by Ava Claire
"The who isn't important," I rebuffed, even though that wasn't technically true. When was the last time a woman had gotten under my skin? Who made me do the chasing instead of vice versa? The who was very important. “I'd get going."
A flurry of questions rounded her hazel eyes, but she turned on her heels and hustled toward the elevator. I took my time, speaking to my employees as I breezed past, most locked onto their devices, wireless headphones over their ears. Our campus wasn't nearly as expansive as some of the big dogs, but it was important to me that the line was blurred between work and play. Happy people were more productive, so I tried to take care of my own. From the hardwood floors and sleek, interactive panels, to our own coffee shop, a restaurant run by a chef who used to work exclusively for celebrity clientele, a 24 hour gym with all the bells and whistles, and shower and sleep pods, this place was more like a resort than an office. We attracted the best and brightest in tech and it showed in our profits. We hadn't posted a loss. Ever. In fact, this quarter was shaping up to be our best since we opened our doors.
The glass doors to the conference room retracted and I slipped inside. A few of the programmers were already lounging around the table, grunting a greeting before getting back to their laptops, the clicking of keys mingling with the alternative rock that oozed from the speakers.
I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the perfectly proportioned collision of dark roast and cream. I slid into the seat at the head of the table and wondered what look I'd see on Natalee's face when she walked through the door.
Surprise?
Excitement?
Lust?
Or maybe disgust. The fact that she’d ignored every instance of me trying to reconnect made me wonder if she wouldn't turn on her heels the minute she saw me. The likelihood of that was slim because I'd done my research and she'd built her business from the ground up, working out of her home until she saved up for a space. Garnering clients one at a time until her brand and delicious offerings caught fire and our paths crossed again. And thank God they had, because the first time around, I hadn't gotten nearly enough of her.
I’d been replaying that night ever since the wedding. The delicate pink that flashed in her cheeks when I flirted with her. She was a knockout; surely she was used to men approaching her, A-game in tow, with hopes that they'd be the one to take her home.
Hell, under any other circumstances, I would have invited her up. That kiss, that taste in the elevator, was meant to be the beginning of a night that would have spilled into the new year.
But her eyes-
I forced away that unwelcome rush of nerves that reminded me why I cut things short. Why I walked away from what could have been.
I hopped up from my seat like the cushion was electrified, leaving the memories behind me as I headed over to the nook on the far wall of the room, where coffee and sugar and other odds and ends waited, including a blank space for whatever Natalee and her team had in store. I put way too much sugar in my coffee, stirring it, knowing that ultimately, ‘I'm sorry’ wouldn't cut it. Then I'd have to come clean and relive it all, or come up with a lie and live up to those last words.
You're a real asshole, Jason Cox. And mark my words, you're gonna die alone. And that's exactly what you deserve.
"Hi, where would you like me to set up?"
That familiar voice, wrapped around my heart and tugged. It was a feminine thing that was just low enough that it made my mind go to naughty places.
Natalee.
I turned around, facing her, with my best disarming smile locked, loaded, and ready to go. I expected a similar reception that I'd gotten outside that bathroom—brutal and just cold enough to freeze my cock and break it right off.
Instead, her surprise was outlined by something that looked suspiciously like mischief sparking in her jewel colored eyes, the green narrowing before she headed over. My team was already swarming her cart, but my eyes had other plans. She was in a respectable white polo with ‘MC’ embroidered just above the swell of her right breast. I forced my eyes upward, remembering that I was trying to do things a little differently this go round. Navigating unchartered territory, where I actually got to know the woman I wanted to take to bed instead of skipping all that in favor for uncomplicated fun.
She flipped her hair, the dark locks cascading past her shoulders. She parked her cart and headed in my direction like a woman on a mission, stopping arms length away.
She gave me a slow once over that almost made me blush. "I'm sorry, have we met?" She extended her hand, the sexiest little smirk curving her lips.
Wait—she was giving me an olive branch? An opportunity to start over fresh?
I took her hand, but I didn't shake it. I held it, stroking her skin before I cupped it between both of my own. "I think you met a part of me on New Year's Eve." I winced. "And at the wedding." I swallowed the growing knot that was lodged in my throat. "And, uh, at the reception."
She held my gaze steady. "And who am I with now?"
"Not to toot my own horn, but I'm kind of a catch," I winked.
She snatched her hand away, smiling despite her efforts at pretending she was so over me. "And clearly very humble."
"Clearly," I grinned, then put aside the jokes that were meant to guard me. Keep me closed off. Protected. Because if I kept people laughing, they wouldn't notice that underneath it all, I wasn't nearly as confident as I seemed. "You're with a man that's kicking himself because he treated you like you were forgettable when you are anything but, Natalee."
Her lips parted, her eyebrows lifting in genuine shock. She didn't say anything. The sound of my employees devouring cupcakes like they were worried she'd wheel it out at any moment barely registered. There was just a low thumping sound that magnified with every second that passed and the silence built to a dizzying thing that made sweat bead at my temple. The confidence I wore like armor suddenly felt about as sturdy as a plastic poncho. The silence left me to fill in the blanks.
Does that line work for you often, Mr. Cox?
