by Lyz Kelley
“Wait a minute,” Courtney pointed. “That video contains the clip showing on the news channels, but where’s his phone in that one?” Courtney looked to Weston for answers.
“Let’s see the images side by side.”
Haley opened a new window next to the one with the film.
Courtney sucked in a breath and pointed at the screen. “He has a phone in one hand and a briefcase in the other in the full video. The picture released to the press has been altered. Liam’s hand. It’s blurry.”
Haley nodded. “That’s because someone doctored the image to remove the phone, and the angle makes it look like Liam is grabbing her butt when in fact he has a briefcase in his other hand.”
“There’s no way that woman’s claim is true.” Courtney rubbed her chest, remembering all the times she’d accused Weston’s brother of being guilty of molesting an employee. A bitter taste collected at the back of her throat. “Liam’s been falsely accused. Weston, this has to be released to the press. People deserve to see and hear the truth. That woman is a liar.”
Weston leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his expression closed. “People believe what they want. The charges against Liam will be formally dropped in the next couple of days. That should be enough. Besides, my gut tells me Jessica Pallson isn’t the only one behind Liam’s arrest. Before the full video is released and chases these criminals into hiding, I want to find them.”
“But what about your brother? It’s his reputation that’s been ruined.”
“If I know Liam, once he sees the evidence, he’ll want these bastards put away.”
“I’m not sure Liam being cleared is enough.” Courtney pushed. “Criminals get off all the time for lack of evidence, or some technicality. What if public opinion remains skeptical of Liam’s innocence?”
“We’re spending millions to put every employee through sexual harassment and cultural diversity training again. When is enough, enough?” He shoved a hand in his pocket. “I don’t have time to worry about the press, or what headline they’ll make up next. I’m in the business of saving lives. That’s what is most important.”
“At least Liam will be cleared before the fundraiser.” The attempted uplift in Linda’s tone, normally a happy, contagious melody, fell flat.
“Don’t count on it.” Weston jumped in. “The District Attorney’s office has a huge backlog. Getting Liam’s case on the calendar might take months. But he’s out of jail. That’s what’s most important.”
“All we can do is hope,” Linda tried again to keep the conversation leaning toward the positive. “Right now, what we need to do is put the final touches on the silent auction and Courtney’s speech.”
Courtney gripped the back of the chair harder. “What speech? I didn’t agree to give a speech.”
Her heart pounded in her ears. The last time she’d given a speech was in college, and she botched the assignment, and being hung over from a night of partying with the girls hadn’t helped. The assignment was to debate the question, “Are senior citizens too old to adopt children?” She hadn’t done adequate research, spewed her opinion with very few supporting facts, and then meandered in multiple directions for fifteen minutes before giving a weak summary.
Her professor gave her a failing grade, saying it was because she couldn’t answer a single counter-argument question, but she knew the reek of alcohol and wearing her shirt inside out probably had something to do with the grade. She paid in more ways than one for her drinking habits.
Linda patted her hand. “This will be a piece of cake, dear.”
No! Speeches were not cakes or cookies or even muffins. They were instruments of torture aimed at keeping people forever silent.
“I’m awful at speaking in front of large groups of people.”
“That’s not true,” Haley challenged. “Didn’t I see you leading a political rally last fall?”
“That was different. The city council had just cut public funding for the homeless. We were protesting the decision.”
“A protest speech is no different from standing up in front of a room full of people. Only it’s more formal,” Weston added. “All you need to do is speak your truth.”
“I’m just not sure a speech is a good idea.” A shudder ran up Courtney’s spine.
“I’ll make it easy for you,” Linda replied. “You just tell me what you want to say, and I’ll have someone from the Carver marketing department create a draft copy. You can make any changes you want when we rehearse.”
Rehearse? Oh, no, no, no. She didn’t have time for rehearsing, or embarrassing herself again. “Weston should give the speech. He’s good at those sorts of things. He could be a guest speaker. No one has to connect him with Empower House.”
Haley shook her head. “If he speaks, I don’t see how to keep the connection between the Carvers and Empower House a secret.”
“Why, exactly, is it so important to hide the relationship?” Courtney asked the group, but hoped Weston might answer.
Weston slid into a counter stool. “The Carver board doesn’t like their executives to be distracted by other projects.”
The explanation sounded reasonable...but somehow incomplete.
Why was Weston Carver such a mystery? He consistently avoided explaining his reasons for supporting women’s shelters. The ongoing questions swirled in her stomach and wouldn’t go away. She’d love to discover the secret he concealed from the world, because he wasn’t just being private. She sensed a hurt buried deep.
“Let’s go over the silent auction list again,” Linda suggested. “I want to see what we can do to get more donations in the door. Our goal this year is a half million.”
“Can we raise that much?” Linda’s statement distracted Courtney from coming up with a new, more compelling argument to get her out of having to make an idiot of herself in front of all those people.
