Love Emerged (Love Surfaced #3)

by Michelle Lynn

  “Spill,” he says.

  I shake my head. “What? That we need to prepare for the Nike ad?” I sit down in my chair, keeping my back to him. Usually, I can lie as well as Bernie Madoff, but when it comes to Dylan, I wish I could stand up in my cubicle and tell them that I scored a pretty great guy.

  “You’re worthless. Samantha said he grabbed your hand.”

  “So?” I boot up my computer, typing in my password.

  “You don’t see me grabbing your hand. Or Kevin.”

  I feel his eyes on the back of my head, waiting for me to spill all the details of our relationship.

  “Oh my God, it was nothing.”

  He makes a tsking noise. “I don’t know, Bea. Watch yourself. Those work romances never end well. I mean, how often do you really hear, We conquered the company together? More often, it’s, Biggest mistake, and now, I have to sit across from him in every meeting.”

  I take a deep breath, concentrating. “Then, it’s good that nothing is going on with me and Dylan,” I lie, biting down on my lip to stop the smile emerging on the off chance that he swivels me around.

  “I’m going to let you deceive me, but as soon as the two of you are ready to come out, I expect to be the first to get details.”

  “Um, that would be me,” Yasmin speaks up.

  My hand flies up, thumping back down on my desk.

  “Why don’t you all mind your own business? Bea and I just worked our asses off on an account, and we’re presenting today. The last thing we need is for the rumor mill to go into overdrive.”

  The bite does no good because after Dylan’s remarks, my smile is wide and open. John swivels me around and shakes his head when he sees my face.

  Saying nothing, he spins me back around to the computer.

  Samantha buzzes me to tell me that Nike is here, and she showed them to the conference room. Since Nike had explained that we would have an hour to present and talk before they went to Chicago for another firm’s pitch, I spring up in my chair, my stomach tumbling with every step. Dylan meets me at the corner of the cubicles.

  We lock eyes, each taking our own breath. This is it—my ticket to senior executive. His hand brushes mine at my side, and he leans forward, his lips at my ear, his breath tickling my neck.

  “Don’t worry. You’ve got this. You’re a beautiful, confident woman, who’s smart and creative. Now, let’s go in there, so we can kick some ass and celebrate . . . naked and fucking.”

  A pool of wetness releases onto my panties, and I’m thinking he had a very bad idea with his inspirational speech.

  Couldn’t he have just left it at, Let’s go get them, with a high five?

  No, Dylan had to go all nakedness and sex talk as his wet mouth was about to suck my earlobe.

  He pulls back, smiles, and waits for me to go first.

  Jackass. Although, I have to say, feeling wanted sure is a confidence boost.

  Samantha gives us two thumbs-up as we pass her desk, and I smile. She might be tooth-decay sweet, but she’s okay.

  All the execs from Nike are lined up with their backs to us. Looks like a mix of four men and two women.

  I stop, feeling a last drop of fear. “There’s so many,” I whisper.

  Dylan nods.

  He’s used to this. He was the one who sat in many presentations with AdSec, the most distinguished and admired firm in advertising. He sat in on meetings with celebrities who were endorsing the item. The man has connections, and I’m guessing that’s why he’s so much calmer than me.

  Knowing I can’t walk in first, Dylan slides by me in the doorway, taking the first seat since he’s presenting his portion first. I sit down next to him, being sandwiched between him and Tim. Mr. Knight and a vice president on the other side of Tim are making smalltalk with everyone.

  I nod and smile to the execs, checking each one out. They all have one thing in common. Young and fit. Seriously, at least two are younger than me. They look fresh out of college. The one girl is admiring Dylan as he looks over his notes, jotting some last-minute things down. I, however, am still, waiting for the introductions.

  Tim stands, and we all follow, but Dylan is still concentrating on the ad campaign until Tim says his name. As I’m shaking each of the six people’s hands, the pen from Dylan’s hand drops to his pad of paper. No big deal, but when I glance over to him, his face is ghost white, and he’s staring at the girl who was admiring him.

