by Tess Oliver
"That would be right on par with all of my life's fumbles. Well, he's gone now. I'm sure he never wants to hear my name again. But I'll think about the part. I've got to go. My mom made me peanut butter and jelly, and yes, that's my life now. That damn sandwich is going to be the highlight of my day."
"Well, I don't want to twist your arm, Jane, but this could be the chance of a lifetime."
"I'll give it some thought."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aidan
I got to the boardroom first, which was in itself a first. The warehouse was farther away than any of the offices, so I usually walked into a filled room. Someone had left a plate of muffins on the table. I took a bite of a blueberry one and knew right away they were from Macy. She was magic.
I pulled out my phone to check Zane's text again. Eleven o'clock emergency meeting in the boardroom. It was five past eleven. Chase was the first to walk through the door. Zane and Trey came in behind him. Trey shut the door.
If it was just the four of us and they were closing the door. It was something big. And from the look on their faces, it wasn't good news.
"Shit," I said as they pulled up chairs. "Who died?"
Trey put his arms on the table and cupped his hands together, reminding me of our old high school vice principal just before he was about to lecture me on truancy.
"You. You died. Or at least the old Aidan that we all knew and loved. Well, mostly loved."
I laughed. "What the hell are you talking about? And if it turns out I'm actually dead and I ended up in heaven or hell or wherever with the four of you, then I want a do-over."
Zane picked up a muffin and methodically stripped off the paper wrapper as he spoke. "You need to go after her."
I looked around at their faces. "What? Is this some kind of romance intervention? She left town. It's done. I'm moving on."
Chase leaned back in his chair. "See, that would be easier to believe if the usual Aidan was back but he's not. Which means you're still thinking about her, which means you love her."
"What the hell are you talking about, the usual Aidan?"
"Not that the usual Aidan is without flaws, because, frankly, he has plenty. But your people came to see us," Trey said.
"My people? Who the fuck are my people?"
"The people who work in the warehouse. They are complaining that you are stomping around with a frown like a big, brokenhearted grizzly," Zane said between muffin bites. "So either figure out a way past this, or go get the girl."
I stood up. "Can't believe you fucking called me over here for this."
"Just trying to show our good buddy the light," Chase quipped.
"Yeah, well fuck you all. I'm doing just fine." I walked out of the boardroom knowing damn well that I was doing anything but fine.
Chapter Thirty
Jane
It was Thursday. I had one more day to decide about the part. I badly wanted to take it, but I was so scarred from the loss of the first part, I couldn't find the courage to tell Russell yes.
Paul Greenstone, the man who ran the corner tobacco shop, came in with his burlap bag of money. He had terrible eyesight, and even though he had counted his cash, I had to recount it. He tended to mix the ones in with the tens. I wondered if it was on purpose. It seemed that no matter how bad his eyes were, he should have been able to recognize George Washington.
I was hunched over the counter flipping through the stack of bills when from the corner of my eye I noticed Tara getting nearly tossed off her stool.
Tara stood with hands on her hips looking rightly shocked and angry at Heather who had shoved Tara off the stool and climbed up herself.
"I'm going to handle this customer because he's a stranger. He looks sort of dangerous." Heather said the word dangerous as if she was saying the word delicious.
I looked at the line and nearly slipped off my own stool. Holy moly, he was even bigger than I remembered. And even more handsome. Aidan looked a little nervous as he made eye contact with me.
"Next customer please," Heather chirped. I hadn't seen her work the customer counter since I'd started at the bank. Not even when we had more than three people in line. She hated waiting on customers. Apparently this particular customer was more intriguing.
Aidan waved to the lady behind him to go ahead. Heather looked pissed.
Aidan seemed to catch her displeasure. "I'm waiting for her." He pointed my direction.
Mom walked out from the back and seemed to understand that something was going on. She looked at Aidan with unabashed suspicion. In a small town, you rarely saw a stranger walk into a bank, and this stranger wasn't exactly ordinary. Before my mom pushed an alarm button, I decided to clue her in.
