Wasted Vows

by Colleen Charles

  “There are–” I cut off and looked down at the table. “Lar, there are private thoughts in there I don’t want to share with anybody. Stuff about loneliness and what happened at the wedding. If he only read the part about him, that would be mortifying but not earth-shattering. If he happens to go further back…”

  It was Larissa’s turn to push her plate away. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Private thoughts are meant to stay private.”

  We fell into an uneasy silence. The waiter arrived with our refills and placed the sodas, brimming with ice, in the center of the table.

  I grabbed one and probed its depths with my straw. Nope, no saliva in evidence. The guy clearly didn’t know who I was. I slurped some of the fizzy drink up and rolled it around in my mouth, welcoming the prickly burn down the back of my throat.

  “Tell him you need to see your contract,” Larissa said.

  “Huh?”

  “You know, your contract for the job. Tell him that you lost yours, and you need a copy of it. There’s something you wanted to go over, or you just need another one for your files.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great, that’s exactly what I need… another chance to show my ineptitude. All he’s seen is my clumsy, nervous side.” Usually, I was organized and on point, but being around a handsome, powerful man like Corban had driven the usual competence right out of the window. “You know the one? That part of me that hasn’t seen the light of day since Thorn. It’s back. With a vengeance.”

  I had my awkward moments in everyday life, sure, but nothing like what I’d experienced in that boardroom. Or in his office when we first met. After a year of hiding out in my Summit Avenue home – or should I say Thorn’s Summit Avenue home – it’d been totally overwhelming to step into the corporate setting with Corban as a witness to that.

  “That’s the most solid plan I can think of,” Lar said. “Be totally professional, and then when he goes to get it sorted out, sneak right into his office and get that damn journal back. I know you. If you’re worried that he’s going to turn into a hater because of Thorn, you won’t relax into the brilliant event planner I know and love. But if it makes you feel any better, Corban isn’t a huge baseball fan, and he’s never mentioned you or the incident.”

  “Awesome. That’s perfect.”

  “Yes, and once you have the journal back, we can finally relax and enjoy our lunches instead of obsessing over your new boss’s reading habits.” Larissa’s lips curled at the corners. “Although, I get the feeling that Corban might become a regular topic of conversation for us.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Oh, come on,” Larissa said. “You didn’t just jot down that he was a potential Baldwin brother because you had a glass of wine. Honey, I wasn’t born yesterday. You are into him.”

  I gulped down soda and clinked the ice against the side of the glass.

  “You can’t even look at me. And you’re blushing. You never blush unless I’ve hit the nail on the head.”

  “I am not into him,” I said at last. “He’s gorgeous and everything, but I don’t think I’m ready for anything after what happened.”

  “It’s been a year, Luna. An entire year. I understand that it was painful, and you’ve been through a lot, but you can’t continue handling this on your own.” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Corban’s a good guy. One of the best. You could do worse.”

  “I don’t have a choice but to stay on my own.” I fought back tears and waves of emotion because I couldn’t tell Larissa the cold, hard truth. “Corban might not know about Thorn now, but he will soon enough, and once he finds out, any romantic aspirations will fly right out the window. I can’t get my hopes up. I can’t think of him that way. It will only end in pain.”

  Larissa shook her head. She took my hand and squeezed tight. “Corban is tremendous, and he was raised with Midwestern values. If anyone would understand what happened, it’s him.”

  “How could he? I wouldn’t be able to tell him the truth no matter how much I wanted to,” I whispered. “And I can’t lie my way through a relationship. That’s just not me.” I grabbed another napkin from the dispenser and wiped my nose. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t feel that way about Corban, and he certainly doesn’t about me. How could he? I’ve done nothing but flounder in his presence.”

  Larissa didn’t refute the claim, but she’d known me long enough to identify my lying face. I did have a crush on my new boss, but it was one that’d fade soon enough. All the others had. And if I had to chase this one away with a steel bristled broom, I would. I had to.

