by Chiah Wilder
She pivoted on the barstool toward me. “Looks like you and Cory are getting along.” She giggled while she looked at me with a slightly unfocused gaze.
“He seems nice. You and Colin have been chatting up a storm.”
She giggled louder and nodded. “His cute English accent is making me so damn horny.” A peal of laughter bubbled from her lips.
“Which part of England is he from?”
“Uh… I don’t remember.” She leaned in close to my ear. “I’ve got a confession. I can’t understand half of what he says, but I love listening to him.” Another burst of laughter.
The two barstools next to Sofie opened up and I plopped down on one of them, putting a napkin on the other. “I’m going to get Cory. Make sure you hold these for me.” I scurried over to him, and soon I was leaning against the bar, sipping a Bailey’s Irish cream.
As I talked with Cory, Sofie grasped my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Mr. Prescott is here.”
All at once my brain turned to mush, the predictable flutter that always came alive whenever I was near him unfurling in the pit of my stomach. I had no clue what Cory was talking about. “Where?” I said.
“Where what?” Cory replied.
“I was talking to Sofie.” I spun toward her. “Where is he?”
“By the pool tables. At first I didn’t recognize him without his suit, but when he looked up, I saw his eyes. They’re very distinct.”
“Are they? I hadn’t noticed.” Yeah right. They’d been haunting my dreams ever since I’d laid eyes on him.
“He’s a good-looking guy, but not as cute as my Colin.”
“Now he’s your Colin?” I said, bumping my shoulder against hers. She bobbed her head, her curls falling across her forehead as she leaned against his bicep.
I turned my attention to the pool tables, and that’s when I saw him watching his opponent make a shot. He wore a pair of jeans that fit just right and a T-shirt stretched across his chest that molded to every muscle. I licked my lips and watched him, mesmerized by the way he leaned down low, light catching the muscles in his back. His biceps tightened as he held on to the cue stick and made his shot. Every movement he made hit me between my legs. I squirmed in my chair, yet I was unable to turn away from him.
“You doing okay?” Cory’s voice broke the spell and I swiveled around, nodding.
He looked past my shoulders and for a brief second, a dark shadow fell across his face, but then it was gone. He glanced at his watch, then past me again.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
A long pause ensued and I didn’t think he heard me. As I was about to repeat the question, he looked at me again. “No. I have to go. I didn’t think it was so late. I enjoyed our conversation. I’ll call you about Thursday.” He slid off the barstool and shrugged on his leather jacket.
A sinking feeling assaulted me. Lifting my chin, I stared him right in the eyes and asked, “Are you married?”
The tenseness of the last few minutes evaporated when he laughed. He put his arm around me and said, “No, Cierra. I’m not married. Why did you ask me that?”
I shrugged, not as amused as he was, and replied, “You just sort of freaked out when you saw the time.” Now that I said it out loud, it sounded silly. Just because a guy said, “It’s late,” didn’t mean he was married.
He squeezed my shoulder. “I have an early appointment in the morning, that’s all. I wish I could stay, but I don’t function very well without getting enough sleep.” He smiled, which made me feel even sillier.
“Me neither, but I’m not as disciplined as you are.” I smiled back.
“I’ll give you a call.” He turned around and headed out of the pub.
I immediately swung around and fixed my gaze on the pool tables, but my boss wasn’t there. I pressed my lips together and heaviness spread through my body. The idea that Trace Prescott had left the pub didn’t sit well with me, and I was mad at myself for caring. I’d just had a wonderful conversation with Cory, and yet one glimpse of my boss turned everything upside down. Angry, I grabbed my purse and walked toward the restrooms.
The ladies’ room wasn’t very far, but it was a challenge to maneuver through all the people. As I elbowed, twisted, and pushed my way along, I tripped and fell forward. With my head down, my arms flailing to grab on to something to stop my fall, I crashed into something hard.
