Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  I accept his hand, and as Sophie and Preston make their way to the water’s edge, Niall lifts a paper bag, smirking at my less than enthused expression. “Are you ready for some intense family bonding?”

  “Is this where you break out the chloroform and we find one of our very own to kidnap?”

  “You’re never going to let that one go, are you? No, I thought we could have some fun with the kids and race some paper boats while we go over some points that might come up at the gala. You do remember the whole reason for our hanging out today, right?”

  “Of course, I do,” I snap, trying as best as I can not to focus on the way his forearms ripple as he grips the handle of the bag. “Paper boats?”

  “Wow, you really are a city girl, aren’t you?” He grins, pinning me with the sexiest smile I’ve ever laid eyes on. When I continue to stare at him in that get to the point way, he pulls out a shitload of newspaper, duct tape, and a handful of different colored Sharpies and points toward the water. “I’ll handle the construction, and you man the decorating station. We’re going to make paper boats out of this shite and race them in the water.”

  “Can’t we just let the kids play while we hash this out?”

  Light flickers in his eyes. “Why? Are you scared I’ll win?”

  Did you catch that? I did too, and although my rational side tells me he’s baiting me, the other side—the one that can’t seem to back away from a challenge no matter how small my chance of winning may be—fist pumps the air like Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club and dives in headfirst.

  Grabbing the Sharpies out of his hand, I hold them like a machete. “I’m scared you’ll embarrass yourself and cry like a little bitch when you lose, yes.”

  “Okay…” He draws out the word and stares at me like he’s trying hard to figure out my angle. “I like a confident woman. Care to make it interesting?”

  “How so?”

  “If your boat wins, I’ll get you an interview with my friend, Vince, before the gala.”

  Hello, offer I can’t refuse.

  “Keep talking; I’m liking these terms.” Then the alternative hits me. “Wait, on the off chance that a miracle occurs, what happens if your boat wins?”

  His head turns, and his heated brown eyes find mine, ensnaring them in a hold I can’t look away from. “You have to kiss me. And, what’s more? You have to feckin’ like it.”

  Somehow the thought of kissing him overrides my good sense, and before I know what I’m doing, my head bobs up and down like it’s not even attached to my neck.

  “Then it’s settled,” he says, sealing the deal with a final nod and turning his attention toward the project at hand.

  I shouldn’t be amazed Niall is somewhat crafty. He’s a photographer, and artistry certainly runs in his blood. However, as we all sit on the blanket, I observe his patience with Sophie and Preston with awe. It’s mesmerizing to watch, and a strange warmth fills my chest as he shows them step by step how to expertly fold the newspaper to form the boat, ensuring it floats. Suddenly, he’s not just the outrageously hot guy who offered me the deal of a lifetime. He’s a real person. He’s a father. He’s someone I could see a woman easily falling for.

  Even me.

  As the kids squeal and run off holding their new boats like their most prized possession, Niall turns to me. “Let’s get some basics out of the way.”

  “Like my middle name and where I’m from?”

  “Well, I was thinking more like whether you sleep in lingerie or nothing at all.”

  I stare at him in shock, my thinly held self-control starting to crack. “Are you always this forward?”

  “Aye,” he says, flashing that damn adorable smirk. “But mainly, I like making your cheeks turn that beautiful shade of red.”

  I lower my chin to my chest. “I don’t blush.”

  “Oh, you blush, all right.” Amusement creases the corners of his eyes. “Do I make you nervous, Laken?”

  “Paige.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My middle name is Paige, and I grew up in a little town right outside of Boca Raton, Florida.” Standing, I dust off the grass stuck to the back of my legs and nod toward the water. “And if the inquisition about my nocturnal habits is over, we have two antsy kids almost as anxious to kick your ass as I am. Is the fleet ready to set sail?”

  Gathering the makeshift boats in his arms, he calls out after me. “What about the sleepwear?”

  Pausing halfway to the water, I toss a grin over my shoulder. “Full flannel pajamas.”

