Back for more, p.3
Back for More, page 3
“Shhh!” I look over to the door, which is closed—but still. I lower my voice. “I did not bang the boss’s daughter.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really?” She bobs around until I finally look at her.
I meet that gaze and give her my most serious and assertive voice. “Really.”
“But you kissed her?”
And now I’m thinking about all the times I kissed my boss’s daughter. Thanks a lot, Kate. I rub my face with both hands. “You’re fired. Go home.”
She claps her hands gleefully. “This is so cute!”
“It’s not cute,” I grumble.
“Awww! You had a little young love thing with the boss’s daughter!”
“It wasn’t love.” That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.
“Ooooh, but it was lust! And something more, I’ll bet!” She squeals. “Oh look at you!” She comes around to my side of the desk, messes up my hair, and kisses the top of my head. “I haven’t gotten any kind of reaction from you about any woman before now! You’re adorable.”
“I am definitely not adorable,” I say as I run my fingers through my hair.
“You are, though! Oh Em Gee… Lily Barnes is the one who got away, isn’t she?”
“Speaking of going away—don’t you have work to do?”
“Unearthing the emotional man beneath the workaholic stud muffin is my most important job here.”
“Do not refer to me as a ‘stud muffin.’”
Fortunately, Kate’s phone line rings, so I’m spared any more of this torture.
Instead of returning to her desk, she answers on my phone. “This is Kate… Good to know,” she says. I can tell by the way she’s grinning that HR is calling to tell her that Lily is on her way over. “I will let him know.” She lowers her voice. “What’s she like?” She watches me as she listens. “Oh really?…Shut up. Seriously?” She giggles. “I can’t wait! Talk to you in a bit.” She hangs up.
“Kate, I do not want you telling anyone about—”
“Oh calm down, Mr. Huffypants. Your dirty little secret is safe with me. I shall send the lady in as soon as she arrives…” She waddles back out of my office with more of a spring in her step than when she came in.
“It’s not a dirty little secret.”
“You’re right!” she says as she closes the door behind her. “It’s huge!”
I tug down on the cuffs of my shirt and assemble myself so it looks like I’m in the middle of something really important on my computer. I mean, I am doing something really important on my computer. I’m trying to close an eight-million-dollar deal on a resort in Ashland. That’s my job. That’s my priority. This whole Lily Barnes thing is just a temporary glitch in my day. Things will go back to normal soon, I’m sure of it.
I’m pretty sure of it.
I just don’t know which normal it’s going to go back to—the way things were before she came back or the way things were before she left.
The truth is, I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before she came back. I was bored. I like my work, but when Lily left, she took a spark of life with her.
Probably best if we find a new normal.
A professional one.
For now.
4
Wes
*Little White Lie*
I can hear Kate laughing outside my office door. Great. That means Lily has turned on the charm. If Kate actually likes her, I will never hear the end of it.
I quickly get up, deciding to put on my suit jacket. I don’t usually wear it in the office unless I’m meeting with new clients, but I feel the need to add an extra layer. If I’m going to be her boss, I’d better look like one the first time she sees me.
There’s a coy little knock, followed by: “Mr. Carver, I have Lily Barnes here to see you.”
I take a seat at my desk again, crack my knuckles, and prepare myself for an onslaught of sassy assholery.
The door opens, and the first thing through it is a mile-long, toned, bare, golden leg. That girl has always known how to make an entrance. I swear, everything’s moving in slow motion and I can hear “Pour Some Sugar On Me” somewhere in the background.
She’s just as lithe and languid as ever, her straight blonde hair hanging like a curtain over her face until she tosses it back and fixes me with her chestnut brown eyes. The warmth of them always surprises me. Every time.
As soon as she walks in, it’s like no time has passed at all since I last saw her. Not five years, not one day. I don’t even remember what I’ve been doing with myself all this time, other than trying to forget how stunning she is. She deactivated her social media accounts, so aside from that damn car insurance commercial that aired during the Super Bowl last year, nothing has prepared me for how soul-crushingly beautiful she is as an adult woman.
