by Dover, L. P.
I walk in and the hostess seats me at a four-person table. The walls are a royal blue with gold furnishings throughout the building. It gives off an eclectic vibe, which I like. Also, the food is phenomenal.
“Hi there. Are you waiting on others?” the waitress asks. She’s young with thick-rimmed glasses and long, blonde hair.
“I am,” I tell her. “He should be here soon. I’m a few minutes early.”
She nods. “Awesome. I’ll grab you a water while you wait.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” I hang my purse on the back of the chair and flip through all the paperwork. Almost all the tables in the café are full, but it’s to be expected. They have the best food in downtown and they’re fast. It’s not easy grabbing a bite to eat in the area in just an hour’s time for a lunch break; especially at a place with such exceptional food. The restaurant door opens and in walks Damien, dressed in a pair of jeans and plain gray T-shirt, looking almost like a college student. He takes off his sunglasses and when he sees me, he waves. I wave back, but then the door opens behind him and in comes Owen Jameson, the man I ran into and probably broke a couple of his toes by how hard I stepped on his foot. He’s the complete opposite of Damien with his dark blond hair perfectly coifed and wearing gray suit pants and a long-sleeved white button-down shirt. He could pass for a J. Crew model.
Damien waits for Owen and they both walk over to the table together. I stand and hold out my hand. “Hi. Thanks for coming.” They both shake my hand and I catch myself staring at Owen. There’s a feeling inside of me I can’t shake; it’s like I know him from somewhere.
Owen flourishes a hand toward my seat. “Ladies first.” I sit down and they each take their seats. “Hopefully, you don’t mind me tagging along. I don’t think I mentioned it the other day, but I’m the other owner of the station.”
My heart skips a beat and I gasp. “Oh wow, I didn’t know. It’s nice to actually meet you, now that I’m not stepping on your toes.” He chuckles and the sound of his laugh makes me lose my breath. I know I’ve heard that laugh before.
“It’s okay,” he says, smiling at me his pearly white teeth and bright blue eyes. “It was hard to walk the rest of the day, but I’m okay now.” From the mischievous glint in his eyes, I know he’s joking.
Damien’s phone rings and he holds it up. “I gotta take this. I’ll be right back.” He hurries outside, leaving me alone with Owen. I’m not complaining in the least.
I look right into his eyes. “I really am sorry for stepping on your foot.”
He waves me off. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I got to meet you. All I’ve heard are great things.”
That makes me feel good. “Jordan and I do the best we can.”
Damien hurries back in but doesn’t take his seat. “I hate to do this, but I have to go.” He turns to me apologetically. “Owen is the main decision maker anyway. You can run it all by him.”
I nod. “Okay.” He pats Owen on the shoulder and rushes out the door. “Hopefully, he’s all right.”
Owen smiles. “He’s fine. It’s probably just something going on at the station.”
Grabbing the papers, I’m about to hand them to him when the waitress comes back. She takes our food and drink orders and then disappears to the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to look at these options.” I slide the papers toward him. “I was told to do what I wanted for the Nightmare Ball, but personally, I don’t like making the firm decisions without going over them.” He flips through the pages, but I stop him on the menu options. “The hotel ballroom has been booked and it accommodates up to seven hundred people if you want the full dinner option. If not, you can have a thousand guests and have several cocktail tables scattered throughout. We can even do light bites and desserts for the same number as well. It all depends on how many people you want.”
Owen purses his lips as he takes a look at the options. “What do you think we should do?”
I shrug. “Personally, I like the light bites and dessert option. If you’re having a singles ball, I’m pretty sure the last thing these people want is to eat a bunch of food and get sweaty on the dance floor. They’re going to concentrate more on the open bar and mingling.”
There’s a slight tilt to his lips; it’s sexy as hell. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just do that then.”
I show him the paper with the DJ’s information on it. “And this guy is really good. Jordan and I have used him many times at our parties. He keeps the energy going and even gets out there and dances with everyone.”
Owen stacks up the papers and steeples his hands together on top of them. “I trust you, Ensley. I have no doubt this party’s going to be a success.”
The waitress comes over with our drinks and it’s not long after when she arrives with our food. We both got the broccoli cheddar soup in a bread bowl. It’s too hot to eat so I wave the steam off. I want to talk to him about the payment, but I don’t know how to bring it up.
“What’s on your mind?” Owen asks, staring curiously at me.
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “Just looked like you were deep in thought over something.”
Here I go. “Actually, I was. I think you paid me too much to plan this party. It’s not costing nearly five hundred thousand to plan. Not even close.”
His brows furrow. “So, what are you saying?”
My stomach is in knots. Never have I ever told someone they paid me too much. “I’m saying I should give you back some of the money. The party has been super easy to plan. It’s not like I’ve had to slave over it. I enjoy party planning and Halloween is my favorite. I don’t feel right making so much profit from it.”
Owen stares right into my eyes and smiles. “Wow. This is a first for me. It’s nice to know there are morally sound people in this world. In my business, you don’t come across many.”
