She shows me that seductive look again. “San Francisco is loaded with Victorians, Edwardians, and Tudors of every size, shape, and style. I don’t see you living in one of those.”
“Me neither.”
She narrows an eye. “Hmm… Twin Peaks West?”
I’m taken aback. “Get the hell out of here.”
“No?”
“No, it’s yes!”
“You’re interested in the mid-century Moderns?”
“Damn skippy. I’m partial to the Eichler homes.”
Carter nods as she ponders. “Three are for sale at the moment. One of them is half-renovated. The owner ran out of money, but the price is still too high. It’s been on the market the longest and has the best views. After you see it, you’ll want it.”
“You sound sure of yourself,” I say.
She pats my thigh. “That’s because I am sure of myself.”
“All right then. Let’s get on the bike and go.”
Carter hops to her feet. “The suspense is killing me.”
I lead her to the garage, which sits on the outer edge of the garden. I open the barn doors, and Carter walks in. She observes the tools that hang neatly on the wall, my masonry workbench with an electric saw that I use mainly to cut wood for the fireplace, then she looks at the shiny concrete floor.
“Wow, it’s clean in here.”
I walk to my bike. “There’s no use in keeping it dirty.”
“You’re so meticulous. From the way you have your shampoo and soap placed in the shower, to the way you have items placed in the refrigerator and cabinets, and now this.”
I watch her with a weak smile. I’ve never given my habits any thought. But now that I think about it, my ex-wife, Lena, used to give me shit about being too orderly. She said my space was the only thing I could control while I let the rest of my life fall to pieces, including our six-year marriage. Lena Chance… I took things too far when I married her. I was jealous of the natural chemistry between her and Vince. I wanted his shiny object. Suddenly, I realize that I have a lot to ask Vince to forgive me for. He and his family took me in when my mother exposed me to drunk, abusive assholes. My days turned dark after my dad died, but if it weren’t for the Adams, then my days would’ve been darker.
Carter snaps her fingers. “Robert?”
I bring myself back into the moment. “Sorry about that.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
I pull the cover off my motorcycle. “Ta da!”
Carter’s eyes shine.
“I see you approve,” I say.
She straddles the seat and arches her back seductively. “I more than approve.”
Down, boy, I say to my dick. I take a deep breath to steady my desires. “Then let’s get on the road before it rains.”
She scoots to the back seat. “And, Robert, there’s no way I’m going to waste the opportunity to be your bitch.”
I laugh, but I want to lift her off that seat, lay her down on the concrete, and peel her out of her skin-tight pants. Instead, I take my riding jacket and boots out of one of the closets. They’re not dusty even though I haven’t worn them in years. I take two helmets out of the closet, one that fits my head and a smaller one for Carter.
I start the engine, and it’s shaky. I rev it up and let it get warm. Once the motorcycle finds that sweet-sounding purr, I take off but not too fast. It would kill me if I crashed and something happened to Carter.
There’s a fair share of wind but not enough to make me worry. Carter holds me tightly as I take the road out of Napa. The fields are painted green, and the mountain edges are rocky. Blessed by nature, California is a sight for sore eyes. The insects slamming against my window are the reason I stopped riding so much. Carter rests her head on my back. The way she’s holding me makes me think that she feels safe.
This could be a romantic motorcycle ride all the way to the city, but by the time we turn onto the interstate, it’s raining like hell and visibility is non-existent. The next exit is coming up on my right. Carter and I seem to have the same thought because she squeezes my shoulders twice, and I make the turn off the freeway. I pull into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and park the bike under a tree.
I take off my helmet, and Carter takes off hers. We look at each other and chuckle.
She gazes up at the sky. “I knew this would happen.”
I look up. The sky is gray and hangs low. “So did I. I guess taking the bike was wishful thinking. We can still head into the city; I’ll just have to drive the car.” The rain pounds the ground. “And we have to wait until this dies down.”
Carter gets off the motorcycle. “No, we don’t. Let me drive.” She’s positioned to take the driver’s seat.
I hesitate. “I don’t know, it’s coming down pretty hard.”
“You know how to run a multi-million-dollar business, and I know how to ride a motorcycle.” She grins.
And so I relinquish the driver’s seat and ride bitch.
* * *
Carter
When it came to motorcycles, Carter knew she was the better driver. She could’ve gotten them safely to San Francisco in the rain, but they would’ve been drenched by the time they arrived. The only reason she rolled the dice on the weather was because she wanted to finally wrap her arms around Robert’s strong frame. She was sort of happy to be returning to his Napa house. Hopefully Robert would change his mind about house hunting and they could spend the day getting to know each other better. She was hoping by nightfall, they would be sharing a bed.
Her driving was smoother than Robert’s, and he seemed okay with letting her take over. Tyler used to hate it when she asserted herself. Carter could’ve driven faster but didn’t want to show off. For the first time ever, she was willing to become whatever it took to be the sole object of Robert Tango’s obsession. His chest felt like heaven against her back. If only she could seep into his body. For a moment, she thought he had massaged her belly, and his touch tickled her clit. She prayed that Robert would make a move on her, but when she made it back to his house, pulled into the garage, and parked, they took off their helmets and he scurried off to get the car. She waited in the garage and out of the rain.
