Hooked

by Christine Manzari

  “Again.”

  I knew what he wanted, so I said it again, opening my eyes just enough to peek at his reaction. He watched my mouth as if memorizing the way his name looked on it. Those four letters slid through my lips again and he buried his face in the curve of my neck as I delivered the pleasure of his name in steady whispers while my mouth grazed his ear. Our bodies were moving together in a silent symphony of hands and lips and burning need. And I knew I should’ve stopped, but I didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to. Deep down I knew I would probably regret this and I’d probably hurt him again, but I was incapable of denying my body what it wanted. I was incapable of denying Huck what he asked for with each confident touch of his hands and mouth.

  My fingers slipped inside the waistband of his pants and he stopped kissing my neck as if concentrating on that one contact between us—my fingers and his abdomen. My other hand found the button to his pants, and he pulled back from my neck to look at me. The hunger in his eyes was evident, and I could almost imagine that his control was as tenuous as the breaths that stuttered out of him.

  An unfamiliar ring of a telephone blared from the kitchen. I stared at Huck. “Yours?”

  He nodded. “I’m not answering it.” His head dipped down so that his tongue could trace the curves of my lips. The phone continued to ring and then eventually fell silent, presumably going to voicemail. His tongue dipped between my lips, coaxing me with greedy strokes. My fingers had just begun to slide the zipper of his pants down as the phone rang again. I laid completely still as it rang two more times, both of us trying to ignore it.

  “Fuck!” he cursed as it continued to ring. He pushed up off the couch and stalked into the kitchen.

  I could hear the agitation in his voice when he answered, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. He sounded incredibly angry, and it was that change in energy that I think finally brought me to my senses. I sat up, straightening my clothes, realizing that I’d almost gone too far with my boss. Again. Hell, just kissing him was too far. I grabbed the pie dish off the floor and found the remote to turn off the movie. I was just entering the kitchen as Huck was coming out, phone in hand, anger still radiating off him.

  When he saw me, the anger faded and confusion replaced it. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “We should probably get to bed.”

  When a smile stole across his lips, I knew I’d chosen the wrong wording. “I mean separately,” I clarified, as I walked past him into the kitchen. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Cat, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he argued.

  “No, Stone. It really does.” I set the pie dish in the sink and turned to face him. His hands were buried in his hair and he refused to look at me.

  “Why?” he asked. “You want me, I want you. It’s obvious how good we are together. Even you can see that.”

  “Even me?” I bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That even though you try to keep your secrets and not let anyone in, even though you try to be in complete control all the time, even though you don’t want to admit it, you like me. A lot.”

  “I’m attracted to you, Stone. I had a lapse in judgment. We both did. You know as well as I do that there is no future for us.”

  “I don’t know that because you haven’t even given us a shot.”

  “What do you think is going to happen? That we just do this,” I said, motioning between us with my hand, “and that William Stone Media is going to be okay with it? Didn’t you learn your lesson back east?” I asked, knowing it was a low blow, but knowing it was a necessary one.

  Huck’s face turned from a look of desperation to one of disgust, but he said nothing.

  “I’ll show you where you can sleep,” I offered, heading for the stairs.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll crash on the couch.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Stone.”

  “Go to bed, Maverick” he ordered, turning his back on me and walking out, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  — HUCK —

  22. RUMORS & PROMISES

  I got into work first thing Monday morning. Cat, as usual, was already hidden away behind her door. When my secretary, Corrine, showed up, I called her into my office.

  “Ms. Landon, I’d like to have some flowers sent to this address with this message please.”

  She took the paper I offered and looked it over.

  “You’re sending flowers to Anita Durand?” Corrine asked.

  “You know who she is?”

  “Of course. She owns the art gallery downtown. Your father . . . I mean, Mr. Stone, ordered several pieces from her for the lobby here. Ms. Durand came the day they were delivered to oversee the installation.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll see that these are delivered today,” Corrine said, returning to her desk right outside my door.

