“Star Trek is way before you generation. I know you’re not that old, Mr. Mulroney.”
“Maybe I just have good skin. Mulroney Pictures has been around for a while, you know. Who do you think cleared the land and killed the mountain lions so the back lot could be built?”
I giggle and look down at my feet. I had no idea he was this funny. Maybe it’s being away from the confines of the office that allows him to relax and let loose.
“You know they used the crushed rock from here to make nearby city streets,” I say. “That was from nineteen oh three to the late twenties, but some movies filmed here while the quarry was still in use. Lightning Bryce. Riders of the Purple Sage.”
I look back up to find Mr. Mulroney staring at me.
I bite my lip and look away.
“You’re a human encyclopedia,” he says, his words so low I can barely hear them.
I self-consciously tuck my hair behind my ear. “Just when it comes to some things. Try telling that to my high school math teachers. I was dumb as a bag of rocks when it came to calculus.”
“And now you don’t use calculus,” he says. “By the way, who’s even seen Lightning Bryce? I don’t even know what that’s about.”
“It was a Western serial. I’ve only seen one.”
He’s still staring at me. A hot flush begins in my stomach and rises up.
“Come on,” he finally says.
The spell broken, he heads for the tunnel entrance. I follow behind at a fair distance. The cave is slightly cooler than outside, simply because there’s no sun beating down on our heads. The short tunnel splits into three. Mr. Mulroney goes in the direction the few people ahead of us take, and we come out into the canyon like area behind the cave. Hills are visible in the distance. Pressed against the face of one of them is the white Hollywood sign.
“Do you feel it yet?” I joke.
He turns around to face me, his face blank. “What?”
“Like we’re in Star Trek. I can pretend to shoot at you with my blaster if you want. You can run and hide behind that rock over there.”
Mr. Mulroney laughs, and the sight of it is so beautiful I can’t help but stare. Who is this man standing in front of me? He’s shown so many faces, but which one belongs to the real him?
Or maybe he’s just a psycho with bipolar disorder. That would explain everything.
I chuckle as well and kick the dirt around in front of me. His legs edging closer jerks my attention back to him. He’s less than a foot away and still looking down at me.
My breath hitches. Is he going to try something? Here, in front of half a dozen or more people?
They would just think he was my boyfriend. No one would know he’s my dick boss.
The dream sends a sweet shudder through me. If Mr. Mulroney were to kiss me, I would let it happen. I’m already swept away in this fantasy. I committed myself to it before I even got out of the car. One afternoon of letting go; of simple enjoyment.
He reaches forward and the side of his hand brushes against mine. My chest swells. It seems like he’s about to grab my hand, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers just graze against mine before falling back to his side.
I swallow hard. It’s difficult to just keep my eyes open. My head is swimming and my knees have gone weak. I force myself to lift my gaze to his.
He looks down at me, but like they so often are, his eyes are unreadable. After a moment, he turns and walks a short distance away, putting space between us. I stay rooted to one spot. I can still feel the world spinning and the universe expanding and contracting. What this man does to me isn’t fair in the least bit.
What happened to “if you’re interested I’m here?” Did he just try to hit on me again and then change his mind all in five seconds? Is he trying to drive me insane?
When he comes back to me, his face is blank. “We should go. It’s almost rush hour.”
“Yeah.” Disappointment and relief make the word soft.
We keep a careful distance all the way through the tunnel and down the trail. The parking lot is half empty, but the sun striking off the remaining cars is brutal. He doesn’t go to open the passenger’s door for me this time. I don’t know what made him think he needed to do it before, but the gesture is kind of missed. It made me feel like I was anything but his assistant, if only for a minute.
I let some of the trapped and sweltering air escape from the car before climbing in. Mr. Mulroney rolls down the windows and starts the AC. I buckle my seat belt, pulling the strap taut for good measure.
Suddenly, his palm is against the back of my neck. I never sensed him reaching over, but he’s there, the softness of his fingers pressing lightly beneath my hair line. I whip my eyes over to him. His pupils are wide, staring me down.
Acting of its own accord, my face gravitates towards his, but he pulls his hand away and purses his lips. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
His regret comes as a surprise. Then again, surprises are starting to become the norm around him. He didn’t apologize for being so forward, and I know I should do the right thing and say his slip up is all right.
But I’m not having any of that. Swiftly unbuckling my seat belt, I lean forward and press my palm against his chest. His lips are soft and accepting, pushing back against mine as soon as I touch my mouth to his.
His scent fills me up and covers the air around me until there is nothing else but him. His hands go up to my head, winding their way through my hair. His mouth opens wider, and I shift more of my weight forward. My head bumps against the top of the roof, but I don’t stop kissing him.
A voice speaks up in my head, shouting at me to stop before it’s too late — before I do something I’ll regret — but I shoot it down. What’s happening is beyond stopping. I’ve given myself over to what I’ve been dying for. I’m liberating my soul; setting myself free from the constant need to get a taste of what I thought I couldn’t have.
One of his hands leaves the back of my head to press against my lower back. My skin sparks where he touches me, even though there’s a layer of clothes between our bodies. The sensation swirls down into my core, lighting me on fire.