“Shit!” I cried, sure my butt was going to hit the floor when a pair of arms surrounded me, curtailing my fall. My head lay against a hard chest, and I looked up to see who’d saved me from a lot of bruises and aches. And that’s when my gaze met his. Of all the people in the pub, I had to have bumped into him.
“You slamming into me seems to have become a habit,” Mr. Prescott said.
“I tripped.” That was the only thing I could come up with. I was mortified that I’d fallen into him once again. I also couldn’t trust my body being that close to him. It was already misbehaving: dampness in my panties, shallow breathing, stomach fluttering like a swarm of butterflies had gotten loose, and a dull throb in my private parts. I tried to untangle myself from him, but he held me tight and walked me toward the back of the bar.
“It’s nice bumping into you. Are you having a good time?” His voice was smooth like melted dark chocolate, making a shiver run up my spine.
I nodded. “Sofie’s with me. We came for dinner and drinks.” Why I had to let him know that I wasn’t with a guy was beyond me. Whenever I was around Mr. Prescott, I turned from a smart, professional woman into an insipid, brainless one.
“Do you come here often?” His warm breath fanned over my face as his familiar scent wisped around me.
“Yeah. I live nearby.”
“Do you?”
I nodded and lowered my gaze. That’s when I noticed the ink peeking out from the top of his T-shirt. I wanted to tug the shirt over his head to see the full tattoo displayed over his ripped chest. My mouth was as dry as desert dust, and without thinking, I traced the outline of his tattoo with my fingernail. I could’ve sworn I heard him hiss, but before I could be sure, someone from behind pushed against me, propelling me closer to Mr. Prescott.
“It’s crowded in here,” I croaked.
“I don’t mind it.” He ran his thumb under my bottom lip, and the heat in his eyes sent a bolt of desire between my legs.
All of a sudden, the voices, the music, the clink of glasses all vanished; the only thing I was aware of was the scent and feel of him. He lowered his head and came closer. Our faces were inches away. My lips parted and I swore I heard him growl before I closed my eyes, my senses on high alert as I waited for his lips to press onto mine.
But it never happened.
My eyes flew open and Mr. Prescott stepped back, his arms dropping to his side. The warmth of him was gone, an icy chill replacing it. “Watch yourself. You don’t want to stumble again,” he said. And then he turned around and disappeared in the crowd.
What. The. Fuck? My head reeled, my body shook, and my blood boiled. I was beyond mad. A huge part of me was humiliated that I’d opened myself up to him like that. I knew he was an asshole even before Kelsey confirmed it, yet I stood there waiting for him to kiss me. I fucking wanted it.
Enough. I’m done.
A few minutes later, as I was leaving the ladies’ room, the door flew open and I jumped out of the way. A very drunk blonde teetered in on four-inch heels. She swayed toward me and I put out my hands to steady her when she looked at me.
“I know you,” she slurred.
It was Chandra Pierce, Mr. Prescott’s secretary. “Hi. It’s me, Cierra.”
“That’s right. Did you see Mr. Prescott? He had his arms wrapped all around a woman. I wonder if the paparazzi are here tonight. I’d love to have my picture in the paper.”
“Are you going to be okay? I have to get back to my friend.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my boss.
“You know what? The woman he was with was wearing the same thing y
ou are. Isn’t that funny?” She swayed again and then her face went white. Her hand to her mouth, she dashed to one of the stalls.
I walked out and realized that Mr. Prescott had seen Chandra and freaked out before he kissed me. Knowing that made the sullenness shrouding me dissipate as I went back over to Sofie and Colin. They were kissing up a storm, and I figured I’d just head home.
“You leaving?” Sofie asked as I slipped on my cardigan.
“Yeah. Are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want.”
“I’m good.” She grinned.
“Okay. Call me tomorrow.”
As I was leaving, I sensed someone staring at me. I looked over my shoulder and met the smoldering eyes of Mr. Prescott. Standing there, we locked gazes and a strong connection pulsed between us. He lifted his chin at me and gave me a crooked smile. Did I see regret etched on his face? I thought so, but maybe I was reading too much into it.