Jesus.
I somehow manage to stand up and cross over to just inside the doorway where she’s standing. She makes no effort to meet me halfway, of course. Maybe she’s afraid she’ll fall over in those four-inch heels.
She’s smirking at me, but I catch the flash in her eyes when they travel down my suited-up body and back up again. As I recall, the last time she saw me in a suit, we were being horny idiots at prom. But I manage to refrain from staring at her barely-buttoned-up, loose-hanging blouse and skirt that hits a few inches above the knee. You think you can knock me on my ass with that red lipstick and those four-inch heels? Think again. Things have changed. This guy is perfectly capable of keeping his lips and hands off you, Lily Barnes.
I shake her hand and give her a nod. “Miss Barnes.”
“Well, hello.” Her honeyed voice oozes a little less sarcasm than the last time I heard it. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Carver.”
“You can call me Wes.”
“Fantastic. I like hearing you call me Miss Barnes, though.” She tilts her head and slow-blinks at me, still a devious little flirt.
“We aren’t usually quite so formal around here, I’m afraid.”
“Well that’s a shame. I’ve always thought you look awfully nice in a suit.”
Kate stands behind her, pointing at Lily and animatedly mouthing the words, Oh. My. God! She’s gorgeous! You need to tap that!
“Thank you, Kate. You can hold my calls, unless Jacobi gets back to us.”
“Total privacy—you got it!” She winks.
“See you in a bit, Kate. Thanks,” Lily says over her shoulder.
“Have fun, doll.”
Doll? Kate doesn’t call people doll. She gives me an exaggerated wink as she exits and shuts the door.
“C’est vraiment bien de te voir. Ça va, monsieur?” she asks, sounding like a French native. I suppose it’s easier for her to tell me it’s good to see me in a foreign language.
When she was fourteen, she would sometimes help me out with my French studies—which was not at all humiliating, given that I was two years ahead of her.
“Ça va bien, merci, et toi?”
“Pas mal. Merci.”
“Ah, bien. Où est la discothèque?” And that’s about the extent of my spoken French at this point.
She laughs. A real laugh. I’ve always loved how her face is transformed when she laughs. It’s like watching a stone skip across the surface of a lake. Sudden flutters of genuine joy rippling across that carefully cultivated mask of indifference. I’ve seen beneath the mask, and it’s a bottomless, beautiful mess.
But I can’t think about that.
I take a deep breath—which is a mistake. She smells like a woman now. The fruity, flowery essence of her youth has been replaced by something mysterious and musky and devastating. I step away from her, retreating to the safety of my desk as she slowly takes inventory of my sizable office.
“Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks. Have a seat.” I gesture toward the chairs that face my desk.
“Don’t mind if I do.” She takes her sweet time strolling over. I brace myself as she leans forward a little more than necessary while lowering her ass to the chair and drops her surprisingly plain handbag to the floor. She says nothing more, just looks at me with her sculpted eyebrows raised, waiting for me to speak.
“This is…interesting.”
“Well, it’s not ideal, but I am looking forward to this new chapter of my life, to learning new skills and getting to know more about this industry and my family’s business.” She folds her hands in her lap.
“Sure. That doesn’t sound like bullshit at all.”
She rolls her eyes. “Believe it or not, Wes, I am a professional.”
“Believe it or not, Lily, so am I.”
“You’ve certainly managed to convince my father of that,” she mutters under her breath.
I decide to let it slide. I’m sure this is more difficult for her than it is for me. “So, you’re back.”
“And you’re still a genius.” Her voice is more playful than sarcastic now, and she can’t stop smiling, no matter how hard she tries. We’ll see how long that lasts.
I lean back in my chair and clasp my hands behind my head. “It’s funny… I thought I saw you once, on Main Street, around Christmas last year.”
