The run in, p.3
The Run In, page 3
Mason looked back and forth between us before he stood. “Of course not. I’ll be right outside.”
I watched him as he made his way out the door. Once it shut, I focused back on Ava. She slowly shook her head. “You do know what Mason just did, don’t you?”
This could go either way. I’d been down this road before—put to the test to see if I would crack under pressure—but never with a woman CEO. Especially one who was younger than me. I could play dumb, which honestly didn’t do me or my career any good, or I could let her know I knew exactly what the asshole just did to me.
“If you mean my new boss walking me into a meeting I was totally unprepared for so he could see how I’d react under pressure, then yes, I completely know what he just did.”
She leaned forward. “I’ve heard amazing things about you, Saylor, and when Mason said he had the chance to snag you from Smith and Smith, I was almost giddy. Women at our level don’t come around very often, so to have you with Maxwell and Locke is a thrill. I won’t promise you that things will be easy. We still have a lot of old suits—as well as young ones—who don’t think a woman’s place is at the top, equal to men. I’m sure you know exactly what I mean.”
I nodded and grinned. “When I was little, I remember my mother telling me about Ginger Rogers. I was watching a movie with her and Fred Astaire and was entranced by her. My mother leaned down and told me how Ginger once said that she did everything the man did when it came to dancing—only she did it backward and in heels. That no matter what I wanted to do in life, I could do it, and no one, especially a man, would be able to tell me I couldn’t. And from the moment I took my first upper-level position, I’ve been working to prove that I can do exactly what they can do. But I can do it backward and in heels.”
Ava smiled. “I knew the moment I saw your face that Quinn had sprung this meeting on you. He’s a good guy, but I won’t make excuses for him. I wanted you to know that I knew what he did, and I’m very proud of the way you handled yourself.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Locke. I appreciate your support.”
She took in a deep breath and stood. “I’ve got work to do, so get that information to Quinn by Friday morning.”
Standing, I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Saylor. I’ll let you tell Quinn the meeting is over.”
I tried to hide my smirk, but I was sure I failed. “I’ll do that, Mrs. Locke.”
She turned and walked out the door that was behind her. I ripped my notes out of the pad and made my way out of the conference room. When I walked out, I saw Mason leaning up against a wall talking to a bleached-blonde. She laughed at something he said, and he winked at her.
Ugh. Pig.
I walked up to him and cleared my throat. “Mrs. Locke said the meeting is over. I’m supposed to deliver my research to you by Friday morning.”
Smiling at the young woman he was talking to, I excused myself and headed to the elevator. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was a bit sad Mason hadn’t followed me.
When I stepped into the elevator, I glanced over to see him still talking to the woman. As the doors shut, I noticed him handing her his business card.
I dropped my head and closed my eyes, trying to figure out why I was so bothered by what I’d just seen between Mason and the blonde.
Men. They’re all the same. Each and every one of them.
Lifting my head, I drew in a deep breath and then pushed it out. It didn’t matter. I’d sworn off men after I’d left Ron. My only focus was on my new job and showing Maxwell and Locke that they hadn’t made a mistake in hiring me.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
Mason
I SAT AT my desk and stared at the folder Saylor had ready before I came in this morning.
Her notes were spot on, and I could tell she’d researched the shit out of Jameson Rum’s competitors. Her study on the market around rum and when she thought would be the best time to launch a new campaign was gutsy. I had to hand it to her; the girl should probably be sitting in my chair. Her ideas were solid, and I knew both Ava and Derrick would be on board with them. Not to mention, they were different and fun.
Clearing my throat, I closed the file and set it on top of another brief I’d received for a meeting later this afternoon.
My phone buzzed. Hitting a button, I said, “Yes? What is it, Ashley?”
“Charisa Phelps to see you, Mr. Quinn.”
I rolled my eyes.
Fuck.
“Send her in.”
Less than thirty seconds later, Charisa walked in. I couldn’t help but notice that her blouse was showing a little more cleavage than normal.
“Charisa, what can help you with?” I asked in an uninterested voice.
Shutting the door, she flashed me a smile and made her way around my desk.
Christ. Not again.
I’d met Charisa last year at a marketing meeting in Chicago. We’d talked, drank a little too much, and had ended up in her hotel room where I’d fucked her brains out. She hadn’t told me at the time what firm she worked for, but for some crazy reason, I’d thought it was one in LA. When I’d taken the job with Maxwell and Locke, I’d been surprised as hell to see her walk by my office that first morning.
She pulled up her skirt to reveal her bare pussy as she walked up and straddled me.
“Mason, I really wish you’d stop playing hard to get.”
The warmth of her pussy through my pants did nothing to my cock. Not even a damn twitch from the bastard.
Placing my hands on her hips, I lifted her up and pushed her off of me.
“What part of I’m your boss do you not understand?” I asked. “And where the fuck are your knickers?”
She giggled, and I rolled my eyes. I’d been born in England and had lived there until I was almost 10, which was when my father had moved us all to Chicago to take over my mother’s failing family business. Now and then, I heard my accent come back—mostly when I was angry, drunk, or with my cousin, Charlie. For the most part, I hardly ever let it slip out like that.