  The girl with bouncy brown curls and the girl-next-door face smiles wide, her perfectly white teeth shining bright. “Hi, Dylan,” she says.

  I nudge Dylan’s arm when he doesn’t respond because the other execs are staring at him. He blinks, coming out of his haze.

  “Ava,” he chokes out.

  I glance back to the girl and to Dylan. I’m missing something here.

  “Please excuse me for a second.” Dylan bolts out of the room.

  The girl follows him after whispering something to her coworker.

  Dylan

  I HAVE TO BE SEEING things because if Ava is standing across from me right now, I might lose my coffee all over this table.

  Here is this enormous opportunity, and Tim already assured me that I’m in if I nail this account. That I won’t just make it to senior exec, but I’ll be in charge of the senior execs.

  Now, God has some screwed up way of screwing me. My future career is sitting in the hands of Ava, my ex-girlfriend who calls me every other day, asking for forgiveness. Forgiveness that I’m not giving her.

  To make the situation worse, Bea is on my right. Now, she’s probably confused as to why I’m currently running out of the room to compose myself.

  “Dyl,” says the voice I’ve tried to erase from my head.

  The chipper sound that I once found endearing, hot even, now grates on my nerves.

  I put my hand up in the air. The longer I stay out here, the worse this pitch will be. I’d like to punch myself in the face for even walking out of that room.

  “After,” I say, walking by her and straight back into the conference room.

  All faces are turned my way, curiosity and annoyance on most but Bea’s. She studies my every move, and when Ava follows me, Bea tracks her back to her chair. I can see her working it out in her head, who she is and why I had the reaction I did.

  But I can’t worry about Bea or Ava right now. I need to focus on this pitch. A campaign that Bea and I have been working on every night to perfect.

  “Dylan”—Tim looks past Bea—“everything okay?”

  I clear my throat and straighten my suit jacket sleeves. “Yes, Tim. I apologize.” I lower my head to the Nike team. “I left something by the receptionist desk,” I lie. What else am I supposed to tell them?

  Clearing my throat again, I wish that I were sitting so that I could chug a glass of water. Hell, give me the whole damn bottle, and while they’re at it, they can switch it out for vodka.

  Bea’s encouraging smile eases me a little, and I nod. She starts up the computer to start the presentation, and I move over to turn off the lights.

  “We’re well aware that you’re number one in your industry, so please let me show you what Deacon Advertising has come up with for you,” I start my pitch, taking the seat next to Bea.

  She adds in where we’ve written that we’re changing. Bea’s more secure with the girl lines, clearly referring back to her swimming days.

  An hour later, we’re sitting across from the team sent to us from Nike with the lights on and my heart about to pop out of my chest. I’m fortunate because they’re a transparent group. None of them sit there, stone cold. Some are smiling, and others are pleasantly content in their seats. I’ve accompanied a few stiff jerks during my time at AdSec, and there isn’t one in this bunch.

  “I think it’s great,” Ava speaks first.

  I glance at her from the corner of my eye. Fuck.

  “I agree,” Tim chimes in, smiling that pervert grin to her. Probably thinks he’ll get lucky with her.
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  I ignore them and focus on the boss man in the middle. The boss always sits in the middle because he sits first, and then his subordinates file around him.

  He nods. “I really liked it. I think you have a unique idea. Of course, there would need to be some tweaking.”

  “Of course.” Bea smiles, nodding.

  I watch his eyes dip down to her blouse.

  “I liked the woman line more, to be honest. Did you say you were a swimmer?” He focuses on Bea.

  “I did. Michigan.”

  “I think that’s valuable experience other advertising companies don’t have. Especially with the new line we’re starting that’ll be strictly for women’s sports.”

  He ignores everyone else at the table, and I’m starting to think he’s interested in more than her sports history.

  “I do have to say, I feel as though sports apparel for women is behind compared to men. We would like more than just a slew of pink or purple.” Bea laughs.