Carter looked at her watch. Two minutes had passed. She wondered what was taking him so long. Her cell phone rang, and the name Tyler Asshole lit the screen. She contemplated canceling the call, but she answered it anyway.
“What?” she snapped.
She heard him sigh. “I don’t want to fight, Carter.”
“I just asked what do you want.”
“I want to know how you’re doing.”
She laughed bitterly. “Are you kidding me? You made my landlord throw me out of my apartment, you asshole!”
“What! No, I didn’t,” he said.
Carter frowned. He sounded pretty adamant about it. “Johnny said your name was on the lease and you paid to break it early as of December 15th.”
Tyler fell silent.
“Just forget it. I don’t want to talk to you…”
“Carter, I didn’t do that. I would never do that to you.”
“Who else could’ve done it?”
A face came to mind. Once again, Tyler fell silent. Carter knew they both were thinking of the same person.
Carter released the tension in her body and sat on a work stool. “Who, Tyler?” She wanted to hear him say it.
“I’ll look into it. I’m so sorry, babe.”
“I’m not your babe.”
“Where are you?”
She looked around the garage. “Somewhere safe.”
“Are you with Matt?”
“No, and why do you care?”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me? I supposedly had you tossed out of your home, and you didn’t call? Is that what you think of me?”
Carter squeezed her eyes shut. Her sinuses swelled. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry from relief or anger. She was mad at herself for not confronting T
yler. If she had said something to him, maybe she wouldn’t have had to sleep in the office for the last three days—and even that was a choice. She could’ve afforded a hotel room or to rent another place. Perhaps her choice was indicative of how her life felt at the moment, as if she were stuck in purgatory.
She hadn’t ever been happy at Kennedy Creative. She was weary of San Francisco. Five months ago, she’d applied for a job in Washington, DC. She sent a follow-up email a day before Robert Tango took over Kennedy Creative, and last week, they finally got back to her. Before she was put out of her apartment, she’d had a videoconference interview with Stuart Bettie, the chief architect at Metropolis.
Yesterday, when she had returned to the apartment to get her mail, she saw a letter from Metropolis. She opened it fully expecting it to say, “Thank you for interviewing but no thanks.” Instead, the letter articulated how they’d made every effort to contact her but the number on her resume was no longer active. Carter had changed her number after she broke up with Tyler because he called almost every day to check on her. They had a strange relationship, but she didn’t want the man who’d left her twice for the same crazy bitch to keep calling her. Somehow he had gotten her new number and was back to calling her at least three times a week.
However, in the letter from Metropolis, Stuart Bettie had offered her the job and asked to hear back from her by next Friday. Instead of jumping in celebration, Carter had clutched her heart, feeling anxiety. Working for Robert Tango was exciting. He’d changed the entire company for the better in a matter of months. But not even the raise, job promotion, or lusting after his sexiness made her want to stay in San Francisco for another year. She would choose to stay if Robert became her lover, but how long would that last?
When Robert had announced the four-day weekend yesterday morning, her heart sank. She thought she would have to wait until Wednesday morning to see him again. But then he asked her up to his house. That was the second strike of luck she’d had in a long time. The job offer from Metropolis was the first strike.
“I don’t know, Tyler. I’ll call you later.” Carter didn’t want anything or anyone to get in the way of her plans to be intimate with Robert that weekend, and forgiving Tyler just might do the trick.
“When’s later?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just—I have to go.”
“Where are you staying?”
“With a friend,” she said.
“You don’t have any friends.”
Tyler wasn’t being malicious. She didn’t have one female friend in San Francisco. The women in the office were so competitive and snooty. She was hard-pressed to find one single woman her age in San Francisco, and most of the married or dating women didn’t want her around their significant other. She wasn’t a Jezebel, but Carter figured they didn’t want their men beating off to the image of her naked or something. Sometimes she found herself hating the whole damn human race.
Robert returned carrying a large white envelope that one would keep photos in. The jovial expression that he scurried out of the garage with was gone.
“I have to go,” Carter said and ended the call. She knew Tyler would call right back, so she turned off her phone. “Is everything okay?”
“You know what? How about we make this a true relaxing weekend and hang around here? I haven’t shown you my secret hideaway.” It appeared as if Robert was trying to banish his stressful expression with a smile, but it didn’t work.
“Sure.” Carter was so confused about why their plans had to change so abruptly, and she suspected it had something to do with the envelope in his hand.
Forbid The Fruit
I’m working to contain my anger. I want to implode, but I promised Carter a relaxing and fun weekend, and hell if I’m going to let what I found on my front step get in the way of giving her that. She’s behind me as we walk through the garden and past a wooden gate to a detached structure made of texture glass. I glance behind me to see Carter’s reaction to the building. She’s frowning and looking at my feet.
I stop to face her. “Hey, why the worry?”
She shrugs. “It just seems like this is all so sudden.”
I look at the sky. “It stopped raining, but it’ll be starting again. I want this to be a relaxing weekend like I promised.”
“I consider looking at homes in San Francisco relaxing.”
