Perfect Drug

by Melinda Owens

  Gathering her coffee in her travel mug, she strapped her bag over her shoulder and left the house to get in the car as Luther held the door open.

  If she could afford someplace else for Gram, she would move her in a heartbeat. But unless this new job worked out really, really well, she didn’t have a hope of someplace new anytime soon.

  This house was paid for. She could barely afford the taxes on it; she certainly couldn’t afford a new home.

  Traffic was light, as it had been for a few days. She couldn’t help but wonder if Charlie was a good luck charm in that regard.

  The long drive gave her the time to embrace her feelings for Charlie and indulge in them. She enjoyed the way her nipples tightened and her core got warm. He was a unique specimen of man, and she loved the way he made her feel. Of course, she had to be careful with those feelings, because she knew it was a crush and could be nothing else. He was her boss, and she needed this job to work.

  But she could let herself get a little carried away on her drive in. As long as she didn’t act on anything, she was fine.

  Right?

  Shaking her head a little, Amelia realized she was there. Mentally ticking off what she had to do before Charlie made it in to work, she remembered today was coffee maker day.

  Amelia smiled. It would be a good day.

  Chapter Five

  That morning, Charlie was late to work after a late night. He wasn’t used to having anyone notice when he was on time or late or whatever, and today should have been no exception. But when he walked in, Amelia was in her usual spot at her desk, looking fresh-faced and lovely. The image stabbed him in the chest with a dagger.

  He shook his head at himself and proceeded to his office, removing his suit coat as he went. Her inhale was audible, and he smirked to himself. That was one thing that made him notice her in the front lobby all those months ago: her inability to take her eyes off him when he entered. He didn’t need ego boosts, generally, but from her, it was definitely welcome. She was so damn nice and innocent. It was lovely to imagine defiling her.

  “Your new coffee maker is being delivered today. Just thought you would want to know about it.”

  “Good, thank you.” He didn’t need a damn coffee maker, but like everything else, she wasn’t doing this halfway.

  An hour later, he realized just how thorough she was.

  A young guy, with an eyebrow piercing and tattoos all over his arms, showed up with a huge box on a dolly. Charlie watched as he rolled it in, leaned against it, had Amelia sign something, then actually flirted with her.

  The body language was astounding. How could a self-respecting man be so damn transparent? He shut his laptop and watched as the douchebag made a joke he couldn’t hear.

  Amelia laughed. Actually giggled. She didn’t hide her smile from this guy. Or her laugh. She simply did it, with zero thought to the repercussions.

  Charlie was livid. Unable to help himself, he stood and strode out into the main room.

  “It goes in there,” he said, pointing to the lounge area. “You can unbox it and leave.” His words were short and clipped and he watched with satisfaction as the guy rushed to do his bidding. While the guy was in the lounge, Charlie turned on Amelia.

  She looked at him with wide eyes, and her mouth dropped open. He had an image of himself shoving his cock in that mouth and grabbing her hair and fucking the surprise right off her face.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, he spun on his heel and walked back into his office, slamming the door. Amelia stayed behind her desk until the guy left, giving him a small wave.

  Charlie had no idea why this little wisp of a woman was taking up so much of his mental energy. She always had, but now she was in his domain, coming into his office every day and owning things. He was flabbergasted. Her mark was everywhere, her scent, her eyes, bringing a shadowy light into his darkness.

  But where his shadows were the absence of light, her shadows were light, the sun filtering through the shade of trees. She was life, he was death, but he needed her here.

  It wasn’t like he was going to do anything about her. He’d thought just bringing her here and helping her out of a shitty situation in the lobby would be enough. But he found himself wanting more.

  He wanted to know her sins, what scared her, whether or not she cried at night. He wanted to be her priest, hear her darkest confessions.

  He tried not to watch her as she piddled around the lounge area, but his damn windows everywhere inhibited that. He couldn’t help but see her.

