of instructions.
"You sound like me. When my younger brothers turned fourteen, the first thing that occurred to me was that I had to teach them how to flirt. Weirdly enough, when my sister was born, the only thing I could think about was to protect her from any guy in existence. Feel free to call me out for being sexist or having double standards."
Adorable is what I want to call him, but I smartly remain silent. I rise to my feet, pacing the living room, suddenly filled with too much energy to stay put. Who is this man, and why do I feel like I could talk to him forever?
"I knew I couldn't be the only weirdo who wanted to pass on hard-earned knowledge," I reply.
"We weirdos have to stick together."
My stomach flutters at the word “together.”
"In fact, you know what? I can teach him some shenanigans on Saturday," he offers. "I assure you I'm on top of my game."
"I have no doubt." Without realizing, I add, "Why are you so nice to us?"
Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds. When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle. "My sisters told me you lost your parents. I can't even begin to imagine how hard that is. Spending a few hours with Lucas and giving him feedback isn't an effort for me, but it looks like it's a big thing for him."
"It is. For me too. Thank you. See you on Friday."
"Don't forget you promised to make the time worthwhile," he teases, and my skin instantly heats up, even more so as I recall the thinly disguised flirting that followed my statement the last time I saw him.
"Victoria?" His voice is a notch huskier and music to my ears. I have a hunch he and I are thinking about the same thing.
"Yeah?"
"We could dance around this some more, but considering we can barely keep from flirting whenever we're in the same room—sometimes even on the phone—I think it'd be smart to admit we're attra
cted to each other."
Wow. I wonder if I'll ever know what will come out of this man's mouth next.
"Are you always so direct?" I ask him, trying to ignore the way my heart seems to have skipped a beat.
"I try to be."
"I have no idea how to continue this conversation," I tell him honestly, wishing I could carve a hole in the ground and disappear into it.
"Well, this would be an appropriate time to tell me that you have a lover, one who is very jealous and possessive."
"You gave this imaginary lover so much thought already."
"Imaginary?"
"Hate to disappoint you, but yeah." My mild mortification has turned to curiosity now, energy zinging through my veins, infusing my mood with something resembling euphoria.
"Damn. I was hoping you'd have some strong arguments, something to deter me from flirting the pants off you."
Oh, what I'd give to see his face right now. Not even Christopher can say this with a straight face. But as I formulate my answer, some of the euphoria fades, reality setting in.
"I do, they just don't include a boyfriend."
"I'm all ears."
"For one, I don't get involved with clients."
"That's excellent."
In my mind, I can picture him checking off a list with a red pen.
"And I'm really focusing on the kids. We're just learning to navigate through life on our own. My siblings are my priority right now. I'm the only adult they can look up to as a role model, and… I feel like we've been drowning ever since the funeral. We went through so many changes, and now we're finally reaching a balance." My voice catches and I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Damn it, I didn't mean to dump all this on him.
"A very legitimate reason." His tone is softer now, and I detect something more than heat or amusement in his tone. Possibly worry.
"Enough to keep you from… what was the phrase?" I know exactly what the phrase was, but I want to hear him say it again.
"Flirting the pants off you."
"Yeah, that. You know, I just thought we might make it through an entire conversation without any inappropriateness."
"Are you implying I have no self-control? ’Cause you'd be absolutely right.” He is weird but in the best kind of way.
"Christopher," I admonish, even though my voice doesn't hold much severity. In fact, I'm dangerously close to bursting into laughter. "Here's a challenge for Friday. Keep your words in professional territory. Do we have a deal?"
"Okay, promise," he answers quickly. A little too quickly. I'm tempted to question his statement, but the saying “don't look a gift horse in the mouth” crosses my mind.
"See you on Friday, then. Have a good evening."
"You too, Victoria."
After I click off, I head to my bedroom, planning to finish reading the book I started yesterday before calling this a night. Sliding under the covers, I pick up the book from the nightstand, noticing an unread message from Christopher on my phone.
Christopher: How about my eyes? Can they remain unprofessional? ’Cause keeping both in check is too much.
Victoria: And we already established you don't have much self-control.
Christopher: Around you, apparently not. I promise I'll be as obvious as possible so you can call me out on it.
This man! He is unbelievable. The problem is, when it comes to him, I'm not doing too well with this self-control thing myself. I'm tempted to text back some challenge, but like the good girl I am, I place the phone back on my nightstand instead, turning away from it and trying to concentrate on my book and my to-dos for tomorrow. I have to buy some school supplies for Sienna and Lucas, and Chloe wants a new toy. She didn't tell me what kind of toy, only that she wants something she can cuddle at night. She already found a name for the unknown toy: Mr. Cuddles.
Alone in my double bed, I hug my pillow tightly, wishing I had something, or someone, to cuddle. Better still, I'd love to have strong arms to envelop me at night, someone to whisper naughty things in my ear and reassure me that everything will be fine. A vision appears in my mind: dark eyes, strong shoulders, a sinful mouth. I smile against my pillow at the same time I chastise myself. Off-limits. He's completely off-limits.
Maybe I'll buy a Mr. Cuddles for myself too. I could nickname him Christopher.
