Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love)

by Agnes Canestri

  That’s just…ahhh…

  My heart stutters long enough for me to notice. “Thank you, but that wasn’t necessary.”

  Devon shakes his head. “Of course it was. I’m not a drinker, but I’ve been tipsy enough times to know what it entails. If we hadn’t gotten your stomach filled, you would’ve had a massive headache the whole day. By the way”—he lifts a hand and traces two fingers from my temple toward my ear—“how is that throbbing doing?”

  The effect of his gesture is devastating.

  My stomach fills with butterflies—the giant, tropical kind with a wingspan that stretches almost a foot across—and the buzz sends ripples through all my cells.

  “It’s much better, I think,” I mumble, grateful that any sound makes its way out of my parched throat.

  “Ta-taa-ta.” Sandy intervenes in our conversation by leaning on Devon’s knees and attempting to capture the last bite of his doughnut.

  “No, Sandy,” I say and break off a piece from my untouched sweet. “Eat this instead.”

  My niece is apparently happy about the trade I offer—not only larger, but also covered with thick chocolate—because she immediately comes over to me and snatches my gift.

  “La-la da-da-da,” Mila chants.

  “That translates into ‘Laia I want some, too.’” Devon chuckles.

  He’s probably right, so I hand a piece to Mila, too.

  The girls chew on their prey with joyful grins, and once they’ve stuffed everything into their tiny mouths, they waddle to the sandbox again.

  I don’t stop them this time since now they can get filthy. Alicia has a germ-obsession, and she’ll bathe them as soon as they arrive home anyway.

  Without the twins’ presence, I’m again too aware of the heat emanating from Devon’s body. It becomes so unbearable I shift a few inches farther from Devon. Enough to breathe normally, but not so far he’ll wonder why I changed position. The last thing I need is for him to realize just how smitten I am with him.

  Devon has already finished his doughnut, but his eyes still have an eager glint.

  “Do you want the rest?” I hold out what remains from my own treat to him.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Are you sure? You still look hungry.”

  One of his brow arches. “Do I? Well, maybe I am. Just not for doughnuts.”

  My jaw drops, but before I can ask about his odd remark, he continues, “You told me you have a sweet tooth and that chocolate is your favorite flavor.”

  I wince as he recites my embarrassed jabber from last night.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing, just I didn’t expect you to recall that.”

  “I remember all the things you tell me, Laia.” The intensity of his gaze is such that my ribcage roils.

  Does his emphasis have a meaning? Or is he just boasting about his great memory?

  While I try to convince my brain not to jump to any hopeful conclusions about his potential double-meaning, Devon continues, “Like, I didn’t forget what you said about being used to people talking down to you. What did you mean by that? I’ve been wondering about it a lot.”

  “It was nothing but a peeved slip.” I wave, wanting him to drop the subject.

  But he doesn’t.

  “Please, Laia. I’m curious.”

  The honesty in his voice makes me think he really wants to know about my past, which is weird.

  Is this interest more than just a boss’s concern?

  I move my glance to Sandy and Mila, who are building a sort of castle or a large hill—depending on the point of view.

  “You know…” I start while keeping my eyes glued on the twins, “I’m the youngest in my family, and as such, my opinion always counted less than that of my siblings. Not in a mean, you are silly so we won’t listen to you way, rather in a we love you, but you’re so naïve one. Enough, however, to stop voicing what I used to feel or believe. This habit of keeping in my shell accompanied me my whole life, but recently I started to get fed up with it.”

  As I say it, I realize it might have been my real motivation for giving that motivational guide a shot and starting that bucket list in the first place.

  Yes, I wished to land a job, but there was more to my decision than just frustration over my refusal letters. I wanted to change into a better, stronger version of myself.

  Devon nods. “I can relate to that. I think Ellie struggled with the same problem when she was younger. It’s the curse of the little sisters.”