  So when she got on her hands and knees to plug the monstrosity of a coffee maker into the outlet under the cabinet, he couldn’t help himself.

  The next thing he knew, he was leaning against the doorway to the lounge area, willing her skirt to fly off so he could see the round globes of her pert little ass. Vaguely, he wondered what sort of panties she was wearing. Would it be a G-string? Or something silky, with lace around the edges? Or pure lace, where the outlines of what was underneath would tempt him?

  He watched her, completely enraptured, as she wriggled out from underneath the cabinet with an erotic grunt, then saw him.

  She squealed and fell on her rump, and he smiled at her discomfiture.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He planted his feet, not willing to break his composure and take her like he wanted. He knew full well if he helped her off the ground, he would help her over the countertop as he raised her skirts and plunged balls deep into her from behind. He’d been dreaming about it too much to hold back.

  “It’s okay,” she stammered as she rose to her feet. She wasn’t the least bit graceful, and he was rewarded with a flash of garters, stockings, and pink silk panties that he would take with him to bed tonight.

  He cleared his throat, saving the image for later. “What is that thing?”

  “It’s a coffee maker,” she replied proudly, gesturing to it like a game show hostess. “I put myself through part of college as a barista, so I know what a good coffee maker entails. Unfortunately, the industrial Bunn you had in here collecting dust need not apply for the position.”

  He didn’t miss the little nugget of information. She hadn’t finished college. At least, not as a barista at a coffee shop.

  “What did you go to college for?” He dealt in information, and while part of the question was habit, Charlie couldn’t resist learning anything about her.

  “Oh,” she said in a nonchalant way that didn’t fool Charlie one iota. “I just got some basics out of the way. General Ed. Nothing else.” He didn’t miss the shadow that flitted over her eyes, and he smiled. There was pain there, and while he didn’t want her to hurt, he still felt like he had another piece of her puzzle.

  She’d turned her back and was wiping a countertop, effectively ending the conversation. Definitely pain there.

  But Charlie wasn’t done. He wanted to hear her voice some more.

  “What makes a good cup of coffee?”

  Spinning back around she gave him a grin, and he relished the brightness. It banished the shadows from her eyes. Granted, he loved those shadows, but seeing her without them for once, was … nice. And all about a cup of coffee.

  Amelia spun around and began extolling the features of the coffee pot, the seemingly most important being the correct temperature for brewing. He listened with half an ear, while imagining her in her underwear.

  “Here. I’ll make you one.”

  He grunted in agreement, not giving a shit about a cup of coffee, but wanting her to continue talking to him about something she was apparently passionate about, because it made her so damn alive.

  She flitted and floated around the room, moving to a refrigerator he hadn’t noticed before for some milk.

  “When did we get a fridge in here?”

  She looked at him, one eyebrow quirked. “Yesterday. You were here.”

  “I must have been actually working. Did you flirt with that del
ivery guy, too?” He could have swallowed a gun for admitting he’d noticed her flirting and might actually be jealous. He hadn’t even admitted the thought to himself. Until now. But yeah, he was jealous of that punk-ass motherfucker who’d smiled at her.

  “It was the same guy, and I suppose I did. I was just being friendly. It was a lot of work for him to bring that up here. But he did tell me about the freight elevator, which I started using yesterday, and I like it so much better than the glass one.”

  She babbled on, while she did something with the milk. Steaming it, he supposed. She was making a damn fancy cup of fucking coffee.

  “You don’t like the glass elevator?”

  She shrugged. “No. I don’t like heights.” Then she walked over to him and handed him a coffee mug filled with a rich smelling aroma of good coffee. He stared at it. The solar system was in his coffee cup.

  “What’s this?”

  She giggled at him again, and his eyes immediately went to her mouth.

  “It’s a latte. Steamed milk and espresso.”

  “But you put fucking Saturn in there.” He was gobsmacked.

