by Layla Hagen
Carter: Are you free for lunch?
I’d given him my phone number during our first lunch, right before we parted ways.
Val: Nope. We have some deadlines coming up, and I’m eating in my office.
Carter: Any restaurant recommendations?
I smiled as I typed the names of a few restaurants.
I tried to push him out of my thoughts for the rest of the day, but it proved to be a challenge. That sinful smile and those hypnotizing eyes kept popping up in my mind.
In the afternoon, he texted again.
Carter: Want to grab a coffee?
Val: Do you ever work?
Carter: ;-) in between breaks.
Carter: Can I tempt you with a coffee?
My heart rate picked up. I tried to ignore it.
Val: No can do. Plus, you can’t keep hijacking my working time. I have a no-messaging policy, and usually only check my phone during short breaks (which I spend here).
Carter: When exactly do you take your breaks?
Val: At 11a.m. and 4p.m.
It was now 3:09 p.m. I hadn’t thought Carter would stop texting, but I hadn’t expected his reply either.
Carter: Perfect. I look forward to hijacking your time during your breaks.
I laughed. And now I had even more trouble focusing, counting down the minutes to four o’clock, wondering if he’d start his hijacking campaign today or tomorrow.
Shaking my head, I concentrated on the email I was composing. I wanted to run three focus groups for the upcoming Goddess campaign for one of our fragrance lines. We’d already had one, but I hadn’t overseen it. It turned out to be the wrong thing to delegate. The moderator hadn’t explored all facets, hadn’t asked all the right questions. I could do better, and I wanted to. It wasn’t easy to run focus groups for fragrances. They were luxuries—an aspiration, but since they didn’t serve a specific purpose the way antiaging creams did, it was hard to build a unique selling proposition. It was why the majority of the industry was banking on sexy and sensual ads to sell them. But fragrances meant something more to me than making me feel sexy. They were memories in a bottle, and dreams too, and somehow I could only convey that to focus groups if I was there in person.
After firing off the instructions to my marketing director, I discovered an email from Hailey. My sister respected my no-messaging policy... but only because she’d found the email loophole.
I smirked. Hailey was much like Carter in this regard.
Subject: URGENT
Discovered that the brother of a coworker is a CATCH. Maybe even has potential to be “the one.” Want me to introduce you to him?
I sighed, shaking my head. This was urgent? I could punish Hailey with silence, but knowing my sister, she’d get overexcited and set things in motion without waiting for my reply.
Val: Nope. Hold your horses.
The one. She was spitting one of my favorite phrases back at me. Sometimes I felt foolish for using the expression. Over the years, I’d dated a lot and had had a few relationships. Some had been longer, some just for fun—especially right after Jace and Hailey moved away from home. But I had a tendency to romanticize relationships. I couldn’t deny it. It was one of my faults.
I shook my head as I reread her email. I was determined to stick to my newfound resolution of taking it easy.
I turned off the computer screen, jotting notes on paper instead.
Carefree, childhood-favorite memories.
Same for vacation. Ask for exact details (especially of places) and infer associated fragrance notes.
Asking for direct smells rarely worked because people couldn’t identify individual notes. To anyone looking from outside, my notes wouldn’t make much sense, but this process worked for me. I started with keywords and half phrases and eventually developed questions.
I had almost forgotten about Carter, but at four o’clock on the dot, my phone buzzed. I startled in my seat. Each and every thought about the focus group flew away.
Carter: Tell me something about you.
I blinked at the screen. Even though I didn’t understand the purpose of the question, I drummed my fingers on the back of the phone in excitement before texting back.
Val: Like what?
Carter: Whatever you want. Something that’s not obvious.
Val: I like to sing when I’m alone.
Only after I’d sent it did I wonder if it was a strange thing to admit.
Carter: Do you also sing in the shower?
Right. I wasn’t going to answer that.
Val: Your turn.
Carter: What gave you that idea?
Val: A question for a question?
Carter: Nah, I ask all the questions.
I toed off my shoes and tucked my legs under me in the enormous leather chair.
Val: But what’s in it for me?
Carter: Your breaks will be much more enjoyable.
I laughed, taking a few seconds to collect my thoughts.
Val: Don’t assume they weren’t enjoyable before. You know what they say about those who assume. An answer for an answer. My first and last offer.
His reply didn’t come right away, but when it did, heat oozed right between my thighs.
Carter: If it pleases you.
The little dots indicating that he was composing a message appeared, and I waited with bated breath for the next words.
Carter: In that case, we’ll need more than ten minutes per break.
I leaned my head back, smiling at the ceiling. Was he negotiating? Well, he was in for a surprise, because this was one of my strongest areas.
Val: No can do. Ten minutes is all I can give you.
He didn’t write anything back, and I glanced at the clock on the display. 4:11 p.m. Damn. He was going to leave me hanging? Two minutes later, after I still had no reply, I shook my head and went back to my to-do list, even though I sneaked a glance at my phone now and again.
