“You think? I know he always told me to follow my heart, but let’s face it, that’s always belonged to you, Hennie.”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat, knowing this is going to be an uphill battle trying to keep this a professional relationship.
“Tate.”
I’m all breathy, and I hate it. My own voice betrays me.
Tate gives me an apologetic look along with a quick nod acknowledging my plea.
The rest of the ride is quiet as the taxi weaves in and out of traffic. When we arrive at the twenty-seven-story building, I expect Tate to get physical in the elevator, but he doesn’t. The professional in me says yay while my body screams disappointment. Sometime soon, both sides of Hennie Marsh have to get on the same page. The question is, which one is going to win out?
“This is my office.”
Tate opens the door, welcoming me into his new world. As I glance around, the office is anything but Tate. It looks like the previous owner was stuck in the nineteen seventies. The gold carpet and drab green furniture have to go.
“Tate, this is terrible. You can’t be comfortable in here, and neither can your employees.”
I watch as he rubs the back of his neck. Leaning against what I assume is his assistant’s desk, he glances around the room.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” He laughs. “I guess I jumped right in, wanting to get the company off the ground, I never considered starting with office furniture.”
Taking a seat in what I could only call a fake leather mustard yellow couch, my eyes focus on Tate, not the office from hell.
“Well, it really isn’t your style. When I pictured your office, I imagined dark wood, overstuffed chairs, more of a traditional setting, I guess, just like your brownstone. If you’re spending the majority of your day here, you need to be comfortable. I think your creativity will increase too.”
“Do you think I’m lacking in creativity?” Tate raises his eyebrows at me.
Immediately, I feel a warmth in my belly and all points south as I recount just how creative Tate was last night.
“No, but I do think you’d be more comfortable if you made it your own. You know, put your own stamp on the place.”
“Well, you haven’t even seen the worst of it yet. Follow me to my office. I hope you like the color orange,” he tosses over his shoulder as he leads me down a narrow hallway.
The sudden brightness of orange burns my eyes. “Oh my God, Tate. I hope you wear your sunglasses when you’re in here.”
We laugh, but both of us know there’s some truth to my comment. Both the walls and the carpet are orange. I’m talking right out of an old sitcom.
Tate blows out a sigh. “I don’t know how changing all this will improve the visibility of Jensen.”
Making my way over to him, I lean against his desk. “Let me ask you this. How comfortable are you bringing potential clients here?”
It didn’t take long before he understood what I was implying.
“No, I guess not. But you didn’t go to college for interior design, so . . . ”
“That’s correct, but I think this is a chance to rebrand everything. We can tie in your social media, website, and office. This could help you stand out, especially if we redecorate and use those photos on your website. If you want to have a family atmosphere, then you need to also project that to your potential clients. I think perhaps making this office a nice, warm, welcoming place will help that image.”
“So things like warm colors, not bright psychedelic colors?” he adds with a laugh.
“Exactly! I can see a nice hand-carved wooden desk, some leather seating, built-in warm bookshelves, and perhaps window treatments that give off a cozy feeling instead of these metal blinds.”
“Okay, I can hire somebody to do that, but what do you and I do in the meantime?”
“Well, I think starting with a press conference is a good idea. CJJ has a contact list for local media, so I'll get on that this afternoon.”
The office is filled with old file boxes. Walking around, I run my finger over the dusty folders of what I can only assume is business that dates back to the same era as the furniture. “In the meantime, I think you and your staff should clean out the place.”
Tate throws his head back and laughs. It’s a great sound.
“Actually, Casey and I have been going through stuff ever since Steven passed away.”
The mention of his assistant does something to me. Throughout the years, despite what I thought Tate did to me, I never had a jealous streak. But now I wonder what his relationship is with her? I mean, Tate is the type of guy women drop their panties for. Hell, I did it not long after hating him. Okay, so I never really hated him, but I certainly could’ve put up more of a fight when it came to forgiving him.
“Trouble, what’s wrong?”
Oh damn, I forgot I don’t have a poker face.
“I, uh, was just trying to formulate a game plan in my mind.” Which isn’t truly a lie— I just don’t let him know I’m referring to him and not his company.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tate
Something shifted in Hennie. I could see the second it happened. Or perhaps part of me wishes the mere mention of my assistant has created a little jealousy in Hennie. If that’s true, and she’s jealous of Casey, well, then that would mean she still has some feelings for me. Perhaps it wasn’t just sex last night. Testing the waters to see if my theory is true, I toss out a tidbit of information, so I can see how Hennie reacts.
“Casey’s been great. We’ve spent several long nights here together, trying to weed through old files.”
Watching Hennie as she presses her red lips into a thin line, I know I have her. She’s jealous. Now, I could be a douche and tease her about it, but I don’t. I’m still on very thin ice with her. Even though we had sex last night, I know she still doesn’t trust me. I need to give her some space even if I don’t like it.
“How about we meet Monday for lunch and discuss where to start? I’ll jot down some ideas and bring them over to CJJ around one o’clock. I’ll even bring take-out.”