  It helped when they realized who I was. That way, they could destroy my hopes before I got the chance to let them gallop out of control.

  Chapter 8: Luna

  I was a terrible liar. That was a good attribute though. Who liked hanging out with a good liar? Still, I couldn’t wrest my pounding heart from the iron clad fear which squashed it to a meaty pulp.

  The hallway outside Corban’s office at Unique Corporation was empty, apart from a few paintings of the Minneapolis skyline that reminded me of the… well, the Minneapolis skyline and what was at stake here. More than just my feelings. My future.

  The snooty woman at the reception desk on the first floor had insisted I sign in to speak with Mr. Drake. And she’d called up to tell him I was on my way. God, that made this all the more awkward. Now, he expected me and would be intrigued to find out what I wanted. Probably expected a progress report on the event, and instead, he’d get treated to more of my incompetence. Who lost a copy of their employment contract?

  What if he noticed the journal missing and called me about it?

  No, why would he do that? He was probably as embarrassed as I was about the situation. He’d be happy to be rid of the tempting, feminine item.

  I strode down the hall toward his opaque glass door, and a thought drifted up from the fog of doubts. Why hadn’t Corban just given the journal to me before the presentation? Heck, why hadn’t he called me and arranged a handover? A few words and a slip of the hand and he’d have easily given it back to me. Was he keeping it for some nefarious intent?

  Corban strode around the far corner and my questions melted away. He carried a stack of papers and checked his watch as he walked, each step swallowing up the carpet beneath him. My breath caught in my throat, and my clammy hands almost lost their grip on the strap of my bag.

  “Corban,” I said and raised my hand.

  He looked up and stalled before he reached his office. “There you are. My assistant said you wanted to speak with me?”

  “Yeah, uh, I realized something when I got back to my office,” I replied. “I’ve misplaced my contract. Our contract.” Beads of sweat tracked down my spine. Thank god, they weren’t on my forehead. I struggled to regulate my breathing.

  “Oh?” Corban shifted the papers in his grip.

  “Yeah, I wanted to go over it again because there was something I, uh, missed. But I don’t have it. Would you mind if I got another copy for my files?” My mouth went dry, and I almost choked on the last word. I meandered up to his office door, trying to play it cool. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Corban towered over me, and I caught a whiff of his cologne. Heaven. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d have enjoyed it more. Something light but fragrant with green undertones. “It’s not an inconvenience. I’ll ask Jeffrey about it. Mind waiting here for a sec? It won’t take long.”

  I exhaled and offered a brilliant smile. “Sure. No problem.”

  Perfection. My grand plan was about to come to fruition. I couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy. Corban hesitated a moment and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something. He snapped it shut.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I just wanted to congratulate you on your presentation this morning. I was impressed, and the others were too. We’re happy to have you on board. I know I can trust you to make this the best event in Unique’s history.
”

  “Thank you,” I said and chewed the inside of my cheek. That made the subterfuge even worse. Would he just fetch the damn thing already so I could snag my journal and this whole crappy situation would be over? Then, I might actually be able to determine if I liked him on a personal level. But for that to happen, this anxiety had to fade into the distance so I could bring him the best version of Luna Faye.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “You’re going to be okay out here?”

  I grinned. “I don’t see any sharks or piranhas around.”

  “The lawyers are one floor up,” he said with a wink and a charming grin that made my insides melt. “Be careful. You might invoke them.”

  That wink. Focus, woman, focus. The journal. You’re here for one thing and one thing only. Don’t get distracted.

  I looked over my shoulder. The coast was clear as it’d get. I tried the handle, and Corban’s office door swung inward. I hurried inside and right up to his desk, blood pulsing in my ears. The view of the city from up here amazed me, but I didn’t have time for distractions. Corban could be back any second.

