Two and two isn’t adding up to four because we’re just friends. Almost family. I can’t hinge the future of this company on a relationship with a woman that will never go beyond friendship.
Leticia, Leo’s assistant and right arm, marches past the glass forward-facing wall of my office and raps a knuckle against the open door. I wave her in and keep talking. She’s efficient, smart as a whip, and keeps Checkmate running like a well-oiled machine using just an iPad and her pointing finger. Her husband assures us that she also runs their kids’ soccer teams better than the pros. Anyone who can corral that many energetic kids has my vote of confidence. There’s no one we trust more.
“We need to cut fat out of our company budget to offset the extra costs. I think we should hand the reins of the stateside studios to Magnus and Gerard,” I say. “They can handle my responsibilities here just as well as I can. I’ll rent a flat in both Dubai and Europe and travel back and forth to New York as needed.”
“It’s going to be weird without you here all the time,” Leo says. “It’s always been the three of us together. We don’t make decisions without each other.”
Oz coughs something that sounds like “bullshit” behind his hand. I wrinkle my forehead to say “really?” It wasn’t long ago that Leo definitely made a huge decision without Oz and me.
Leo refuses to acknowledge our smartass comebacks. He makes a move on the board, snatches up one of Oz’s chess pieces, and analyzes it.
Oz chuckles and goes to study the board.
In the face of a public relations nightmare, Leo took our female PR account rep to Checkmate’s anchor studio on Fifth Avenue. Without telling Oz and me, Leo lifted the veil of mystery that protects our trade secrets.
Keeping the secrets behind that curtain of privacy was a pact the three of us made from the beginning. If our clients want to pretend they came out of the womb looking cool, that’s up to them. None of our concern. So one of us breaking that sacred pact shook our foundation. Especially since we’d agreed never to let a woman come between us.
When we started the company and Leo insisted we look the part of successful businessmen, I knew we’d stumbled into a gold mine. Helping men transform their image, their whole approach to life, and their relationships was an underserved market niche.
That’s where I got the bright idea for Checkmate’s retail studio arm. We had our architect come up with a design that looked stylish yet masculine, called them Lifestyles Studios instead of stores, assigned each client a personal coach, offered client privacy so no one would know their newer, slicker images were purchased, and bingo. Men ate that shit up like candy. Still do.
Turns out, Leo, being the smart guy he is, trusted the right person with our secrets. She used them to stem the scandal and restore our image. Then Leo asked her to marry him. A regular fairy tale where the guy gets the girl, and the world is set right.
Oz finally takes Leo’s rook and resumes his spot on the edge of my desk. “I’ve got dibs on his office,” he says to Leo. “His view is better than mine.”
“I get the chess sets and the desk,” Leo deadpans.
I roll my eyes. Which makes me think of Ava again. She’s the world’s most dramatic, not to mention the world’s sexiest eye-roller.
Leticia snatches the chess piece from Leo’s hand and looks at me. “I’m not going to let them touch a thing in your office, Dex.” She offers me a motherly smile. “It will be exactly the way you left it.” She gives both Leo and Oz a pointed look. “And it will be waiting for you when you move back for good.” She sets the piece next to the board and holds up her iPad. “In case you three geniuses haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good with this thing. You can FaceTime every day if needed.”
I chuckle. Truth is, it won’t be the same without all three of us here. Together. Changing the status quo is never easy. It will likely put a strain on the company and on our partnership.
Leticia says to Leo, “If you boys are done, your fiancée is on line one.”
Leo jumps up and all but sprints to his office.
Leticia winks at me, then leaves too.
“So what’s really bothering you?” Oz asks.
“What?” Oh. Shit. “Nothing. Why would anything be bothering me?”
“Don’t make me cough ‘bullshit’ behind my hand again.”
“Fuck you.”
Oz pushes off of my desk and heads for the door. “Fuck you too. You know where to find me if you need to talk,” he says over one shoulder.
