She breathes in sharply. “Are you…?”
The silence hopefully serves as an answer, while I try to formulate a response.
“We haven’t killed each other yet.” I stroke her hair back from her neck and contemplate kissing it, but her body feels tense. I still don’t know what she’s going to say. “What could go wrong?”
“Adrian, it’s been…” She rolls over suddenly, so our noses almost touch. I shift my arm slightly to accommodate her. “I feel weird. Calling you Adrian all the time. Don’t you have a nickname?”
“Not really.” If I want an answer, it’s clear I’m going to have to follow this little flight of fancy.
“How about…” She goes silent for a moment. “Aid is terrible. Ryn?”
I smile a little. “Shouldn’t it be Rian?”
“I like Ryn.” She’s smiling back. “Take it or leave it.”
“Okay. Ryn. I can live with Ryn.” I take a deep breath. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to say, it’s only been…”
“Five years,” I cut in. “Five years and two months. Do the first five years of our relationship not count, just because you hated me?”
“I hated you for a good reason,” she giggles, softly, rolling back over. “But I loved you a little bit, too. Because I’m a fuck-up. I’ve probably been in love with your sorry ass for longer than I want to admit.”
My heart actually pitter-patters a little. Fuck me. “And I loved you. So it counts.” I compromise on the neck-kiss, instead nuzzling into her wild curls. “Five years and two months isn’t too soon to move in,” I point out, my voice slightly muffled in her hair. “I wasn’t really joking. We got to know each other, didn’t we? Better than most couples do. Because we weren’t even trying to impress each other.”
“You think I wasn’t trying to impress you?” Her voice hits a higher register, and she flips over again. She’s at that energetic level of drunkenness, whereas just thinking about moving as much as she is makes my head spin. “You were my boss. Of course I was trying to impress you. Your opinion was the only one I really cared about. Otherwise I would’ve quit in my first week. You were impossible, you were insane, exacting, demanding, to a psychotic degree, but there’s that little twisted corner of my brain that respected that.” She smiles, bumping her nose against mine. “I like difficult people.”
“Don’t compare me to your mother,” I warn.
She touches my cheek, gently. “You said it. Not me.”
I just sigh. “Meg…”
“I’m obnoxious,” she blurts out, her tone changing suddenly. “Maybe not like you’re obnoxious, but still. I over-think everything, I run around in circles, I have a short temper, and I’m insecure about stupid things. You think you know me, but you don’t know somebody until you live with them. Eventually, one day you’re gonna wake up and roll over and look at me and be like…really? Her? And I just…” She exhales heavily, and I hear the tremble in her voice. “I guess I was hoping to delay that. As long as possible.”
Someone’s headlights are glaring on the newly fallen snow, shining in the window and glinting off the tears running down her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she sniffles. “I should have warned you. Red wine makes me irrational.”
“Shh.” I wipe them away with my thumb. “Irrationally horny, if I recall correctly.”
“That too.” She laughs thickly. “I know I’m being stupid, but it’s just…”
“I know. It’s a lot to wrap your head around.” I kiss her gently. “Do you miss me when you’re not here?”
“Like crazy,” she admits, laughing at herself a little. “As soon as I walk out the door.”
“Then stay.” I brush away the last of the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone how pathetically in love you are.”
With a halfhearted effort, she socks me in the arm. “Asshole.”
“You can pelt me with snowballs tomorrow,” I promise her.
Her head perks up. “Is it really snowing now?”
“I think so.” I try to grab her as she slides out of bed again, running to the window to peer out through the shade.
“Oh my God!” she squeals. “There’s a ton! Must be that lake effect they were talking about. You can hardly see out there.”
She’s giddy. “You’re not allowed to have red wine anymore,” I tell her, sitting up just enough to get a better view of her naked body in the slice of moonlight.
“Come on,” she says, going for the closet. “There’s more than enough for a good fight.”
“Very funny,” I tell her, flopping back on the pillows.
Meg snorts, pulling something bulky out of the closet. I squint, trying to see what the hell she’s doing. She can’t be serious, can she? “You wish I was joking. This is it. The first proper snowfall. We’re having a snowball fight, and that’s final.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” I tell her, desperately, because I know she’s already won.
“Damn straight. And it’s the first snowfall of the year, and you agreed to this.” She crosses her arms. “We’re having a snowball fight. You’re getting what you deserve, Adrian Risinger.”
I can’t argue with her, and she knows it.
She throws something at me, and it lands with a soft thump on the covers. Jeans. Button-down fly. Her favorite pair on me. I grin a little bit in spite of myself. “Don’t I at least get to wear something insulated?”
“Street clothes,” she says, only tripping over herself slightly as she pulls on her panties. “Those are the rules. You should’ve negotiated beforehand if you wanted special treatment.”
“Fine.” I groan slightly as I drag myself out of the warm cocoon of the bed. She’s not intentionally guilt-tripping me, but she knows I can’t say no to her. Not after I spent so many years torturing her. I step into the jeans and pull on a sweater, and she’s practically vibrating with childish joy.