Chapter Six
Victoria
"We should pop open a champagne bottle," Isabelle says on Friday during our lunch meeting. We're sitting at a cafe downtown, going through our financial plans for the month. Two more clients signed with us this week, which is always a reason to celebrate, but even more so because they came from recommendations. That means a lot to us. It shows our clients are happy enough with our services to recommend us to their friends. Dad always said recommendations are the bread and butter of a business.
"We'll put that on our endless to-do list, but for now, how about toasting with our hot drinks?"
We clink our glasses spiritedly, before returning to our lunch.
“By the way,” she continues, “Helen and I were thinking of a weekend-long escape and drive out to L.A. What do you say? Maybe your aunt can watch the kids?”
A year ago, I would have said yes in a minute. Helen is our other best friend, and the three of us frequently went on impromptu weekend trips. Now, however, things are different. I’m lucky Isabelle and I work together so at least I see her on a regular basis. I haven’t seen Helen in a long while.
“Nah, I have plans with the kids. Maybe another time.”
"Okay. How is Christopher Bennett's project coming along?"
"He's very cooperative," I say instantly. "I wasn’t expecting him to want to be so involved. I'm meeting him this afternoon after Ms. Parson's."
"How is he as a person?" Isabelle presses. "There's so much about the company in the press but rarely about the family itself."
"He's… not what I expected." I hesitate for a split second whether to tell her more, but the truth is, I need to talk to someone, and Isabelle is my best friend. "He came to the office to look through catalogs, and then Lucas cornered him about soccer, and now he's coming to my house on Saturday to give him some pointers."
Isabelle leans back, surveying me. "Do you like him?"
"He's a hard man not to like," I admit with a sigh. "He's nice to the kids, has a body to die for, is the funniest man I've met, and really knows how to lay on the charm."
"Whoa, girl. You haven't gushed over a man in… since forever, actually." Sitting up straight again, she drums her fingers on the table, and I know the warning is on her lips.
"I know he's a client," I say quickly. "And I've learned my lesson. Mixing business with pleasure brings a lot of headache."
"Amen to that." Over the years, we both were burned by this. To our defense, working sixty-hour weeks leaves little room for personal lives. Isabelle went out with a colleague back at the company we both worked at, FortyStarsDesigns. After they had broken up, the atmosphere in the office was unbearable. Also while at FortyStarsDesigns, I fell for a client. After I had slept with him, he tossed me away like I was a broken toy. One of the next clients came because of his recommendation, and during our initial meeting, he asked me if my sexual services were included in the price. I felt so dirty that not even a long shower in which I vigorously scrubbed myself helped.
So when Isabelle and I started our business, we made it a rule that we won’t date any clients. In truth, I don’t plan to date at all for now. Every action, including whom I choose to date, will impact the kids. I won't deny I'd love to be held and cuddled once in a while. I love cuddles. They make me feel loved and safe, and I haven't felt safe since I buried my parents. I can't explain it, but sometimes I feel like I'd been wrapped in a blanket all my life. Now suddenly the blanket's gone, and I'm permanently cold. But a girl can’t have it all, I suppose.
"So you're sure you won't fall for his charms?" Isabelle presses.
"Yep. He's the most shameless flirt I've encountered, but I
can go toe-to-toe with him. I can't afford to make any mistakes."
***
Later that afternoon, with half an hour to spare until my meeting with Christopher, I do a little window-shopping, right until I spot a familiar and gorgeous red sweater that Sienna was looking at online last week. Taking out my phone, I snap a picture and send it to my sister. She calls me within two seconds.
“Is that the sweater I was hoping to find on sale online?” she asks in one breath.
“You tell me, but I think it is. The price tag isn’t in the pic, but it’s on sale. Do you want me to buy it?”
“Are you serious? Oh my God, yes.” She lets out a squeal so loud, I’m afraid my ear will ring for the next few hours. My sister is an unusual seventeen-year-old. She is rarely moody, never rebellious, and generally seems like an old soul. Mother used to say Sienna missed the 101 course on how to be a teenager. But the one thing that absolutely fires her up is fashion.
“You’ll have it tonight.”
“Thanks, Victoria. You’re the best.”
After ending the conversation, I walk in and buy the sweater, then hurry to my meeting with Christopher.
Armed with a million ideas for his apartment, I wait for him in front of the furniture store. One of the reasons I like to do a shopping tour with my clients is because I learn a lot about their tastes as I watch their reactions while they're in the store. Going with them through catalogs helps, but sometimes they like an item in a picture and hate it upon seeing it in real life. Christopher arrives precisely at three o'clock, flashing me a smile that seems to say he's up to no good.
"Hello, Victoria." From the way those two words tumble from his lips, and his gaze rakes over my body, it's clear he intends to follow through with his promise to be as obvious as possible, but I don't intend to call him out on it. I have the nagging suspicion that it would lead us down a rabbit hole. Though I feel my cheeks heat up, I stubbornly keep my mouth shut. I'm wearing a bright yellow dress that shows no cleavage and ends up just a notch above my knees, and I paired it with red ankle boots. My coat is the same color as my boots. Yeah, I love colors. Sometimes I overdo it, but wearing brightly colored clothing just fills me with positive energy. Overall, my appearance doesn't scream sexy in any way, but the intensity in Christopher's gaze makes me feel utterly naked.