by Shandi Boyes
My confusion intensifies when I attempt to slide my earring back into my ear. I’m not missing an earring. They’re both in my ears where they belong. I peer down at the shimmery purple rhinestone Brad gifted me for my thirtieth birthday, utterly confused. It matches my pair in every way, but it’s not my earring.
With my heart in my throat and my suspicions high, I snap a picture of the earring, send it to Brad, shut down my phone, then dash out of my apartment. I have a job to do—a job I can’t afford to lose when I wring my husband-to-be’s neck.
“You weren’t caught kissing the lead singer of Wanting Wombats again, were you?”
After hustling through the half dozen paparazzi who tailed me from my building to my workplace, I shoot a wry glare at my best friend and co-worker, Athena. “Not this time.”
I bump her with my hip, taking in how her curvaceous frame gains more than a few admired glances from the men milling around our work building. Metrics Insurance has the top floor of the skyscraper Brad’s firm built last year. It’s an eyesore who’s monthly premiums match its sky-high stature. This building was approved a mere week before a new capita height was introduced by the state.
“So… how did it go?” Athena hands me an iced chocolate with triple swirls before twisting around to jab the button for our floor. “Was he everything I thought he’d be?”
“Yep!” The ‘P’ pops from my mouth. “He’s an arrogant, self-assured asshole who doesn’t have a clue what’s in front of him.”
The first half of my reply was in reference to her question—she knows about my meeting with Colby as she organized it—the second half was for Brad. Not even a forty-minute commute has cooled my turbines. I’m still fuming mad.
“What did he do this time?” Athena’s voice is as hot as her face.
I hold out my hand palm side up. “Have you seen this before?”
Some of the heat on her face cools, believing what I first thought. “Did you almost lose it again? Jesus, J, you need to get tighter backs. Those puppies cost a fortune…” Her words trail off when I pull back my crazy curls to show her the earrings I’m wearing. “Oh, cupcakes. This isn’t good. Where did you find it?”
“On the floor in our walk-in closet.”
Athena shadows me out of the elevator. “And what was his excuse this time?”
“He hasn’t given me one yet. I sent him a picture, then shut down my phone. Let him stew on those apples for a few hours.” We push through the revolving double door of Metrics Insurance before making a right. “I’m sure he has a reasonable explanation.”
“Uh-huh. Like he always does.” Athena’s voice is as sarcastic as mine, her anger just as palpable. “I don’t know why we’re still doing this to ourselves, J. We both know you deserve better, so why aren’t we stepping back?”
Her inclusion in my relationship is nothing new. She’s been my friend for donkey’s years, so if you want me, you get her too—much to Brad’s annoyance.
“Because he’s Brad, and I’m me.”
Athena almost rips my arm out of its socket when she tugs me back. “Excuse me. What do you mean, you’re you? Of course, you’re you, who else would you be?”
“You know what I mean.”
She whips back so quickly, she slaps me with her fiery red hair. “Hell, yes, I do. That’s the issue. You were fine for years before Brad came into the picture, and you’ll sure as hell be fine within minutes of him leaving… not that he deserves even a second of your remorse.”
My chance to reply is lost when I hear someone calling my name. I’m relieved when I notice it’s Hugh. He may be my supervisor, but he’s a great guy. “Can we see you for a minute?”
“We?” I lock my eyes with Athena’s big brown eyes, wondering if she heard Hugh in the same manner as me. If the dragging of her teeth over her bottom lip is anything to go by, she did. “Sure. Just a minute.”
I thrust my satchel into Athena’s chest, my cell into her hand, then shimmy the nerves out via my shoulders before turning to face Hugh. His glistening blue eyes, cut jaw, and handsome face remind me a lot of the man I was wrangling this morning. Instead, he has a platinum band around his ring finger instead of platinum blond hair.
“Everything okay?”