  Technically, I should have already sent flowers to thank Anita for her hospitality, but I wanted to make sure they were delivered while Cat was at work—just to make sure they weren’t destroyed before Anita received them. I couldn’t be sure Cat would prevent the thank you from getting to her mother, but I couldn’t be sure she’d pass it along either. There wasn’t much about Cat that I could be sure about, except that I should always expect to be surprised. Sometimes that was a good thing, sometimes it wasn’t. And sadly, the fact that she was so unpredictable was a huge part of the reason I was so attracted to her. I was a fucking masochist when it came to Cate Maverick.

  If there was one thing I knew for sure about Cat, though, it was that she was attracted to me, too. She admitted it Thanksgiving night, not that I didn’t already know it. She might say that she didn’t want to be involved with me, but her lips when they were kissing me? They said the exact opposite. She wanted me just as badly as I wanted her, but she was worried about the fraternization policy. I guess I should care, but when it came to Cat, I had a one track mind. Her.

  Cat, on the other hand, had a mind with about 457 tracks to it. I could never be sure how she would react or what she would do in any given moment. There were so many different faces to Cat and I was attracted to every one of them—even the one that liked to bitch at me.

  The real question was, what version of Cat would show up to the office today? We had our usual Monday lunch scheduled, and I still had no idea what I’d be dealing with when she finally emerged from her office. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since I was left in the living room with a whole lot of unsatisfied lust and a phone I wanted to smash, thanks to a drunken call from Bridget. If it hadn’t been for that cock block, I might have had a lot more to be thankful for that night.

  But, no. Bridget called from a number I didn’t recognize, begging to come visit me. By the time I’d gotten her off the phone, Cat had pulled herself together and withdrawn into her Cate persona—the cold, haughty one that refused to take risks.

  Cat made her wishes pretty clear about not wanting me in her mother’s house, so I woke Jay up bright and early Friday morning and we left while Anita and Cat were still sleeping. Of course, Jay hadn’t actually been drunk the night before. He was just doing his best to “make something happen,” as he put it. He was quite annoyed to find out that he’d endured numerous ass slaps by Cat while I’d only managed a few stolen kisses with her for all his effort.

  And now it was Monday morning. I still had two hours before lunch and my coffee cup was empty, so I made my way down the hall to the break room. Just outside, I recognized Cat’s voice, so I stayed in the hallway under the pretense of looking at some artwork hung on the wall.

  “See you later, Jackie,” Cat was saying.

  “Wait,” Jackie said. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

  “It was nice. I spent it with my mom,” Cat answered. She was polite, but not overly friendly. I noticed she didn’t bother to ask Jackie about her holiday. Knowing Cat, she was planning her escape back to her office already.

  “Oh, at her big hous
e in Beverly Hills?” Jackie asked excitedly.

  “That’s the one.” Cat was irritated, but Jackie was oblivious because she wouldn’t let the subject drop without a complete interrogation.

  “I heard that Will Stone was there, too.”

  Shit.

  “Where did you hear that?” Cat asked. She tried to make her voice sound light and unconcerned, but I could hear the edge to it.

  “Word gets around.”

  Corrine. That was the only possible way someone could have found out. It was stupid of me to let her send the flowers. She’d better have her resume ready, because as soon as I got back to my desk, she was going to be cleaning hers out.

  “Really?” Cat asked tersely.

  “Well?” Jackie pressed. “Was he really there?”

  “Yes,” Cat admitted. “He was there.”

  “Are you and Will an item? He’s so hot.”

  “He came with Jay,” Cat responded.

  “Jay? Your roommate, Jay?”

  “The very same.”

  “Isn’t Jay gay, though?”

  “That’s been my impression,” Cat said. I could hear the smile in her voice.

  Thanks, Cat.

  “But why would Will come with Jay?”