Over the next two weeks, Carter messaged me at 11:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. on the dot. I’d gotten my way, pushing my own questions when he tried to cheat (which he did every time). I even asked his professional opinion on my beef with Beauty SkinEssence. His response had left me scratching my head. As a lawyer, he advised me to avoid a lawsuit. On a personal note, he said he’d fight for what he thought was right too.
Even so, I looked forward to his messages more than I wanted to admit. I told myself that this was just a fun way to pass the breaks. We were two adults caught up in whirlwind careers and needed to let steam off. Some people gambled or did worse to that end. By comparison, exchanging fun, flirty messages seemed innocent. But when I ran into him at the coffee shop one morning, I couldn’t ignore the current of awareness passing through me when Carter greeted me in that deep voice of his. It wasn’t innocent at all.
“Morning.”
“Hey!”
“I was hoping I’d find you here.”
“Is that so? Why?”
We stood in line next to each other, and I couldn’t help leaning in just a bit closer. He smelled amazing. He was an amazing package all around, truth be told. Carter was a classically handsome man, with striking eyes and lips and a body that belonged on the cover of a magazine. Next thing I knew, our cheeks were almost touching. He’d leaned in too.
“What time do you start work? And when do you finish?” he asked.
“Eight to six.” I had no idea why he’d asked that, but then the corners of his lips tilted up in a knowing smile.
“Why?”
“Told you I need more than ten minutes. Since you’re not relenting about your break times, I found an alternative.”
Being only inches away from him was making a mockery of my negotiation skills. The man was too compelling.
“You’re assuming again.”
“Am I?” He’d leaned in even closer, and I barely bit down the urge to touch that freshly shaved jaw. I nodded, but I was grateful that my turn came next. I ordered quickly, asking the cashier to
pack everything to go.
“It’s still seven thirty, Val,” Carter whispered in my ear. “You have time to eat breakfast with me.”
“I have to look over some notes for a meeting.”
He didn’t push at all, which was surprising.
What I’d told him was true, but it wasn’t the only reason I wasn’t staying. Maybe I should stop the flirty messages. He had just moved his office across the road from mine. If this flirting went south, things could become awkward.
In truth, I was having too much fun to stop.
So when Carter texted me at eleven on the dot, I texted right back.
Chapter Eight
Val
“Oh, these are so beautiful.”
I was shopping for an outfit for the charity event, and in true Valentina Connor fashion, I had too many favorites to decide. I twirled around, admiring the light blue dress from all angles. I placed three more dresses into the maybe pile. I was just about to ask the sales associate to bring me some shoes as well when my phone pinged. Carter. After the encounter at the coffee shop yesterday, my heart went pitter-patter each time I saw his name.
Carter: Thanks for the advice regarding April. Finally talked to her, and she agreed to (some of) my terms and hasn’t forsaken me as an uncle.
Val: Yet. Don’t underestimate her.
Carter: Let me savor the victory a while longer.
Val: Wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable.
Oh, Carter. He was a captivating man, that was for sure. And of all things, it was his voice I couldn’t get out of my mind. Whenever he spoke in that rich voice of his, I felt it like a physical caress in my intimate parts. Just remembering it had the same effect. It made me feel weak that I couldn’t ignore this magnetic pull toward him.
I inspected the blue dress again. Attending such events required dressing up for show, and it was a good excuse to treat myself to a gorgeous designer dress. My phone kept distracting me. I had a new message.
Carter: Ready for tomorrow?
My stomach flipped.
Val: I’m shopping for it right now. Buying an outfit. Dress to impress.
Carter: I’ll wait for you at the entrance. I’m going to be the one in a tux ;)
I grinned. Every man there would be wearing a tux. I tried on every dress, deciding on one that was bright yellow, with a thin belt made of black velvet around my waist. The dress barely brushed my knees and had wide straps over my shoulders. The bodice was more of a corset, pushing my breasts together. Sexy, but not over the top. Just what I needed. I glanced at the price tag and tried not to feel so guilty. It was about 20 percent more expensive than what I’d intended to spend, but what the hell? I worked hard. I deserved to treat myself to this beauty. I waged this inner battle whenever I was splurging. I supposed the guilty feelings were baggage I carried from the time when we were pinching pennies, after we took over Dad’s pub.
I snapped a picture of myself in the yellow dress, sending it to Hailey. We usually shopped together, because sharing the experience and commenting on each other’s outfits was half the fun, but she couldn’t swing it this time.
Carter: I’m impressed.
GOD. NO. WHY?
How had I mixed up the senders? My face heated up. The pose was a little silly and a lot sexy. The dress had a slit on one side, which wasn’t visible unless I showed off one leg. And show off I did. I was also pushing up a boob with one hand and winking in an exaggerated manner. It was the kind of picture I’d never send to anyone but my sisters.
Val: That was meant for my sister. So she could vote on her favorite.
Carter: Haven’t seen the other options, but... HELL, YES!
Well, that was embarrassing. I debated typing a reply, then decided I’d pretend this hadn’t happened.