“True,” I agree. “I’ve worked with plenty who don’t even want to pay me.”
Owen leans forward. “Tell you what, Ms. Anderson. I’m supposed to plan a charity function that takes place a couple days after the Nightmare Ball. I haven’t started on it yet so I could really use your help.”
“You’re not going to pay me any more, right?”
He holds out his hand. “Right. Do we have a deal?”
I shake his hand and the same feeling I had earlier when we touched runs straight to my heart. It’s like butterflies fluttering all through my chest and stomach. “Deal,” I say.
After we eat our lunch, Owen walks me to my car. It turns out he parked right beside me in a silver Range Rover. “So, tell me,” he begins, “are you coming dressed up for the Nightmare Ball?” He leans against his car with his arms crossed over his chest and smirking in that sexy grin of his. I swear, it feels like I know him from somewhere. I can’t put my finger on it, but I am not going to ask him.
“Of course. I don’t know as what yet, but masquerades are my favorite.”
His gaze drops to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Do you actually get to enjoy yourself at the parties you plan or is it strictly work?”
Heat rises to my cheeks and I pray to God he doesn’t notice. Clearing my throat, I toss my purse into the front seat of my car and turn my head. “Sometimes,” I answer as honest as I can. “I’ll maybe have a couple of drinks.”
Owen grins. “Good. I’ll have to see if I can recognize you.”
The butterflies come back, and in my mind, I really want him to find me. Stop it, Ensley. You cannot mix business with pleasure.
“What are you going to be dressed as?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Not sure. I’ll come up with something.” He walks over and opens my car door for me. “Lunch was great. If you have any more questions about the party, you can give me a call.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet and slips out a card with his phone numbers on it. “If not, I’ll see you at the ball.”
He’s so close I can smell his cologne. Even that is familiar
. His eyes are not though. When it comes to men, I’m an eye person. The eyes are the pathway to the soul. You can tell a lot about a person by the look in their eyes. Owen’s are just dark blue, almost plain in a way. Still, there’s something in them calling to me.
He shuts my car door and smiles one more time before getting into his car. I pull out first and he follows me through the parking deck, only he takes a right and I take a left out of the exit. As soon as I stop at a stoplight, I pull out my phone and call Jordan.
“Hey, girl. How’d it go?”
“Remember the guy I stepped on after our meeting the other day?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s the other owner of the radio station. I had lunch with him today.”
She whistles. “Nice. He’s totally into you. And he’s hot too.”
“Which is why I need your help. What should I wear to the masquerade ball?”
“I don’t know,” she says, and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s grinning devilishly. “But it has to be something uber sexy.”
The wheels in my mind turn and then it comes to me. I know exactly what I want to wear.
4
Owen
In my life, I have never had the urge to jack off in the fancy bathrooms at work or in my office, but after having lunch with Ensley, the woman of my pornographic dreams is leaving me with a very uncomfortable situation in my pants. There is something seriously wrong with me. No woman, not even any of my former girlfriends, have made me feel like this. I’m starting to think I need sex therapy for an addiction I didn’t realize I had until now.
When I enter Damien’s office, he has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you take her in the back of the Range Rover? Like the Halsey song?”
I sit down across from him and pull my leg up to rest my ankle on my knee. “First off, the song you’re referring to is by the Chain Smokers and featured Halsey. It’s called Closer. Their performance at the VMA’s was hot.” While we both love music, I’m more of an aficionado and am on the cusp of the music scene.
He nods. “Oh yes, the almost nip slip.”
“Eh,” I say. “Halsey used tape under her shirt. There was never any concern of slippage.”
Damien laughs. “Maybe next year, I’ll go with you to the show.”
“And what, miss classical night on PBS?” I ask with a laugh. Damien throws his pen at me, and while my reflexes usually are spot on, the damn thing jabs me in my rib cage. I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he inflicted any sort of pain though. And, he knows I’m joking. Damien’s music tastes are well rounded.
He slides a sheet of paper toward me. “I made a list of songs for the DJ.”
I take it and read over the songs. Each one is sexual in some way. “Nice, I like the way you think,” I tell him. “Damn, it’s been in forever since I’ve heard “Take Me on The Floor” by the Veronicas. We need to have a “sexy dance party” on the channel. I think people would like that.” I pull out my phone and search my music app for The Veronicas. They have some sexy songs, and I need them on my playlist, especially for this ball. I want to dance with Ensley and feel her body against mine, in more ways than one. I’m going to have to go through my old iPod and see what kind of hot, sweaty, sex inducing music I can find. “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon definitely comes to mind, along with Ne-Yo, and we must add Britney Spears with G-Easy, “Make Me”. I’m going to make sure every person at this ball has the hottest playlist to dance, including me.
“I’ll look at the schedule and see where we can fit it in. Maybe lead up to it so listeners can submit their song requests.”
