Bad Intentions

by Carmen Falcone

  When the managers left and Steinberg picked up another phone call, she cleared her throat and erased the gap between them.

  “Hi, I was hoping we’d be able to talk either here or in my office when you get a chance,” she said.

  Cole averted his eyes from the pages he’d been flicking, and when his gaze landed on hers, a tremor worked its way down her spine, awakening all her female parts. Damn. She hadn’t noticed the rings of hazel outlining his bright green irises. She swallowed, wishing to get rid of the lumps of lust forming in all her pulsing points. “Of course.” He glanced down at his expensive watch then scratched his chin. “I’m in meetings all day. Dinner?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Dinner implied going home to change, nighttime shenanigans and the mistakable date-type atmosphere. Dinner was dangerous. “How about lunch?”

  “I’m already meeting a couple of other managers to go over some operational things at lunch.”

  Damn. He left her no options. “All right. Sure. Dinner sounds good.”

  “My assistant will forward you the details. See you then.”

  “The sommelier will be right with you,” the waitress said, after pouring the bottle of Evian into his glass.

  “Not needed. This is a work meeting,” Cole said out loud, because the five times he had internally chastised himself with those words hadn’t been enough. Soon, Nikki would arrive and they’d only discuss business. A lump of frustration expanded in his chest, and he tapped the linen tablecloth. Work meeting, man.

  Those two words put him right where he should be—professional, detached. Truthfully, he could have scheduled the meeting with Nikki at a different date, but the idea of not seeing her just because of his packed scheduled had deflated a balloon inside him he shouldn’t even be filling.

  After he had been involved in a scandal with his father’s former assistant, his father had once again been disappointed, and worst of all, adamant about his son’s removal from the family business. He’d offered to buy his share of stocks, but Cole had refused. He’d worked hard his whole life and was too good at it to walk away because of a bad decision, a bad call to sleep with a woman who blackmailed him with a sexual harassment lawsuit if he didn’t deposit a good amount of money in her bank account.

  When he hadn’t acted fast enough, she had contacted his father and blackmailed him.

  One more failure in his father’s eyes.

  Cole took a gulp of water, pretending it was hard liquor. This is different. Nikki didn’t work for him when he’d kissed her. She had been a random woman who had changed his evening and gave him a perpetual hard-on during the weekend. What would it have been like if they’d had sex?

  The main vein in his neck pulsed. Passionate.

  His cock hardened, every part of him so attuned to the forbidden thought unraveling in his mind. When he’d slid his hands down her lower back, her lush ass had filled his palms. What wouldn’t he give to feel her naked against him and touch, kiss and nibble her peach-smooth behind? She’d moan, urgency dripping in her voice. And he would—

  “Cole?” the woman who had assailed his peace of mind said, pulling a chair in front of his. “Sorry I’m late.”

  He coughed, realizing he couldn’t stand up to shake her hand because his erection was even more stubborn than his mind. “No problem. I didn’t see you coming.” Otherwise, he would have pulled her a chair. No. Not at a work meeting, he told himself, willing away the thrumming in his heart.

  Wearing a beige turtleneck and the same color skirt, she looked even better than he remembered. She had pulled her hair up in some kind of a glorified bun, but a few strands managed to stray and frame her face. Stunning.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” she said in a neutral tone. She pulled a folder from her bag and placed it on the table. She opened the folder, stared at its contents, then sighed. With a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, she closed it and drummed her fingers on the cover. “First, I wanted to tell you I didn’t know who you were when I approached you at the bar.”

  He straightened his shoulders. A zing of awareness traveled from his scalp to his core. Why would he think she had a hidden agenda to go talk to him at Splurge? “No worries. I’m glad you brought this up. Seems we’ll work together while we transition the communities, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not uncomfortable.”

  Good, because he was about to come in his pants. “So, what do you want to talk about that couldn’t wait?”

  She stared him square in the eye. “I don’t think moving some of the residents to another facility is a good idea.”

  Specks of gold shone in the depths of her rich brown irises. It was like something had gone down his throat and sucked away all his moisture. All of a sudden, he was thirsty, dry and raw.

  He shook his head. In the last year when his father had called him to help, he’d dealt with his share of stubborn employees who despised change and, in many cases, progress. “But you haven’t even visited the new place. How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I’ve been working at Great Escape for three years. I know the residents’ stories and what an undertaking it will be to some of their families if they transfer.”

  He had a drink of water. “They aren’t moving to a remote town in India, they’ll be just some hours away by car.”

  She opened a folder and selected some sheets of paper, sliding them to his side. “A lot of research concluded these patients are better off close to family members.”

  He stretched in his chair, desperate to find a comfortable position. Her words, her plea didn’t faze him, but her presence… her presence had a way of spiking his pulse. Would he feel the same if they had had sex after leaving the bar? Would she still affect him as much? “The family members who feel so strongly about it can move.”

  “Not everyone comes from a privileged background and can uproot their entire lives overnight,” she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

  “Not everyone does,” he said, biting the bitterness from his tongue. Had she Googled him? His father’s family had been rich, but he built his business from scratch. Maybe she hadn’t and assumed he’d worked for his father his whole life, riding on his coattails. Irritation floated up his throat, leaving an acidic aftertaste. “Now you listen to my side.”