  Which is a lie. I sleep in the nude. A small part of me hopes maybe someday soon, he’ll find out for himself.

  Forty-five minutes and twelve boats later, all three of Niall’s paper armada sail flawlessly across the water while one of mine is resting in a watery grave at the bottom of the pond, another is floating upside down, and the third is hung up on some overgrown grass by the bank. As much as I’ve lusted over the man in the past twenty-four hours, and almost set fire to my vagina trying to masturbate him off my mind, the idea of conceding to him isn’t high on my priority list.

  Standing by the water’s edge, I contemplate taking a swim to save my last hope at winning this bet, when I feel warm breath on my neck.

  “Looks like you got yourself in quite the situation here.”

  “Nope,” I say, popping the P at the end as I poke my boat with a stick in hopes of dislodging it. “All under control.”

  Tightening my grip around the useless stick, the only control I manage to have is pushing the shit further into the brush, causing it to tip over and take on enough water to sink. I curse and stomp my foot, spraying water and dousing the top of the newspaper. As the tip of my boat shoots up, it bobs haphazardly for a moment, then begins to capsize under the murky water.

  “Piece of shit boat!” I scream and blow a wet piece of hair out of my eyes, frantically jabbing the stick harder as I wade farther into the water.

  I can feel Niall peering over my shoulder again. “Need some help?”

  “Stay out of this,” I growl, still determined not to lose. “Did you sabotage my boat to win this bet? Can’t you get a girl to kiss you without cheating?”

  “Look, if you just let me help you—”

  “I. Do. Not. Need. Help.”

  I know I look like a drowned rat. I’m half drenched, chasing after a stupid boat so I don’t have to kiss a man who I desperately want to kiss. It makes zero sense. However, what the hell am I supposed to do? There’s no wrong answer to this equation. If I lose, I get what will probably be the most amazing kiss of my life, and if I win, I get the chance for an in at Trask and Payne without doing jack shit to earn it.

  So, you tell me. What would you do?

  Know what you probably wouldn’t do? Distract yourself while jabbing a stick over a pond on your tiptoes. As I’m mulling this over in my head, the boat finally dislodges the minute I decide to give it one last Herculean jab. You see where I’m going with this, right? There’s only one way this can end, and it’s right in the middle of Turtle Pond.

  With one slip of my cute sandal, I dive headfirst into the water. It’s not one of those graceful, “oopsie” moments either. No, this is a mouthful of dirty-ass pond water, hair in my face, and pond scum now coating my skin, type of swan dive.

  The minute I catch my breath, all I hear is Niall’s hysterical laughter in the background. Between holding his stomach and wiping his eyes, he manages to check on my well-being. “Are you all right?”

  Embarrassed, I cross my arms over my chest. “If you’re finished being an asshole, you could give me a hand, you know.”

  When he extends his hand, I do what any female in my situation would do. I plant my feet and use the resistance of the water as leverage, giving his arm a firm tug. I bask in smug satisfaction as his eyes widen with shock moments before he tumbles headfirst into the water right beside me.

  The minute his head pops up, I’m prepared for him to tell me to go to hell
, or even worse, that the deal is off and I’m right back to sending out worthless internship requests.

  Instead, he wipes the water from his face and takes a few steps toward me, his eyes gleaming. “Well played.”

  I force a smile. “Look at you, Niall. You’re all wet behind the ears.”

  “And you lost a bet.”

  “Well,” I say, beginning to make my way toward the shore, “I suppose we can talk about payment when—”

  In two steps, the water parts, and Niall gathers me in his arms. All the breath leaves me in one swoosh as his lips find mine, and the cool water evaporates only to be replaced by blazing fire. The kiss starts out soft as he traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, his hands dipping to the base of my spine and pulling me flush against his wet body. A soft moan escapes my lips before I can rein it in, and the minute I embrace him back, he deepens the kiss so fiercely I can barely breathe.

