by A. J. Wynter
He never had a problem talking to women, so when his tongue stopped working it was a shock. He was able to calm down slightly when it became obvious that she didn’t recognize him. If she had, the woman deserved an Oscar, or a spot on the poker tour, because aside from blushing, which he assumed was a flush of embarrassment for the sidewalk crash carnage, there wasn’t a glimmer of recognition in those pretty eyes.
When he left the outdoors shop, Thomas, Barry, and Nicole were waiting for him across the street, eight steaming coffees stacked high. “Come on,” Thomas shouted and waved impatiently.
He hesitated. He wanted to rush back into the store to see her just one more time, to tell her his name, to tell her how he knew her. Would it be awkward? he wondered. Hi, remember me? We had sex ten years ago at the heli-lodge. He would word it better, obviously. He played it again in his mind. Hi, by any chance, years ago did you work at a heli-lodge and make love to one of the guests? No. None of those options sounded good. At all.
He looked back one more time. It was a small town, and chances were good that he would run into her again. By then he would’ve figured out a way to explain to her who he was, and how they knew each other. He was surprised that she didn’t recognize him, but again, the last time she saw Baxter, he was a tree planter. Therefore, he looked homeless, complete with a rebellious beard and shoulder-length long hair.
He didn’t have time to think about it. He ran across the street to meet his team and hopped into the SUV. He had to put the woman out of his mind. He was now headed to what he knew was going to be the most difficult meeting of the entire mission. He had to get his head screwed on straight.
That woman did a number on him years ago, and it seemed that her power over him had only grown in strength. He had to put those green eyes out of his mind and get into business mode. Put your game face on, he said to himself. This lawyer is going to be tough.
Chapter 7
LAUREN’S BOOTS CRUNCHED on the sidewalk as she hurried past the scene of the coffee crime and into her office. The spartan space worked for her. She preferred function over form, but today, she knew that the executives would see the threadbare chairs from the seventies, the old-style desktop computer, and lack of assistants as proof that hers was a second-rate operation.
She had done her homework though and knew that she had much more experience with environmental issues than their principal, and she also had the backing of the town council. Caldwell International was going to have to pull out all the stops if they were going to get their project passed through the council.
Lauren threw on her best blazer over the gorgeous green sweater and applied a fresh layer of Chapstick. She sighed as she flicked on the electric kettle. The Caldwell executives were going to have to settle for instant coffee after all.
She saw three shadows walk past the window, their shiny shoes visible beneath the blinds, and she took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” she thought to herself as the door swung open. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the first set of boots to step into her office – stiletto heels.
The blond stepped forward, “We have a meeting with Mrs. Bunkman at nine-thirty,” she said, reading off her phone. There were no pleasantries. The woman hadn’t even so much as looked at Lauren.
“It’s Miss Bunkman.” Lauren stood up and that’s when the woman’s eyes finally saw her.
“Oh, my God. It’s you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I thought you were the secretary.” She seemed embarrassed.
After working so many menial jobs, Lauren knew what it felt like to be invisible; she despised it when people looked down on those in-service jobs. This woman thought she was a receptionist, and therefore, not important. “You’re sorry about the coffee, or thinking I was the secretary?” Lauren crossed her arms across her chest.
The girl’s face dropped.
A man stepped around her, holding a tray of coffee in his left hand, his right outstretched. “Mr. Thomas Filterton.”
Lauren shook his hand. The other, older man stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Bunkman,” he smiled. “I’m Caldwell’s lead attorney on this project.”
“Ah, you must be Barry Birkner.” Finally, someone with a set of social skills, Lauren thought to herself as she shook Mr. Birkner’s hand.
“Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chairs she had set up in front of her desk.
“Oh, here? Is this what passes as a conference room in this town?” Thomas smirked and looked around the small room.
“We could go back to the sidewalk if you’d like,” Lauren sat down and put on her glasses. She knew she sounded snarky, but their condescending comments were pushing her buttons. “Shall we get started?”
The trio sat down, leaving the center chair open. “Mr. Caldwell is on a call, so he will be in momentarily,” the blond woman said.
“Oh, I didn’t realize that he would be joining us today.” Lauren quickly glanced at her notes. She had been expecting the lawyer, their consultant, and an assistant.
“He likes to get his hands dirty,” Thomas smiled, and Lauren shivered. His perfect veneers against his tanned face made him look like a cyborg.
Mr. Birkner cleared his throat. “This project is very important to Mr. Caldwell, Junior”
“Junior?” Lauren said.
“Yes, Mr. Caldwell, Senior is stepping back from his role in the development wing of the corporation.”
This was news to Lauren. For the first time, she felt sideswiped. She thought that she knew everything about her competition, and now they were throwing this curveball at her. Two competing thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to maintain her composure. The first was that the inexperienced son of the CEO might be easier to deal with; the second thought was confirmed as the door to her office swung open, a cloud of steam escaping as the cold air met the warmth of her office. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that the sweater man; the only man that had been capable of making her heart skip a beat in the past ten years, and her opposition had just walked into her office.
“My apologies,” he said, his back to the group as he shut the door.