My heart stammers in my chest as I watch her. When her gorgeous blue eyes finally meet mine, I know I’ll be seeing her Monday.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hennie
“You’ve been locked in here all morning.”
Not taking my eyes off my laptop, I greet Taylor. “Going to meet Tate Palmer at one for a lunch meeting. Just trying to finalize a press conference for later.”
Taking a seat across from me, Taylor shrugs off her suit jacket. “I’ve read the file on Jensen. There’s so much potential there.”
“Tate seems eager to take the advice I’ve given him. We’re going to start with new branding as a family company steeped in tradition. I want to play up the angle of how long many of the workers have been employed at Jensen. Jensen’s potential clients need to see this is not a new company. It’s been around for sixty plus years. It’s not a fly by night.”
I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling of guilt when it comes to talking about Tate with Taylor— maybe because I know I’m going to have to fight every minute to keep things professional.
“Something wrong?”
Jesus, I need to get better at hiding my feelings. “No, just trying to gather my ideas together before he gets here for our meeting.” Both personally and professionally, I tell myself.
Taylor grabs her jacket. Before she leaves, she lets me know she’s available for any help I may need. I laugh to myself because she can’t help me keep my hormones in check when it comes to Tate Palmer.
Two hours after my conversation with Taylor, three cups of coffee later, and a quick check-in with Steffy back home, my temporary assistant, Shayla, buzzes my office, alerting me to Tate’s arrival. Suddenly, my heart starts racing at the thought of seeing Tate. I quickly move around my desk, making my way out to the lobby. My breath catches in my throat when my eyes land on him.
Wit
h his back to me, I take a second to admire the dark blue suit which fits him like a second skin. His suit jacket hugs his broad shoulders and back as he runs his hand through his hair.
When I clear my throat, Tate turns to me. His mouth turns up into that damn sexy smile that's haunted me for the last ten years.
“Miss Marsh, it's nice to see you again.”
His dark eyes get darker as he looks at me from head to toe, figuratively stripping me out of my clothes. I have to believe if Shayla wasn't here, he would literally be undressing me and damnit if I wouldn't enjoy it.
I glance at Shayla, who hasn't taken her eyes off of Tate since I walked in the room. I clear my throat again, this time to get her attention. “Shayla, Mr. Palmer and I will be meeting in my office for the next few hours. Please see that we are not disturbed.”
“Not a problem, Ms. Marsh. I'll hold all calls and visitors. Just let me know if you need anything.”
When Shayla adds that last line, she's not looking at me, she's looking at Tate. I make a mental note to keep her as far away from him as possible.
Once inside my office, I close the door, and Tate makes his way to my small conference table.
“Your assistant seems very helpful.”
I immediately give him an eye roll, which earns me a laugh. “I think Shayla would probably do just about anything for you.”
Tate laughs as he puts the take-out lunch on the table. “I stopped by a great little Mexican place a couple blocks from here. I hope you still like Mexican food.”
“Did you bring me chicken fajitas?”
Tate pulls out an aluminum take-out container. Lifting the lid, I see my favorite, chicken fajitas. My heart melts when I realize he never forgot. It's such a simple thing that means the world to me. Tate and I would go to our local Mexican restaurant at least once a week, and I'd always order the chicken fajitas. Tate, on the other hand, would always get the macho burrito. I never knew where he put it all.
“Thank you so much for remembering my favorite. I haven't forgotten either. Those Saturday afternoons when we would go out to lunch are memories I've replayed over and over for the last ten years.”
“I haven't forgotten anything that you and I did all those years ago, Hen. Those times meant the world to me as well.”
Suddenly, I'm all choked up at Tate's admission. I know I'm getting in way too deep here with him, but it’s as if I'm on a never-ending rollercoaster, and there's no way to stop it. “Do you remember the time you, Nolan, and I got food poisoning from Jack Sullivan’s birthday party?”
“Do I remember? How could I ever forget that? We were all sick for like three days. I think it was the longest amount of time I'd ever spent away from you since we started dating in tenth grade.”
“Remember how bad Nolan was about it, though? You and I got better a day or so before he did, so he made us come over and take care of him.”
We both laugh at the thought.
Tate and I sit at the table, eating our lunch. The conversation turns to Nolan. Part of me is relieved the focus is off me and Tate for a few minutes.
“You know, maybe we took care of Nolan back then, but he certainly is the type to take care of people now. I think the military was definitely what he needed to set him on the right course,” Tate explains.
“So, Nolan doesn't have a girlfriend or wife?” I ask in between bites of the best chicken fajitas I've ever had.
Tate shakes his head. “Right before he left to go overseas, he met a woman he hasn't been able to get out of his mind since. Don't get me wrong, he's been out with a lot of women since then, but he hasn't had any serious type of relationship in several years.”
