by Piper Rayne
“Come here, Sparky. Here, boy.”
Sparky doesn’t move but just continues to stare straight ahead at me.
“Come here,” I say in my most cajoling voice when all I really want to do is scream, Get out here, you little runt. I’m soaked and freezing my ass off and you’re running around the park with a pink vibrator in front of this insanely hot guy who probably already thinks I’m nuts.
But Sparky doesn’t move.
In frustration, I stand and stomp my foot again. “He’s never coming out of there.”
“Let me try.” Cole comes over to my side so I take a step back to allow him room. He bends down in front of me and I have to admit that the view isn’t half bad.
“Sparky. Sparky, come here.” He slowly reaches his hand forward and into the opening of the log for Sparky to smell. I can’t see if it’s working or not, but Cole holds his pose for a minute and then I see Sparky’s little face near the opening.
I guess Cole’s scent is truly irresistible. Even to another species.
He moves his hand just outside of the opening now. “Come here, boy. You know you want to.”
Boy, do I.
Sparky moves a couple more inches until his entire face is out of the log. I hold my breath hoping he won’t retreat. Cole moves his hands closer and closer until they’re wrapped around Sparky’s little body and he’s lifting him to his chest.
“There, little guy. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he says as he pats his head. “Do you want to get out of here?” Cole glances over at me and I come out of the trance I was in watching him be so gentle to the little minx.
“Oh. Yeah, of course.”
He closes the distance between us. “We don’t have to, you know. A forest fuck in the rain could be kind of cool.” His gaze flicks down to my shirt, which is white, soaked, and plastered to my chest. I don’t have to look down to know that my nipples are erect and proudly on display.
“Yeah, not happening.”
“You sure about that?” he says. He bends to the side to put Sparky on the ground and closes those final few inches between us until our chests are just barely touching.
“Nothing can ever happen between us again.” Jeez, even I can tell I didn’t mean that by the sound of my voice.
“I would have thought with the way you were crying out my name last time that you’d want a repeat.”
I still. “What do you mean?”
He slowly shakes his head back and forth. “Don’t you remember our deal? You have to be nice to me and I’ll tell you next time I see you.”
Damn it. I’d give almost anything to be able to remember that night now. If I was begging whatever was going on must have been damn good.
“Fine.” I rip the leash from his hand and begin to walk back out of the forest. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
I hear Cole following on the forest floor behind me. “Sure it does. I know as well as you do that you’re dying to know.”
I simply shrug. It’s useless. He’s obviously enjoying playing this little game with me and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing for sure how much it’s bugging me that he’s the only one who remembers what happened that night.
Cole jogs up until he’s beside me. “You keep forgetting this.”
In his hand is the Tickled Pink vibrator. Without a word, I snatch it from his hand and continue walking with my head held high and long confident strides I don’t really feel.
I’m amazed that I didn’t give any thought to the fact that I left it there. I can only assume my subconscious either thought he was too much of a gentleman to bring it up or it was blocking it out completely as a way of coping. Clearly assumption number one was wrong. There’s nothing gentlemanly about Cole Webber.
Sadly, I seem to kind of like it that way.
11
I have to nail him.
This. Not him. I have to nail this interview.
Cole’s been on my mind ever since that day at the park last week and apparently, he still is. I can’t believe he’s even coming to mind while I’m sitting in the reception area waiting to be interviewed for my dream job.
WHFI is a Bay area station and they’re looking for someone to do their on-air weekly investigative report. Even though I worked at a newspaper before, this was always my end game. The chance to be on air doesn’t come around often and to be able to do it while investigating and righting wrongs for the less fortunate? It doesn’t get any better than that. At least not for me.
“Miss Knight?” I glance up at the receptionist across the room sitting at her desk. “They’re running a little behind on the interviews, so it will be a few more minutes.”
“No problem.” I smile wide. My old boss at the paper used to tell me that he’d always check with the receptionist to see what her impression of each interviewee was, since everyone’s on their best behavior when they’re in front of the person who has the ability to give you your paycheck. It’s how they treat the people who can’t do anything for them that’s the best judge of their character.
I sit there letting my one knee bounce up and down for a minute when an attractive blonde enters, goes to speak with the receptionist, and then comes to sit down near me.
I try to glance over at her inconspicuously so I can size up my competition and then wish I hadn’t. If I’m up against her I’m in trouble. She’s gorgeous. Actually, she’s beyond gorgeous. If I’m honest, she reminds me of Kate Upton.
Look, it’s not that I have zero self-esteem, because I like to think that I have a decent amount. But if we’re comparing apples to apples and one of those apples is just your regular average apple and the other is juicy, shiny, and would win the prize for best apple at the spring fair then they always pick the latter. Being on air is about being able to do the job and being attractive. Sad? Maybe. But that’s the reality of it. The station owners aren’t going to put Quasimodo on the evening news.