That's sweet, but I'm so not interested.
Go to hell.
She blinked, dropping her eyes to the floor, then slowly raised her chin...and her arm. That hand was back out, ready to start over.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cox."
CHAPTER SEVEN: NATALEE
My better judgment was officially on vacation.
A part of me wanted to believe it began the moment I didn’t strangle Tamara when she informed me that she’d made an executive decision. If that wasn’t worrying enough since the last time she’d done such a thing we’d ended up dressing up like Disney characters to deliver a cake to the brattiest six year old I’d ever met, she outdid herself and said a name that I’d been whispering in my head since the reception: Jason Cox.
She’d accepted Cox Technologies’ online order for a batch of our baked good assortment for their quarterly meeting. I’d just stared at her when she confessed, speechless, and she’d filled the silence by giving me all the reasons it was a great idea.
Just think about the publicity! The word of mouth advertising once the tech peeps take a bite of your mouthwatering, tantalizing-
I’d cut her off, holding up a hand to end her attempts at kissing my ass.
And now you have a completely chill and low stress reason to talk to him!
It should have made me chunk a bag of flour at her head but instead, I just clenched my teeth and asked her to give me the details.
That morning, I’d spent an unusual amount of time getting ready for the delivery. Usually, it consisted of pulling my hair into a bun and pairing my t-shirt with a blazer, dark jeans, and my comfy Keds. For the Cox delivery, I took the time to straighten my hair, dug out my Madison Creations polo, found my black stiletto pants that were a size too small and forced me to do the thong thing (I was nothing if not professional, so commando was definitely not happening), I even wore my Mary Jane wedges and upgraded from lip balm to tinted lip gloss, and even added a
swipe of blush and some mascara.
I’d anticipated my friend wasn’t done meddling, and she didn’t disappoint, Face-timing me the morning of the delivery, looking healthy despite the tissue she kept dabbing her nose with, claiming she was too sick to the delivery, but I could handle it, right?
And I had. I strutted into the building that was more like an Apple store than an office, emboldened by the fact that his employees didn’t even wait for me to come to a full stop before they pounced. And Jason? Ever the cool, smooth operator, that had more lines than a professional pick up artist and a body that made most women melt into a puddle? He was speechless when I took the wheel and offered him a do-over that he definitely didn’t deserve.
I’d expected jokes, deflection; for him to leap at the opportunity to walk right past his numerous screw ups. He’d apologized and said my name again like my name had been on an endless loop in his head, too.
And then I went a little crazy and agreed to go out to dinner with him, further breaking my rule. Dating the jerk who made me come up with my no dating, friends with benefits only thing in the first place.
I knew better. I’d done the same research that Tamara had. Jason Cox was a player, with a capital P, but there was something in his eyes. That same spark I’d seen the night we met that made me wonder if he was worth the risk.
I pulled up the camera app on my phone and fussed with my braid, giving myself a weary grin that I barely held for a second before I flipped back to my Uber app. 5 minutes away. More than enough time to snap myself out of this momentary insanity. I didn’t even know how to do this dating thing. The last time I’d even been on anything that resembled a date was with Scott, and I remembered all too well how that turned out.
I almost texted Tamara, but decided against it because she’d just tell me to get over it and that worst case scenario, I’d get a free meal out of the deal.
That wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, though.
We were already there.
I was so excited about seeing him that I could hardly stand it.
~
I’d thought that I was ahead of the game. When he told me he wanted to take me to Crave, I’d pretended that it was a place that I frequented. The fact was, my weekends were spent with Netflix, popcorn, and wine, and if I happened to feel like being social and said yes to a night out, it was of the Applebee’s variety. The kind of place where putting on a nice shirt with your jeans was dressing up.
When I pulled up the review site for Crave I saw more dollar signs than I would ever spring for, along with pictures of tables with crisp white tablecloths and servers who didn’t have name tags pinned to their chests...or weary, forced smiles that told me they were definitely counting the minutes until the end of their shifts.
I took my phone back out, fighting the nerves that told me that this was insane. I didn’t go on dates with billionaires. It was easy to forget that Jason Cox was worth more money than I could even wrap my mind around. If he was the type that flashed his Rolex every time he had the opportunity and rode around in a limo and was always dressed in designer duds, specially tailored to his rock hard body, it would have been easy to turn him down. I didn’t need a chauffeur and bling and all the trappings that came with dating a wealthy guy. Heck, before I ran into him again, I would have said I didn’t need a guy at all. But since that smirk and those blue eyes had smoldered back into my life, I hadn’t been able to think about much else, plagued by what if’s.
What if he really was sorry?
What if I was making a big mistake and he was playing with me?
What if he kissed me, and like his mouth on my body, I measured every kiss that followed to his?
And what if no one else made me feel this fear, this candy coated excitement that I’d stumbled on something real?
I stared at my reflection, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. Dolled up, winged eyeliner and all. A blood red dress and a slender velvet choker around my neck. I even found an old pair of ankle boots to pull off the whole look. A look Tamara had coined, ‘Come fuck me’.
My cheeks bloomed even darker when I let myself hope. When I dared to admit to myself that our chemistry wasn’t in my head.