  Because Jay is a tricky bastard who likes to play matchmaker.

  Silence.

  “Oh,” Jackie said, sounding disappointed. “Right. Why are the best looking ones always gay?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

  I could hear Cat coming toward the door and I stayed where I was, looking at the artwork.

  “No way! He’d probably have me fired.” Jackie giggled. “But seriously. I just can’t believe it. It’s so unfair.”

  Cat walked out of the break room and I looked up just in time to see her hide the surprise on her face. Christ. She looked good. Her dark red hair was swept up into a vintage, pin-up model hairstyle fastened with a black flower, and she was wearing a sexy rockabilly dress. The top was black and white striped, a thick black belt hugged her waist, and the skirt was a form-fitting black that slid to her knees. I was just starting to imagine what it’d be like to take off her red high heels when she cleared her throat.

  “Stone,” she said, inclining her head to me, a ghost of a smile playing across her mouth.

  “Maverick,” I answered.

  Cat took a few steps toward her office before looking over her shoulder. “I hope you and Jay got home all right.” She said it loud enough to make sure Jackie heard.

  “We did. Thanks for your concern,” I said, refusing to give her the satisfaction of denying her allegations. What did I care if there was gossip spread that I was gay? The only girl I was interested in attracting was the one in the fuck-me dress who initiated the rumor in the first place. And she was more than aware that I wanted her. If Cat’s gossip buddy wanted to spread the rumor, it would deflect from the truth—that I was pursuing the one and only Cate Maverick, Wicked Bitch of the West Coast. She smiled and continued toward her office with a sway of her hips that should be illegal.

  “Hey, Maverick,” I called out, causing her to turn back to me. “Don’t forget about our lunch meeting,” I reminded her.

  “Don’t forget my cheeseburger and freshly squeezed orange juice,” she retorted.

  ***

  Cat was taking her time eating lunch. I had a feeling it was because she didn’t have any new updates on her projects and she was afraid what might happen if there wasn’t lunch or work to monopolize the interaction between us.

  “How was the rest of your holiday weekend?” I asked.

  “Fine.”

  I watched her slowly dip a fry in ketchup before eating it. I don’t think she meant it to be a sensual act, but it didn’t matter. Everything Cat did turned me on, especially when she was wearing a dress that made her look like a good-girl-gone-bad. Seriously bad. But as good as that dress looked on her, I had a feeling it’d look even better thrown to the floor of my office. I wondered if she was wearing a garter. It would be just like Cat to wear a garter with that dress.

  “How’s your mom?” I asked, trying to flush thoughts of her in nothing but a garter out of my head.

  “Fine.”

  “Have you talked to Jay?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Wow, these one word answers are stimulating, Maverick.”

  She said nothing but continued to swish her fry in ketchup.

  “We’re allowed to be friends, Cat. You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me.”

  She looked up from her fries. “First of all, I’m not afraid to talk to you. Secondly, we’re allowed to be friends, but friendship isn’t what you want.”

  “It’s not what you want either, but I’m willing to try if that’s all I can get.”

  She sighed. Before she could come up with another argument, I spoke again.

  “Did you end up watching the rest of The Wizard of Oz?”

  Her head tilted in curiosity as she looked up at me. “Yes.”

  “Me, too. Did you know that they used Jell-O powder to color the horses for the horse-of-many-colors scene?”

  “Really?” She fought to keep her face straight, but her smile won out and it was genuine enough to reach her eyes.

  “The horses kept trying to lick themselves clean,” I told her.

  “Did they?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, did you know that the makeup they used for the Wicked Witch of the West was toxic and the actress had to live on a liquid diet while filming so she didn’t accidentally eat some of it?” Cat asked.

  “I actually did know that. Her skin stayed green for weeks afterwards.”

  “It was because some of the ingredients in the paint were copper-based.”

  “Clearly,” I agreed. “Did you know that in the book, the slippers are silver, not red? They changed that for the movie.”