“Not more relaxing than this.” I nod at my private oasis. I take the key out of my pocket and open the door. We walk alongside my Olympic-sized pool. “It’s heating,” I say.
She’s looking at the envelope in my hand. “You want to go swimming?”
I tuck the envelope under my arm. “I’m just going to put this up.”
“What is that?”
“Just some business that came up.”
“Oh…” she says.
I point at two doors at the opposite end of the pool. “There are swimsuits in the women’s room.”
Carter’s lips part as if she has something to say but changes her mind. I would prompt her to speak her mind, but I’m eager to make a phone call.
I take steps backward. “I’ll be back shortly.” I hurry out to avoid answering the perplexed look on her face.
By the time I make it to my office, I’m more pissed than I was two minutes ago. I empty the contents of the envelope on my desk. There are three photos. One is of me walking with my arm around Carter and her head on my shoulder. The anonymous sender captioned it “After Hours Fraternizing.” The second and third pictures are of Carter and me in my rental car parked in front of the hotel. Whoever took the photo must’ve done so from the lobby. The shots are pretty creative. In both, I’m leaning across Carter’s seat to tell the valet that I’m checking out, but the photos make it appear as if she and I are kissing. The two photos are captioned, “Caught in the Act.” There’s no return address, only a note that threatens to expose me as a philandering CEO if I don’t leave Carter alone. The sender is giving me five days to comply. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out who’s behind all of this.
I dial Grace. I tap my fingers against the desk, waiting for her to answer. The call goes to voicemail.
“What a way to get my attention. You want your meeting? Let’s have one. 558 Leaf Court Drive. Be there at eight o’clock Tuesday morning.”
I feel like throwing the phone at the wall after I hang up. I fucked up big-time. Carter should not be here. I weigh wanting to fuck her against the need to redefine myself. One greatly outweighs the other.
As soon as I stand, my cell phone chimes with a new message. I pick it up and look at the screen. The message is from Grace, and it simply says, “K.” I sniff disdainfully. I haven’t known her to be so casual about the vile shit she does. She’ll never have a thing to do with Kennedy Creative once I get done with her.
I feel as if I’m in complete control of my libido when I make it back out to the pool. Despite her earlier trepidation, Carter has made herself comfortable in the warm water. She’s wearing a white bathing suit and swim cap. I watch her swim a lap, and when she touches the wall, she wipes the water out of her eyes and looks at me with a smile.
“Is it warm?” I ask.
“Nice and toasty. It sure did warm up fast.”
I walk over to her and squat at the pool edge. “I had an eighty-thousand-dollar heating system installed.”
She snickers. “Rich people’s solutions.”
I wink. “And now you get to swim in a rich man’s pool.”
I can tell by the look in her eyes that she wants to do more than swim in my pool. She wants my dick to swim inside her hot pool of sweetness. The temptation to fuck her is back with a vengeance—especially since the pussy is warmer after a woman takes a swim.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
I’ve learned that Carter is pretty perceptive. I stand. “I’m thinking I’d better get into the pool or you’re going to use all the warm water.”
She smiles weakly. “That�
��s not what you were thinking.”
I grin flirtatiously. “Not all of it, but I do want to hurry up and join you.”
Carter lets go of the edge and treads water. “And then you’ll tell me all of it?”
I head to the men’s changing room. “We’ll talk!”
“I can’t wait!”
I hear her beating the water as she swims before I enter the changing room. I take off my clothes, put on a pair of swimming trunks, and go dive into the pool. The warm water is refreshing. Carter’s in the middle of another lap. I swim a lap, passing her at a safe distance. I make it to the end of the pool before she does. Since she’s breathing heavily and has been at it longer than I have, I swim toward her. Surprisingly, she passes me again. When I make it to the spot she just left, Carter’s already holding on to the edge. She’s breathing heavily but smiling victoriously.
I laugh. “Are you that competitive?”
She shrugs coyly while breathing heavily. “I can’t help myself when it comes to you. Meet me in the middle?”
“Is this a trick?” I ask.
“No,” she says flirtatiously.
I take her at her word and swim to the middle of the pool. We arrive at the same time and tread water.
“You like playing games?” I ask.
She’s still grinning. “Not really.”
“So what have I done to put you in such a playful mood?”
She dips into the water then comes back up. “It’s what you haven’t done.” Her hand squeezes my dick.
I feel the blood drain from my face. My dick is growing, so I remove the culprit. “I can’t.”
She flexes her eyebrows. “Why not?”
I must admit that up until this very moment, I was confused about how I saw Carter. She definitely has the figure of a woman, including squeezable tits and ass. I admire that she’s a damn good architect. I credit her proficiency to natural talent, but I’ve seen her read design and architecture books as if they were novels, which means she’s well studied. I can see why guys like Tyler, Matt, and a half a dozen other men in the company grow boners whenever she walks into the room. She walks her hot ass into the building every morning, paying no one any mind, sits in her chair, and gets right to work. That ritual of hers makes her mysterious. Right now, she’s a beautiful young woman who’s not used to waiting so long for a guy to pounce on her.
He's So Bad Page 12