Bile scorches the back of my throat when my arrival at his office door has me coming face to face with the head honcho of Metrics Insurance. I’m not talking Hugh’s boss. I’m talking Hugh’s boss’ boss’ boss. Mr. Luis has the same fierce cutting edge as Brad but in an entering-gates-hell way. His hair was inky black at once stage, and his eyes are blue and razor-sharp.
“Mr. Luis, what a pleasure to see you again. It’s been so long.”
After kissing my cheeks with his thick lips, leaving a wet spot on each side, he gestures for me to take a seat across from Hugh’s chair he’s seconded for himself. “I’m afraid this is a formal visit.”
I’m tempted to say, when isn’t it? but settle with, “That’s a shame. I’ve sure missed the stories you like to share.” Lying is occurring way too easily for me today.
“I’m short of time, so let’s get this underway.” With a jerk of his chin, Hugh jumps to the snapped command in his tone by sliding a picture onto the desk in front of me. It’s a printout of the article Brad showed me earlier. “Are you aware of this?”
After a quick swallow, I nod. “Yes, but it isn’t as it seems.”
“This is the company we’re in the process of reassessing for coverage, is it not?”
“That’s correct.”
Mr. Luis’ pepper gray brow shoots up high into his hairline. “And that’s the man at the helm of its operation, is it not?”
“Once again, that’s correct.” He attempts to speak again, but I beat him to it. “But we’re not engaged. That was a ghastly horrendous misunderstanding that occurred today while in the presence of The Drop Zone co-owner to discuss the stipulations you…” when he shoots me a wry look, I try again, “… we added to his claim for coverage.”
“So it’s fictional?”
I nod again. “Very much so.”
“And Mr. McGregor is aware coverage for The Drop Zone will not be approved if he continues to helm the operation?”
“Ah… not entirely.” Sweat beads on my top lip when two sets of powerful eyes glare at me. “Col… ah, Mr. McGregor believes there are extenuating circumstances we’ve yet to assess. I’d like to look into them a little closer before finalizing this claim.”
“Extenuating circumstances as in what?”
I twist my torso to face Hugh, the questioner of my query. “He doesn’t believe he’s a liability, and that his company will most likely collapse shortly after he’s dismissed as its face.”
Hugh’s expression makes it seem as if his stomach just gurgled as mine did. I don’t care how heartless you are, no one wants to add dream killer to their job description.
“He’s probably right—”
“None of this matters,” Mr. Luis interrupts Hugh. “We, as insurance consultants, are to only look at figures. Personal matters should not factor into any decisions we make. This man has already cost me millions of dollars. I’m not willing to risk anymore.” With that, Mr. Luis stands from his chair, gathers his coat as if it isn’t ninety-plus degrees outside, then exits Hugh’s office.
Hugh waits for him and his bodyguard to be chauffeured into a waiting elevator by his assistant before he shifts his focus back to me. “Did your face-to-face meeting cause a change of heart?”
I want to say no as an agreement would give him too much satisfaction, but I’ve reached my quota of lies today, so I nod instead. “It’s not necessarily what they do, but the reason why they do it. I’m also beginning to wonder if the reports on Colby’s physical capabilities are true. He certainly didn’t lack an ounce of strength today.” Not even while piggybacking me up sand dunes that would kill even the fittest of men.
“Then why aren’t your reports reflecting that.” He gestures his head to the email I sent him du
ring my commute.
“Because that’s what Mr. Luis wants.”
Hugh props his hip onto his desk before folding his arms in front of his chest. “What Mr. Luis wants and what Mr. Luis can have are two entirely different things. He may be my boss—”
“Your boss’ boss’ boss.”
Hugh rolls his eyes in a manner way too sophisticated for a man in his thirties. “Whatever. He doesn’t run the show here. I do. And if you think The Drop Zone’s coverage should be renewed, we’ll renew it.”
“And when you get fired? What will happen to you and that pretty wife of yours?”
His eyes gleam when I mention Kate. “We’ll move into your penthouse with you and Brad. Your walk-in closet alone is bigger than our house.” After moving around his desk, he slides into his chair, looking more at home than Mr. Luis did in it. “Remember that trip I mentioned? The one where the blue-eyed wonder boy is billed as the opening act?”