“Oh yeah? Wasn’t me. This is the first time I’ve been back since I left.”
“Well, I can see now that the woman I saw was…rounder. And angrier.”
She rubs her soft ruby red lips together, re-crossing her legs. “Uh-huh. You saw a round, angry woman and assumed it was me?”
“I mean, she was wearing a heavy coat. And she seemed annoyed that she had to do Christmas shopping. And I hadn’t seen you in years.”
She twists her lips to one side, staring at me, refraining from saying something—who knows what.
I decide to fill the silence with a little white lie. “I didn’t expect you to move back. Ever. Did the acting thing not work out?”
She snaps, as I knew she would. “It worked out just fine. I’m a good actor. I’m just bad at being an actress. There’s a difference.”
“You don’t have to tell me you’re a good actor.” After her mother passed, my dad, Vicky the housekeeper, and I used to go see her in her school plays and musicals. Her father never did, and that stung her. But for all the things I’ve never said to her, I would always tell her how good she was on stage. She is talented. She’s infinitely watchable. She was more real when she was acting on stage than she was in her day-to-day life.
She once told me that she loves acting because it’s easier for her to be herself when she’s allowed to be someone else.
“I’ve always told you you’re a genius on stage,” I say.
She nods, acknowledging that small truth.
But I can’t help but smirk and push her on the subject, just a little bit. “You’re not good at taking direction, though, is what you’re saying?”
“I’m great at taking direction,” she says. “I’m just not good at sucking up to assholes simply because they’re in a position to give me a job. I’m not good at schmoozing or keeping in touch with people either, unfortunately.”
“No, you’re not. That is unfortunate,” I say as I stroke my chin. “Sucking up and schmoozing and keeping in touch with people is very necessary in the commercial real estate business. This might not be a good fit for you either.”
“I will make this work.” Her nostrils flare. “If I want this to be a good fit, Mr. Carver, I will stretch my boundaries to accommodate you and do whatever it takes to make it a good fit.” She stares at me hard, her expression and tone caught somewhere between fuck you and fuck me, and—fuck this… She is definitely not a kid anymore, and this is not going to work.
She seems to read my mind, looks away, adjusts herself in her seat, and clears her throat. “Congratulations on being a vice president at twenty-five. It’s impressive. I hear there’s one other guy in your department?”
“My associate, Chris.”
“Is he even younger than you?”
“I think he’s five years older than I am.”
“And yet you’re the VP?”
“Chris isn’t quite as ambitious as I am, career-wise. He cares almost as much about hiking and fishing as he does about his wife and commercial real estate, so he doesn’t want the extra responsibility.”
“And you do?”
“Oh yeah.”
She looks down when she asks, “How’s Fanny Brice?”
Fanny Brice is a cat. We found her by the lake when she was a kitten. Lily took her home and named her after the main character in Funny Girl. “She’s good. She’s alive and well and happy to be living at my house when I’m in town and with my dad when I travel.”
“Good. I missed her. More than I expected to. I thought about her every day. I want her back.”
“I’ll be sure to let her know that. She’s been made aware of your return, and she’s considering her options.”
“She’s my cat, Wes. She belongs with me.”
“Funny… That wasn’t the impression you gave Fanny or me when you left her in a carrier on my dad’s porch five years ago.”
The girl had left me a scribbled note, inside the cat carrier, that said: Wes. Please take care of Fanny. I know you and your dad will be good to her. I’m leaving Belford, and I’m not coming back. Don’t try to get in touch with me. It’s for the best. Thank you.
I hope she understands why she hasn’t been nominated for Cat Mom of the Century.
She blinks, shifts around in the chair, unclenches her jaw, and lets out a breath. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“My pleasure. She’s a lot nicer now. Just as beautiful and strong-willed and sassy as ever, but she’s calmed down a bit over the years. I like having her around.”
