Of course. At least he didn’t say tomorrow. I swallowed hard and looked down at the book. We were free.
“How many people?” I could pretend to be a professional, as long as my hands didn’t shake. He was pretty damn potent this close up. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t like slick guys in three-piece suits. But then the tricksy part of my mind reminded me that he looked great with a five o’clock shadow and those shirtsleeves rolled up. I wanted to ask about the mermaid tattoo, but I was tongue-tied.
“At least two dozen.” The rumble of his voice made my toes curl. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so attracted to a man I barely knew.
“What would you like to serve?” It felt a little like playing ping-pong with the back-and-forth comments. I deliberately matched my tone and pace to his.
“Coffee,” he said, like I was stupid.
That cut through the attraction a bit. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Decaf? Tea? Juices?”
“Yeah, all that sounds good.” He looked at his watch.
I was losing him, damn it. What did I have to do to keep his attention? I smirked and quickly undid two buttons on my shirt. I was flashing massive cleavage and probably the top of my black lace bra, but I didn’t care. I wanted the satisfaction of knowing that this burn of lust wasn’t just one-way.
“Do you want any food to go with that?” I might have jiggled a bit to catch his attention.
He looked up. “Of course,” he said arrogantly.
“Pastries? Breakfast sandwiches? Brunch quiches or salads?” I riposted back at him with the same snotty attitude.
He glared down at me, as if affronted by my tone. It wasn’t the reaction that I wanted. Still, I liked seeing that his hazel eyes had flecks of green in them. I flushed as I remembered them rolling back in his head at the club when that chick was giving him head.
We stared at each other and I had to control my breathing when I saw he noticed my décolletage.
“What do you recommend?” he asked, giving my body a slow but thorough look. That was the one I remembered from Saturday. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth when he got to my chest. Yeah, it totally wasn’t one-sided.
“What time of day did you need us?” I cleared my throat and he looked me in the eyes again.
“This time. I need you to set up for nine a.m. sharp.”
“Is this for a breakfast meeting?”
He nodded, his eyes sliding back down again. My nipples tightened when his tongue darted briefly to wet his lips.
Focus.
“How about I put together a tray of bagels and some gourmet spreads?” I gripped the pen tightly.
“I’ll leave it up to you.” He tucked a ten-dollar bill into my shirt.
His fingers grazed in between my breasts and outrage fled as pure lust flashed over me. Grabbing his coffee, he made his way out. I gaped at him, torn between running after him and fanning myself. I wound up just buttoning back up and putting his change in my tip jar.
Damn it.
I was going to overcharge the hell out of that prick. My face burned, but those tingles didn’t stop. I glanced up at the clock. 9:05 a.m. I hope he got hell for being late.
Luckily, Elaine knew where he worked because I realized I had forgotten to get all the relevant information. I hated that my palms sweated while I waited to get patched through to him.
Elaine made me call him up to tell him the totals and go over the details. I was so tempted to tack on a fifty-dollar surcharge for being a prick.
“Wentworth Agency, this is Janet speaking,” a sweet voice answered his phone.
“Hi, this is the Beanery. Mr….” Fuck it. “Mick was in here this morning ordering a breakfast delivery to be set up Friday morning.”
“Yes, you can give me the information.”
I refused to acknowledge the slight disappointment I felt. “It’s going to come to three hundred and fifty dollars. Do you want to pay now with a credit card? Or Mick can pay tomorrow when he stops in for his coffee.”
“No, Mr. Wentworth doesn’t like to be bothered in the morning.”
Yeah, no shit.
“I can give you the corporate card. Please hold.”
I listened to the jazz music and rang up a few orders while I waited. I gave the stank eye to a customer who wanted to order off the “secret menu.”
“I want the Captain Crunch latte.”
Some days I wonder if I’ll pull a muscle from stopping myself from rolling my eyes. I added hazelnut, butterscotch, and caramel syrup to a large latte and charged her ten dollars.
“With whipped cream.”
I took off the cover and swirled a pile on top. Ten-fifty.
She paid it happily and slurped half of it down on the way out of the shop.
To each their own.
We needed to put another batch of cinnamon buns in the oven, but the phone cord wouldn’t reach the freezer.
Janet came back on the line and rattled off the numbers for me.
“I’ll also need to get access to the building at eight a.m. that morning to set up for nine,” I said, watching as the transaction went through immediately.
“That won’t be a problem. Just ask for Janet and I’ll come down and let you in.”
“So what do you guys do there anyway?” I had my thoughts. Mick looked like an investment banker or maybe a real estate mogul.
“We’re a marketing firm.”
I had to lean against the counter in shock. “You guys hiring?” I found myself asking.
“Always. Email us your résumé.”
Now I desperately wanted to talk to Mick. Could he get me an interview? Or did I fuck up my chances by acting all smutty toward him? In this city, any connection helped you get ahead of the competition. What would it be like to work for him? Hell, if they had flex time or allowed their workers to telecommute, I could finally get my career back on track. If I could go in after Billy’s appointments in the mornings, I could be done in time to take him to the night meetings as well. At least I think I could. I nibbled on my lower lip. I needed to get in there and show them I was the perfect person for the job—whatever job. Hell, I’d work maintenance if it helped me get a foot in the door.