“At least.” Linda distributed the list of items donated. “The trip for ten on the Carver Yacht ended with a bid of a hundred grand last year. This year Weston has thrown in a New York helicopter ride.”
Hope trickled into her heart. “Maybe I can buy my building.”
Weston covered her hand with his. Sparks of excitement exploded up her arm and zinged through her body. “One way or another, that building will be yours.”
She turned her hand over and linked her fingers with his. “I can’t wait. There’s so much I want to do to help battered women. And I have an idea for a new job program.”
She glanced at the other women, who seemed to find her fingers interlocked with Weston’s interesting. She began to pull back, but he held on. “Ladies, could you finish up here? I’d like to take a walk in the park. Courtney, will you join me?”
Heat rose to her hair roots. “It’s a workday.”
“Every day is a workday when you own a business. When is the last time you took a day off?”
Like, never. “Well, I…uh…” The work never ended. Spending a few minutes to enjoy the sunlight, people-watch, and listen to the birds sing sounded heavenly.
“Does that mean I get the day off too, boss?” Haley asked.
“Yes. That’s a great idea. Why don’t you go distract your husband for a few hours so he doesn’t feel like he has to track my every move?”
“He is the head of your personal security team. If something happened on his watch it would gut him.”
“At the last conference he followed me into the bathroom. What’s with that?” Weston’s voice lowered into a sharper tone. “A man deserves some privacy.”
Haley’s shoulders shook. “He’d just read an article saying thirty-eight percent of personal attacks happen in bathrooms. He was protecting you.”
His security advisor assumed Weston was being funny, but Courtney felt his muscles tense.
Privacy wasn’t possible when living with twenty-plus other people. Sometimes the crowded space was exhausting, if for no other reason than that there wasn’t anywhere to think. On those days,
she went shopping or out to dinner with friends, but Weston didn’t seem to have any friends beyond those who worked for him. What did he do to escape? Or did he get to escape at all, ever?
Having all that money seemed to come at an insurmountable cost.
“So how about it, Ms. Kramer?” Weston shifted a little closer. “How about that walk?”
“I’d like to go to the park, but you promised to discuss my proposal.” She stared at him, hard.
“Your proposal. Oh, yes. I see. We were scheduled to talk about that…proposal.” Weston’s eyes sparkled with humor.
“Haley, it looks like our meeting’s adjourned,” Linda slid her pen into the portfolio slot. “I’m meeting a friend for dinner, and you have a green light to go home and jump your husband. I’m sure Mike will appreciate having you home early.”
Haley grabbed a handful of carrot slices and stuck them in her mouth. “You’re just jealous.”
“Maybe.” Linda winked.
“Whoa. Ladies. Give a man a break.”
Haley leaned in and kissed Weston’s cheek, and then glanced toward Courtney. “He’s one of the good ones.” She grinned. “Don’t let him work all night.”
Linda touched Courtney on the shoulder. “Send me your talking points, and I’ll have one of our communication specialists prepare your speech.”
How was she going to get out of this one?
“Goodnight, Mr. Carver,” Linda gathered up her business bag.
“Linda. Haley. Thank you for your help,” Weston’s response echoed through the room and down the stairs after the retreating ladies.
When the door closed on the first level, Weston turned to her. “A proposal? Nice one.”
“I suggested the proposal, because I got the impression Haley wouldn’t let us walk in the park. Not without following us anyway. Why do you have so much security? Is your life in danger?”
“Naw. It’s just my dad being his usual ultra-cautious self,” he said but again the truth didn’t quite reach his eyes. He had turned away, a psychology 101 indicator of evasion.
“When is the last time you stayed home, ordered out, and watched a movie? How about we order pizza from Gino’s? What do you say?”
“Are you asking me out to dinner again, Ms. Kramer?”
“Well,” she said in a sultry voice, “I’m actually asking you in for dinner. How ’bout it?”
Chapter 16
Weston leaned in close enough for Courtney to smell a slight hint of aftershave. The gentle scent was seductive, energetic, and light, and wiped away any remaining uneasiness.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d like to do dinner, but casual is more my style.”
He nipped her ear. “Mine too.” His hot breath made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who does casual very often.” Courtney tugged on the end of his silk tie.
“Habit.” He loosened his tie knot and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Better?”
The dark, curly hair hidden beneath the fabric ignited a splendid sensation in her groin. If she leaned in and took a fuller whiff of his scent, then maybe she’d figure out precisely what was driving her to abandon all common sense.
“Not quite.” She lifted his arm, unbuttoned his cuff, and rolled up his sleeve. Then turned to the other arm. He leaned in closer. She pulled back, but only enough to see his face. “Mr. Carver, did you just sniff my hair?”
“Guilty.” His fingertips tickled as he brushed them over her forehead and down her cheek. “Kiss me, Courtney.”
When she didn’t move, he leaned even closer, his mouth millimeters from hers. “Kiss me.”
The heat of his request scorched her skin. He hovered, waiting. Looking into her eyes. Waiting for her signal. She wouldn’t hold off any longer. She wanted to be touched by this man.