  The old Laia would respond to his emphatic interruption with a shy smile and then shut up, afraid she’d already given away too much of herself. But because I’m suddenly aware that, thanks to Devon and his choice to take a chance on me, I’m actually on the rocky road to becoming a more open person, I push myself.

  “If I’m honest, it wasn’t just my family. At school, I wasn’t popular. Not that I am now, but back then I used to be a kind of outcast.” I pause, unsure how to continue.

  Then I draw in a sharp breath and let the words rush to my tongue, without any filter. “I was a chubby Latina girl who always had burritos for lunch instead of trendy lettuce sandwiches. I wore my sister’s hand me down clothes and had no earrings or necklaces. I loved to read literary classics, while my companions were obsessed with reality shows and manga characters. I wasn’t good at sports but had good enough grades to be branded a nerd.”

  “It’s hard for me to believe you weren’t always this stunning.” Devon’s voice cuts through the demons of my past.

  “Well, you better believe it,” I say with a bitter smile, while a fragment of my mind registers that Devon has called me stunning. “I didn’t have girlfriends until high school. That’s when Chelsea’s family moved into my town, San Sebastian.”

  “Ah, so you and Chelsea go way back?”

  “Yes. Chelsea was the first person at school to look beyond my social reputation, and we became besties. Before that, I only spent time with my cousin Eva. Chelsea’s friendship turned things around for me because she was adored by many, especially by boys. Hanging with her allowed me to bask in her positive aura.”

  Warmth invades my spine as Devon’s palm lands on my upper back.

  I should move away if I don’t want my bones to liquefy into a gooey mess, but the sense of protection and pleasure I get from his touch is too irresistible.

  So I stay put and turn my head to him.

  When our gazes cross, he gives me a bright smile. “For what it’s worth, I happen to be a great fan of your aura.”

  Chapter 35

  (Devon)

  My fingers itch to slide up to Laia’s nape and graze the soft skin on her neck. Especially because I can see in her eyes that my touch is to her liking. Following through with my desire would come naturally to me. I’m used to giving the green light to my body’s needs while my mind takes the backseat.

  But if I want Laia to start seeing me as something more than just her player boss, I need to show her I’m more.

  I need to let her into my past. No matter how raw and vulnerable it will make me feel.

  So I withdraw my hand from her back and say, “By the way, having been a pariah is just one more thing we have in common.”

  “In common?” Her brows rise.

  “Yes. Did you assume I was a popular guy all my life?”

  “Actually, I kind of did,” she admits. “How could I not? Ellie told me Morgan was homecoming queen. Only the coolest guy in school gets to date the hottest girl, no?”

  Her reasoning isn’t far off.

  Conquering Morgan was a status symbol for me. As her boyfriend, I managed to chase away all the ghosts of my sickly childhood. Because she accepted me, I finally believed that I wasn’t an underdog anymore.

  I nod. “Yes, I was a rather well-known guy in high school, mainly in my senior year. But in elementary and middle school, I lived my days as a wretch. I spent weeks, or sometimes even months, at home or in the hospital. I could rarely p
lay outside, due to my severe respiratory condition. As a result, I was weak, pale, and shy. Just imagine, Ellie was my only friend, and even her bestie didn’t like me.”

  My glance moves to Laia’s giggling nieces. Sandy shovels sand on her sister’s lap with both palms, while Mila throws the dirt back to the ground with a gurgling laugh.

  “How terrible.” Laia sucks in a breath. “I can’t believe I didn’t even consider the ramifications of your disease… Girls may pay attention to perfect lunch boxes and pretty accessories, but I know from Luis that boys measure popularity in speed and strength.”

  “Yes, and I lacked both of those back then.”

  I blink at Laia. She chews on her lower lip, and my heart squeezes at the sight of her unease. It wasn’t my intention to rub it into her face that she made false assumptions about me. I just wanted her to know me better…and maybe like me better.

  “Don’t worry. My story, like yours, has a turning point. For me, it was our move from Washington State to Arizona.”