With a pout, Charisa said, “I left them in my office.”
“Go put them back on.”
“How about later this evening, when everyone leaves, I come back in here. You told me once you wanted to fuck me across your desk.”
“I was two sheets to the wind.” I stood, took her by the arm, and then I walked her back around my desk. “Now, I’m going to tell you once more to stay out of my office unless you have business to discuss. You come in here again with your pussy on display and you’re out the door.”
She stopped walking. “Touch me just once, Mason. I’m so wet for you—it’s dripping down my leg. Please. I want to feel your mouth on me.”
The door to my office opened, and I turned to see Saylor standing there.
“Don’t you fucking knock?” I bit out at her.
Her head jerked back as her gaze shifted from me to Charisa and then back to me. I realized I was still holding onto Charisa’s arm, and I dropped it and stepped away from her.
“I did knock, since your receptionist isn’t at her desk. I knocked twice as a matter of fact, but I guess you were too busy to hear. I’ll try again later.”
“Wait,” I said, a little harsher than I meant to. Turning back to Charisa, I asked, “Did I make myself clear?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re making a mistake, Mason. I can promise you that.”
My blood boiled. “Pack your shit. You’re fired.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What? You’re going to fire me because we fucked?”
“Okay, I’m going to come back later,” Saylor said as she retreated from my office.
“Ms. Night, please don’t move. Ms. Phelps is leaving.” I turned to Charisa. “I’ll call security and let them know you’ll be handing over your badge and keys.”
Charisa’s body trembled. “You can’t do this to me.”
Leaning in closer to her, I put my mouth to the side of her ear. “I had cameras and microphones installed in my office just because of women like you. I can—and I will—send the tape of your little show earlier to Mr. Locke. You’ll never work in this business again. Don’t push me.”
She stepped back and shot me a dirty look. Then she laughed. “It’s a good thing I’m marrying a doctor next weekend, isn’t it? Asshole.”
Okay, I didn’t see that coming.
Charisa stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
Saylor stood there with a stunned expression on her face. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She chuckled. “Honestly, I thought you were having sex with Laura.”
“What?” I asked, anger evident in my voice. “You thought I was sleeping with an employee of mine?”
She shrugged, but there was something in her eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was jealousy.
“Listen, what you do with your little man is your own business,” she said. “I simply needed to tell you I’m leaving at lunch to go check out a bar.”
My brows drew together. “Wait. Are you leaving work early to drink? And what in the fuck did you just call my dick? Little man?”
She laughed, and I was caught off guard by how it made me feel. What in the hell was that pressure in my chest?
“No, I’m not leaving work early to go drink. I’m going to a bar I found that serves Jameson Rum. I want to ask the manager why he picked Jameson over Bacardi.”
I smiled. “I like it. Hands-on research.”
Her eyes moved to where my dick was straining against my trousers. The fucker started to get hard the longer she stared at it. Tilting her head, she shrugged, then met my stare with those sparkling hazel eyes of hers.
“Maybe ‘little man’ was a tad unfair.”
Ashley suddenly appeared behind Saylor. “Mr. Quinn, Mr. Locke’s secretary called. They had to push the meeting from today to Monday morning.”
I felt the corners of my mouth rise. “Perfect. Ashley, I’ll be out of the office this afternoon. Ms. Night and I are heading out to a meeting.”
Saylor’s eyes widened in horror. Either she was lying about where she was really going, or the thought of me coming with her scared the piss out of her. Especially with how she was talking about my dick. Damn, I couldn’t wait to find out which one it was.
“Yes, sir,” Ashley said before she excused herself and slipped away to who knows where.
I cocked my head and looked at Saylor. “Do you have a problem with me coming along with you, Ms. Night?”
Fuck. A naughty scene flashed through my mind. Saylor on top of me, her hands cupping her breasts as we both found release.
She recovered quickly. Plastering on a fake smile, she replied, “Not at all, Mr. Quinn. But just to let you know, I’m not ever going to let you into my pants. Are we clear on that?”
I laughed. “What in the world makes you think I want in your pants?”
The same hurt that I’d seen that day she’d spilled the tea on me—when I’d made the same jackass comment—moved across her face again.
I wanted to punch myself for insulting her once more.
She pressed her lips together then said, “Right, I’m sorry for that. It was unprofessional of me. I’ll text you the name and address and meet you there at one.”
“You don’t want to go together?” I asked before I could stop the words from leaving my mouth.
When she didn’t respond, I nodded. “I’ll meet you there at one.”
Saylor turned and walked out of my office. I couldn’t shake the sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure what had me more worried. That Saylor actually thought I’d been fucking Charisa and Laura, or the fact that she didn’t want to be around me. Neither idea sat well with me.
My cell phone buzzed, and I headed back over to my desk. It was from an unknown number. Opening it, I read the message.
Unknown: The bar is called Pete’s. It’s on Lexington Ave.
I quickly programmed Saylor’s cell into my phone.
