by Ava Storm
“We need to talk about the Nashville conference,” I said when she sat down. “It’s coming up in a month, and I assume Miss Greenwell didn’t leave you with a head start.”
“No,” Paige agreed soberly. “She did not.” she held her pen to her notepad and looked at me expectantly.
“This will go faster if you type it, Miss Stafford. I don’t have time to repeat myself.”
I waited for her reaction. The girl at the bar would have rolled her eyes and responded with something equally caustic.
This one only smiled again and said smoothly, “Don’t worry, Mr. Cavanaugh. I write quickly. You won’t have to repeat yourself.”
I tested her on it, listing her responsibilities for the conference without pausing. She kept up. When I was done, she’d filled two full pages and didn’t seem fazed. “Is that all?” she asked.
“I think you’ll find that’s more than enough,” I said, secretly amused by the betraying twitch of annoyance in her eyes.
She stifled it quickly though and gave me a brief, clinical nod as she snapped the cap back on her pen and stood up. “I’ll start on this first thing Monday morning.”
Hmm, back to the robot routine again. What would it take to get under her skin for good? I narrowed my eyes. And why was she so eager to leave?
“Now would be better,” I said.
Her mouth dropped. She looked down at her watch. “But it’s five thirty.”
“As you mentioned,” I said blandly. “We’re very behind. As my executive assistant, your hours will occasionally reflect mine when necessary. I’m sorry if you had plans, but this is why we pay ten thousand more than Stan Martin.”
The name seemed to jolt her. She bit her lower lip and pulled out her phone. “Okay, I just have to cancel plans with someone.”
You do that, I thought, watching her leave. And don’t bother rescheduling.
17
Paige
Thankfully, Shelly agreed to pick up Madelyn.
“I’m cancelling a date for this,” she said, “so you’re going to have to describe your hot office sex in vivid detail to make it up to me.”
“No one is having hot office sex,” I lowered my voice. “We’re working. Besides, right now, he’s the last person I’d have sex with. He just dropped all this on me out of nowhere and expects it to be done right now!”
I worked on the list until six forty-five, then went into Ford’s office again to share my progress. The last seventy-five minutes had cooled my temper enough that I was able to plaster on my best-executive-assistant-ever smile as I shared my progress.
“Great,” he said dismissively. “Good start.”
“So, do you mind if I resume this on Monday?” I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost seven.”
“Fine, Miss Stafford,” he said heavily as though he were doing me favor. “But I’m going to keep working, so if you don’t mind, I’ll take some coffee.”
My jaw clenched. “Didn’t you say it wasn’t my job to make you coffee?”
He smirked. “Consider it a special request if you like.”
For a moment, I teetered on the edge of telling him to go to hell. It took every ounce of restraint to say through gritted teeth, “Coming right up.”
Ford hadn’t specified what kind, so I’d turned on the ancient Mister Coffee, filled the yellowed glass pot, and dug out the grounds from the back of the cabinet. They were three years past their expiration date, which suited me just fine.
Then, in the safety of the kitchenette, I stewed while I waited for the coffee to brew. The nerve of him. Maybe Will had been right all along. Maybe Ford was some pampered, pompous, friendless, dogless asshole. Just because I’d made him coffee once, to be nice, didn’t mean I was his own personal barista now. He’d said himself it wasn’t part of my job. Just like a man, I thought furiously as I carried the cup back across the office. Give them an inch and they’d establish eminent domain over the next ten miles.
I let myself into his office without knocking for the first time. I was surprised to catch him staring at the door with a watchful gleam in his eye. He looked like he knew he’d annoyed me and was enjoying it. Hungering for it. I narrowed my eyes. Was this some sort of game he was playing? Some sort of perverse form of flirting?
Testing my theory, I moved deliberately around the desk, noting the way his pupils dilated fractionally as I came closer. Oh yes, this had been a game. I should have been furious, but instead my blood heated in a new way. I could play this game, too. “Where would you like your coffee, Mr. Cavanaugh?” I asked sweetly.
He cleared his throat. “Anywhere on the desk is fine, Miss Stafford.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?” I looked down at him and met his eyes. Heat flashed between us.
Maybe it wasn’t a game after all.
Before I could think about all the reasons I should back away, he took the coffee cup out of my hands, set it on the desk, and swiveled to face me. If I were any closer, I’d be between his thighs. Back up, Paige.
“Depends,” he said quietly. “Are you on the clock or not?”
Deja vu. We’d been here before, making this decision. Last time it had changed everything. This time it could ruin everything. Still, I said very slowly, “Not.”
As soon as the word was out of my mouth, he was reaching for me. His strong arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me down hard onto him. Before I could catch my breath, he was fisting his hand in my hair and dragging my face down to his.
My lips were already parting when he plundered my mouth with his tongue. I fisted my hands in his suit jacket, holding on tightly, trying to pull myself even further into him. His strong hands ripped my shirt free of my waistband and ran up my spine. I melted into him. For several glorious minutes, I was not myself. I was just feelings, sensations. The stubble of his five o’clock shadow against my cheeks, his demanding lips on mine, his hands exploring my body. I wanted him completely, without the barrier of clothing between us, the boundaries of the chair around us.