Damien jots down some notes on his sticky notepad and slaps it on his monitor screen. “I’m assuming everything went well after I left?”
“With the exception I wanted to set Ensley on the table and have my way with her, everything went great.”
“Didn’t know you were into public sex.” Damien laughs at his statement. I’m not, but at this point, I might be if it means I can be with Ensley.
“Definitely not something I’d be into, especially with Ensley. I wouldn’t want any other guys looking at her.”
“I’m curious, how do you know she doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
“We slept together last month,” I point out.
Damien shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one now. You could be doing all of this for nothing.”
I stare at my friend and business partner. Part of me wants to punch him in his smug face for saying that, while the other half of me refuses to believe Ensley has a boyfriend.
“Shut up,” I say as childishly as possible. Standing, I say, “I’m going to my office to put the tickets online.”
“How much are we charging are employees to go?”
His question gives me pause. For every major gala or event I have been to, the employees buy tickets to attend, which seems to be normal practice. But on the other hand, the reason for the party is so I can get into the party planner's pants because I’m too chicken to ask her out and come clean about our one-night stand.
I stand near the door for a moment and think about what I’m going to do. “Our single employees get a free ticket, it’s only fair,” I tell him. “Non-employees will pay.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Just make sure you tell Ensley.”
“Why?” I ask.
Damien shrugs. “Because it’s an excuse for you to call her. Hell, at this point, I think you should make up a bunch of blunders just to get her to go to lunch with you again.”
“I’m sure she’s busy, Damien.”
“You’re right. It would be best if you just install a GPS tracker in her purse, so you know where she is at all times.” He laughs as I flip him off.
On my way to my office, I scroll through my phone, looking at Ensley’s website. She and her partner, Jordan, have a series of pictures of themselves at various events, but sadly there aren’t any pictures from the ball where I met her. I wish there were because I’d give anything to see her in that green dress of hers again. I’m going to have to request she wear it to bed, once I tell her who I am.
As soon as I sit down at my desk, inspiration hits me. I decide to send Ensley an email. I don’t want to call her if she’s busy, but an email can be professional, and at the end of the day, despite my actions now, I’m a businessman running an empire. One I won’t jeopardize with my bedroom antics.
* * *
It’s been two weeks since Ensley and I had lunch, and it’s the longest fourteen days of my life. I never knew I could miss someone I barely know, but this is the case when it comes to her. I never realized that party planning was such a demanding job. A few times, Ensley and I had plans to meet up for lunch or a cocktail, mostly because I acted like I didn’t know what I was doing, and she took care of my worries via email with a quick phone call. I tried not to take her brush off personally, but I’m carrying around a bruised ego.
There’s a happy vibe going around the office. Most of the people who work for us are young, single, and freshly out of college, so tonight will be a lot of fun. The only issue is my nerves. I’ve asked Ensley a few times what she plans to go as, and at one point, she mentioned she wasn’t sure she’d be able to attend because of a family situation. My heart about sank when she told me. I think I paced in front of my office window so much; there’s a permanent indent on my floor.
However, she put me at ease when she emailed the final headcount and told me she had secured her costume. Although, in my mind, I wondered what costume because I was planning to go as James Bond and just put a mask over my eyes, hoping she’ll recognize me from last time. I mean, it makes sense she’s wearing a costume, but all I can think about is one of those plastic things we wore as children, with the face mask meant to suffocate us on Halloween night.
On the floor where mine and Damien’s offices are, it’s decorated to the max with Halloween décor. The staff really went out of their way to bring a lot of liveliness
to their workstations. Black and orange cover every part of the walls, cubicles, and windows, and someone has spooky music playing.
I love the ambiance.
As I walk around the floor, people are laughing, chatting, and discussing their costumes. Many of the staff are eager for the ball and hoping to find someone to spend their night with. Hearing this and seeing their excitement reminds me that while my ulterior motive was to suit my own best interests, Damien and I have done something nice for our staff. We try to take care of them as much as possible. We do want them to be happy.
When I get to Damien’s office, I don’t bother knocking. There has been a time or two when I wish I had, but today could definitely be a mix of both—Damien’s dancing around, with his back to the door. As deftly as possible, I pull my phone out and start videotaping him. I’ll need this later for some epic blackmail session we’re sure to have.
Damien turns around, and that’s when I lose my calm. I bend at the waist, hysterically laughing while he calls me a mother fucker. Something hits the side of my face, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a black pointy ear lying on the floor.
“B. . .ba. . .Batman?” I finally say through laughter.
“Bruce Wayne,” Damien corrects me. “At least I was until you started mocking me.”
I take a deep breath, right myself, and shut off the video. Damien flips me off, which I’m guessing has to do with the fact I’m holding my phone. “First off, no one knows Bruce Wayne is Batman. Second, what’s up with the dance moves?”
Damien groans and leans back in his chair. “I started thinking about you and Ensley, and I got a little jealous. I was hoping to find someone tonight.”
“That doesn’t explain what I walked in on.”