I broke away and walked out into the drizzling rain.
Chapter Eight
Trace
I watched Cierra walk out into the night and it took all my strength to stop myself from chasing after her, crushing her against me, and kissing her tempting lips. I ran my hand through my hair and slumped against the pillar. If I hadn’t spotted Ms. Pierce, the night would’ve played out differently. Her drunken gaze was the cock-blocker I needed. All I saw after that was my grandfather’s face, and it wasn’t smiling.
Shit. I have to get a grip. But Cierra felt damn good in my arms. She did something to me that I couldn’t explain.
“You up for another game of pool?” Nick asked as he came up to me with a draft in hand.
“Not really.” I pointed to a tall dude guzzling a beer. “He’s looking to play.”
“Cool. What happened to the chick you had in your clutches? She didn’t want any fun?” Nick laughed.
“You saw that? She actually tripped and fell into me. Hey, that guy’s coming our way.” I didn’t want to explain Cierra to Nick. Normally we’d have a laugh about it and I’d move on to scope out the room for another hot chick, but it wasn’t like that with her. Talking about her in that way seemed cheap, and besides, I didn’t even know what was going on with the two of us. I know she felt the same strong pull but she was fighting it. I was sure she still saw me as a player and an asshole, but the connection was real, and that’s what kept bringing us together.
I have to stop thinking about this. About her.
“I’m good to go,” Nick said as he followed the tall dude to the pool table.
I went to the bar and ordered another dark lager. Several women were checking me out, tugging their tops down so more cleavage showed and trying to catch my gaze. I wasn’t into it. Then Ms. Pierce wobbled her way toward me and I turned around, hoping she hadn’t seen me. If I just kept my back to her I’d be—
“Mr. Prescott.” Her voice was like a cheese grater on my nerves. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you’re doing. Drinking.” I half turned toward her.
“I never thought I’d see you in a place like this. I mean, I thought you only hung out in places where you have to be on a list to get in.” She hiccupped and brushed her bangs away from her forehead.
“Surprise. I’m just like the ordinary folk.”
“That is a surprise.” In her inebriated state, sarcasm was lost on her. “Are the paparazzi here?” As she spun around, scanning the room, she lost her footing and, once again, I saved a woman from falling on her ass. But she wasn’t Cierra, so I settled her against the bar.
“It looks like you’ve had enough, Ms. Pierce.” And I had as well. “Good night.” I walked over to Nick and told him I was going to take off. He wanted to stay, so we made plans to meet at the club for a game of racquetball the following week.
Outside, a chilly mist clung to every surface. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walked toward my car. Once inside, I started thinking about Cierra, what she might be doing right now. I imagined her in a short, sheer nightshirt, stretched out on her couch with her knees bent and her legs parted. No panties, just a peek of pink visible….
My cock punched against my jeans. I was hard just thinking about her.
So fucking lame!
I threw the gear in drive and sped away.
That Monday, I made it a point to avoid Cierra. I’d convinced myself that I was going through some crazy shit because I had just taken on a huge responsibility in running Velocity. Cierra was an easy distraction, and that’s all there was to that. Now that I had a handle on what was going on, I didn’t need to lean on what I knew so well—women.
Besides, I had a much bigger problem to deal with: crucial information about Vibra had been leaked to one of our competitors, DTG Agency. I’d been on the phone all morning with our client, trying to assure them we had a handle on it, but the truth was we didn’t. As much as I and my grandfather hated to admit it, we had a mole in our midst. My grandmother would’ve killed me had she known I brought my grandfather into the melee, but I needed his help. He knew the employees better than I did, and he would be better at guessing who would have access to the information and would betray us.
The focus at the moment was the production department, but in this industry, all the departments worked closely with each other. It could be anyone. It was a mess. We were two weeks from launch and DTG Agency, which had sprung up only in the last few months, was turning out to be a big contender.