Her lips pressed against his, and he groaned. His heat sizzled along her skin, and a dizzying emotion hit her as blood rushed to her lips, making them pulse.
He licked her bottom lip, and a passion she hadn’t known existed exploded. She pulled him against her, wanting his heat to brand her skin.
“Courtney?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She panted back, knowing full well what he asked. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she needed to feel like a woman again. It had been so long. Too long.
He cupped her hips and pulled her close. His passion grew and pressed against her core and belly while she accepted everything he offered, and wanted more.
After a few minutes he stood, taking her with him, walking toward the staircase.
“I get the feeling you’re hungry, but not necessarily for food,” she murmured against his mouth, giggling at her own pun.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, crossed her legs behind his back. A guttural sound resonated deep in his chest. “I’m starved, but only for you.”
He didn’t stop. He climbed the stairs two at a time, his strong arms holding her. She dropped her head to his shoulder and nibbled on his skin, licking the salt. She groped his back to get closer as he walked down a hall. He kicked the door open, still kissing her.
“Courtney, I want you in my bed.”
“Weston, I need your help. I need to be in control. Not you. And I also want you naked, now.”
“You’re in control. You choose. What you say goes.”
He set her down, and she worked his buttons while he pulled down her zipper. She was hot and swollen and more than ready for him.
She reached for him and pressed a hand against his bulge. He was as ready as she was.
“You’re so beautiful. The skin right here,” he kissed the top of her breast, “is so soft and sexy.”
Mmmm. “You’re sexy.”
He continued to kiss his way down and then back up. “Very scrumptious. Are you sure about this?”
“Mmmm hummm.” She dug her fingertips into his skin when he pulled back.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!!” she whispered, but in her head it sounded more like a yell.
Weston licked the sweet little dip between her collarbones. “Then I want to hear a yes every time I ask. Otherwise I will stop. Deal?”
“Is this your way of being in control?” she panted.
“No, Courtney.” Weston sucked in a rush of air. “It’s my way of giving you the control. One no and we’ll stop.”
She released the remaining anxiety. This man wasn’t Dave Morgan. He was nothing like that spoiled, narcissistic asshole.
Her heart escalated to a needy tempo. “Then yes. Yes, Weston. I want this. I want you inside me.”
He took a step back and let his dress shirt hit the floor, revealing his muscled torso.
“Courtney. Do you want me to undress you?”
“I can un—”
“Yes or no,” he interrupted.
“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes. Please. Now.”
He lifted the hem of her shirt over her head, revealing her peachy lace bra. He lowered his head and blew through the lace, fanning the flame at her core. She pressed her hips forward, wanting to connect, reaching for his waistband.
“Patience.”
“No.”
He froze.
“I mean yes. Now. Weston. I need this now, or I’ll melt into a puddle on your floor.”
With a twist of a button and a zip, his slacks pooled at his feet. His desire sprang out into full view. He reached around her back to unlatch the two hooks, and then slid each strap off her shoulder, one at a time, as he moved her backwards toward the bed.
“Do you want to lie on the bed?”
“My legs are wobbly.”
He chuckled. “Yes or no, Courtney?”
“Yes.” She scrambled up and leaned against the headboard.
He followed. “Your breasts are so perfect.”
“No they aren’t. They’re too big. My grandmother had big boobs, my mom too. I inherited—”
“Courtney? Are you nervous?”
&n
bsp; “A little.” She pulled him closer. “I’ll be quiet now.”
“You don’t need to be quiet. Just relax.”
How was she supposed to relax when every muscle was doing the jiggy-jig?
“Kiss me, Weston.”
“I enjoy hearing you say my name.”
She fisted his hair and pulled as he circled her belly button with his tongue. Her legs tensed when his fingertips slipped inside the waistband of her panties.
“Yes!!!” she said, before he asked.
He slid the fabric down an inch on one leg, then the other, until the panties disappeared.
“Weston?” She reached a hand under each arm and pulled him to her, her legs parting to welcome him. “I’m ready.” He rolled to the side to reach into his dresser drawer.
“First things first,” he slid on a condom and repositioned himself on top of her.
“Courtney? Yes or no.”
“Yes,” she cooed. A shiver raced up her spine.
He pressed forward.
Her eyes closed. Yesss. Yesss. This is what I’ve been needing. Craving without knowing. Her muscles clenched around him while each move, every rhythmic thrust, went straight to her core.
Every thought in her mind disappeared. She only sensed. Experienced. Craved.
Her core burned. She floated into ecstasy.
“Kiss me,” Weston grunted.
A desperate need made her want to connect and stay connected. She needed this man in ways she’d never wanted or needed anyone else.
His fingers massaged her scalp. She strained to get closer.
A burning hunger ignited when she felt him close around her. She was safe. She could relax and allow him to quench her sensual thirst.
The sensation of Weston’s hand stroking her back made her mind go numb. “Yes,” she murmured. “More.”