  I slipped around to his side of the desk and contemplated his leather seat for a second. It looked like the kind of chair that massaged your aching flesh during long hours of work. I shoved aside my longing for an executive chair and wrenched open the first drawer of his desk.

  A Parker pen rolled into view. Nope. Not what I was after. I slammed it shut and opened the second drawer.

  “Bingo,” I whispered. My journal’s leather cover winked up at me. I grabbed it and stepped away from the desk. At least, I tried to.

  My skirt, the traitorous bitch, wouldn’t let me get far since it was hooked inside the first drawer I opened. Correction… not hooked. Stuck. Wedged. Cemented in place.

  “No, no,” I said and dropped the journal back into position. “No.” This skirt was my work skirt. Tight but appropriate. I didn’t have another one like it. I tugged on the drawer, but it’d eaten my beloved skirt’s hem and refused to regurgitate.

  I gave one final yank and threw my body weight behind the movement.

  My skirt gave an almighty rip and tore free from my hips.

  “No,” I whispered in horror.

  Cold air buffeted my butt cheeks. I’d chosen a thong this morning, for that extra confident feeling and the lack of panty lines of course, and I never wore a slip. They made my legs itch. The result? I was now half-naked standing in the natural light of Corban Drake’s office.

  I’m going to throw up. It couldn’t get any worse than this.

  A creak and thunk sounded outside the window, and I spun toward it. Karma hated my guts.

  Two window washers dropped into view. One bent over a small bucket of what I assumed to be water or window cleaning fluid, and the other held a scraper in his hand as he stared at me.

  Oh. My. God.

  I tugged on my torn skirt, still trapped in the hungry maw of Corban’s desk and kneed the second drawer shut in the process.

  The window washers hooted, screaming and flailing. The guy with the scraper dropped his tool and banged on the pane. “Yeah, baby,” he yelled. “Take it all off.”

  I shot him a withering look, but it probably came off as panic.

  The fat guy in the overalls thrust his hips toward me and whistled. His buddy pressed his face up against the window and mimicked licking it.

  “Go away,” I shrieked and gave up on extricating the remains of my work skirt. I turned away from them and bent to cover my naked legs, consequently flashing the door.

  And the man who’d just walked through it.

  “What the–?”

  And I’d thought it couldn’t get any worse. I looked back over my shoulder and opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came out except a weird, keening noise. Kind of like a baby kitten searching for its mother’s nipple.

  Corban rushed toward me and stripped off his jacket. He handed it over. “Cover up,” he said before turning his attention to the lewd window washers.

  The two men in overalls cut out the shenanigans. They shared a glance, and the one on the left fiddled with the pulley system, adjusted his crotch, and they dropped out of sight with another ominous creak and a thunk.

  I wrapped Corban’s jacket around my torso and tied the sleeves together at my hip – kind of like a corporate sarong, except this one was laced with humiliation.

  “Are you okay?” Corban asked and faced me again.

  I made another kitten mewling sound, then snapped my mouth shut. There weren’t words to reply, and I couldn’t explain why my skirt was hooked in his desk drawer. It would mean admitting I’d snooped in his office.

  Corban’s gaze traveled to the dangling skirt. The sympathetic expression didn’t fade though. He hooked his hand under my elbow and walked me toward the door. “Come on. I think you’ve had enough action for one day.”

  “A-action,” I stammered.

  “Yes,” he replied and grimaced. “Bad choice of words. Let’s just say men are dogs. Probably lower. At least dogs are loyal. Let’s say rats or pigs.”

  Did he mean he was a rat too? Or just the ogling window washers?

  I walked down the hall with him in silence, embarrassment scouring my insides raw. I replayed the moment he’d run into the office over and over again in my mind. A slo-mo repeat that refused to switch off and drove me further into the realm of utter mortification.

  Why couldn’t I do anything right? I’d never live this down. I’d never forgive myself.