  Laia cocks her head to the side. “What happened? You arrived in Kingman and became the new hottie, like Chelsea in my school?”

  I like the teasing edge in her voice but even more the implication of her words.

  “I’m flattered that you would describe me as a hottie, but no, it wasn’t an overnight thing. In the beginning, I was still mostly invisible. But I started to do sports, and the more I worked out, the fitter I became. At the end of my freshman year, I joined the athletic team, and that’s when things turned around.”

  “How so?”

  “That’s where I met Wyatt. He was part of the football team. He convinced his trainer to take me on board. I wasn’t nearly as talented as Wyatt, which is why he’s a pro now and I’m not, but I liked playing in the team and enjoyed the social exposure it gave me.”

  “Yeah, girls are dazzled by football players,” Laia chimes in.

  “Wasn’t your dullard prom date a sportive too? A basketball captain?”

  Laia’s cheeks flush. “Yes. I guess I’m pretty much like all the girls then.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Not one bit.

  “Right.” She nods. “I’m probably the only female you know who wants to wait for…” She pauses and waves. “You know what I mean.”

  Since she offers the topic on a silver platter, I can’t stop myself from asking the question that’s been on my mind ever since my foolish behavior in the elevator.

  “Is it because of religion that you…?”

  Laia’s eyes dart to me. “Why are you interested?”

  She doesn’t need to know yet that I’d like to become a man with better relationship values because of her, so I shrug. “I asked you to coach my social life into a more meaningful pattern. Understanding your motivation could be my first lesson.”

  Laia gives me a smile that’s sweet but shy at the same time. “Okay, then the answer is no. I was raised a Catholic, but I don’t feel that I’m bound by religious rules about chastity. I just…” She sighs. “Ah, you’ll find it silly…”

  “No, please. I know I dismissed your principles as naïve in the past, but now I want to hear them. Try me.”

  Laia’s eyes flick to her nieces, but when she sees they’re still happily occupied, she rubs her hands together as if the gesture could help her organize her thoughts.

  I listen to the swishing sound with a growing expectation. I want to learn what makes her believe in the importance of waiting for true love.

  She starts out with something I don’t expect.

  “I know our bodies have their instincts. When we see someone attractive, we react to him or her, right?”

  Our glances cross, and I give her a lopsided grin. “Till here, you’ve got me on board.”

  She blushes at my comment, and I can ascertain just how right her words are because my cells drift into a state of arousal at the sight of her rosy cheeks.

  “Today, many think it’s stupid, if not even unhealthy, to resist these urges. On the other hand, I believe if we give in to them too soon, we deprive ourselves of something important.” She tells me this with a tone of somebody who has reflected on the topic a great deal.

  “Of what?”

  “Physical pleasure can transform into something powerful when it’s shared with the person you love. Then it’s not just an act to derive momentary euphoria, but a true unification between souls.”

  To my surprise, her reasoning speaks to me.

  Maybe because I’ve already experienced how much more satisfying a brief, casual touch of Laia’s skin can be compared to a night spent in the arms of a woman I don’t care for.

  “And what about passion?” I ask because I want to understand how she can manage to dominate her physical needs.

  “Passion?”

  “Yes, that irrepressible longing that connects the body to the soul. Sometimes it can be a gateway from one to the other.” My chest brews with the very sensation I’m trying to describe.

  Laia snorts. “Right. How many of the women you’ve slept with managed to reach your soul?”

  Her snappy answer leaves me speechless.

  She’s absolutely right. After Morgan, I knew only volatile pleasure. I didn’t even wish to go beyond that with anyone.

  Not until Laia came along.

  As if Laia can read my thoughts, she says, “You see? I think true intimacy is a major act of love. So, it shouldn’t be an alternate ending to a club night.”

  How can this philosophical and charmingly innocent discourse sound so sexy from Laia’s lips?