To say I'm surprised would be an understatement. Nolan is gorgeous. Gone is the scrawny teenager. I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw him again. He must work out thirty hours a week to get the body he has. And it's not just his broad shoulders and big arms— it's his personality too. Maybe someday, when Steffy decides to leave Darren, I can introduce her to Nolan. I have a feeling the two of them would hit it off.
“Where did your mind just go, Hen?”
“I guess I was just thinking about one of my friends back home in California and how she could use a nice man in her life like Nolan.”
“So you're trying to play matchmaker already, huh?”
“No way. I'm the one that set my friend up with the guy she's with now, and it's a disaster. I just hope she gets out of the relationship before it's too late.”
“That doesn't sound good.”
“No, it's not, but let's talk about what our next steps are. I don't want to dwell on bad stuff right now.”
“Okay, so I think you're right about redoing the office space and tying it in with our new branding. I think it would boost morale in the office too. Things have been pretty depressing since Steven passed away, and I want to do something nice for the employees.”
“Have you thought about any of the interior designers I sent you?”
Tate nods his head. “Yeah, I'm gonna go with Central Designers. I looked at their website, and I think they understand the family atmosphere and reputation I want out there.”
“Good. I'll talk to them tomorrow and see if they can send over someone with some samples of desks, window treatments, and carpets for you to look at.”
Tate moves over to the loveseat across from the table. “Jesus, I'm stuffed. I could take a nap right now and probably sleep for the next three hours.”
My thoughts immediately go to snuggling and napping with Tate. Okay, I'll be honest, not just napping. Last night was more than I ever imagined it would be when it came to making love with Tate. That's why it has to be a one and done. I need to do all I can to keep myself from jumping in heart first and losing myself over Tate Palmer all over again.
“So, I sent the press release this morning. I expect the press conference tomorrow to be well attended. I'm going to talk about the history of Jensen and how Steven’s father started it all the way up to how he felt confident in you taking the company over. The fact that you want to keep a strong family image and tradition will create a sense of loyal, cheerful customers.”
Tate leans forward in the loveseat, resting his elbows on his knees. “I like that idea a lot, Trouble. I knew you were the right woman for the job.”
“Tate, you can't keep calling me by my nickname if you want this to be a professional relationship.” Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say because Tate gets up from the loveseat and walks over to me as if he's a hunter and I'm his prey. And damn, it makes me hot.
He kneels in front of me as I try to stifle the small moan that’s dying to come out. His hands go to my knees, and I’m not sure his intention, but thankfully, I’m wearing a pantsuit because I open my legs, inviting him to get closer.
Just as Tate closes in on me, his phone rings. I silently both thank and curse whoever it is.
“Yeah?” he growls as he stands. I can feel the frustration in his voice.
I gather myself and move back to my chair, needing to put some space between us.
“Okay. I’ll get to my office and get it to you,” he says before he hangs up.
“Sorry, that was one of my project managers. I need to head back to my office so I can scan him over some blueprints. Come with me so we can finish what we started.”
I’m not sure if he’s referring to prepping for the press conference or what was about to happen. Either way, I don’t have a choice.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tate
If Hennie thinks we can keep this relationship strictly professional, she’s wrong. I know I told her I’d comply with her request, but the need to have her is too strong. My body craves hers, and no amount of time or distance has changed that. And now that I know what it’s like to be inside her, I won’t be satisfied until she’s mine.
Watching Hennie as she opens for me makes me want to take her right here on the conference table. And I probably
would if we weren’t suddenly interrupted by the sound of the outer office door opening.
“Shit. Who the hell is here today? I gave everyone in the office the day off.”
I move to the office door while Hennie runs her hands through her long blonde hair, looking relieved as if she was about to make a mistake. “We’re going to finish what was just about to get started.”
“Tate? I thought you were off today?”
“Hey there. I’m here with Hennie, trying to get ready for our press conference tomorrow. What are you doing here? I’m sure there isn’t anything pressing that couldn’t wait.”
“Sorry to bother you. I was lonely at home, I guess, so I thought I’d come in and box up more of the old files for storage.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hennie
I’m not trying to listen in on the conversation Tate is having with a woman I assume is Casey, his assistant, but it’s really difficult. The minute Casey says she’s lonely, my heart starts to stammer. It didn’t sound like she was making a play for Tate, but the idea of it makes me crazy.
Clearing his throat, Tate puts Casey at ease, telling her she’s not a bother. There’s a moment of silence, leaving me to wonder what they’re doing. Are they hugging? And if so, why? I’m so lost in conjuring up some crazy scenario in my mind that I don’t notice the door close. I jump when I realize Tate is back in his office with me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he laughs. “Come on. I want to introduce you to my assistant, Casey. I think you’ll really like her.”
I’ve never been a jealous person before. And even knowing Tate didn’t betray me by sleeping with Izzy, I still have a difficult time not thinking the worst when it comes to him and other women. I know I can’t get out of meeting Casey, so I just better suck it up and prepare myself. Yay me, I get to meet the woman who’s lucky enough to spend her workdays in close contact with the man I can’t stay away from.
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