“That’s quite alright,” she stammered. “We were just getting acquainted.”
He turned to face the group and the smile on his face faded as his eyes met Lauren’s.
“Please, come in and have a seat.” Lauren gestured to the empty chair.
As quickly as his smile had faded, a bigger, faker one appeared in its place. “Baxter Caldwell,” he extended his hand as he took his place in front of her desk.
“Junior,” Lauren clarified.
A scarlet blush crept up from the collar of Baxter’s pea coat collar. “Junior.”
“Lauren Bunkman.” She shook his hand, squeezing it a little harder than necessary to mask the tremble that had set in.
Lauren was never one to feel sorry for herself. She had been dealt a shit hand in life, growing up in poverty, losing her mom, being a single mother and having to work multiple jobs to put herself through law school, but this just seemed like a cruel twist of fate. For the first time in years, she had let herself imagine kissing and touching a man, specifically the man in front of her, the one sent to destroy her.
HOLY FUCK. BAXTER COULD now put a name to the face. The woman he had slept with ten years ago. The woman he had spent years trying to find. The woman who had skated in and out of his dreams while he was in bed with other women, was Lauren Bunkman, Attorney-at-Law. The lawyer assigned to ruin him.
“May I offer you a coffee?” Thomas smiled.
Thank God for Thomas. Baxter thought. Baxter’s consultant handed Lauren a coffee and distributed the cups to everyone else. “I hope that you weren’t scalded earlier,” Thomas smiled.
“I’m fine.” Lauren took a sip of the coffee. “And thank you for bringing these. The alternative was instant.” She pointed to the steaming electric kettle that was perched on top of the microwave.
Baxter looked a
round her office. The woman belonged in a glossy magazine, not a hellhole like this. The fluorescent lights hummed overheard and he swore that he felt a spring poking his ass from the seat of his uncomfortable chair.
“I feel terrible.” The blond shook her head. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
“It was instinct,” Lauren said. She folded her hands together and rested them on top of her desk. “We should probably get started. I’m assuming you’re here to negotiate the boundaries for your project.”
Baxter noticed that when Lauren switched into business mode, her voice changed, becoming deeper, more authoritative. His cock twitched in response and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Miss Bunkman, we want to work with you and the town, not against you. This development is going to be good for everyone.”
If she could go into business mode, so could he. He had to look at her like an adversary, a foe, a fly to be squashed, not his dream woman.
“Really, Mr. Caldwell.” She leaned forward. “As far as anyone in this town can see, the only person who is going to benefit from this expansion is you.” Her voice was firm but tinged with anger.
“Mr. Filterton,” he addressed Thomas, ignoring her statement. “Would you care to go over the modifications for the expansion with Miss Bunkman.”
“Of course, sir,” Thomas said. He set the big leather folio on her desk, opening it to reveal thick glossy cardstock with renderings of the proposed mountain village. “We typically do this electronically,” he apologized, “But we were informed your office could not support a digital presentation.”
Baxter tightened his lips, insulting the woman and her operation was not going to help their cause.
Thomas flipped through the various renderings, explaining the modifications that they had made. Modifications that took millions out of Caldwell’s pocket. When he was finished, he handed Lauren a tube with copies of the renderings and packed up his presentation.
Lauren sighed. “What about the bear habitat? What about the request to hire local contractors? Mr. Caldwell, while you’ve taken two stories off your tower, its footprint hasn’t changed. The only improvements I can see in this plan is a slightly less phallic-looking tower in your proposed town square.”
“There’s going to be more dining options for the locals at the bottom of the tower, did you see that?” Mr. Filterton said. “That’s got to count for something. There’s no place in this town to get sushi,” he chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
Lauren shook her head. Mr. Filterton had assured Baxter that the improvements to the plan would be appealing to their opponents. He was starting to realize that they had missed the mark. By a mile.
Lauren stood up and leaned on her desk. “If this is your final version, you can be sure that the town and the conservancy will fight you every step of the way.”
“Are you sure they want to do that?” Thomas crossed his ankle over his knee and draped his arms wide across the back of his chair. “That’s going to be an expensive process. I can see to that.” He added a cocky fingerpoint.
“Are you saying that you are going to draw this out so whoever has the deepest pockets crosses the finish line first?”
“I didn’t say that,” Thomas brushed some invisible lint off his lapel. “You did,” he smirked.
Baxter noticed that when Lauren smiled, her eyes glinted. “If this is your final plan, it looks like the next time I’ll be seeing any of you, will be in court.”
She had an air of confidence about her, a certainty that both unnerved, and turned him on at the same time. This lawyer had the potential to ruin his project, and the idea of facing her in court terrified him, but as he left the office that day, he found himself hoping that this fight ended up in the courtroom. Especially, if that meant he got to be in the same room with her again.
Chapter 8
“NICE SWEATER,” CHARLOTTE raised her eyebrows at Lauren as she stepped into the mezzanine of her house.
“Thanks.” But Lauren couldn’t wait to get the damn thing off. The luxurious fabric felt dirty against her skin. She couldn’t accept a gift from the CEO of the company she was fighting against. “It’s actually really itchy. Do you mind if I change into one of yours?”
