by Tess Summers
“I have time for a quickie,” she purred. “My boss isn’t coming in until later this morning because he has daycare duty, and I told my assistant I’d be late because I had to drop off Cary Grant…”
His car roared to life, and he was pulling away from the curb before his seatbelt was even fastened.
It was all he could to keep from hitting the red GO BABY GO nitrous button to get them back to his place faster. Not really advisable when maneuvering the city streets.
She giggled at how fast he was driving, but didn’t say anything else—just watched him the entire drive.
“You really are sexy, you know that?” she finally commented as they pulled into his subdivision.
He smiled, but didn’t reply. How is someone supposed to answer that?
Lil Wayne style? Why, yes. All my bitches love me.
Or a more humble approach? Aw, shucks, no I’m not.
Or a cue from Westley from The Princess Bride? Why thank you, I’ve worked hard to become so.
“I’m serious, Benji. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever known.”
He sincerely was feeling aw, shucks when he pulled into his garage and came around to open her door.
“You are the sexy one, Scout. You make my dick so fucking hard,” he growled as he tugged her from the Mustang.
He’d just hit the button to close the garage door when he stopped short.
“Didn’t you say you were sore?”
“I was only teasing. I’m definitely not sore.”
They stepped inside where the laundry room was and the door closed behind them, which he then pushed her up against.
“You’d tell me if you were, right? Because if you are, I can wait. We don’t have to do this right now.”
She reached inside his coveralls and under his waistband and began stroking his hard cock.
“Not too sore.”
He pushed her skirt to her waist and set her on the washing machine. Pulling her panties to the side, he slid one finger inside her, watching her face as he moved it in and out of her pussy. He added a second, and she spread her legs for him. Satisfied that she wasn’t too sore to fuck, he dropped his coveralls to the floor.
She leaned back on her elbows and brought her heels onto the washer’s top while dropping her knees open and looking at him with pure lust. It was hot as fuck.
That was all the invitation he needed. He entered her heat with a quick thrust, then proceeded to fuck her senseless. The height and angle were just right to pound her hard and manipulate her clit at the same time, so it didn’t take long before she began to quiver around his cock.
Fucking her pussy while it was milking his dick post-orgasm had to be the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced, and soon he found himself spurting inside her.
“We should play hooky and do that on every piece of furniture in this house,” he murmured against her lips.
“Mmm, I would love that, but I can’t today. I have to meet with my boss this morning.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I have to work on some hot chick’s car anyway.”
He helped her clean up, then held her hand as she hopped of the washer. They never made it any further into the house than the laundry room. Ben looked at his watch as he helped her back in the car.
“Twenty-three minutes; I’d say that qualifies as a quickie.”
“Imagine what we could with a whole lunch hour?” she said when he sat down behind the wheel.
“Two orgasms at least.”
“At least.”
Ben reached over and held her hand the rest of the way to her office building, not letting go until he pulled up outside, and she opened the door. She stepped out to the curb and leaned in. “Thank you again for the ride.” She raised one eyebrow to convey the innuendo.
“What are you doing for lunch?” he teased.
“I’ll probably be eating at my desk, if I want to leave before eight o’clock tonight.”
“Call me when you want me to pick you up.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Scout,” he cut her off sternly and reiterated, “Call. Me. When you’re ready to go home.”
“Okay,” she said with a nod. “Thanks again.”
He didn’t pull away from the curb until he was sure she made it into the building safely. Besides, he was enjoying the view too much.
As he pulled away from the curb, he decided one thing was certain: He was well on his way to falling in love with that woman.
Chapter Nineteen
Harper
She made it to the office before her boss, Travis. He had wanted to see her this morning, so she called his assistant and asked to be notified when he arrived.
Becky, Harper’s assistant, came into her office at ten with a granola bar and bottle of water, as she did every day when Harper was in the building. That woman took amazing care of Harper; she was worth her weight in gold.
Harper suspected Becky knew her secret, especially when she insisted Harper take a quick nap on her couch on the days when she could tell the attorney was ready to drop from exhaustion.
“I’ll lock the door, and won’t leave my desk. That way we can make sure no one goes in your office for at least an hour,” she’d told Harper the first time. It had been her lunch hour, so she didn’t feel too guilty.
“Will you make sure I’m awake by one?”
“Of course.”
Becky had been true to her word, and no one suspected that Harper now regularly napped during lunch instead of eating. Which was probably a good thing since she hadn’t been able to work out regularly—she was too busy trying to stay on top of her caseload.
“Maybe you should think about telling your office and going part-time,” her friend Lauren had suggested one Saturday afternoon not too long ago.
“I know it’s inevitable, but I want to put it off as long as I can. Build up my portfolio and have an established client base.”
“Harper, you’re existing to work. That’s no way to live.”