But when he pulled himself back, keeping a hand on the back of my neck so we were still only a breath apart, and said, “My place,” in a harsh whisper, I came back to reality with a cold, painful jolt.
I couldn’t go back to his place. I couldn’t even stay here in his office, even though a second ago I would have happily let him drag me to the floor. I pushed against his granite chest, shaking my head.
“Your place then,” he persisted.
That was even worse. Even if Madelyn were asleep, evidence of her was everywhere. Her small shoes in the entranceway. Her toys in the living room. Her newborn pictures on the wall. “No,” I said too quickly. and shoved free of him.
His eyes narrowed as he watched me fumble with the buttons of my blouse. “What the hell just happened, Paige?”
“A mistake.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to tuck in my shirt. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I started this.”
“Yeah, two fucking years ago.” He stood up suddenly and swore. “Is there someone else, Paige? Just tell me.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s just complicated, Ford. You’re my boss. I need this job.”
His face softened infinitesimally. “I know it’s complicated. Nothing that happens between us will affect your position with Blip, though. I can assure you that.”
I laughed tiredly. “That’s bullshit. You and I both know it. Look at Melanie Greenwell. I heard about her and Griffin.”
Ford grimaced. “Melanie Greenwell was not let go because of Griff. Melanie was let go because she was incompetent. You’re not.”
“And that’ll mean absolutely nothing when this,” I gestured between the two of us, “isn’t what you want anymore.”
“I think I’ve wanted you for two years and not even realized it,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair. “Ever since you walked into my office, I’ve been fighting it, but I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”
“
Same.” I exhaled hard. “But I have responsibilities that have nothing and everything to do with this job. And I like it here.”
We stared at each other, both still breathing hard, our clothing askew. Finally, Ford scrubbed his hands over his face, fixed his belt, and said. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll walk you out.”
“No,” I held up a hand. “We’re not riding the elevator down together, okay? That’s a recipe for disaster. In fact, there are a few rules we need to establish.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Such as?”
“No elevators,” I ticked them off on my fingers. “No telling me to get you coffee since apparently I like your twisted games. And obviously, no touching since I like that too.”
“You liked that a lot,” he observed. “If you want--.”
“Fourth rule, no discussing things we like about each other,” I said severely. “Deal?”
Soberly, he held out his hand. “Deal.”
I was reaching for it when I saw the spark in his eye and yanked my hand back. “Ford, you’re trying to get me to break rule number three,” I accused.
He withdrew his hand and laughed, not bothering to deny it.
With a stay-put gesture to him, I moved toward the door.
“Paige,” he said as I reached it. I looked back. “I’m going to respect your rules. But I’m going to do everything I can to make you break them yourself. And when you do--game over.”
18
Ford
Something was nagging at me about the way things had ended. Not because I was still hard as a rock when I got home fifteen minutes later, but because she’d said this thing between us was complicated, and I didn’t think she meant just the fact that I was her boss. That hadn’t stopped her when she was curled up on my lap, moaning into my mouth. There was something else. Something that hadn’t mattered until I suggested we go back to my place.
No, it was her place that had made that strange, fearful spark ignite in her eye. Paige had a secret, and I hated secrets. I’d tied myself up in knots trying to figure out Georgia’s, and in the end, they’d just been lies. No substance at all.
I’d follow her rules, but I was going to find out what she was hiding no matter what it took.
I kept my eye on her and Will all the next week. My eyes narrowed dangerously every time he found some new, inane reason to touch her. But I didn’t bother firing him because she never touched back. I considered myself somewhat of an expert at knowing when Paige wanted someone, and every muscle in her body told me she didn’t want Will. The only person who didn’t seem to get the message was Will himself.
The other thing I noticed about Paige was that she didn’t have friends in the office. She was friendly with everyone. I could hear her laugh throughout the day, but Blip was an office that worked hard and played hard together. Paige worked as hard as any of them, but whenever they invited her out, she said she had plans.
It drove me crazy. Who did she have plans with? Surely, she didn’t hang out with Amanda and Shelly every damn night. Was her ex back in the picture? But I’d asked if there was someone and she’d said no. One evening, after she watched the others go out to karaoke almost wistfully, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Why don’t you go?” I asked, taking Will’s abandoned seat. The office was empty now, but I still kept my voice low.
Paige blinked. “To karaoke? Because I can’t--sing.”
My bullshit detector tingled. That wasn’t what she had started to say. “You’re lying,” I said. “What’s the real reason?”
Paige sighed. “Ford, I’m pretty sure we have a rule against this.”
I ticked them off. “We’re not on an elevator, I’m not touching you, I’m not asking you for coffee, and lying definitely isn’t something I like about you.”