I’m alone again, thank fuck, so I snatch up my phone to see if Ava has returned any of my texts. She hasn’t, and I want to crush the phone against the wall.
All of my dreams are about to come true. This expansion will make Checkmate the worldwide success I’ve dreamt it could be. We’ll be even richer than we already are—thank you very much, Mom and Dad. I’ll have proven that starting Checkmate Inc. instead of pursuing a career in the tech world wasn’t a foolish mistake. I’m young, healthy, and have the whole fucking world at my feet. Life should be good.
So why do I feel like my happiness, my entire reason for living, is tethered to the silent phone in my hand?
Chapter Seven
The week has crawled by, mostly because I haven’t seen Ava since she ran out of the coffee shop on Monday morning after Cynthia showed up and looked ready to dry hump me in public. Ava’s texts sounded cheerful and upbeat, but when I explained that Cynthia was nothing to me, Ava responded with, You’d owe me an explanation if we were sleeping together, which we’re not because we’re like family...
Then she canceled our early morning coffee meets because of the amount of work she had to accomplish before our trip upstate.
The only time I go this long without seeing her is when one of us is out of town. I’m anxious to lay my eyes on her. Each day that’s passed has made me more eager to spend time with her, even though spending the weekend alone probably isn’t the best idea. Especially after the fantasies that have occupied my mind since our make-out session at her birthday party where she revealed she’s never had a real orgasm.
When I turn onto Ava’s street in the West Village, I’m lucky enough to find a parking spot just a few blocks away from her apartment. I ease my Porsche 911 into the empty space, climb out, and flick the remote.
There’s a certain energy that flows through the city every Friday as New Yorkers prepare for the weekend. Today is no exception, and an electric current hums through me during the two-block walk. I tell myself it’s the chilled autumn air, and I breathe it deep into my lungs, adjust the wool scarf around my neck, and stuff my cold hands into the lined pockets of my leather bomber jacket.
The air is cold enough to cause my breath to fog, and it swirls around me as I make my way up the steps of Ava’s apartment building. I ring the bell, anticipation coursing through me.
“Dex?” Her voice streams through the intercom, and my pulse dials up a notch.
“It’s me, Rookie.”
She buzzes me in, and I take the stairs two at a time. The door to her apartment is open, and she’s waiting. Of course I’ve been here before, but I never stayed long. Never wanted to deal with the temptation. Never wanted to fall to the temptation. Stepping inside is like jumping into an ocean of warmth. I’m totally immersed in her scent, her presence. Everything about the apartment is so Ava, and it feels so fucking good, like I’ve been without her for a year.
The space is small but neat and well organized. The decorations are eclectic and make a bold statement with colors and shapes and angles. The flowers I gave her for her birthday are displayed on the coffee table, far from fresh anymore. I close the door behind me and ease around to take her in. She’s adorable in a pair of snug jeans, a deep plum cashmere sweater, and ankle boots. The bracelets I gave her glint at me. A knit beanie slouches to one side of her head, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail with wisps hanging loose to brush against her cheeks and neck.
The hum of electricity that started when I pull
ed up out front speeds and starts to sing through my veins. “Hey,” I manage to say. I’m so verbose I amaze myself sometimes. No surprise that I graduated Magna Cum Laude, right?
“Hey.” Ava’s glossy lips shimmer as she speaks.
I swear I can hear the clock on her wall ticking as we do nothing but stare at each other, and I hate it. Not looking at her. I could never hate that. Staring at Ava is my favorite pastime and probably the only thing I like more than playing chess or working at Checkmate. It’s the awkward strain in our relationship that I hate. It’s never been like that between us.
“Bedroom Eyes,” she says.
Huh? Was I really looking at her that way? “What?” I shift my weight, afraid I’m totally busted.
“You’re wearing Bedroom Eyes. It’s one of Checkmate’s newest colognes.”