  “That’s microfoam from the steamed milk. It’s really finely textured…” She continued babbling about the different kinds of foam for different coffees, and he was entranced by her. Once again, she was passionately talking about something, and he could only imagine her talking to him about her passions all day long.

  And all night. Lying in bed, propped up on his chest and talking about coffee.

  What the actual fuck?

  To distract himself, he took a tentative sip. He usually drank his coffee black, from his simple little Mr. Coffee drip maker at home before coming in. Who knew his mind would be blown by one of these fancy little fuckers?

  He licked his lips where he could feel the foam and was satisfied she seemed as mesmerized by the movement as he was by her garters.

  “It’s good.” He was staring at her over the rim of his cup, trying to figure out what to do with her. Should he bed her and get it over with? Or should he push her away and stop this nonsense? He certainly didn’t see himself making love to her and proposing they have a life together. But he suddenly had the sensation she would change him, irrevocably. He was interested by her when she worked the lobby. Enough so that he had her employment papers and a list of places she could shop at the ready to hire her. In the short amount of time she’d been in his offices though, he’d become slightly obsessed with her.

  Charlie supposed he would just continue along the same vein as he had this week, until Cayman. Maybe then something would present itself. Meanwhile, he needed to eat. It was well past lunch time, and he was hungry.

  He gulped down the drink that was surely supposed to be savored and sipped, enjoying the look of disappointment on her face. He’d already fucked up Saturn with his first sip; what did she expect?

  The disappointment turned to something else as he lowered his mug and handed it back to her. It was the darkness again, as her eyes squinted at him.

  “Did you hear about the Mayor? He died last night. They say it’s an overdose.” Her words were quiet, but she continued forcing them across her tongue. “It was all over the news on the radio on my ride in.” She licked her lips, staring at his.

  The darkness was beautiful. Shadows of suspicion crossing the green orbs of her eyes. Directed at him. It made his cock twitch in his pants, and he knew he needed to get out of there. He was about to lose control with her. And her veiled suspicions only told him she was smart, and he might need to be careful with her.

  Or not. What sort of darkness could he get from Amelia Flores if he wasn’t careful? Tempting. So damn tempting.

  “Yeah, I heard about it. Such a shame.”

  He opened his mouth to invite her with him to lunch, then shut it. No. The status quo must remain. He was doing well for himself. No need to fuck it up with a woman.

  Besides, he wanted to do some networking at a new restaurant in town. And he needed to banish the thoughts of her delicious darkness.

  Chapter Six

  He was late for the lunch rush, so he seated himself at the bar. It was an old world style, with burnished wood countertops, low lighting, and glassware everywhere. The mirror behind the bar was stacked with shelves of liquor and the bartender wore a black polo shirt with the word Nonna’s on the breast. A TV in the corner had the local news on it, but he didn’t need to hear it. He knew what they were talking about.

  It was casual class and made him wonder if there was something here he could use.

  “Scotch on the rocks, please. Whatever top shelf you have.” He slid onto a stool a couple of chairs down from a large man with a short beard. Neither of them spoke at first, Charlie nursing his drink and looking at a menu while the other guy silently drank his drink—something clear that made him grimace with each sip.

  Charlie ordered a plate of antipasto and sat back to think on his current situation. His business would survive whatever bullshit Forrester was tossing around, it always did. Bascom Forrester was one of those guys who got to the top purely by luck. Charlie had done his research, years ago, and discounted the man’s brain a long time ago. He was dumber than a sack full of rocks.

  Sure, he knew when to get rid of competition and knew who to buy off, but he was sloppy and would get caught by the wrong guy eventually. His only saving grace was his brother high up in the police force, who saved his ass on more than one occasion. Eventually his brother’s own aspirations would come out ahead, and Forrester would be done.

  Charlie didn’t have designs on the title of king of the underworld, or whatever. Forrester just got in the way of his business, an awful lot. It would be nice to get that wrinkle out of the way.