  This kind of kiss scares me because I can get lost in it, and in the end, this is a contract—a one-night arrangement that benefits both of us. Besides, I’ve somehow let the man think I’m a single mother in need of rescuing. The game is already in play. It’s too late to change the rules now.

  If everything goes as planned, Niall and I will be co-workers soon. If I’m ever to be respected as a professional, this can never happen again. Even if it’s physically painful how much I want to keep kissing him.

  Pulling away, I nod toward the blanket where Sophie and Preston laugh and demolish their soggy boats, oblivious to what just happened between us. Extending my hand, I offer a weak smile. “Congratulations on your win, Mr. Mackay. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

  Making a show of wiping our kiss from his bottom lip, he eventually shakes my hand and winks. “Oh, I expect that and a lot more, Miss Cavanaugh. Count on it.

  6

  Niall

  “Have you kissed her yet?” Sophie purses her lips and glances up with a knowing look.

  When the hell did this kid turn into an adult? And when did she start paying enough attention to know Laken isn’t just one of the regular playdates I usually drag her to?

  “No, and it’s none of your business.” I try to fix the mess I’ve made of her hair before school. Dragging a brush through the rat’s nest, once again I attempt what should be pigtails, but it ends up looking like one cheesed-off donkey humping another one.

  Completely ignoring me, she winces as I pull the elastic bands tighter and give up. “Are you gonna kiss her?”

  That’s the million-dollar question. When I kissed her at Turtle Pond, something changed between us. Now, almost three weeks later, we’ve seen each other every weekend, spending time with the kids at Central Park Zoo, a day trip to Coney Island, the Children’s Museum…hell, almost everything but spending time alone. Not that she hasn’t been giving me some serious signals. With purposeful touches, lingering caresses, and her outfits getting tighter and skimpier, something needs to give. At the end of the day, I’m still just a man.

  Plus, I’m starting to get callouses from jerking off all the time, and I’m going to go broke paying my water bill from all the cold showers.

  We’ve already learned the basics about each other, enough to not look like feckin’ liars if someone questions our union, but Laken is still holding back. It’s almost as if she’s afraid to let me see the real her—like there’s something she doesn’t want me to know. It irritates me, because I’ve let her into my world more than I’ve allowed any other woman since Sophie’s mother wrecked my trust.

  “I don’t know, Soph. Why are we even talking about this?”

  “Because you like her.”

  That’s beside the point.

  Dropping the brush, I chuckle and scratch my head with my index finger. “When did you become an expert in anything but Oprah and being mad at the world?”

  “I like Preston,” she says with a blank expression.

  Sophie has always been a master at schooling her emotions. It freaks out adults, and as abrasive as she is, I used to think I was doing something wrong. Eventually, I realized it’s just in her genes. She’s one of a kind and marches to the beat of her own drummer.

  Kind of like her father.

  I raise an eyebrow. “You do?”

  “Well, not in the beginning,” she admits. “But he’s not so bad. I like Laken too. You should marry her.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  Chewing her thumbnail, she thinks for a moment. “Tomorrow is good. I’ll wear a dress, but no shiny shoes. I like sneakers.”

  “Nobody is getting married, Soph.”

  A hint of a smile crosses her lips. “That’s what you think.” Bounding down the hallway of our small apartment, she stops at her bedroom door and turns over her shoulder with a wink. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve got this.” With a maniacal laugh, she throws her head back and disappears into her room while slamming the door.

  Oh, feckin’ hell, this can’t be good.

  Sophie has never been a conventional child. Spirited and unique is what her teachers tend to call her. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to translate to, but I’m thinking they probably get together, down a few tequila shots, and draw straws to see who ends up with the Mackay kid the following year.

  Is that horrible to say about one’s own child?