“The adventure-packed weekend The Drop Zone sold out within a day of them going on sale, even with the event costing over ten K per recipient?”
“Yes, that one.” He slouches low in his chair before making a triangle with his fingers. “I have a ticket with your name on it.”
My eyes bulge out of my head. “Say you don’t.”
“I do.”
“How? They’re sold out. You may be many things, but we all know your only magic trick was tricking Kate into thinking you’re charming.”
Hugh throws his head back and laughs. “She thinks I have other skills, too, but since I don’t want a sexual harassment claim filed against me, I’ll leave it at that.”
I pick up a wad of pencils out of their brash holder and peg them at him. Two hit their mark. The other four fall short. “I’m not going. This is way above the pittance you pay me.”
He shrugs. “It’s too late. I already told Mr. Luis you’re attending as an assessor. If things aren’t safe, you’ll be expected to shut them down.”
I gag in an extremely unladylike manner. “Really, Hugh? Like things could get any more awkward?” I slap my hand over my mouth. I said too much—way too much.
“What do you mean, ‘more awkward’?” Hugh quotes his last two words like a man purchasing seasonal tickets to Cats, the musical.
I nudge my head to the printout on his desk. “I’m referring to that.”
“Bullshit, Jamie. We’ve worked together for years, so I know your bullshit face. That’s your bullshit face.” He wiggles his finger in front of my face. “Now out with it. What awkwardness?”
I exhale a deep, nerve-penetrating breath. “That picture was taken in the foyer of my apartment building.” Hugh gives me his duh face. “After Colby dropped me home so I could change since he landed our base jump in the ocean instead of on the sandy shore…” My brow becomes lost in my hairline. “Why are you smiling? What about anything I just said is funny?”
He drags his teeth over his lip in a way I shouldn’t find cute, but totally do. Not sexually—God. I’ve never looked at Hugh like that. Not even when we were both single. He’s like a brother to me, so you can get those images out of your head, thank you very much. “What was his excuse for landing your jump in the ocean?”
Someone call the fire department as my cheeks are burning.
“Ahhh. Just as I thought.” He gives me a wink revealing he knows exactly what transpired between Colby and me today. “Still not letting you out of it, though. This getaway will be the perfect opportunity for you to see Colby in all his glory.”
Is it just me, or did that sound wrong to you too?
“Hugh—”
He shoots me down with a stern glare, one that’s really hard for him to pull off. “Who do you work for?”
He wants me to say him.
He’s shit out of luck.
“Metrics Insurance.”
His lips tug into a smirk. “Okay. Then who signs your paycheck every week?”
“The payroll lady.”
Since he refuses to let his groan out via his mouth, it comes out his ears. “Pack your shit, Jamie. This negotiation is over.” A normal person would think he’s firing me. I’m not normal. “You have an adventurous getaway in a little over six weeks. If you’re anything like my wife, you better start packing now.”
Hugh picks up his phone like he has important calls to make. He’s full of shit, no one uses a landline phone anymore. He’s simply giving me his silent marching orders.
“When I return from my soiree with a truckload of reports showing how Colby McGregor takes uncalculated risks after uncalculated risks, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
I hear Hugh’s receiver click back onto its base before I’m even halfway out his office door.
Unfortunately for Athena, my steps into my office are soundless. “One, get your feet off my desk.” She pulls a cherry sucker out from between her painted lips before removing her pumps from my desk. “Two, is that my phone?” She has a cell phone in her hand—one that looks remarkedly similar to mine. It even has Jamie stitched on the edge of its leather case.
“Yep. Had to see what asshat had to say for himself.” If you haven’t worked this out yet, Athena isn’t a fan of Brad. “He was very inventive this time around. Did you know he’s so nimble, he can replace lost earrings while you’re sleeping? And… wait for it, here’s the golden ticket… he purchased three sets of identical earrings so he could replace them anytime you lost one without making you feel bad.” She drops her bottom lip into a pout before she gags.