A little piece of my confidence shreds away and falls to the floor.
“Are you here for an interview, too?”
It takes me a second to realize that she’s talking to me.
“You look nervous.” She smiles and Jesus, she’s even more radiant. A part of me wants to dislike her because she’s probably going to win this job over me, but there’s something sweet about her.
“I am. And I am. Nervous, that is.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you interviewing, too?” I ask, hoping she says no.
She nods her head and my stomach twists. “I’m hoping for the sportscaster job.”
Suddenly a ray of hope shines through the dark, desolate sky. “Well, good luck.” And I mean it because she seems nice. “I’m here for the reporter job.”
That awkward silence ensues for a moment. You know, the one where you’re chatting with someone you don’t really know and you’re not sure whether to continue the conversation or just let it drop. “So, you’re big into sports?” I ask.
“I grew up with four older brothers so I didn’t have much choice.” She hesitates and seems to consider whether to divulge the rest of her story for a moment. “I know I don’t look like your typical sports reporter.”
I’m not sure what to say to that because she’s right. “No, you don’t. They usually have more chest hair. Less chest.” I decide to go with stating the obvious.
“Right?” She laughs. “I’ve been cursed with these things since I was a teenager.” She looks down at her very, very ample bosom.
“Really? I was praying for something like that when I was a teenager.”
We laugh together this time and she sticks out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Kelsey.”
I take her hand. “I’m Whitney.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiles but then slumps back into her chair a bit. “It’s been so hard trying to get a job in this industry with these. No one wants to take me seriously, but I know what I’m doing. I’ve been watching sports since I was in the womb and I went to broa
dcasting school. I can do the job. I just need someone to take a shot on me.”
“That has to be frustrating.” I feel bad for Kelsey. She seems nice and though I was wishing I could have a figure like hers when I first saw her, now I’m wondering if it’s more curse than blessing.
“Can you believe that one station head down near Los Angeles actually told me I wouldn’t be able to do the job? That these”—she points to her considerable assets—“would be too distracting for the players.”
“He actually said that?” I see a spark in her eyes and though she comes across as sweet and fairly innocent it’s clear that she can hold her own when provoked.
“Out loud.”
“Wow. I don’t even have words for that.” My phone buzzes from my purse on my lap and I reach in to find it. “Excuse me for a second.”
Kelsey nods.
My heart picks up pace a bit when I see it’s a text from Cole.
Cole: Hey. Just talked to Chase. Wedding duty calls.
Me: I’m sitting waiting to go into an interview. What’s up?
Cole: That’s what she said.
Me: Seriously?
Cole: You’ve never seen The Office?
Me: Of course I’ve seen it. What I mean is that I’m kinda busy so get on with it.
Cole: That’s what she said.
Me: I’m turning my phone off now.
Cole: Hold up. Okay, I talked to Chase and we’re on deck.
Me: For what?
Cole: Meet me at the bar and I’ll fill you in.
Me: That’s what he said.
Cole: Now who’s wasting time?
Me: I’ll be over when I’m done.
Cole: I’ll still be here.
Me: K, see you then.
I power my phone off so that it won’t disturb my interview and toss it back into my purse.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Kelsey.
“No problem. Boyfriend?”
“Oh, God, no. Annoying best man of a wedding that I’m in.”
Kelsey grins and leans forward like she’s about to share a secret. “There must be something good about him if he’s putting that smile on your face.”
Before I can deny her claim the woman behind the desk interrupts us.
“Miss Knight?” the reception says. “Mr. Jeffries will see you now.”
My stomach does another somersault as the nerves return. I’d almost forgotten about them while I was out here chatting with Kelsey.
“Good luck,” she says and I stand from my chair.
“Thank you. And same to you.”
She smiles and I follow the aging receptionist through a cubicle laden office bustling with people until we reach a corner office. It’s sparsely decorated and not that huge, but it’s clear someone of importance resides here. It overlooks the city with a wall made of glass and there’s a wooden shelving unit with a bunch of different awards on it against one wall.
A well-groomed man in his mid-forties with slicked-back hair and a lilac dress shirt with matching tie sits behind the impressive desk.
“Mr. Jeffries, this is Whitney Knight. Your three-thirty.”
“Thanks, Margo.”
She gives me a small smile before closing door behind her when she leaves.
“Please have a seat.” Mr. Jeffries gestures to one of the leather chairs across from his desk. “It’s good to meet you. Sorry about running behind.” He leans over his desk with his hand extended and I take the offering, giving him a firm handshake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
He opens a file folder in front of him and pulls out a few sheets of paper stapled together, which I recognize as my résumé. “It says here you were let go from your last job at the Sacramento Chronicle?” He turns his attention to me, but unlike a few of the other interviews I’ve gone to, I see no judgment there, only curiosity.