  She crossed her arms, sighing, then leaned in. “Of course.”

  “The patients we’ll transfer are in good health. They’ll benefit from the new buildings with a lot of resources available for them. Meanwhile, we’ll be able to switch our current special needs patients to an upgraded lifestyle. We’ll remodel and use the space from the rooms to build a new patient care center with up and coming therapies that may help them,” he said evenly. How could she not get it?

  “I appreciate new technologies and therapies. However, have you considered finding a new site in Tulip? Why do we need to move the residents from buildings A and B hours away when there are so many sites available much closer?”

  “It’s a business decision. The real estate here is more expensive than where we’re sending them.” The board had been pleased with the idea of saving money too. But he doubted that nugget of information would impress the magnificent, defiant woman in front of him. “Why are you so invested in this?”

  “Because I care—”

  “Cut the crap,” he interrupted her, waving her off. An underlying reason must exist, and he had to find out. “Why?”

  The waitress came and brought them a small basket of different kinds of breads accompanied with butter. She replenished their water and handed them the menus. All the while, he kept his gaze fixed on Nikki’s in a silent challenge. For how much longer would they dance around the subject? What did she expect from this meeting?

  She tore her gaze from his, and when she reached for the bread, the tips of her fingers trembled. “My grandmother is amongst those patients.”

  Aha. “How convenient for you,” he said, sarcasm dripping fro
m his voice. Her grandmother… of course. Now it all made sense—she wasn’t an idealistic person who cared deeply about the wellbeing of the elderly. Was she? He dipped his head, as if he could see her better, dive into her glowing eyes and find the truth.

  “But that isn’t the only reason. I spend time with her and her friends.”

  “Good for you. What’s your other topic for this meeting?”

  She cleared her throat. Fear flicked in her eyes, and he didn’t have to dive into their depths to know she wasn’t faking it. “This is the main one.”

  His gut clenched. Damn it. Since neither of them would budge, the right thing to do would be to call off the meeting and go home. To say goodbye to her and go to sleep without knowing for sure if deep down she was selfish or well meaning. Didn’t matter—she had children, and he doubted she’d want a guy who didn’t want to be around them. One more look at her, and his gut clenched tighter. Regret for what he was about to do coursed through him. He waved to the waitress. “I changed my mind about the sommelier.” He’d need a drink after all.

  3

  “What do you mean he didn’t agree?” Lara asked, passing the bowl of popcorn around. This week they decided to go to Violet’s home to watch The Rock’s latest release in the awesome home theater while the kids played with the teenage sitter on the second floor.

  Violet’s husband was a well-off surgeon, and the girls sure took advantage of their mansion whenever he went away on business trips.

  “We talked and ate for one hour, but there was no way I could convince him,” Nikki said.

  “Damn. What are you going to do?” Brit took a drink out of her cup.

  “I don’t want to give up, but how easy is it to stand up to The Man?” she said. Images of a specific man and not the figurative one popped in her head. He’d listened to her, and countered every argument she’d thrown his way. Disappointment warmed her blood, or maybe it was the amount of alcohol she’d already consumed. Either way, she was at a loss—and she hated to lose, especially when others lost too.

  Violet lifted her glass of wine and had a sip. “Someone has to do it.”

  “Yes. Well, I tried. I just don’t know how to tell Henry and David they won’t get to see Grandma that often,” she said sadly. And all the other family members to residents she’d come to know.

  “Have you talked to Sue about it?” Brit leaned closer.

  She grabbed a pillow and clenched it against her chest. “Not yet. I was hoping to find a way out before telling Grandma.”

  “Wait,” Lara said, lifting her glass like she just had a bright idea. Some of her wine nearly sloshed out of it. “What if you tell her and the others?”

  Nikki shuffled in the couch. She was Human Resources, so wouldn’t she have to inform them anyway? Probably after she got the word from upper management. “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. Talk to some of these residents and try to have them or their family members sign a petition about how they have strong ties to the community and can’t leave.”

  “That could work.” Violet nodded.

  “You mean going behind The Man’s back?” Nikki asked. Leave it to Lara to come up with a conspiracy or ingenious way to outsmart Corporate America.

  “For now, yes. Just until they get enough signatures and threats to leave the place if they don’t get their way,” Lara said. A triumphant smile formed on her pretty face.

  “You know that won’t happen. Retirement communities have wait lists, and—

  “I’m saying it’s a threat. Enough to give The Man a headache and perhaps a PR headache. Meanwhile, it buys you time to seek out a new location. Closer.”

  Nikki swallowed, feeling the pulse at the base of her throat. Was it excitement or fear? “Hhhmm… Last time I let you girls talk me into something, I made out with the same man who I’m trying to bring down. How is this a good idea?”

  Brit chewed her lower lip. “It’s worth a try.”

  She grabbed the bottle of wine and poured a copious amount of rosé into her glass. “What about your resolution to live it up after Noelle’s death, Lara? Since you’re our official instigator?”