When I attempt to snatch my cell out of her hand, eager to see Brad’s excuse firsthand, she tsks me. “Don’t be rude. I’m in the process of a very risqué email-a-thon.”
“With who?” Jesus, that was loud. “That’s my phone, so anyone you’re emailing thinks they’re from me.”
“Bullseye, bitch.” She launches out of my seat with her eyes bulging. “Holy shit! Do you think this has been photoshopped?” When she spins my phone around to face me, a very impressive penis fills the screen. “Who knew frosty had it in him. He’s hung like a donkey.”
Suddenly, I feel sick. That’s been her nickname for Colby since we were handed his claim for assessment four months ago. “You’re emailing Colby McGregor?”
When she tears her eyes away from my phone—it’s a long-ass two minutes—she nods. “Yeah. He’s cheeky.”
My racing heart is heard in my squawked reply, “Cheeky enough to send you a dick pic?”
Hold on, if he thinks he’s talking to me, does that mean he thinks I want to see his manhood? Furthermore, why does the thought intrigue me more than it sickens me? My nonexistent social media presence is precisely for this reason. I saw more penis profiles than headshots before Brad took me off the market. For the record, none were as impressive as the one Athena just showed me.
It feels like the planet circles the sun a hundred times before Athena confesses, “He didn’t send the pic. I Googled it after he shot down my request by saying he didn’t want to give me my second heart stutter for today.” She dumps my phone onto a pile of papers on my desk before pressing her hands on each side of it. “First things first. What heart stutter did he already give you? And two, will your story include the word ‘multiple’?” She makes an ‘O’ with her lips like I’m a brain-dead idiot who won’t understand what she means.
After moving around my desk, I guide her out of my office. “One, heart stutter is too kind of a word for what he did to me. Two, multiple wasn’t mentioned, but I was so wet by the end of it, every inch of me was drenched… even my hair.”
Athena wants to ask more, but the quick slam of my door in her face stops her. I have an adventurous weekend to get out of. I don’t have time for anything else.
Except perhaps discovering what Colby said when he thought he was talking to me.
Chapter 9
Colby
“You probably shouldn’t go out there.” Tyrone steps into my path, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. “Might be a li
ttle awkward.”
“For who? Nothing makes me uncomfortable. I thought those chocolates I gave you last Christmas proved this.”
Before he can respond to the mirth in my tone, I spot Jamie standing at the side of The Drop Zone’s foyer. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, acting as nervous as she was the first time she stepped foot in here. I’ve experienced a different side of her the past two weeks. She isn’t one the wickedly deviant women I usually correspond with, but her emails assure she’s undeserving of the saint title my initial assessment awarded her with.
Don’t misconstrue. Excluding the first dozen emails we shared, she’s kept things professional, but with a playful edge that shows she isn’t the bore I thought she was. When her name pops up in my inbox, I don’t groan as I once did. More times than not, I look forward to her daily snips of wittiness.
I sidestep Tyrone, my swagger extra notable as I make my way to Jamie. I could blame two broken ankles for the sway in my walk, but that would be a lie. I’ve never been shy about being boastful. I just shouldn’t be parading like a peacock when it’s happening in front of a soon-to-be wedded woman.
We don’t just talk about The Drop Zone during our multiple-times-a-day correspondence, snippets of our personal lives come up as well, including Jamie’s upcoming nuptials. I like that we’ve stuck to a stone-age tradition for communicating, but it sucks not being able to hear her tone in her emails. Half the time, I think she’s head over heels in love with her fiancé. The other half, I’m certain she’s looking for an out. Since it’s not my place to step between anyone, I veer our conversation back onto neutral ground—such as when will she let me toss her out of a plane instead of a cliff’s edge.
Fingers crossed that’s what she’s here for today.
“Jamie, hey. You all right?” My last two words come out with a crack like a teenager going through puberty. It was high and cringeworthy, and one hundred percent understandable considering the amount of moisture flooding Jamie’s eyes. “What’s going on?”