Charlotte tilted her head quizzically but smiled. “Go ahead.” Even though they were grown women, Lauren did her fair share of raiding Charlotte’s closet.
“Hi, Mom,” Tabitha yelled from the sofa, her nose buried in a book, as Lauren took the stairs two at a time.
“Hi, sweetie.” The urge to get the sweater off her skin had grown in intensity. She had lied to Charlotte. It wasn’t itchy, but she swore that she could feel her skin starting to burn. By the time she reached her sister’s massive walk-in closet, the neckline felt like it had shrunk three sizes and was choking the life out of her. She ripped the sweater off over her head and threw it as far away from her as she could. It hit the wall and silently slipped into an emerald pile on the floor. Lauren opened a drawer and selected a t-shirt from her sister’s collection. She wanted something simple and plain against her skin. She pulled on the shirt and ran her hands over the cotton, smoothing the fabric down over her abs. She looked in the mirror and saw that her face was flushed as red as a tomato. She took a deep breath and then headed back down the sweeping staircase to the main floor.
“You okay?” Charlotte asked.
“Rough day,” Lauren replied.
“Can you stay for dinner?” Charlotte asked. “Logan is bringing home pizza.”
Lauren’s stomach growled and she realized that the only thing that she’d ingested all day was coffee.
“Please...” Tabitha chimed in.
“Okay,” Lauren said. Thankful that she didn’t have to go home and try to figure out what she could scrounge up from the cupboards.
Lauren sat down on the sofa beside her daughter.
“Wine?” Charlotte called out from the kitchen.
“Sure,” Lauren replied and then turned her attention to her daughter. She rested her hand on her foot. “How was skiing?”
“Good,” Tabitha said without looking up from her book. Lauren sighed; her feelings were slightly hurt that her daughter was more into her book than having a conversation with her mother. But Lauren knew that behavior was learned, and Lauren was guilty of spending a good portion of her daughter’s childhood with her own nose buried in her legal textbooks.
Charlotte flicked on the gas fireplace and handed Lauren a glass of wine.
“How did the meeting go?” Charlotte asked.
“I knew that I was going to be disappointed, but I still held out some hope that those corporate jerks would come back with a proposal that fits within our parameters.”
“That tower is ridiculous, isn’t it,” Charlotte said.
“How pompous can you get?” Lauren said. She took a sip of her wine; Charlotte’s wine was always good, and tonight was no exception. “They took off a few stories, but that phallic symbol is still about ten stories too high.”
Charlotte laughed. “Do you think that they will modify it again? You know, to make it less, um, phallic?” She shot her eyes to Tabitha, but she was engrossed in her book.
“I hope so.” Lauren sipped again. “It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. The way it stands right now I’m going to be facing Caldwell’s lawyers in the courtroom. Their consultant, Thomas is a pompous asshole, and Barry Birkner, their lawyer, is not known for his integrity.”
“Mom.” Tabitha looked up from over her book.
“Oh, now I get your attention,” Lauren laughed and squeezed her daughter’s leg. “Pompous...”
“You can say asshole.” Tabitha’s eyes were wide behind her glasses, a mischievous smirk on her face.
Lauren raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been spending too much time with your auntie.”
Tabitha giggled and went back to reading.
“That Caldwell though, he’s not too hard to look at, is he?” Charlotte said, curling her feet up underneath
her.
Lauren sighed. “I guess not.”
“You guess not?” Charlotte knit her brows. “He looks like a Calvin Klein model. You really have turned into a nun, haven’t you?”
“He’s okay,” Lauren couldn’t stop the sides of her mouth from turning up.
“Ha!” Charlotte pointed. “I knew it. You think he’s hot.”
“It doesn’t matter if I think he’s hot or not. He’s the CEO of the company that I’m going to be in a battle royale with if they don’t smarten up.”
“I haven’t seen your cheeks this pink – ever,” Charlotte teased. “Don’t let those blue eyes knock you off your game, Sis.”
“Have you ever seen eyes that color?” Lauren asked.
“What color?” Tabitha looked up from her book.
“Ice blue,” Charlotte said.
“Like mine?” Tabitha said.
“Actually, just like yours,” Charlotte said. Lauren realized she was right and wondered if that’s why he seemed so familiar. His eyes weren’t those of someone she knew, they just resembled someone’s she already knew.
“Was he arrogant to you?” Charlotte asked. “I thought that he was the most civil of the bunch.”
“Me too,” Lauren agreed. “Actually, the weirdest thing happened. And before I tell you the story, I need to ask you a favor.”
“What’s that?”
They both turned their heads as the huge front door opened. “Pizza man!” Logan shouted.
Tabitha jumped up and ran to greet her Uncle Logan with her book still in her hand.
“Can I borrow four hundred dollars?” Lauren hated asking her sister for money, and it was something that she rarely had to do. Her sister had helped her through the lean times and had even let Tabitha and Lauren crash at her place until they got on their feet in Chance Rapids. “It’s only until my next check. I had an unexpected expense today.”