“Do you think if I brought him his extra whip, decaf drink that he’d be able to put my résumé on someone’s desk?”
“Honey, I’ll get you an interview today if you bring that drink with you when you come.”
“Done,” I said. “Thanks.” I hung up in a daze.
And that’s how I ended up sitting outside of Mick’s office while his very pregnant secretary gleefully slurped that pussy drink.
“How far along are you?” I asked her.
“Eight months.” She rubbed her stomach, then looked away with a sad expression.
“Did you find out the sex, or did you want to be surprised?”
“I wanted to be surprised, but the doctor let it slip. It’s a boy.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” she said faintly and ducked her head back to her computer.
Janet wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and she didn’t have any pictures up on her desk, so it was obvious she was going at this all alone. It was nice of Mick to get her coffee every morning. It made me think he wasn’t a total prick.
Tugging on my skirt, I made sure it fell well below my knees. There was no way I was flashing anything. I wanted Mick—Mr. Wentworth—to consider me a professional. No flirting. No playing peekaboo with my tits and certainly no eye fucking. Just me and my qualifications.
“You can go in now,” Janet told me and indicated the closed door with her head.
Blowing out a nervous breath, I wobbled a bit in my too tight but really businesslike shoes, before walking into his office.
Mick was frowning at the screen of his computer, which I really hoped didn’t have my résumé on it.
“Sit down,” he said without looking at me.
I slid into the chair across from him and adjuste
d my suit jacket. At least he hadn’t snapped his fingers at me. He was just as potently good-looking behind his desk as he was in front of my counter, damn him. At least his inattention gave me time to study him. I was looking for flaws. A zit. A nose hair. Something that would stop my stupid hormones from jumping up and yelling “Hooray!” when our eyes met.
It was a good five minutes before he glanced up at me. I was getting a little steamed, but the double take he gave me when he finally deigned to look up was worth it.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m your four o’clock appointment. I’m here for the marketing assistant job.”
“You’re Terri Cooke? The coffee girl?”
I bit down on several snarky comments. You’re a professional, I reminded myself. “That’s right. I graduated from NYU and I interned at Bradley and Bradley.”
He glared down at my résumé on his desk. “It said you worked for them for a few months after graduation.”
“I did.”
“I called Bradley and they had wonderful things to say about you.”
I smiled. “They did?” It felt good that I had been remembered and that my hard work had been noticed. “I really liked it there.”
“Why the hell did you give up that job to work at the Beanery?”
Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders. “I needed to take time off to care for my brother. He has a degenerative muscle disease, and last year he was in and out of the hospital.”
Mick grunted.
A nice guy would have expressed empathy or sympathy. Good thing I wasn’t looking for either.
“So now that’s behind you, you’re looking for full-time work again? Why not go back to Bradley? I got the impression that you’d be welcomed back with open arms.”
“Actually, I still am my brother’s caregiver.”
“What does that mean?” He tapped his pen on his desk.
“It means I’m looking for a job that will allow me to telecommute or have flexible hours.”
Mick was already shaking his head.
“Most of the time, I’m sitting in a doctor’s waiting room with Wi-Fi.” I spoke faster so he couldn’t cut me off. If I could just get him to understand that I wasn’t looking to screw around in bed in my pajamas, he might be receptive of the idea. “I could very easily put together a mobile office so I’m just as effective on the road as I would be in a cubicle.”
“I’m afraid you’ve wasted both of our time. We don’t allow our employees to work outside of the office. We deal with proprietary information.”
His snarky tone really pissed me off. “I can use a secure server.”
“I’m sorry, Terri. I really am.”
That time he actually sounded sincere, but the flash of pleasure at hearing him use my name was swamped with disappointment. I gritted my teeth but held in my anger.
“Feel free to look us up again once your obligations clear,” he said dismissively.
“That won’t happen unless my brother dies,” I said.
He blinked at me and I wished I could take those words back. It made me sound like I was wishing for that, and that was far from the truth.
“My brother is all I have. Our parents passed a few years back. He hates relying on me, but the cost of having a healthcare aide is prohibitive. So I have to do it. I don’t mind. I want to be there for him. He’s got this progressive disease, but it’s rare. So pharmaceutical companies don’t put any money into researching a cure because there wouldn’t be a lot of return on their investment.” I blinked back tears. “Except, ya know, for saving lives. Now there’s a new test he can get into and it might actually help him, but I have to drive him to one place in the morning and another place in the afternoon. But the in-between times, I can do the job.”
“Terri, your brother is lucky to have you.” Now he decided to be a nice guy. I teared up and looked away. I wished he would stay the tight-ass jerk. It would make this easier.
I swallowed hard. “I’m the lucky one. He was the best brother growing up. He took me with him everywhere. Billy is a decent man and he doesn’t deserve this. The disease is a real bitch. I don’t want it to control both our lives. We are so much more than this stupid disease.”