  “Did you research facts about The Wizard of Oz to impress me?”

  “Are you impressed?”

  “I can’t decide if I’m impressed or creeped out.”

  “Go with impressed. I had to go to three different stores to find a DVD of the movie.”

  “That’s kind of pathetic.”

  “Not as pathetic as the fact that I spent a good deal of the weekend on the internet memorizing weird facts. But look, we’re talking. Not fighting. We can be friendly with one another and it’s no big deal.”

  “Friends,” she stressed. “We can be friends.”

  “That’s what I said. And movies seem to be common ground for us, friend.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “I’d like to avoid another awkward lunch meeting, so why don’t you pick the movie topic for next week?”

  Cat smiled. “Coming to America.”

  “What is it with you and movies where actors play multiple characters?”

  She shrugged. “It reminds me of my own life.”

  She had a point—Cat, Cate, Wicked Bitch of the West Coast, Ms. Unafraid, Worried Daughter, Vixen—she was all of those people.

  “All right then, Coming to America it is. I guarantee you I’ll know more trivia than you,” I challenged her.

  “Not possible.”

  “Loser buys lunch,” I countered.

  “No, you buy lunch. It’s your idea to have these stupid working lunches to begin with. Loser has to take Jackie out to lunch.”

  “You’d hate that,” I argued. “You don’t like her enough to make it through an entire lunch with her.”

  “That won’t be a problem, I don’t plan to lose.” Cat stood and gathered her trash. “And knowing you’ll be spending an entire lunch fielding questions from Jackie about your relationship with Jay? That will be so worth the challenge. Good luck, Stone.” Cat walked out the door and then leaned back in. “Hey, what happened to Corrine? It looks like all her stuff is gone.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Do you really care
?”

  “Of course I care. I’m not a total bitch. Just because I don’t want to be friends with the people here doesn’t mean I want bad things to happen to them.”

  “She’s fine. They’ll probably find somewhere else for her to work in the company where we won’t need to worry about her lack of discretion.”

  “Stop talking in riddles, Stone. What happened to her?”

  I took a moment to clear the trash off my desk, avoiding the answer since I wasn’t sure if she’d be pissed knowing that it was my fault the rumor was floating around the office. I figured she probably assumed it was my fault anyway. How else would the information have gotten around?

  “I asked her to send flowers to Anita Durand this morning with a note thanking her for hosting me at Thanksgiving. I didn’t know Corrine knew that Anita was your mother.”

  Cat’s lips drew into a tight line. “Corrine spread the rumor you were at my mom’s house.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Well, good riddance then. I don’t need her help at jeopardizing my job, I do just fine on my own,” Cat said coldly.

  ***

  “I thought this was going to be a party,” Brodi said, taking the beer I offered him.

  I turned to Jay, raising my eyebrows in question. I was surprised when I saw Brodi come through my front door with Jay, but I didn’t really mind. I had no idea he came under the impression I was hosting a party, though.

  “It’s Tuesday night, Brodi,” I pointed out.

  “Hey, I never turn down the chance to party. I don’t care what day of the week it is. Are there any chicks coming over?”

  “No,” I admitted. There was only one girl I wanted coming over to my condo and if I was expecting her to come, I’d kick both Jay and Brodi out.

  Jay was flung across my couch, feet up on the coffee table, a smile stretched lazily across his face. “I keep telling you that you don’t need a girl, Brodi. I know exactly how to keep a man happy.” He took a drink from his beer, acting a little too friendly with the bottle.

  “Jesus, Jay. Keep it G-rated, will you?” Brodi watched what Jay was doing with the bottle, and seemed both amazed and conflicted to find himself watching. “I swear if I ever switch teams, you’ll be the first player I call, but I’m completely happy hitting for the heteros. That shit right there does some very negative things to my libido,” Brodi complained as he pointed to Jay who still had his lips wrapped around the bottle.