  However, Sophie is right about one thing. I do want to kiss Laken again. If I close my eyes, I can still smell her jasmine perfume and hear her throaty laughter from the pond. Just thinking about the way she looked dripping wet, with her clothes stuck to every curve, warms my skin. Her body is amazing, and the more we’re together, the more I imagine what it would feel like underneath me all slick and wet as I thrust into it. Would she scream my name or moan softly in my ear as she came?

  This definitely isn’t good.

  Reaching down to adjust my inconvenient erection, I try to think of anything but Laken. I’m not supposed to want her, and the fact that this is just an arrangement of convenience makes me crave her even more. Maybe it’s that whole forbidden fruit thing. Maybe wanting what I can’t have makes her seem way more enticing than she is?

  Then I remember the heat in her eyes when I tried to pull her out of the water. This is new territory for me. I’ve never had to work so feckin’ hard for a woman’s attention. Normally, they throw themselves at me, and I have my choice of which one I want for the night. The fact that it has taken so long for Laken to warm up to me pisses me off and entices me at the same time. What kind of mental bullshite is that?

  Clearly, I won’t be able to get over her until I’m balls deep inside her.

  That settles it. I’m fucking Laken Cavanaugh.

  I stare at my cell phone sitting innocently on the coffee table. I’ve put it off, but the simple arrangement I thought I had under control has turned out way more complicated than I imagined. I’ve kept this whole charade to myself for weeks, but maybe enlisting some help isn’t such a bad idea.

  Besides, who better to help me sleep with a future Trask and Payne employee than a buck who’s fucked probably half of the females in the building? Swiping my phone off the table, I fight a yawn as I punch in the number I know by heart.

  Vince answers on the first ring. “What’s up, dickhead? Where the hell are you?” His voice is muffled by clanging and chatter in the background. “Please tell me you’ve decided to tickle Gloria’s happy button because she’s especially bitchy this morning.”

  Vince is as subtle as a sledgehammer.

  “Not happening. Get over it.”

  However, he refuses to give up the fight. “You know you’d be making everyone’s lives more bearable, right? I mean, this is worse than the shittiest case of PMS I’ve ever had the misfortune of witnessing.”

  “I’d rather get my dick caught in the ceiling fan.”

  The unmistakable sound of air sucking through clenched teeth fills the line, and Vince groans low in his throat. “Quit it with the dick threats. I don’t care if it is just your pathetic sh
riveled up piece of meat on the line.”

  This conversation is headed nowhere fast, and I’m already late for a meeting with Sophie’s teacher. I pour another cup of coffee and cut to the chase. “Look, I need to go, but are you free for lunch today? I need your opinion on something.”

  “Not today, man, but it doesn’t matter because I need you and your camera-toting ass at the office as soon as you can get here. I’ve got a campaign I need you on.”

  I tilt my head down the hallway to make sure Sophie’s door is still closed before answering. “I took today off for some bullshite teacher conference. I can’t bail on it.” Although I’d love nothing more than to bail. Even to fight off Gloria and her twelve hands.

  “Non-negotiable,” he says, a smug edge to his tone. “Have your ass on Madison Avenue in an hour. Don’t fucking let me down on this, Mackay, or I’ll kick your ass.”

  Taking one more gulp of coffee, I grumble and pour the rest down the drain. As much as I want to help out my friend, the last place I want to be is anywhere in Gloria’s grabbing distance. “Can’t you get someone else?”

  “No can do. You were specifically requested. I’m just following orders.”

  I sigh and scrub my hand down my face. “Can you at least take me out for dinner before you screw me next time?”

  “Be here in an hour.”

  “An hour and a half, and you better have a shite load of coffee.”

  Vince mentioned Gloria, and I made a decision. Why wait until the gala to start showing off my new fiancée? Three weeks of planning has been more than enough preparation to present the lie Laken and I have concocted.

  I’ll admit to having somewhat of an agenda when I concoct a plan to invite Laken to meet me at the office, and I hope it doesn’t backfire on me. But, this is Laken Cavanaugh we’re talking about, and nothing she does should surprise me by now.