I saw the sympathy now in Mick’s eyes and it pissed me off worse than the snark.
“I want a career. I can do this job.” I leaned forward. “I can do it with my eyes closed, and no one will work harder than me. If you don’t want me working outside of the office, I’ll come in after hours. I’ll work nights, weekends. I’ll work sixty hours a week. Give me a chance to show you this can work.”
“Terri, if I made the exception for you, I’d have to make the exception for everyone.”
“And that would be a bad thing?” I slumped back in my chair.
“I’ve got five other applicants with your education and experience who don’t need special treatment.”
“Yeah,” I half laughed. “I get it.” I rubbed my hand over my face. It’s not like I hadn’t heard this all before, but I had to try. I gave it my best shot. One of these days, I’d find a company who would work with me. I just had to find them. They were out there. They just weren’t hiring at the moment. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if Billy got into the trial, but I’d jump off that bridge when I got to it. I made a note to see if there were any other under-the-table waitressing jobs I could score this week.
Mick stood up and held out his hand. I reluctantly took it and refused to acknowledge the sparks that flew up and down my arm. He had a nice handshake. Solid, warm, capable. I stifled a sigh. If nothing else, I finally got him to see me as a person.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Or maybe not. I was still just the coffee girl.
At least the pussy drink wasn’t for him.
“I guess you will.”
He held on to my hand a few seconds too long and I looked up at him quizzically.
“Do you want to go to dinner tonight?” he asked, tentatively.
He sounded so unsure of himself. I just stood in front of him, dumbfounded. Of course, had he snapped his fingers and said “Dinner,” I would have cracked him one across that strong, chiseled jaw.
“This isn’t how I usually end bad interviews.” I swallowed. “Is this a pity date?”
“This has nothing to do with this job. And I think you know that. You’re not going to work for me.”
I stiffened. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“But there’s something between us that I’d like to explore,” he said, lowering his voice to that growly bass I remembered from the club.
At last, some acknowledgment.
“Is that a code word for you’d like to get me naked?” My panties were wet and that felt really wrong in my interview suit. I licked my dry lips and watched as his eyes narrowed on my tongue.
A fierce heat entered his eyes and my heartbeat sped up. “I try to keep conversations professional in the office,” he said. “So I’ll just say I’d like to get to know you.”
“Why now? You’ve seen me practically every day for the past five months.”
He let go of my hand, and contrarily I wished he was still holding it.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind. Family stuff.” He shrugged. “Not as bad as yours but enough that I haven’t noticed what was right under my nose. Until recently.”
He was gaining points back. “I’m not going to a VIP club with you,” I warned. He was in for a surprise if he thought I would go along with his groupies and hang on his every word.
“Pity.” Mick grinned with a sexy smile that had the tingle factory between my legs act up again. “Did you like watching?”
Why did I ever think I’d be able to work with this man? I felt the heat flood to my cheeks. “Not as much as you enjoyed being watched,” I managed to come back with.
Running his thumb along my jaw, he traced my bottom lip. I nipped at him. Oh, yeah, if I couldn’t get a job,
he might be a nice consolation prize. At least I could get this annoying attraction out of my system. I could definitely be a one-night stand for him that would leave him weeping in his secretary’s pussy coffee. I mean, he wasn’t a Maeva in a shield maiden scenario—whatever the hell that was—but he would do. He would definitely do.
“Tonight, Donovan’s, eight-thirty?” he said. “I’ll send my driver, Lionel, to your apartment.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“Résumé.” Mick jerked his thumb back at his desk.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. This might be just the thing I needed to get out of the funk I’ve been in. Hard, fast, cheap sex with a delicious piece of man that I would see every day, for only five minutes. It could be a nice fantasy.
“Don’t wear that suit.”
“What’s wrong with this suit?” I was offended. This was my best interviewing outfit. It was Anne Klein. “It’s a classic.”
“Too many buttons.” He winked.
Chapter 5
Mick
When she swaggered into the restaurant wearing that skimpy red dress, I knew we were going to be fucking all night. Terri Cooke was smoking hot, and I was both damned happy she wasn’t going to be working for me and disappointed that I couldn’t help her out. We weren’t set up for telecommuting or flex time. Maybe someday, but it wasn’t a priority right now. I needed to concentrate all my effort on Lemmingware. I needed a marketing assistant who could hit the ground running and be available at all hours to make sure we kept the client satisfied.
It’s probably for the best that we kept this personal. I’d been thinking about her body for a few months and none of it was remotely professional—especially when I jacked off to the thought of fucking her on my desk, while those huge tits of hers bounced with each thrust.
Christ.
I shook myself out of the very vivid fantasy as she swayed closer. The Wentworth Agency had enough of a hard time with my mother sexually harassing employees and my brother impregnating secretaries. I didn’t want to carry on that family legacy by screwing my marketing assistant—not if I wanted to take my father’s position of CEO anyway. Banging the barista up against the wall, however, was fair game. I was already thinking of reasons to get her back to my condo.
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