  He instantly joins her, making the people at his sides laugh as well. Do as the boss does—every employee’s motto.

  “The boys have more than blue to choose from,” she adds.

  They laugh again, and an unfamiliar prick hits my heart.

  Damn, stop flirting, Bea, I want to say. But it’s not because she isn’t schmoozing great with the boss man, but because she’s mine, and somehow, I want to slam my fist on this table and claim her.

  “We’re working on that, but I’m really liking the idea.” He thinks about it, stands, and plays with his wedding ring, circling it a few times. Probably wishing he’d had slipped it off before coming into the meeting. “We’ll let you know. Decisions will be made in two weeks.”

  Each exec rounds the table and begins shaking hands.

  “Thank you for coming and for the opportunity,” I say to the boss man, who is just buying time with me until he can reach Bea.

  Bea is nothing but professional the entire meeting, but Mr. Perv Boss Man keeps eyeing her cleavage. Ava is the last one from Nike to shake everyone’s hands, and she slips a piece of paper in mine. Bea glances over, and I shove it in my pocket before she spots it. If I was jealous just by witnessing her interaction with an account, she’d be much worse knowing my ex slipped me a note.

  Tim shows the Nike team out, and I move over to my chair to pack up my belongings.

  “I think it went great!” Bea’s excitement toward me can be compared to a cheerleader pumping up her high school hockey player boyfriend after a tie game. Optimistic that he did great.

  “It went well, but I think he’s more interested in you than the campaign.” Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.

  “No, he wasn’t. You’re ridiculous.” She shoos me with her hand.

  If this place wasn’t a damn fish bowl, I’d be claiming her on the desk.

  The ironic thing is, I was never this jealous or possessive of Ava. She had a best friend who was a guy, and never did I suspect anything or even care that he’d sleep at her apartment on some nights. I think if Bea told me she had a best friend who was a guy, I’d be cutting that shit off.

  “Believe me, he was flirting and checking out your cleavage.” I twist on my feet to file out of the room, crossing my fingers that we nailed this account.

  “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  From the distance of her voice, I can tell she hasn’t moved an inch.

  I close the door because her voice has a tinge of anger in it.

  “I’m not suggesting anything other than that the guy is a pervert and would have nailed you on this table if you had given him the opportunity.”

  “I think you’re saying that, if we gain this account, it’s only because he wants to fuck me.” She slams her file folders on the table, placing her hands on her hips.

  I laugh.

  She doesn’t.

  “That’s not what I said at all.”

  “You know, men are always thinking that women have to flirt to move up the ladder or use their bodies to seduce the managers to give them a chance. Did you ever think that what I was saying was the truth?”

  “I agree with you.” I hold my hands up in the air, trying to calm her down.

  But she’s not stopping. She’s like a train on high speed.

  “You know what, Dylan McCain? You can go to hell. I should be the one wondering why you saw that cute brunette and bolted out of the room. What was that? Who is she?”

  This isn’t exactly how I wanted this conversation to go. I had plans of taking Bea to dinner to celebrate and toss it off that Ava was my ex and that I had no idea she was working for the company, let alone their marketing department. But the way Bea’s eyes are digging into me, I see that I have no time to wait.

  “She’s Ava.”

  There’s no recollection on Bea’s face. “My ex.”

  There it is. Her shoulders deflate for a second. Then, she stacks her folders in her arms again and walks my way.

  “Bea,” I say, reaching for her.

  But she does some football running back move, dodging my touch.

  “She’s pretty,” she says. She saunters out the door, like it doesn’t faze her one bit. Fear jolts inside me that maybe it doesn’t.

  I’ve always believed that I’ve been the one pushing this relationship, so if she’s not jealous at all, it could mean I was alone the entire time we were together. Although I wish she wouldn’t act indifferent. Maybe a little cat fight or fighting for your man wouldn’t be so atrocious. Boost my ego a little.

  I let out an exasperated breath, shoving my hands into my pockets. My palm swallows the small piece of paper, and I pull it out to see what Ava wants.