Lauren was right, but her work made her happy, and it was all she had. The daydream of having Ben McCallister change all that was nice, but not realistic. He’d probably say her disease didn’t matter, but as he learned all the things she couldn’t do anymore, he’d grow discontented—or worse, resentful. Harper had a feeling not having kids would be a deal breaker for him, too.
Not that she couldn’t physically have kids—her doctor didn’t even discourage it, really. It was that she’d have to go off her medication—the medication that had practically halted the progression of her disease. There was no way she was risking further damage to her brain and spinal cord; she had enough plaques in her central nervous system already, thank you very much.
No, Ben McCallister could only be a summer fling, nothing more.
But what a fling it was going to be.
****
“Hey, Harper. Thanks for coming in. Have a seat.” Travis said, gesturing to the leather furniture in the sitting area of his corner office.
She sat down with a smile. She liked all the named partners at Carson, Burns, Sterling, and Cooper, but Travis Sterling had always been exceptionally kind to her, and she adored his wife.
“How’s Ava?”
“Tired of being pregnant,” he said with a laugh.
“How much longer does she have?”
Her handsome boss grimaced. “Six more weeks, at least.”
“God bless her. She’s got to be miserable in this summer heat.”
“She is. And she’s never been this pregnant in the summer months before.”
“She looked adorable Friday. I can’t wait to see her at the WWP Ball.”
“She hasn’t even bought her dress. She was worried if she bought it too early, it wouldn’t fit her by the ball.”
“I only bought mine last week. Which I guess is okay, since I didn’t get a date until last weekend.”
“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”
“I’m not sure. I met him at Sloane and Ha
nnah’s engagement party. Ben McCallister—he owns McCallister Motors in town.”
“I’ve heard of him. I’ve been meaning to try his shop out.”
Harper knew Travis owned a fleet of cars. “You should. Brenna’s husband said he’s the best in town for classic cars. I dropped my Corvette off there this morning. I’ll let you know what I think.”
“Well, Ron would know. He bought my Corvette right after Alexander was born.”
“I didn’t realize that. What a small world.”
There was a pause as if to symbolize the small talk was over, and they were going to get down to discussing why he’d asked her to come in.
“Before we go any further, I want to reiterate that we think you’re doing an amazing job here.” He stood and went to his desk, pulled out two envelopes from the top drawer, and handed them to her as he sat back down. One had her name on it, and the other had Becky’s.
“What’s this?”
“Just our way of saying thanks for all your hard work. You had the most profitable May of all the junior partners.”
Harper had gotten bonuses before she’d made junior partner, but this was her first bonus since her promotion. Even though Becky had gotten a nice salary increase when Harper was promoted, she’d felt bad that they hadn’t received a bonus since they’d moved floors and offices. She loved that the company never neglected their support staff when rewarding their attorneys.
“May I?” she asked, gesturing to the linen envelope with her name on it.
“Of course.”
Her jaw dropped when she saw what was inside. A certificate that was obviously made in-house, with a week’s vacation and a travel voucher for an obscene amount. She’d only gotten cash or gift certificates before. Ah, the perks of her new position.
“You need to use that by the end of September. Meaning, you’re expected to take some time off and recharge before October,” Travis said sternly. “I think the voucher is enough that you could probably take a week of your own time away, too.”
That was another thing she loved about Carson, Burns, Sterling, and Cooper—their progressive attitude about time off. While other firms were working people to death, CBSC mandated that everyone use their vacation time; they even closed the offices for two weeks at the holidays—barring everyone, named partners included, from entering the building, but still paying them. Granted, everyone she knew still worked from home, but at least those who had families were spending time with them, or at least in the same building.
“This is so generous, Travis. Thank you.”
“We don’t want you burning out, Harper.”
A sense of dread filled her that he knew about her disease.
“No chance there. I love my job.”
“I know you do, and we’re the beneficiary of your dedication. But it’s important to have balance. Remember that.”
God, she loved working here. She dreaded the day when she was no longer an attorney with CBSC, which was probably why she hadn’t yet disclosed that she was sick. She’d heard horror stories in her support group about people getting pushed out the door once their employer discovered their illness.
“I’m working on it,” was her noncommittal reply.
Travis cut to the chase. “I’m guessing since the proposal from Jumper Brewton on your grandfather’s property was in my rejected pile to sign off on last week, your dad is still going through with the racetrack.”
“That’s what he says.”
“And your grandfather is going to sell to him?”
She hesitated. “To be honest, Travis, I don’t know. He’s still pretty pissed off at my daddy for cheating on his little girl—just like the rest of us are. But my father is trying to make amends, and my mom has forgiven him, so I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before my grandfather comes around. But I think that’s why my dad hasn’t made a formal offer yet.”
“Your grandfather is expecting one at some point, though, right?”
“Oh, yeah. He knows Finch Motorsports wants it and will be willing to pay whatever he asks. I think they won’t make the offer until they’ve gotten all the properties around it purchased, so Pop would be the dealbreaker if he didn’t sell.”