Oh. Right. “Give the girl an A.” Finally, I unglue my feet from the floor and walk to her. I press a soft kiss to her cheek. “Be warned, I’m in a grumpy-ass mood. At least that’s what Oz and Leo called it. I refused to admit it to them, but they may be right. I think it’s because I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee all week.”
She slugs my arm. “I’ll make it up to you and buy you a cup on our way out of town.”
I flinch and pretend she really packs a punch by rubbing my arm. “Now you owe me two cups.”
“I’ll get my things.” She disappears into her bedroom and emerges with enough luggage to clothe a third world country. Swear to God, getting all of that onto the train would’ve been easier than it’s going to be fitting it into my Porsche.
Her purple suitcase could shelter a small elephant. Attached to the handle by a long strap is a matching monogramed bag. It’s smaller, but that’s not saying much.
“The small one is my cosmetics bag,” she says.
I’m unable to stop my jaw from hanging open.
“What?” She holds out her hand, palm up. “That’s how I roll.” She swings her gigantic purse over a shoulder, grabs the suitcase handle, and tries to sashay to the door. The key word here is tries. A fight between Ava and the suitcase breaks out, and it’s obvious she’s about to go down in defeat.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes, and I grab the bags. “Allow me.”
“Thank you.” She bats those big, blue eyes at me, and I’m toast.
I do not eye-fuck her ass all the way down the stairs. I am not mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the way those distressed jeans mold to her toned thighs as we make our way down the street. And my mind absolutely does not go in nine different dirty directions when she drops her sunglasses on the sidewalk next to my car and bends over to pick them up.
Nuh-uh, not me. I’m the master of control and keep my mind out of the gutter by thinking of chess. Only I want to play strip chess with Ava, and that’s where my mind wanders.
Fuck.
I manage to pack her mammoth luggage into the trunk. “Ouch.” I moan and rub my lower back. I limp to the passenger door and open it, waving her in.
“Oh my God! The suitcase threw your back out?”
I try not to laugh, but her owlish eyes are too cute for her own good. Too innocent. A wave of worry washes over me at how some guys might try to take advantage of that, and I understand why Leo hasn’t been able to let go of the overprotective big brother routine.
Her lips round into an “O” to match her eyes, and I can’t hold onto the fake grimace any longer. My involuntary smile has her wide eyes narrowing. I break into all out laughter, and she slugs my arm again.
She slides into the passenger seat, and I lean in. “I’ll visit my chiropractor next week and send you the bill.” I close the door before she can deliver another playful punch.
Before you know it, the sporty German engine is roaring through the Lincoln Tunnel. We make a quick stop in New Rochelle for a cup of joe, and we’re off again. The drive upstate is gorgeous. Splashes of vibrant red, orange, yellow, and purple whiz past. I should feel like I’ve got everything I need or want in life.
But something’s different. Something’s missing.
I can’t remember Ava ever being this distant.
It’s reminiscent of my childhood. Stiff. Uncomfortable. Detached. My parents were distant and distracted by academic pursuit, only offering a glimmer of emotion when I brought home the latest “A” on a test or another first place ribbon from a science fair or math competition. Nothing like the unconditional acceptance I get from Ava. Until now.
“So,” her fingers slide over the gold bracelets as she speaks, “how are the plans to move overseas coming along?”
Coldness seeps into my chest right over my heart. Her question reminds me that my life is about to change drastically, and she won’t be as much a part of it. That seems unfathomable. I don’t see our relationship going beyond friendship, though. Not without starting a war with Leo. Even if he came around in the end, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d overreact in the beginning, and it could do irreparable damage to his bond with Ava.
I know what it’s like to be lonely. To be alone without family to lean on. I won’t risk that happening to two of the people I care most about in the world. I couldn’t live with myself if I were the cause of such disappointment and heartbreak, because I’m so familiar with how deeply it cuts.
I can’t bring myself to describe my plans to move as good. “The plans are coming along. Leticia is trying to line up flat rentals. If we don’t find something quickly enough, I can live in a hotel.”
“Sounds like quite a life, living in Europe and Dubai. Hopping from one exotic location to the next. You’ll be earning that rep in the gossip rags.”