  I capture her eyes and try to channel all my admiration into my gaze. It’s too early to express what I feel for her. She could think I’m trying to play her to get my way with her, which couldn’t be further away from my intentions.

  Okay, fine, I do long for her body, too—a lot. But it isn’t the reason I want Laia.

  I’d like that real intimacy for us like she’s just described. For the first time in my life, I want to be with someone whose wit and values I admire and who understands and shares my hobbies.

  A person who could be my soulmate, for all I know.

  Laia stares at me with lips slightly parted, and she’s either perceiving my affection or our interlocked gaze stirs something in her, too, because her pupils dilate.

  Her breathing becomes deeper. I can hear her heavy draws of air, despite her nieces’ content baby talk and the pulse slamming in my ears.

  If I leaned in, my lips could press against her soft mouth. It would be so easy and so very satisfying.

  But that’s not how I want our first kiss to be.

  I don’t want to steal it from Laia in her moment of weakness. I’d like to do this properly. Maybe at a candle-lit dinner or something.

  Like a hero worthy of her romance books.

  So despite feeling like I’m tearing out my guts, I point at her nieces. “Shall we get them out of the sand and start walking back to the meeting spot with your sister?”

  Laia blinks twice, then jumps up. “Ah, great idea. Yes. We need to head back. Alicia and Brian always take less time than they actually plan for. They think they want to be alone, but then they miss their kids so much, they hurry back to them. But that’s just normal parenting.”

  My eyes dip to her lips.

  Why can’t I stick to my resolution, dang it! I said I wouldn’t kiss her here, so I need to stop staring at her mouth.

  To jumpstart my brain, I stand up and grab the tray. “I’ll throw this away. I’ll be back for the two angels in a sec.”

  Laia smiles. “Good, because I think Mila and Sandy will want to be carried by you. I hope you won’t have back pain tomorrow.”

  “No, the girls are feather-light. It’s a pleasure to hold them.” I grin.

  I turn away before I can add that the one person I’m dying to hold is the little monkeys’ aunt.

  As I walk to the bin, swaying the tray back and forth in my hand, my heart is filled with giddy optimism.


  I could see that Laia wanted me to kiss her. Which means she might be starting to see that I could be that special person she’s waiting for.

  Just as this thought crosses my mind, I know with absolute certainty that I want to be him.

  I love Laia, and I would want nothing more than for her to love me back.

  And I might just have the perfect stroke of genius about how I can stack the odds in my favor.

  All I need is more time with Laia. Alone.

  Chapter 36

  (Laia)

  I lift the grey carry-on to my bed and spread it open.

  What shall I take for three days in Tucson?

  Chelsea enters my room with a cocktail dress thrown over her arm and a smug expression.

  “You’ve given me short notice, but I think I managed my mission. What do you think?” She lifts her purchase and holds it out to me. “Will this dress be suitable for the gala?”

  “Oh, my gosh, Chels,” I squeak as my eyes travel to the pale-blue fabric that seems so soft I want to rub my cheeks against it. “You outdid yourself. If you ever need a fallback profession, being a personal shopper would be a career to consider. You’ve the most amazing taste!”

  I don’t know where Chelsea found this attire, but it’s perfect. The A-lined delight looks comfy but chic at the same time. And, as always, Chelsea nailed my body shape and size.

  My friend basks in my compliment but pretends to be modest. “Ah, it wasn’t that hard, after all.” Then she drops her act and grins. “I’m so glad you like it. And it’s totally in the budget you gave me.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” I step over to her and give her a hug.

  I called Chelsea this afternoon and begged her to come to my rescue after learning about Devon’s revised agenda for the CCF.

  CCF stands for “Celebrating Creative Folks” and it’s a yearly gathering for hotshots who work in the advertising field. It’s mostly a networking event and is usually organized in breathtakingly fancy hotels.

  I already knew he was participating after Katja made his hotel reservation my first day in the company. What I didn’t know, however, was that he would extend a last-minute request for me to join him on his trip.