And as charming as he was, I’d been flirting too.
“Here we go!” My Uber driver chirped, pulling to the curb.
Panic flared in my chest and I didn’t want to believe that I was out of time. I needed a few more moments to psych myself up. To convince myself that I wasn’t making a terrible mistake.
It’s just dinner. It’s not like you’ve never had dinner before.
Which was true...but I’d never had dinner with a man that made me want to skip to ‘check please’ with one look. Who made me hungry for something that wasn’t on the menu.
I unchecked my seatbelt, all the naughty pangs that I felt going cold when I remembered the rest. How could I forget what he’d done, though? How he’d left me high and dry? Why would I believe that I’d be anything more than a fling to a man like him, a man who probably didn’t do anything without ulterior motive? A nice dinner=get in her pants, for instance.
“His jaw is gonna hit the floor when he sees you.” The driver read my nerves like an open book.
“Thanks,” I blushed, biting the bullet and climbing from the car. It was too late to turn back now, and despite all the questions, the unknown, and the evidence to support texting him to cancel, none of it compared to my curiosity. I wanted to see where this rabbit hole would lead. And the only way to keep my head afloat was to take my expectations down to zero. It was just dinner. Getting to know the man behind the jerk. And considering some of the 1 star ratings I saw were erroneous ones, with reviewers complaining because they couldn’t get a reservation, at least I’d get to enjoy a meal at a place that was booked solid for the next three months.
~
My fingers tingled as I gripped the doorknob, swallowed the last bit of my nerves, and took my first step into the unknown.
The pictures of Crave didn't do it justice. A restaurant that boasted an honest to God waitlist just to make a reservation should have oozed pretension. Women draped in ornate gold chairs with diamonds twinkling in their ears the size of grapes. Men with gleaming cufflinks that sparkled when they hit the light. But the people nestled around the tables in the room, teasing me with tantalizing aromas and peeks of what was to come had me feeling like I was overdressed. There were no dresses, no suits, no upturned noses that told me I was definitely playing dress up and sucked at it. Everyone was too busy stuffing their faces. But suddenly, I was very aware of the fact that I was wrapped in a dress that screamed seduction and intrigue and would have been charmingly edgy under the anticipated circumstances, but here, it was just charmingly slutty.
I futilely tugged up the V neck hemline of my dress, flashing my pearly whites at the wide eyed hostess who pretended like my breasts weren't on display. I should have brought a jacket. Or a turtleneck.
"Hi! I'm meeting-"
"Jason Cox?" she perked, giving me a wink like we were in on some secret that I wasn't yet privy to.
"Yes?" I said slowly, still pulling at my dress. I'd thought body con was a good idea, showing off every curve. I felt about as a two piece suit at Chucky Cheese.
She didn't give me a chance to ask how she'd taken the words right out of my mouth. "He's set up in the back, waiting for your arrival." She flicked her hazel eyes over my ensemble and her lips spread into an approving smile. "Nice dress."
I returned the smile with a peevish one of my own. "Thanks. How did you-"
"Know that you were here for Jason?!” she finished my sentence gleefully, like she was a contestant on a game show and she was so close to the prize that she could taste it. "Easy." She beckoned me to come closer and I obliged, shuffling forward nervously, grateful for the wooden stand between us because she looked like she would jump up and down like someone on The Price is Right at any moment. "He told me that I'd know it was you when you walked thr
ough the door because you'd be the most beautiful woman in the room."
Embarrassment scalded my cheeks but I tried to shrug it off, glad that my bangs were just long enough that they could hide the fact that I was flattered. Compliments from Jason Cox were supposed to be of the 'nice ass' variety.
The hostess could have definitely made me marinate in awkwardness, or ask me some questions that would make me turn even darker and/or make a quick escape, but she just grinned and beckoned for me to follow her.
My nerves evaporated as we navigated through the restaurant, replaced by pangs of hunger. White plates were stacked with vibrant twists on old favorites: the fanciest looking burger I'd ever seen, pizza topped with exotic and colorful ingredients, salads that almost looked too beautiful to eat.
My hunger waned as I realized that the trip to the back of the restaurant was more lengthy than I expected. We left the main floor behind us, pointed down a narrow hallway that forced me to dodge and maneuver past servers with trays who were way too accommodating and friendly considering I was the one inconveniencing them.
"Are we close-?" I asked the hostess, leaving a blank space for her name, to cover the annoying 'are we there yet?' vibe from my question.
"Margaret," she replied with a giggle. She didn't stop. "You'd think Jason would spring for some high tech gadget so we could just zip to the dining suite."
Dining suite?
Margaret came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hall and if I hadn't slowed, trying to figure out why Jason would be springing for anything at the restaurant.
She wheeled back to face me, her face scrunching like something was on the tip of her tongue. "What are those thingies called? The futuristic zipping around stuff that was all the rage for awhile.”
"Hover boards," I answered, getting the lead out as she started back down the hall. I was still trying to figure out why Jason would be springing for anything at all.
I got my answer when we reached an ornate wooden door, guarded by a burly man who looked ready to take anyone down who was foolish enough to try him.