  I’m at the MGM until tomorrow morning. Room 1734.

  “Fuck,” I murmur. I crumple it in my hand and toss it in the trash can on my way out.

  The rest of the day, Bea gives me the silent treatment. I stop by her desk after I see John leave their shared cubicle. Sliding into his seat, I spin her around to face me, and her earbuds pop out of her ears.

  “What the—” She stops and stares at me. “Yes?”

  I lean in close because everyone has ears around here. “How is it my fault that she was here?”

  Bea hands me a pad of Post-it notes and a pen. I grab my phone out of my pocket, but she shakes her head, pointing to the antiquated note-taking mechanism.

  I roll my eyes but go with it because I can’t handle this cold-shoulder treatment.

  I scribble down a quick note.

  I had no idea.

  She forcefully grabs the pen out of my hand.

  Uh-huh.

  Instead of taking her pen away, I take another out of John’s penholder.

  We won’t reach a mutual decision like this. She’ll never believe me, and I’ll eventually become exhausted from trying, so I cut to the chase.

  I’m going to take her to dinner. I need to clear the air.

  A low growl rises up Bea’s throat as her death stare commences on me.

  I have no choice. She needs to know that we’re through. No chance.

  She rips off the neon green Post-it note and starts a new one.

  Whatever you have to do . . . Dyl.

  My fingernails dig into the arms of John’s chair. She’s so infuriating.

  Can I come by after?

  She comically laughs, and I don’t need to read what she’s scribbling down to know her answer.

  I have plans.

  Yes, with me. Remember, naked and fucking?

  Another Post-it note gets ripped off and tossed into the trash can. Why she refuses to text this conversation, I have no idea.

  Sometimes, plans change.

  She twists her seat around, placing her earbuds in. I could be more forceful, make her listen to me, but anyone that knows Bea knows that you can’t force her to do anything.

  So, I jot one final note, sliding it toward her. Then, I stand up and leave her small space.

  On the way back to my cubicle, I stop in the corner w
here the two window sides come together. I pull out my phone, finding Ava’s number easily since it’s on my Recent Calls list twenty times.

  Me: Meet me at Kilroy’s Pub. 5 p.m.

  I wait a few seconds to see if she responds before going back to my desk.

  John gives me a wave as he enters the cubicle I just exited. He’ll be happy his chair is still warm.

  Ava: Let’s do my room. We can order in dinner.

  She attaches a damn wink emoji, and I couldn’t be more annoyed in this moment.

  Me: It’s Kilroy’s or nothing.

  Instantly, those three dots appear right before a text chimes in.

  Ava: Fine. 5 p.m.

  I tuck my phone back in my pocket, dreading the conversation that will take place in exactly one hour. She’s been hounding me for weeks, and I need to tell her that I’ve moved on.

  An hour later, I walk into Kilroy’s, finding a booth in the back. It’s still empty since most of their patrons come in after work, six o’clock being their peak. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be out of here. What a dickhead way of thinking. Break a girl’s heart, so I can go fuck another. Damn, Detroit is corrupting me.

  I sit with my back to the wall, so I can spot Ava when she walks in. I don’t have to wait long when she strolls in, stopping at the hostess station.

  She’s really put on the works tonight.

  When I first met Ava, she was simple, jeans and sweater girl, but tonight, she’s all dolled up in a short black skirt and tank-top silk blouse, showing the swell of her tits. Does she not realize it’s late October in Detroit? Surely, New York isn’t having warmer weather than us. Then, I spot her jacket hanging off her arm and her purse firm in her hand.

  The hostess points over to me, and Ava’s eyes follow. She saunters to me like she’s a stripper on the catwalk, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, making her ass sway. The construction workers in the two booths she just passed are much appreciative of her attire. They refrain from whistling, however.

  “Aren’t you going to hug me?” She waits outside the booth, but I just stare. Soon, she gets the hint and sits down. “Why are you so grumpy? I thought you’d be ecstatic to see me.”