Her eyes filled suddenly with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. Damnit. The closer I wanted to get to someone, the less clearly I saw them. It looked like guilt, but at this range, I couldn’t trust my senses anymore. It couldn’t be guilt. What would she have to feel guilty for?
“The real reason,” she said, struggling to smile, “is that I’m tired. My boss is a tyrant.”
I smiled back because she clearly wanted me to. “You should take a day off. Tell him to run his own damn reports.”
“Funny you say that,” she said slowly. “I actually did want to ask you about taking next Friday off.”
My stomach tightened. A romantic three-day weekend with the ex? Hell no. I’d make her work through the weekend.
“I’m moving,” she said, unaware of the direction my thoughts had taken. “Closer to Amanda and Shelly. A bigger apartment. I know we’re getting down to the wire on Nashville. I can work from home in the afternoon.”
I exhaled breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. She’d said closer to Amanda and Shelly. A bigger apartment. She hadn’t said anything about the ex or anyone else.
“That’s fine,” I said. “Put it in the system. I’ll tell Mrs. Winthrop to approve it.”
“Thanks,” she smiled at me. Lust tightened in my groin, and I was suddenly aware of how very alone we were. Experimentally, I rolled my chair closer to hers, the way I’d seen Will do a dozen times. Every time, she leaned back in hers and pushed slightly away. Now though, she shifted imperceptibly forward.
“I actually want to ask you something about next Friday too,” I said quietly. “Can I take you out for a drink to celebrate the new place?”
I saw her mentally sift through the rules for which one she could cite. No elevators. No touching. No coffee. “I won’t touch you, and I won’t tell you a single thing I like about you,” I murmured, sliding my chair so close that our seats brushed against each other. She wanted to. I could see it in her eyes. I was so sure she’d say yes that I was almost confused when she shook her head.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Why the hell not?” I asked in frustration.
“Rule five,” Paige snapped. “No questions.”
“That’s bullshit, Paige.” I grabbed the arm of her chair to keep her from jerking back and standing up. “Why do I feel like you’re always hiding something from me? It’s not that creep Will Davis, is it?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock and disgust. “Of course it’s not Will Davis.”
“Your ex then?” I asked relentlessly. “Are you back with him?”
She shook her head. “There’s nobody else, Ford. I just can’t, okay? I’m--,” I saw her grope for the explanation, “I’m barely divorced. I can’t just jump in bed with someone new.”
Another lie.
“I’m hardly new,” I said, keeping a tight grip on her chair. “Remember? We have a history.”
“Yes, and a present too, remember? I work for you. You’re my boss. We have to work together every day.” She shoved back hard enough to break my grip and grabbed her purse. “Good night, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
I stood up, blocking her way. My fingers flexed and unflexed as though still around the arm of the chair. “Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” She asked and pushed past me.
“Not when every other signal you’re giving me is that you want me.” I followed her to the elevator. “Something besides this damn job is stopping you, and one day I’m going to find out what it is.”
The elevator doors slid open. She stared at me, her lips tight and white. Then, without another word, she stepped onto the elevator. I started to follow, but her eyes flashed. The rules. I stopped, pissed I’d ever agreed to them.
Pissed she hadn’t broken them yet herself.
19
Paige
Ford and I were painfully civil all the next week. We had daily meetings on the progress with Nashville. Before, it was just the two of us. Now he invited Mrs. Winthrop in for her “expertise.”
“But Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said bewildered. “I’ve never organized the conference before. I haven’t even attended.”
“I trust you,” he said briefly. And so
she sat in like a chaperone. Not saying a word but keeping things appropriate just by being there.
I was relieved when the week was finally over, and we were in the new apartment. I spent Friday night setting up Madelyn’s room, trying not to think about who Ford might have found to accept his drink invitation. I was too tired and depressed to set my room up, so I slept on the mattress on the floor without even bothering to make it up.
I couldn’t stay depressed for long though. Not when I woke up in a gorgeous new two-bedroom apartment. Not when Madelyn was excited enough for ten toddlers. Her own room. A place where she could be alone with her odd assortment of stolen goods. While I unpacked our kitchen boxes, she kept running back to her room, as though to make sure it was still there.
Amanda and Shelly came over Saturday night to help us unpack.
“I brought champagne,” Amanda said, and handed it to me to open.
“I brought you a housewarming present,” Shelly said, and handed it to Madelyn. It was a large, rectangular box wrapped in eco-friendly brown paper and tied with twine. Madelyn was not impressed. She wanted presents to be shiny and wasteful. She was very pleased with the contents though. Her very own eight-piece Tupperware set.
“And I will be taking back that lid,” Shelly said to me underneath Madelyn’s coos of excitement.
We drank two bottles of champagne while we unpacked. We finished Madelyn’s room, then moved onto the living room when she went to bed. When we were done pushing the furniture around into different configurations and unpacking the kitchen, we went back into my room where Amanda flopped on the bed and said, “I’m tired.”
“We’re almost done,” I complained, trying to pull her off. “At least help me make it before you fall asleep on it.”