  Lara threw her hands in the air. “Trust me, I’ll think of something. Or you guys will soon enough.”

  Brit stood. “I’ll check on the kids to make sure the sitter won’t hate us by the time we leave.”

  Lara looped her arm into her friend’s, walking alongside her. “Good call. I’ll come with ya.”

  Nikki threw her head on the buttery leather sofa, sighing so hard the tips of her side bangs moved. “Those girls are crazy. What are you doing, Vi? You’ve been quiet lately. Any big resolutions on your end?”

  Violet’s expression darkened, her blue eyes shifting to a complex cobalt. Unlike the other three, Violet usually sat primly on the sofa, with legs crossed, no underwear showing and, well, she just had a regal aura about her. But now, a mask of sadness settled on her face, worrying Nikki.

  Nikki shifted in the sofa. “What is it?”

  Violet thinned her lips, glancing around the big home theater room before her gaze returned to Nikki. Tears brimmed in her eyelids.

  The little hairs at the back of Nikki’s neck stood on end. What could be wrong? Violet had her shit together more than anyone she knew. “Tell me.”

  “I’m not ready to tell the girls yet. I’m not ready to tell anyone.”

  Nikki reached to her hand, squeezed it in hers. Her friend’s skin felt clammy and cold. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I’m getting divorced.”

  Divorced.

  Nikki’s breath caught in her throat. She always assumed Violet and Damian’s marriage was perfect, or at least, pretty close to it. A dedicated father and super hot husband, he never had a wandering eye and always remembered special dates most guys forgot. “What did he do?”

  Violet waved her off. “I’ve been battling depression for a while.”

  “Yes.” Nikki knew. Her friend told her about the postpartum depression that assailed her after having her youngest. “You’re getting treatment, right?”

  Violet bent down to grab a tissue box from the coffee table and retrieved a tissue from it. She dabbed it at the corner of her eyes. “Yes. But the therapy also made me see things I didn’t want to see about myself and that bleeds into my marriage.”

  A dark sensation of nostalgia squeezed Nikki’s chest. Before Luke came out to her, they saw a couples counselor for a few sessions. Each time she left the office, she’d always thought she was the one at fault. Hell, even after he’d told her he preferred men, she’d blamed herself for a while for not being able to keep her marriage intact. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry to hear. Where have I been?”

  Violet took a deep breath. “I haven’t been ready to talk to anyone. I’m still not.”

  Fair enough. “Are you firm about your decision?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Damian?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet, but I’m sure he knows I’m unhappy.”

  “If you need anything, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

  A shadow of a smile formed on Violet’s face. “Yes. I do.”

  She gave her a hug, and it took Violet a couple seconds to hug her back. Nikki patted her back, soothing her like she would one of her sons after having a nightmare. Quickly, Violet disentangled from her arms and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said, but the wavering in her voice didn’t convince Nikki. Then, she took a breath and dimmed the lights a bit. “I don’t want the girls to—

  Nikki nodded. “You’ll tell them when you’re ready.”

  Violet rubbed the back of her neck. “Thank you.”

  “And this is why you should sign the petition,” she said, handing the clipboard to Mr. Fairchild.

  Mr. Fairchild, a man still attractive in his seventies, scratched his chin. “Does management know about this?”

  She threaded her fingers together.
“Well, I’m management, but I’m acting as an adviser in this case. You know, to get the ball rolling.” To get the ball rolling before The Man finds out. Apprehension rolled down her body. No, this had to work. She always followed the rules, why not break them once for the greater good? So greedy corporate folks would have to find another location. Boohoo.

  “Does this mean I don’t say anything?” He adjusted his reading glasses.

  “Yes. You can’t tell a soul. Even though I’m reaching out to people personally, I don’t want you to spread the word or I could lose my job.” Which could still very well happen if they found out what she was doing.

  Relax, a voice inside her said. Steinberg didn’t spend enough time in the operational part of things to pay attention, and she doubted the new guy would. Cole had been occupying an office on the second floor. And besides, after he asked for some work files to be emailed, he hadn’t reached out to her again.

  Of course. He’d probably kissed others since the one they shared, and now thought of her as no more than a rock in his shoe. Or maybe under the dim light at the bar she’d been more attractive to him, but in broad daylight her small breasts and slight underbite turned him off. She was pretty, sure, but not the kind of pretty a man like him preferred.

  What does it matter?

  Mr. Fairchild scribbled his signature and handed her the clipboard. “Good luck. Is that the new owner?” He quirked his chin in the opposite direction, and she turned her face.

  Cole marched in their direction, his long legs doing quick work of the sidewalk. A shivering sensation she wasn’t used to spilled into her stomach, sending her blood into a wild rush. She parted her lips, but hesitated from speaking. Her gazed fixed on him, just appreciating the delicious man with broad shoulders and a hooded stare.

  “Nikki, I’ve been looking for you,” he said casually.

  She clenched the clipboard, holding it against her chest. “Yes. I was talking to Mr. Fairchild.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Mr. Fairchild said, stretching out his hand.