“Wow. That’s giving a lot of power to a man who is pissed at him.”
“I think that’s Daddy’s way of atoning.”
Travis cocked his head and looked at her inquisitively. “You’re not involved with acquiring the surrounding properties?”
“By design, Travis. I have discovered that, although I love my father, it’s best if our business dealings are limited. Even though he knows I’m good at what I do, he still treats me like I’m ten.”
Travis laughed, nodding his head in understanding.
“Still, it would have been a nice fee for you.”
“My business is good without it,” she replied defensively. Harper knew Travis had a fiduciary duty to look out for his firm, which is why he was bringing it up.
“I know, I know. You’re killing it.”
“Trust me, Travis. You don’t want the headache that is Colin Finch—but if it’s important, I’ll broach the subject of him using our firm.”
“Our business is good, too, Harper. But I wonder what people think about Finch Motorsports not using our firm to represent him.”
“Come on, Travis. There’s a lot of companies who don’t use family for their legal counsel. Besides, we represent his father-in-law, DuFresne Enterprises. I think it’ll be good there’s another firm involved when we actually do the deal.”
“You’re right,” he said solemnly, slapping his hands on his thighs, then tried to lighten the mood as he stood up, indicating their meeting was over. “I’m just being greedy. I’m about to have another kid I have to put through college.”
Harper knew Travis Sterling was hardly lacking in funds, but she gave the obligatory laugh as she stood and started walking toward the door.
“Thanks for coming in this morning.”
“Thanks for this,” she said, gesturing to the two envelopes in her hand. “Becky is going to love it; she’s been dying to go see her grandkids.”
“Make sure you schedule the time for yourself, too, Harper. I’m not above having you barred from the building for a few weeks.”
She didn’t know if she quite believed he’d do that, but she wasn’t willing to test him.
“I will, Travis. I’ll get it in the books soon.”
“Good,” he nodded in approval. “And good luck with the Kendrick trial this week. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
Speaking of the Kendrick trial, she needed to get back downstairs to her office and finish prepping for it.
****
She woke from her twenty-minute nap at lunch to the smell of food. She’d discovered that twenty minutes was usually all her body needed to reenergize for the afternoon. She knew it wasn’t only people with MS who benefitted from afternoon naps—many progressive companies were installing nap pods for their employees to utilize, realizing it made them more productive in the long run. She wouldn’t be surprised if CBSC did too, at some point in the near future. For now, she’d continue with her lunchtime nap on her office couch.
But the food… her growling stomach was envious.
She ran a brush through her hair and wiped any smudged mascara from under her eyes, then opened the door to her office leading to Becky’s desk—where her assistant sat with a big smile on her face and held up a white plastic bag.
“GrubHub just dropped this off for you,” she said, then nodded to a bouquet of red roses in crystal vase. “Right after the florist dropped these off.”
Harper pressed her lips together for a second to keep from smiling too broadly.
“Was there a card?”
“Actually, yes with both deliveries,” her assistant gloated as she handed her the cards.
Harper set them on top of the white Styrofoam box in the bag and carried them to her office desk. B
ecky followed behind with the vase and set it on the corner of her desk.
The flowers smelled beautiful, but not as good as the Boomerang’s burger and fries that greeted her when she opened the lid of the takeout box.
“Oh my god, I’m starving. I can’t believe he did this.”
Becky’s eyebrows went up. “Oh? ‘He’? Who is he? And how do you know it’s from him when you haven’t even opened the card?”
“I’m guessing. We went to Boomerang’s this weekend so he knows I love their food, and I mentioned I would be eating lunch at my desk.”
Harper took a big bite of the burger and moaned, “So good,” as she collapsed back into her chair with a mouthful of food.
“Fries?” Harper pushed the box toward her assistant, who helped herself to some, then, as if unable to contain herself any longer, Becky shouted, “Open the cards already!”
Harper laughed and opened the florist card first.
Just because I’m thinking about you. Can’t wait to see you tonight. CALL ME when you’re ready to leave the office.—Ben
She smiled, and thought about tucking it into her top drawer. But she knew Becky’s head would explode, so she handed the older woman the card before opening the one that came with the GrubHub. It was more in telegram form, like it had been printed out with the order.
Wanted to make sure you ate something other than vending machine food at your desk today. Can’t wait to see you tonight. CALL ME when you’re ready to go home.
“Is he worried you’re going to skip out on him tonight or something?” Becky asked as she handed her back the second card.
“No, I said I’d take an Uber to pick up my car because I didn’t want to inconvenience him. And, well, as you can see, he’s not having that.”
“That’s very thoughtful of him. Sending flowers was a nice touch, but sending food? He’s a keeper.”
“Flowers and food—that’s all it takes for you to decide that?”
“Well, that and the fact that you haven’t stopped smiling since you walked into the office this morning with your hair messed up and no lipstick.”
****
Ben
Harper: Thank you so much for lunch and the roses. I can’t believe you did that!