“I’ll be working around the clock, and it’s a temporary arrangement.” Two fucking years away from New York City, away from my office at Checkmate HQ…away from Ava doesn’t seem all that temporary. It seems like a goddamn eternity, especially since she could very well meet someone and tie the knot in that amount of time.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel, and I grow quiet as I try to focus on the road instead of the surge of jealousy burning through my veins.
“Well, it sounds like a blast. I’m sure it’ll be the experience of a lifetime,” Ava says.
It would be if she went with me. Or if I knew she’d be waiting for me when I got back. Neither is a possibility, though, and even if it were, I’d never ask it of her.
Chapter Eight
My Porsche is more than a little conspicuous when we pull into the small town where Ava and her brother grew up. Weatherton is charming and quaint with a stone church on the main drag and a few people meandering down the sidewalk in no particular hurry.
“Which hotel?” I ask, so we can unload, unpack, and get cleaned up for tonight. During the drive up, Ava informed me that tonight’s alumni party kicks off the homecoming reunion.
“Turn left at the next light.” She points up ahead.
I’m a little confused. When I Googled hotels as part of my Don’t Fuck Ava plan, all four were located along this main road that runs from one end of town to the other. That’s equivalent to about a six-minute car ride, so I know Ava can’t be lost. Maybe there’s a Bed and Breakfast in the area.
I turn left, and the road twists and turns through a residential neighborhood of small homes that look as though they should have apple pies cooling in the windows. A street hockey game is in progress, and the kids scatter to let us through, gawking and pointing at my sports car. We wave and ease down the lane.
“Turn right here.” Ava points.
“I have no idea where we’re going. I should’ve let you drive.” I flip my blinker on and turn right onto another residential street that takes us deeper into the neighborhood.
She shakes her head. “Can’t. I don’t know how.”
My foot comes down hard on the brake. We’re sitting idle in the middle of the road, but I don’t care. It’s not like I’m holding up a line of traffic in this little town. “You don’t know how to drive?”
“
Nope,” she says, and shrugs. “My parents died right before they were going to teach me.” She looks away when she mentions her parents. “Then I moved to the city to live with Leo, and there was no need.”
How do I not know this? “You really are a rookie,” I tease her. My gaze drops to her shimmering, glossy lips. “In so many ways.”
Her lips part, and a charge of electricity stirs the air between us. We both know I’m not talking about driving, but it’s just wishful thinking on my part.
“Maybe you can help me out with that.” Her voice is a feathery whisper, filled with promise, hunger, and need.
My dick grows so hard I almost moan. I want nothing more than to help her both behind the wheel and between the sheets. But I can’t. “Ava—”
“This is a perfect neighborhood for driving lessons, don’t you think?” She waves a hand across the span of the windshield.
Maybe I was projecting. Must be the double shot of espresso I ordered in my coffee, because nowhere in that sentence did she mention wanting help with her first man-made orgasm.
“While we’re here, you could teach me…so many things,” Ava adds with a sexy purr in her voice.
Good to know I wasn’t projecting.
Before I can respond, she says, “My old house is just down the street on the left.”
I’m so surprised that it takes me longer than it should to return my attention to the road and lift my foot from the brake. “We’re going to the house where you and Leo grew up?” I know Leo hasn’t been back to the house since his parents died, but he and Ava still own it. I also know they don’t stay here when they make their annual autumn trek upstate to visit their parents’ graves. I slowly accelerate down the block and glance at the clock on my dash. We’ve got plenty of time before checking into whatever hotel Ava has booked for us, so it won’t hurt to take this trip down memory lane.
“Here it is.”
I turn into the drive of a one-story home with white siding, a wraparound porch, and a screen door. The driveway leads down the side of the house, where I park in front of a one-car garage. The hedges are unusually manicured for a home that’s been vacant for eight years.
Rookie Moves (A Checkmate Inc. Novel Book 2) Page 5