His tongue runs over my teeth and his hands grasp me tighter, the fabric of my shirt bunching between his fingers. Both hands come to my lower back, urging me forward into his lap.
My heart beats wildly, and it’s not just the passion of the moment that has me going. I’m fucking terrified. Here we are, making out in his car — and where can it possibly go from there?
Will we have frenzied car sex in a parking lot, then go back to work and act like it never happened?
I’ll be calling him “Mr. Mulroney” and saying, “Yes, sir,” for many years to come, all the while thinking of what it was like having him inside of me.
This shit is messed up.
“Oh my God,” I moan into his mouth. I pull back and collapse, my shoulder painfully banging against the passenger’s side window.
He’s frozen, staring at me with wide eyes and lips rubbed red.
Was I really kissing him that hard?
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Oh my God.”
“I want to.” His voice is husky and just the sound of it nearly does me in. I almost catapult myself back over the divide between the seats and tear his clothes off with my teeth.
But as hard as I tried to convince myself, this afternoon isn’t a movie. It’s not a scene separate from the rest of the day. We’ll go back to the office and sooner or later he’ll turn into the same person he always does. Though he apologized, it’s like that story about the scorpion and the frog. Sooner or later he’ll sting simply because it’s his nature.
“I want to,” he says again.
“I don’t.” I’m near tears, the need and the reality tearing me in half.
He looks at me but doesn’t make any move to touch me. “Yes, you do. I could tell from the first day. You were as attracted to me as I am to you.”
Hearing him blatantly say he’s
turned on by me makes my head spin and limbs ache.
I clutch at some of my hair. “That doesn’t change things.”
He blinks.
Is he expecting me to spell this out for him?
“You’re my boss… among other things…”
Realization passes over his face. He turns and stares out over the steering wheel. The painful moment stretches on until he rolls the windows up and buckles his seat belt. My hands shaking, I strap myself in.
He got the meaning behind the “other things” part. He had to have. It was harsh, but I needed to say it. I close my eyes and press my hands together in my lap. Next to me, there’s only the sound of his shallow breathing.
Not a word is spoken the entire way to the studio. When we get to his parking spot, he doesn’t kill the engine. Leaving the car going, he turns and looks at me.
“This won’t change anything about our working relationship. Your job is secure no matter what.”
I open my mouth to respond, though I don’t know quite what to say. Thank you? I wait too long to speak because he’s climbing out of the car. I do the same, following him through the front door and down the hall.
Dana is the only one in the outer office. She looks up from her computer when we walk in. Mr. Mulroney heads for his office and slams the door behind himself. I stand in the outer doorway, staring at the wood he’s just disappeared behind.
“Where are his bags?”
I twitch at the startling sound of her voice. “Huh?”
“His bags.”
“In the car,” I mumble.
“Oh.” She goes back to her work.
I still don’t move. I can’t move. I can’t think. Can’t comprehend or make any sense of the last two hours.
All I can do is stand there and observe the swirling hurricane that is my life.
CHAPTER SIX
I chop the carrots faster, intent on getting the pieces as small as possible. Poppy folk music drifts from the living room, the song’s cheesy chorus annoying me for the third time.
Everything has been annoying me tonight.
“Watch it,” Crystal says from next to me. “Are you trying to cut off a finger?”
“Yes.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Here.” I slide the cutting board down the counter to her. She takes it and pushes the carrots into the frying pan. They mix in with the onions there and sizzle, letting off a bit of smoke.
I wonder what Mr. Mulroney is doing for dinner. Does he eat alone at his home, or is every meal spent out in the company of a woman? If so, is it a different woman each night, or does he go out with each of them a few times? And when was the last time he had a girlfriend? Suppose he’s never had one.
Stop thinking about him.
But I can’t.
He wasn’t in the office today. Since it’s Friday, his absence was typical, of course, and the other three assistants thought nothing of it. Chuck and Daniel left early like they often do while Dana and I waited till five to slip out.
But what will happen on Monday? Mr. Mulroney said my job was secure no matter what, but can he be counted on to be good to his promises? I shot him down — and not for the first time. Surely he’s not used to women saying no to him. His ego must be at least slightly bruised.
Furthermore, what will it be like between us now?
Even more difficult, no doubt.
I close my eyes and lean my back against the wall. I can’t believe I kissed a man whose first name I don’t even use. This is like something out of a porno.
“Sydney,” Crystal says.
I open my eyes back up. She stares at me, the spatula hovering in her hand above the stove. “Are you okay?”
“I made out with Mr. Mulroney.”
Her mouth drops open. “Shut up!”
“I wish I could shut my whore lips. Ugh!” I rake my fingers over my face.
“So there was tongue?”
“How is that important?”
“You kissed him in the office?”
“No. At the water cooler.”
Somehow her eyes grow even bigger. “What?!”
“Kidding,” I dryly say.
I push off from the counter and go to the fridge to grab a bottle of sparkling water. “It happened at Bronson Caves.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.” I wave the bottle around while I talk. “He came back from his trip early and told this lie saying he needed to go back to the airport to pick up some bags he left there. He said he needed my help but get this. Once we got in the car, he told me there were no bags. He said he wanted to apologize to me for the way he’s been acting since I started there.”