Next evening, my palms were sweating a little as I climbed out of the cab in front of the venue where the reception was taking place. I was comfortable with a large range of people, from salesmen to scientists. The latter were my favorite, since I’d majored in chemistry. But thanks to Hailey, a good-sized group of stars had shown up, and the Hollywood crowd was another story altogether. Which was why, I told myself, I was relieved when I noticed Carter at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the main entrance of the villa. My stomach flipped like it was trying to win a gold medal at the Olympics. He was waiting for me, as he’d promised, and wearing a tux.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at me. I didn’t know where to look first. Those hypnotizing dark eyes or the delicious way he filled out the tux.
“Just as gorgeous as I remember.” He surveyed me from head to foot before we climbed the staircase. “Yellow becomes you.”
I blushed. Well, there was the flaw in my plan. I couldn’t pretend the picture incident hadn’t happened unless he played along.
“Can we forget about the picture?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. Oh, boy. He wasn’t going to let this go.
“Only if you promise to show me the others too.”
It took me a second to realize he meant the pictures of the other dresses I’d tried on.
“Absolutely not,” I said heatedly as we stepped inside.
“Why? Were they even sexier? Tell me.” He leaned his head in, as if beckoning me to whisper in his ear. I pushed him firmly away by the shoulder, then pointed my forefinger at him.
“I didn’t intend to send it to you.”
He tilted his head, smiling even wider. “Well, the effect it had on me was lasting even if it was... unintended.”
I had no reply for that, so I just pretended to inspect our surroundings. My head was turned in the opposite direction when I felt Carter inch closer.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight, Valentina.”
I waved a hand dismissively. I didn’t fall for such lines anymore, especially after my last dating fiasco reminded me that LA was the city where the most beautiful women gathered to try their luck in acting, singing, or modeling. But when I turned to look straight at Carter, something in his expression told me it wasn’t a line.
Or maybe I was just too naive.
One of the organizers noticed me and motioned that she needed to talk to me. Carter saw her too.
“I’ll go see what she needs,” I told him. “Then I’m going to do the rounds. I have a list of about twenty people I need to talk to.”
“Go ahead. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”
The event was every bit what I had expected. Three hours into it, I was almost used to the constant chatter as background noise. I’d already spoken to quite a few of the celebrities I’d wanted to approach for a campaign I was putting together for the spring releases.
After a particularly productive conversation with a young, rising pop star I wanted to feature in our spring campaign, I looked around for a bench or a chair. If I could just sit for five minutes, I was sure the balls of my feet wouldn’t feel raw anymore. I had no problems walking in heels, even though I didn’t have Hailey’s stamina. But standing rooted to one spot was problematic.
I didn’t see any empty chairs, and just when I was about to head to one of the smaller rooms to check if the couches there were full, a mountain of a man cornered me.
“Hey, you,” he said.
“Hi, Gus!”
We’d spoken earlier in the evening. He was one of the models I was courting for a marketing campaign. He’d gained in popularity over the last year, and he could be going places. I wanted to snatch him before he became too expensive.
“Want to grab a drink?” he asked.
“Thanks, but I have yet to finish my rounds.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
He seemed to have already had a few drinks. His footing wasn’t too certain. He was looking at me as if I was something to eat, and I didn’t appreciate it. I usually got out of this type of sticky situation by flashing what Hailey liked to call my scary face, but this one wasn’t budging.
<
br /> “Not being a spoilsport, but duty is still calling.”
The guy cocked an eyebrow, and instead of backing off, came even closer. Oh, hell, no. I didn’t want to cause a scene, but if this guy didn’t take a hint, I’d have no choice.
It was then that a movement behind the guy’s shoulder caught my attention. Carter was standing a few feet away, looking at us. When I caught his eye, he mouthed, is he bothering you? I nodded imperceptibly, and Carter strode right to us. I thought he’d simply say he needed to talk to me, but before he even opened his mouth, he curled an arm around my waist. He pulled me so close that the side of my breast was squished against his chest.
“There you are. Thought I’d lost you.” He stuck out his other hand to Gus. “Carter Sloane.”
Gus shook it reluctantly. Carter pressed me even closer. My nose was almost touching his jaw. The smooth skin on his cheek and the faint smell of aftershave indicated that he’d shaved just before coming here.
Gus looked between us, then left without another word. Even so, Carter didn’t let go. My body buzzed along the contact points—the length of his arm against my back, the side of my boob against his chest—as if the contact was skin on skin. The way he was holding my waist was almost possessive. And I loved it.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. I was just debating how to get rid of him before you showed up. Lucky you saw me.”
“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you all evening.” As if just now realizing there was no reason to hold me anymore, he let go. I wished he hadn’t.
“Still need to make the rounds?” he asked.
“Yeah. Still have to talk to a few people. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Already made some contacts. It’s a great event.” He kept his gaze firmly on my face. In fact, so firmly that it made me wonder if he was making an extra effort not to look down. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. “Find you later?”