“Come on!” She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs. We pause briefly in the hallway to pull on boots and jackets and hats, and she’s got her favorite pair of mittens, but there’s no way I’m ruining my nice leather gloves with snow. I’ll be fine.
She’s pulling me outside. The air is crisp and cold, but it’s not biting. I’m instantly awake, and fifty percent more sober. “This is ridicul - JESUS!” A burst of cold hits the back of my head and immediately fills my collar, creeping down my neck. I turn around to glare at her, and she’s laughing her ass off, halfway across the courtyard.
Of course.
“Bitch,” I snarl, grabbing a loose handful of snow and lobbing it at her. Of course it crumbles to nothing halfway on the journey, and she just laughs harder.
“Somehow I feel like I’m not the bitch here,” she giggles.
“Quiet,” I warn her. “People are trying to sleep.”
“You know nobody can hear. Everybody’s windows are closed.” She’s packing a new projectile, and I’m determined to get her this time. The snow is goddamn cold, though, and I wonder why I thought going gloveless would be a good idea. How long has it been since I’ve actually touched snow? I can’t even remember. It’s not like I ever had to clean off my own cars, as Meg will no doubt gleefully remind me.
I manage to put something together that’s halfway decent, but it’s hurting my hand and she’s on the move. This time I’m ready, though, and I dodge her next few hits, but I don’t think I can get her. Finally I’m forced to throw the fucking thing before my fingers fall off, and it goes wide as she hops out of the way.
“You should get your eyes checked,” she taunts. “I thought this would be easy, but I had no idea how easy.”
Fuck this. I start stalking towards her, knowing she can’t run forever. The whole courtyard is gated in, and it’s not that big. And if it came down to it, I could run faster. Even in the snow. She’s going down.
Her smile fades a little as she walks backwards, stumbling a little. “What are you doing?”
“Evening the score,” I growl, as I close the distance between us. “Are you going to fight me face-to-face? Or are you too scared?”
She shrieks a little bit, turning and picking up the pace. But with the snow, it’s difficult, and I’ve got the longer stride.
“Oh, how the bitch tables have turned.” Now that she’s not looking at me, I take a moment to try and breathe some life back into my frozen fingers. “Come on, love, what are you afraid of?”
It doesn’t take me long to catch up to her. I catch her around the waist and throw her off-balance, and we tumble into the snow together.
“Okay, okay!” she’s gasping, as snow creeps into the gaps of her clothing. “All right! You win! I give up!”
“Doesn’t work that way.” I slide my frozen hand under her jacket, under her shirt, pressing the frigid fingers against the furnace of her bare skin.
“ADRIAN!” she screams, trying to squirm away. I’d remind her to shut up, but hell - it’s not like it’s the first time the neighbors have heard that.
I hold her down firmly, until I can feel the painful tingles of life coming back into my fingers. Her eyes are wide, her body quivering as she glares at me.
“You are the worst,” she grits out. I can feel the goosebumps rising on her torso.
“This was your idea,” I remind her, calmly.
“How is it my problem that you didn’t wear gloves?” she snaps.
“Oh, let’s not go passing blame around.” I pull my hand away, finally, and she relaxes slightly. “Do you concede?”
“Like it matters.” She rolls her eyes at me.
“Trust me.” I capture her free wrist and hold it down, sinking deep into the snow. “It matters.”
She sighs a little, and not just from exasperation. “You always win,” she says. “You know that. Let me up.”
“I’d rather not,” I tell her, with a grin.
“I’ll freeze,” she says. “We both will.”
“I bet we can stay warm.” I nuzzle against her face, and I can feel her smile. “Sorry I called you a bitch.”
“It was well-deserved, asshole.” Her breath is hot, and still a bit boozy. “Thank you. For trusting me, I mean. I know you don’t like people in your space. If you really want me to move in…”
“I do.”
“Then it means a lot.” She licks her lips.
“It does.”
“I love you, Ryn.”
“I love you too, Megs.”
“Kiss me.”
I do.
His Secretary: Unveiled
CHAPTER ONE
HONOLULU, HAWAII
Present Day
Meg
“You’re not supposed to see me!”
I glare into the mirror, but I don’t know how convincing it is.
Adrian Risinger rolls his eyes, leaning against the door frame. “Feeling superstitious, angel?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t call me that.” I smooth the dress down over my thighs, meeting his gaze in the mirror. He’s trying not to smile, and mostly failing.
“Don’t like that one? I’ve got more.” He comes closer, not stopping until our bodies are less than an inch apart. “Giving them a test drive. You don’t realize how few really good terms of endearment there are, until you’re a romance novelist.”
“I can still change my mind, you know,” I point out, biting my lip in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back my grin. “It’s not too late.”
His fingers ghost along the back of my neck, and I shiver a little bit. “Oh, kitten. Don’t say that.”
For a moment, I close my eyes. We’re here to get married, not…whatever’s about to happen if he doesn’t stop looking at me like that.
At the very least, we should get back to the hotel before I rip his tux off.
“Ah ha. That one’s a winner.” The murmur of his voice is far too close to my ear. I sidle a few inches away from him before I open my eyes again.
“Now’s not the time, Risinger. Keep it in your pants.”