  Corban escorted me into the elevator and pressed one of the silver buttons. I didn’t pay attention to which one. I was so overcome with roiling emotions I couldn’t even summon a rational thought. I stared at the silver doors instead, fighting back tears and praying no one else would step into the space and notice my strange choice of attire.

  The doors clicked closed.

  Great, now we were alone. In that moment, I could no longer hold back the pain, and an achy tear escaped my eyelid and fell. I saw it hit my forearm, but I didn’t reach out to swipe it away. Doing so would put my quasi-outfit in jeopardy.

  Corban didn’t make small talk. He rifled through the papers he’d brought with us instead, then thrust them toward me. “This is the copy of the contract you asked for. If you need anything else, just give me a call.”

  “I – thank you.” At least I’d quit the kitten mewls. “I don’t usually – I wasn’t stripping down in your office–”

  “I know,” Corban said. “There’s no need to discuss it.”

  Of course there wasn’t. I’d put my foot in it again and managed to embarrass myself and him in the process. Drake was high-powered. He didn’t have time for the bullshit that gravitated toward me. And now I’d stepped in it.

  Corban brought out his cell phone and texted away. I was invisible to him. Again. Now, why did that hurt most of all?

  I turned my head so he wouldn’t see my tears. Many others had left my tormented eyes to follow the march of shame down my face. Larissa would laugh her damn ass off at this situation. No. Once she found out how I felt about it, she’d hold me tight and cry right along with me. Then, she’d hand me a glass of wine and draw me a bubble bath.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Corban walked me past the reception desk and the bitchy receptionist. Stares followed us, along with judgment and censure that grazed hot on the back of my neck, and I kept my eyes focused on the glass revolving doors that let visitors out onto the street.

  Would he just toss me out there and tell me to grow some professionalism? He should. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. The thing Corban didn’t know and couldn’t understand was that I hated myself in this moment far more than he ever could.

  Corban guided me into the street and stopped beside a black town car. “This is my driver, Lou,” he said. “He’ll take you wherever you need to go, and he won’t make you feel uncomfortable. He’s a good guy.”

  I gave him an awkward, “Thanks.”


  “Here…” He took a pack of Kleenex out of the pocket of his shirt. “For the uh, black stuff.” He gestured to his cheeks.

  I turned to the car and caught sight of my reflection in the glistening back window. The black stuff was streaked mascara which’d ruined my makeup. I looked like a hag. An unprofessional, stripper hag.

  Corban opened the door for me. I slipped into the interior, praying for deliverance from this moment – an escape from the embarrassment. Any hope that the gorgeous Mr. Drake had looked at me as anything other than a client had torn along with my favorite skirt. And to toss on a fresh load of insult to injury, I still didn’t have my journal back.

  Corban shut the door without saying goodbye, then turned and motored back into the Unique Corporation building.

  “Where to?” Lou asked from the driver’s seat.

  I didn’t know what to say. Home sounded wrong in my mind. “Summit Avenue,” I whispered.

  Chapter 9: Corban

  The two perfect globes of Luna’s ass had lodged themselves in my brain and wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t just that she’d worn a lacy thong, or that she was toned but curvy in exactly the right way. It was the thought of her half naked in my office. Stripped bare to my hungry eyes.

  In. My. Fucking. Office.

  With a door that locks.

  The shock when I entered the room yesterday afternoon and found her bent over, shielding herself from gawkers, had been replaced by arousal and then outrage at the gyrating washers outside. I didn’t give a shit that I’d already imagined her naked and bent over my chrome desk because I didn’t want any other lewd male eyes surveying the goods. From the meeting with the execs to the skirt debacle, I didn’t want another man even mentioning her name.

  I had the window washing company replaced this morning. That kind of behavior couldn’t be tolerated at Unique Corporation, even if the boss’s son might’ve joined in had he been present. Luna was a guest at our office. A guest. And she’d been treated like a two-bit whore standing on a street corner jonesing for a twenty.