“They were downsizing and I didn’t make the cut. I was lower on the seniority scale than most of the other people there.” I could add that it wasn’t that that resulted in me being let go, but I don’t. Because I want this job.
“Things are pretty lean in the print industry right now. It’s tough to sell ad space when everyone’s moving to free online sources to gather their news.”
I don’t respond because he turns his attention back to my résumé. “What did you find the most challenging part of your position at the paper?”
From there we launch into a rather enjoyable conversation about my experience and why I want the job of an investigative reporter. I’m hoping my passion for uncovering the truth and helping those who can’t help themselves shines through. Overall, I’m feeling confident by the time we’re wrapping up.
Mr. Jeffries glances at his watch. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Whitney, but I have to wrap this up. I have one more interview and then my husband is dragging me to the 49ers game.”
I smile. At least if I get the job I won’t have to worry about this boss trying to seduce me. “Not a big football fan, are you?”
He grimaces. “Not at all. I don’t know why I let him drag me to these things, but he’s a sports nut, so what can I do? Relationships are all about compromise.”
I rise from my seat and reach out to shake his head. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sir. I hope I hear from you soon.”
“Someone from WHFI will be in touch. I remember what it was like when I was out looking for a job. It’s the worst not hearing anything back.”
I exhale in relief. “Thank you. I appreciate that. It really is the worst not knowing either way.”
“Excellent. We’ll talk soon then.” He nods.
“Enjoy the game,” I say with a little cheek.
He laughs and picks up his phone and I can hear him asking the receptionist to send in the next interviewee. When I pass Kelsey in the hall I wink at her and mouth, Good luck. Regardless of what happens with me, she seems like good people and I hope she gets the job.
As I enter the elevator to make my way down to street level I send a small prayer up to whoever is listening to help me get this job.
With that taken care of I mentally shift to my next task—meet with Cole. Without succumbing to his charm. That’s always so much easier said than done.
12
I arrive at the Thirsty Monk and when I walk through the door and smell the stale beer and fried food it reminds me of the night I met Cole. I still don’t recall what happened when we went back to his house. But damn, do I wish I did. It’s disconcerting to think that Cole knows something about me that I don’t. I’ve always relied on myself and I don’t relish having to rely on him to tell me what went down that night.
I glance around and there are a few patrons scattered at various tables around the place, but no Cole. I walk over to take a seat at the bar, the same seat as the night we met.
The pretty blonde bartender smiles at me and comes over. “What can I get yah?”
“I’m looking for Cole. Is he around?”
Her forehead crinkles just a little bit and she gives me a quick once-over before she manages to put the smile back on her face. “He’s in the back. Can I tell him who’s here?”
“It’s Whitney. I think he’s expecting me.” I smile back at her, but I know it’s strained because this girl is giving me the vibe that I’m invading her territory and it makes me wonder what the deal is with the two of them.
She doesn’t say anything else before she leaves.
A minute later Cole comes out from the back, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a gray t-shirt with a logo that says Hard Rock Whiskey over the top of his pecs. The cotton hugs every sharp line of the muscles in his arms and chest. He smiles wide at me and it makes his eyes kind of sparkle and it has me briefly wondering if they look like that for everyone or just when he sees me.
Which is something that I should absolutely not be wondering, because he’s off limits.
“Hey, you want to grab a table over there?” He gestures to a table near the
window that doesn’t have any other patrons around it.
“Sure,” I say and slip off the bar stool.
The blonde girl returns to her post behind the bar, but she’s eyeing the two of us warily like she’s trying to figure us out.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Cole asks once we’re seated.
“Maybe just a water.”
He raises a brow. “No whiskey?”
I roll my eyes. “I think I’m safer around you if I stick to non-alcoholic beverages.”
He chuckles. “Let’s be honest. Even sober you find me irresistible.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “I think you’re mixing that up. It’s the other way around.”
Instead of delivering some quick quip back like I expected he looks me straight in the eye and says in a low, serious voice, “That goes without saying.”
We hold one another’s gaze for a minute before I clear my throat and look away. The pull between us is magnetic and hard to resist. But, I remind myself, I have to. I know the type of man Cole is and he’d take my heart, fill it up, and then burst it into a million pieces while I sat there willingly and let him do it.
I’ve always prided myself on standing on my own two feet and this man would bring me to my knees.
After an awkward silence, I ask, “So what did you call me over for?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
I ignore the thrill that zips through me because I’m sure he’s just messing with me. “Can you be serious for a second?” I ask with an exasperated sigh.
“Chase and Tahlia want us to scope out a bunch of places for them to have the ceremony and report back.”
“Are you serious?” I scrunch my face up.
Cole shrugs. “He called me and that’s what he said.”
“Isn’t that really something the bride and groom should do?”