“It is,” he says, glancing down as if to verify the fact. His hand twitches toward his fly. “Very much still in my pants. I can show you, if you want.”
Brushing my hair back from my face, I take a step closer to the mirror to check my makeup. “I’ll take your word for it. Would you please leave?”
“Am I distracting you?” He shoves his hands in his pockets, grinning at me with a promise of mischief in his eyes.
“You’re tempting fate, is what you’re doing,” I tell him. “And trust me, babe, we’re going to need all the luck we can get.”
My former boss lets out a long-suffering sigh, before closing the gap between us once again. He seizes my wrist in a firm, but gentle grip before I can dodge away.
“Kiss me, at least,” he says.
“I’ll kiss you in…” I glance at the clock on the wall. “Twenty minutes? Shit. Seriously, get lost, we’re going to be late to our own damn wedding.”
“One last time,” he insists, holding me tighter. “Before you’re my wife.”
Well, I can’t say no to that.
Haldiman Resources
New York, NY
Five Years Ago
I’m sitting in my recruiter’s office, at the saddest temp agency in the world.
These days, every temp agency is the saddest agency in the world. There’s just not enough work, especially for young music majors with no marketable job skills.
She’s trying. She’s really, really trying. But I know this is going to be another meeting that ends with me seriously thinking about turning in an application at TJ Maxx. Someone who dislikes the general public as much as I do probably shouldn’t work with them, but I don’t have a lot of options left.
Jane, my recruiter, sighs a little as she scrolls down her computer screen. “Well…let’s see. I think if we just…”
Her desk phone beeps. “Ms. Haydon, it’s Risinger Industries for you,” the receptionist’s voice squawks through the intercom. “Should I put it through?”
Jane stabs the button. “Yes please, thank you.” Glancing up at me, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just have to take this. It’ll be quick. These people only call back on their own timeline.”
“Sure, I understand.” I start flipping through the folder she’s just handed me, knowing that all the jobs are asking for years of experience I don’t have, but hey, maybe another one’s magically appeared.
Pretty soon, though, my attention’s drawn back to Jane’s conversation.
“…yes, I understand that, but what you need to understand is that my agency can’t keep placing people….no, no, it absolutely is my concern, and you can tell Mr. Risinger….I actually have a reputation to worry about, and if another one of my placements comes back to me with a nervous breakdown….yes. Absolutely. You can refer him directly to me. My extension is 6473. I’ll be waiting for his call.”
She slams the phone down in the receiver. “I’m sorry,” she grits out. “These people…they’re completely insufferable. And by ‘these people’ I really just mean the boss…but I’ve never actually talked to him, of course. He’s much too important to waste his time with the likes of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, even as my mind starts racing. “So you’re having trouble placing somebody who can put up with his bullshit, huh?”
“Honey, you have no idea.” Jane shakes her head. “He’s a whole new level of impossible. Three of my placements walked out of the interview. The other five didn’t last a month. Really nice girls, too.”
“What, is he harassing them or something?” I’m desperate for a job, but there’s some things I just won’t put up with.
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Jane sighs heavily. “I mean - not like you’re talking about. He’s just impossible. The ego, the demands, the nitpicking. Nobody with any self-respect could possibly put up with him, unless they have the patience of a saint. And I only employ regular, standard-issue human
beings, so we’re…having a bit of a misunderstanding.”
Clearing my throat, I shift a little in my seat. “You know, Jane…I’m really good with difficult people. The only reason I didn’t put it on my resume is because I couldn’t figure out whether to put it under ‘special skills,’ or ‘education.’”
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Seriously. No. I won’t be responsible for throwing you to the wolves. You’re a nice girl, Meg. I’ll find you a halfway decent placement if it kills me. I know you’ve got bills to pay, we all do, but…trust me. It’s not worth it.”
I let out what I hope is a resigned sigh, even as my mind races with unlikely hope. “Okay, fine. You’re probably right.”
“I have to run to a meeting,” she tells me, standing up. “I’ll call you soon. Really soon. Next week, okay? I should have some good news by then.”
I’ve heard that before.
It’s time to take matters into my own hands. Before leaving, I stop by the bank of aging computers they let us use to print out resumes and fill out online applications. I’m one of the lucky ones, in that my internet hasn’t been shut off yet, but I definitely haven’t found room in my budget for any toner lately. And I’m going to need another few copies of my resume.
Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Jane hasn’t teleported into the room, I bring up Google and type in “Risinger Industries.” They’ve got a snazzy website with a picture of a skyscraper.
Solutions. Synergy. Our worldwide operations are aligned around a global strategy…
Oof. I can’t get through any more of that without my eyes crossing. What the hell do they do? I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s only about ten blocks away. To hedge my bets, I should probably go there in person and send a resume in the mail, too. Addressed directly to the CEO, of course. Whose name is…
I click on the About tab.
Adrian. Adrian Risinger.
Sounds like he grew up in a country club. He’ll be insufferable, no doubt about that, but beggars can’t be choosers. Hastily, I scribble down the address and run off those resume copies before I step back out on to the crowded streets.
His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection) Page 29