  His meal arrived and he speared random foods with a fork while his mind turned to Amelia, a more pleasant distraction.

  Charlie had been fascinated by her since he’d first seen her, a surreal light in the darkness of his life. He’d watch her out of the corner of his eye as he strode through the lobby, then more obviously through the glass of the elevator as it ascended to his office floor. She was so innocent, so naively optimistic, so … friendly.

  And now she worked for him and he didn’t have to be subtle as he watched her. It was his prerogative as her boss, to make sure she was doing her job, right?

  That’s what he told himself anyway. Besides, he enjoyed watching her work, especially when she did something she enjoyed, like messing around with that stupid coffee maker.

  Who knew coffee would make her so happy? Was it the coffee, though, or just the fact she was so intimately knowledgeable about the making of it? Did she love being an expert on the coffee? Some people were like that. It didn’t matter, just as long as they knew more about something than the other person. She didn’t seem that way, though.

  But was it just the coffee?

  “A woman?” A voice spoke, low and gravelly, next to him. He jerked around to see the bearded guy talking to him.

  “What?”

  “You here because of a woman?”

  The man behind the bar laughed as he polished a glass. “Who isn’t?”

  “Not specifically, no, but I was thinking about one.” Charlie admitted as he caught himself smiling like a dumbass. No wonder the dude had spoken up. He was probably over here sighing like a teenaged girl.

  “She worth it?” He made a face like the one he’d been making when he took a drink. Charlie wondered if his drink was that bad, or if the woman he was thinking of was that smooth. He almost chuckled at the thought.

  “Worth what?” Charlie pushed his finished plate away, wondering where all the food had gone. He guessed he’d been so lost in thought, he’d just been on autopilot. A bit of a shame. He had no idea if the food was any good or not. The guy behind the bar took it and dumped it in a tub near the end of the bar, coming back to polish the glasses again.

  “It, man. Is she worth it? A lot of women aren’t. Just m
ake sure she’s worth it before you go investing all sorts of energy into something she’s going to just throw away.” His voice had degraded into a growly snarl that spoke of an ages-old heartbreak.

  Charlie mused over the guy’s condition. His clothing that wasn’t fancy, but he wasn’t totally disheveled. He probably wasn’t a regular drunk. Charlie read him like a book. He was here for heartbreak, to drown sorrows, but his words spoke of a long reflection. Some time had passed and he was reminiscing.

  “Anniversary?” Charlie asked, just to see if he was right.

  “Yup.” The guy finished his drink and motioned for another. The bartender got him one, slowly, as if he didn’t really want to serve him another. Charlie pushed his glass toward him and made eye contact. “It’s the last one though. I’m done giving her energy, because she wasn’t worth it.”

  “Wasn’t?” He didn’t know why he was prodding so much. He wasn’t sure he cared about this drunk stranger’s love history, except he was curious. He didn’t have much experience, and with Amelia in the forefront of his mind, he needed any excuse to not do the things he wanted to do to her.

  “She’s dead. He killed her.” He took another sip, made another face, set his drink down on the bartop.

  Intrigued, and smelling a potential job, Charlie turned to face the guy.

  “Okay, now I’m curious. Start at the beginning, since you brought all this up.” He opened his posture, an old body language trick to get clients to give him information.

  He sighed and his shoulders drooped in what looked like defeat. “We married young. She wasn’t ready to settle down, but I went off to Iraq and she stayed home. When I came back, she was different and wanted a divorce. For some stupid reason, I wouldn’t give it to her, thinking she needed to fall in love with me again. But she was having an affair, and she left me for him. What neither of us knew was that he didn’t want her in any sort of permanent way. She thought he would leave his wife for her, and he didn’t realize she was leaving me for him until she told him she was going to. So instead of breaking up with her, he killed her. So I’m reading a Dear John letter while she’s wrapping her car around a tree trunk.”