The fact that the shit hit the fan after my first week didn’t go unnoticed. It felt like someone was trying to either sabotage my position or get back at my grandfather for leaving abruptly. Doug Raley’s face slid across my mind, as well as Gwen St. Martin in Online Development, Ron Stillwater in Accounting, and a few other staff members who’d been bitter about the way Grandpa handled the situation.
What I needed to do was find out everything I could about every employee and DTG Agency. I wasn’t going to risk Velocity’s credibility and the faith the shareholders and the community had in the company. I picked up the phone and dialed Ivan Soulianovich. He was a private investigator I’d used over the years when I needed to thwart phony lawsuits from photographers, women, and others. A rich guy like me had all sorts of people trying to take my money. It seemed like my wealth brought out the worst in people.
After talking with Ivan, I decided to stroll through the different departments and make sure everyone knew I was going to be present in their work lives. If I could see the daily workings of each department, I’d be better equipped to figure out where the leak was coming from.
I left Cierra’s department for last, hoping she’d have taken off a bit early. No such luck. She was hunched over her desk, her brow furrowed, fingers flying across the keyboard when I passed her office. Just because she was there didn’t mean I had to talk to her; she was obviously in the middle of something and I knew I shouldn’t disturb her. I went by for a second pass and paused. She lifted her head, those captivating eyes met mine and I was frozen to the spot. I couldn’t move. And I didn’t want to. It felt as though someone had stung me, but instead of pain it was this sharp wash of excitement that shuddered through my body. She smiled at me nervously, lifting her hand to wave, and I did the same.
“Hey,” I said from where I stood.
“Hi.”
I took a few steps and stood in the doorway. “You look hard at work. I like seeing that.”
She laughed. “Lindsey asked me to send some things to her so she’s up-to-date when she comes back on Thursday.” She gestured toward the computer.
“She really trusts you.”
She shrugged, then shook her head and grinned as though she couldn’t lie even to herself.
“Yeah, she does. She knows I was at that meeting with you last week, and I think that’s elevated me in her eyes.”
“You shouldn’t need any elevating,” I replied, leaning one arm on the door frame.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Did you get home
okay the other night?”
She blushed at the reminder. I loved the way crimson painted her cheeks.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“It was good seeing you outside of the work environment.” Her cheeks turned redder.
What the fuck are you doing? I was flirting with her at work, out in the open. I had a clusterfuck going on with Vibra, two new prospective clients I was wooing, and a board of directors that wouldn’t be too happy about the leak, and I was flirting with Cierra, an employee. What the fuck is wrong with me? And I wasn’t even going to think about the no-fraternization policy. I was striking out on all fronts.
“Yeah.” She turned to her computer. “I should probably get back to work,” she went on, her voice lowering a little bit. “But… thanks for dropping by.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, putting some distance between me and the woman I couldn’t seem to stay away from. Heading to the elevators, I wondered if I’d bitten off more than I could chew with Velocity.
And with Cierra.
Chapter Nine
Cierra
I slowed as I tried to read the addresses on Mission Street, searching for the soup kitchen I’d volunteered for. The windows in my car were fogging up a storm, and I cursed the bad timing for the heater to stop working. Rainy March nights were damn cold in the city, and I made a mental note to take the car to my mechanic early the next morning.
Oncoming headlights glared, horns honked behind me, and I was ready to give up when a dull neon “Soup Kitchen” sign blurred in the rain. I pulled into the parking lot, thankful I’d found it, and grabbed my tote and scarf. It was freezing that evening, the kind of cold that settled in heavy around my shoulders and wrapped its icy fingers around my skin. I pulled my scarf up over my mouth and furrowed my brow as I hurried to the front door, the rain sloshing under my boots.
I was glad not to be home obsessing over Trace Prescott. His name passing through my memory made me cast my eyes upward in annoyance at how firmly he’d squirmed inside my head. What the fuck was his problem? He’d almost kissed me at the Tipsy Cow, and then he came by the office at the end of the day and flirted with me. Other times, he was cold and professional. What the hell was up with the hot-and-cold crap? What was I supposed to make of him?