Crystal coos. “Aw, that’s so sweet!”
I crinkle my face in disgust. “But that was another lie. I know he hasn’t just been rude to me. His other three assistants practically hate him. He’s a dick to everyone. He just wanted to get me alone so he could make another pass at me. The pan is burning.”
“Oh!” Crystal turns around and stirs the vegetables. “Are you sure it was a lie? Everyone complains about their boss. He may not be as mean to the others as you think.”
“I’m not a dumbass, Crystal.”
“I’m not suggesting that. Relax.”
“Sorry.” I sigh and settle down on one of the stools.
Eryk comes in from his bedroom, his shoulders sagging and a frown on his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Crystal asks.
He settles on the stool next to me. “I feel like shit. I worked lunch today and had to get up at, like, ten.”
Crystal and I both laugh.
“Have you ever actually seen a sunrise?” I ask him.
Crystal speaks up. “Only when he’s stumbling home from the night before.”
Eryk sticks his tongue out. “Oh, haha. You two think you’re superwomen because you get up before noon every day. And everyone’s taken a walk of shame, including you.” He looks pointedly at Crystal.
“Sydney kissed her boss,” she says.
Eryk screams and clutches my shoulder. “You dirty slut!”
I gasp. “Crystal! That’s not what we were talking about.”
She shrugs. “I had to divert attention from myself somehow.”
“When?” Eryk demands, his hands still on me. “Where?”
Crystal grabs the big pot and begins to fill it with water at the sink. “Don’t forget who and why.”
“Yesterday at Bronson Caves.”
“Hold on,” he holds his palm out, signaling me to stop. “You went on a date with your boss.”
“No,” I quickly say. “We were at work. Kind of.”
Crystal giggles. “He picked her up and they skipped out.”
“That sounds like a date,” Eryk says. “Actually, it sounds better than any date I’ve been on.”
“Oh, come on!” I slam my hand on the counter. “That is not a date!”
Eryk rolls his eyes. “It’s more of a date than sneaking away to have coffee with your ex-boyfriend is.”
“I’m going to ignore that.”
“Sydney,” Crystal says, turning to me. “It sounds like this guy might like you.”
My heart lifts a little at the statement, but I quickly stomp it down. “No. There’s no way. Remember everything else I told you? You know, about the women?”
“Those women were before you.”
I stare down at my hands, hating how much I want to believe what she’s saying.
Eryk giggles. “Did you tell Brendan he doesn’t have a chance with you anymore now that you’re screwing your boss?”
I shoot him a look. “I didn’t screw Mr. Mulroney.”
“Everyone goes to Bronson Caves to screw.”
“Really?” Crystal asks and I see her making a mental note.
“No. I was just trying to get a confession out of her.”
“We didn’t screw,” I say, louder this time.
Eryk peers intently at me. “So
tell us what happened.”
I drop my face on my crossed arms. “Mr. Mulroney and I just kissed.”
“You know, it’s kinda hot that you still call him Mr. Mulroney. I bet he likes that. Do you even know his first name?”
“Stop making fun of me,” I snap. “Of course I know his name. It’s Simon.”
“Ooh, I like that. It’s sexy but boyish at the same time.”
“Ew,” Crystal says. “Nothing should be sexy and boyish at the same time.”
Eryk puts his palm towards her to signify he’s not listening. “Did you write it all over your diary?” he asks, looking at me.
“Give her a break, Eryk,” Crystal says.
He laughs and pats me on the head. “I’m just excited! Come on! When was the last time you made out with your boss?”
Crystal makes a disgusted face. “My boss isn’t one tenth as attractive as Sydney’s.”
Eryk points at her. “Exactly. Most people aren’t that lucky. This is big.”
“I pushed him off me,” I say. “I told him I wasn’t going to do it.”
Eryk shakes his head. “Do you want to never have sex again? That’s where you’re headed, you know. You may as well join a convent now.”
I don’t answer.
“I’m making pasta,” Crystal says, changing the subject after a short silence.
“I’m not doing carbs,” Eryk answers. “I have to make sure I can fit in my dress next week.”
“You’re not doing carbs. You’re not doing dairy. You’re not doing meat. You’re not doing citrus. What are you eating? Carrot sticks?”
“That and celery.”
Crystal rolls her eyes.
“I’ll eat his,” I say. “I need the extra comfort food.” From the edge of the counter, my phone buzzes.
Eryk cocks an eyebrow. “Mr. Mulroney needing some copies made?”
“Copies made?” I ask, half wishing it is — but knowing it’s not — my boss.
“I saw it in a porno last week.”
“Ugh. So it’s not just me. This does feel like a bad porno.”
“You mean a good one.”
“By the way,” Crystal says, looking at Eryk. “Can you keep those turned down a bit?”
I swipe open my phone and read the text. “It’s Brendan.”
“Of course it is,” Eryk says, trying to grab my phone. “His radar is going off because his turf is being stepped on. What does he want?”
Behind the Scenes: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel Page 10