Me: I’ve been there a lot. I live near there.
Saylor: You do? So do I.
Smiling, I decided to ask her where she lived at the bar later. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t text again. That was one thing I’d figured out about Saylor: She wasn’t a chaser. Not like Charisa. Leaning back in my chair, I started to wonder how many guys Saylor had been with. Was she a very experienced lover, or was she the type of woman who’d only recently broken up with her college boyfriend because he hadn’t popped the question yet?
My curiosity got the better of me. I had a shit ton of work to do, but I was too distracted by the beautiful blonde who was in the office next door to me. This was all new to me. No woman had ever had me so damn unfocused or curious to know more about them.
Pulling up Google, I typed in Saylor’s name along with the words Seattle, Washington.
A line of pictures showed up, so I clicked on the images. Saylor had been in the same position at Smith and Smith that I currently held at Maxwell and Locke, so I wasn’t surprised to see pictures of her dressed up at galas. But when I saw the same guy on her arm in multiple photos, I felt my anger beginning to build.
Who is this fucker?
I clicked on one of the pictures and it led me to an article.
Seattle Times Honors Local Smith and Smith Employee for Volunteer Work
Saylor Night was honored for her work with a local charity in the Seattle, Washington, area that builds homes for wounded veterans. Accompanying her to the event was long-time boyfriend, Ron Johnson.
I closed out the window and went back to Google to type in Ron Johnson, Seattle, Washington.
Local musician arrested for breaking restraining order put out by former girlfriend and senior marketing manager at Smith and Smith Marketing.
Staring at the tagline, I swallowed hard as I clicked on it.
Ron Johnson, 29, of Evert, Washington, was arrested after refusing to leave the office of his once long-time girlfriend, Saylor Night. Ms. Night works at Smith and Smith as a senior marketing manager. It is unclear why the original restraining order was issued.
I moved my cursor up to the X and closed the window. It suddenly felt like I was invading Saylor’s privacy.
That’s when I saw another picture, and my chest squeezed. It was Saylor with a black eye exiting a building. I hovered my cursor over the picture before I closed my eyes and clicked it. A new window popped up featuring a news article.
Saylor Night, Seattle’s volunteer princess, left battered and bruised. There have been no police reports filed, but speculation is that her long-time boyfriend, Ron Johnson of local musical group In Touch, is behind the marks.
I quickly closed the browser and leaned back in my chair. I pushed both of my hands through my hair and dragged in a deep breath.
What in the hell was happening to me? Why was I so angry? And why in the hell did I want to track this motherfucker down and beat his ass into the ground?
Letting out a groan, I stood and walked over to the windows. In one week, Saylor Night had managed to get under my skin—and not even in an annoying way.
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
Saylor
THE MOMENT I walked into Pete’s, I smiled. I could see why Mason came here often. It was a higher class bar. Almost everyone was dressed in suits or business casual attire.
I made my way to the bar and sat on a stool. The gentleman next to me glanced my way and smiled. I steadied myself. For the briefest of moments, he’d looked like Ron, my ex back in Seattle.
Letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I returned the man’s smile and shifted my focus to the bartender. After we made eye contact, he headed directly toward me.
“What can I do you for?”
“Jim Ross around?” I asked.
He smiled bigger, which made me smile. Two good looking guys and two smiles in less than two minutes.
Nice.
But I wasn’t interested. I’d sworn off men until the end of time. Well, maybe not the end of time.
“I’m Jim. You must be Saylor Night.”
Reaching my hand out over the bar, I nodded. “You’d be correct.”
“Well, damn, had I known you were so good looking, I would have suggested dinner, pretty lady.”
With a polite chuckle, I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off by another voice.
“Mason Quinn. The pretty lady’s boss.”
I turned my head to glare at Mason.
What in the hell was he on about with that remark? And why did he sound so possessive?
Jim laughed and shook his head. “Mason, how’ve you been?”
Taking the seat next to me, Mason grinned. “Good. You?”
“Well, I was doing pretty damn good until you put my fire out.”
Mason tossed his head back with a laugh before looking at Jim. “You’d be wasting your time on this one.”
Jim frowned and slowly shook his head. “Damn.”
Pinching my brows hard, I knocked on the wood bar. “Hello. I’m still sitting here.”
Both men turned toward me. The evil smile on Mason’s face threw me for a loop. Why in the world would he say that to Jim? I mean, I wasn’t interested, but how would he know? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.
“You know, Jim, I was actually thinking dinner might be a good idea.”
“What?” Jim and Mason both said at the same time.
Nodding, I flashed him a sexy grin. “Sure, why not. We can talk all things rum.”
“You can do that right now,” Mason said with a growl.
“Tonight?” Jim asked, his face laced with hope.
Sliding my phone across the bar, I replied, “I have no plans.” I did, though. Mary and I were going to some dance club she insisted I needed to check out.
He quickly added his number, and the guy on the other side of me huffed and got off his stool. Not bothering to look at him, I turned to see Mason staring at Jim while he typed his information into my phone.