She lowers her eyes and her voice. “Good. How’s your dad?”
“He’s great. Still lives on your dad’s property, but he’s taken on a few more clients in the neighborhood, since your dad doesn’t want much more than maintenance work anymore.”
She nods. “It’ll be good to see him.” She looks me straight in the eye and says, “Well. Speaking of maintenance work… I guess you should start telling me exactly what I’ll be doing for you here.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.
I mirror her pose and hold her gaze. “Beth should have gone over that with you when you were filling out your paperwork, and Kate will give you more detailed instructions tomorrow.”
“I’d like to hear it directly from you. Your expectations and administrative needs. So there’s no confusion and so I can fulfill my role here to the best of my ability.”
“Okay. So there’s no confusion—this was not my idea, and I’m just as uncomfortable about this situation as you are.”
“Uncomfortable? Do I seem uncomfortable?”
“No, you seem like a drugged-out robot secretary.”
She puffs out a little laugh. “I wasn’t aware that robots could be drugged.”
“And I think you must be drugged, or you would have objected to being called a secretary.”
She frowns and shifts around in the chair. “I am not your secretary.”
“No, you’re my assistant.” I stand up and walk around to the front of my desk to lean against it and look down at her while I talk. “You will have phone duties, scheduling and organizational duties; you will create, maintain, and enter information into databases; you’ll send and respond to emails to and from current and potential clients, as well as brokers, lawyers, bankers, and loan officers, appraisers, consultants, engineers, vendors, business owners, property managers, building inspectors, various contacts in various departments at City Hall, other members of the Barnes Group team on my behalf…all while keeping me updated on all communications in an efficient and timely manner. You’ll ensure effective communication between myself and Chris, to make sure I have all of his underwriting and market research when I need it. You’ll help me research and perform due diligence on commercial investment properties, fill out paperwork and type up reports for me, ensure that the paperwork is submitted in a timely manner. You’ll accompany me to sites when necessary, and you’ll do anything and everything necessary to assist me in analyzing investments and acquiring properties on this company’s and our clients’ behalf and closing deals. Tomorrow, Kate will give you a quick lesson on the different apps and software we use here while overseeing your work for one day only. I’m also assuming you’re capable of using a phone and sending emails—I wouldn’t know, since you’ve never called or emailed me.”
It does not go unnoticed that Lily has been squeezing her thighs together and staring up at me through her thick eyelashes, her lips parted, hands gripping the arms of her chair, leaning toward me ever so subtly.
Once I’m done with my little speech, I watch as she seemingly flips a switch. Her body relaxes, and she sits back against the chair, re-crosses her fucking gorgeous toned legs again, and lets her arms casually drop, like Sharon Stone in that Basic Instinct interrogation scene. I can’t see up her skirt from this angle, but I’m willing to bet all my money that she’s not wearing any underwear. Just to mess with me. Or maybe that’s just my brain messing with me. It’s definitely how things will go when I replay this at home later.
But I can’t think about that now.
She smirks. “I’m assuming you yourself are not familiar with the ins and outs of phones and email accounts since you also have never called or emailed me, even to let me know how my cat was doing.”
“I read between the lines of the pithy scribbled note you left me.”
The smirk disappears, her lower lip quivers, and the rims of her eyes turn pink all of a sudden. She looks down to the side and shakes her head. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“No, it’s not a good idea. It’s a terrible idea. But it’s just a job. It’s not forever. It’s not who you are. Right?”
She looks up at me again, still looking so vulnerable that it takes everything I have to keep from grabbing her and holding her tight. “I really need for this to work, Wes,” she says, voice trembling.
It’s not an act. I know why she wants this to work. She needs the money. It’s the most cynical way to read the situation, but that’s what I’m going with. Jasper didn’t give me the rundown about her trust fund, but it was easy to figure things out. She never would have agreed to work for him if it didn’t have some kind of big payoff at the end of a year.