I waved her over.
"Mom, don't make it obvious that I'm talking about him, but that's him," I whispered.
"Who?"
Both Paul and my mom turned to look at Aidan.
"OK, that might be a little obvious," I muttered. "Mom, if you could finish counting Mr. Greenstone's money, I need to talk to my friend."
Mom looked somewhat alarmed as I walked out of the security door. But the wide-eyed look on her face was nothing compared to the stunned expression Heather was wearing.
I walked up to him. "Why are you here?"
"I needed to make a deposit, and my own bank doesn't have cute tellers like this one. I came here to tell you that I missed you, even knowing that you might just send me away. I was willing to risk my dignity in front of all the bank customers." He glanced around at the mostly empty bank.
"Believe it or not this is rush hour." I could feel my mom and Heather's stares on my back. I took hold of Aidan's hand and led him outside to the sidewalk.
Aidan took hold of both my hands. "Those two women were from work. They stopped by to visit. Bonnie had stepped in gum. That's why her shoes were off."
I nodded. "Can you forgive me for jumping to all the wrong conclusions? I was in such despair about losing the part, I wasn't thinking straight."
"I forgive you." He glanced up and down the quiet street. "This really is in the middle of nowhere. Any chance I can talk you into coming back with me? My coworkers all hate me now. They say ever since you left I've been grumpy and mean."
I laughed. "Well, we can't have that. I know for a fact there is nothing worse than a grumpy boss."
Aidan wrapped his arms around me. "Jane, I want you in my life. I will help you get back on your feet. If you need a job . . ."
"Actually, I've been offered a smaller role in that same movie, and I was trying to decide if I should take it."
"Well, what did you decide?"
"I'm thinking I might just go for it." I pressed myself against him. "Take me home, Aidan."
"I drove three hundred miles to do just that." He lowered his mouth over mine.
More from Tess Oliver
Loved Role Play? Ready for more? Keep reading for a FULL BONUS book from Tess’s sexy Silk Stocking Inn Series ~ Red Velvet.
Plaything Series:
Easy Come (Trey’s story)
Sweet Spot (Chase’s story)
In a Bind (Zane’s story)
Role Play (Aidan’s story) Available 4/20
RED VELVET
Copyright© 2016 by Tess Oliver & Anna Hart
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Chapter One
I nibbled absently on the rubbery pizza and made the firm decision to stay away from frozen, gluten-free pizza in the future. I dropped the slice back onto the microwaveable dish. The pizza bounced like one of t
hose elementary school pink erasers.
Squeaky wheels and a towering stack of sodas rolled into the break room as I sat back with my bottle of green tea. A handsome face peered around the tower of boxes to check for obstacles in the path leading to the vending machines.
With a disappointing lunch in front of me and a long, dull board meeting to follow, I let myself have the luxury of watching the unexpectedly hot delivery man load up the drink machine. He dragged out an impressive collection of keys from his faded jeans, a pair of nicely worn denims that wrapped perfectly around his tight ass.
He flashed a pearly white smile over his shoulder. “How’s it going?” His voice was even deeper than I’d expected.
“Well, lunch was a bust, but the entertainment is looking up.”
The man spun around and leaned casually against the machine. He leaned his dark head to the side to gaze boldly beneath the table. “Nice legs. I bet they’d look even better wrapped around me.”
I pushed the chair back, stood confidently and sashayed over to him. His scent was a mix of aftershave, man and cola. “What are you suggesting, sir?”
“Sir? I like that.” Again, he lowered his head to the side to drag his hungry stare down my body. “Lose the panties, beautiful, and let’s see if we can shake up the sodas in this machine.”
A breath caught in my throat, and a delicious ache pulsed between my legs.
“What’s your name, baby?”
“Jessi,” I said on the breath I’d been holding.
“Jessi” he repeated, but his voice was no longer deep. “Uh, Earth to Jessi.” Long, well-manicured fingers snapped in front of my face. I shook myself out of the daydream.
The delivery man was bent down into the machine filling it with cans. I wasn’t standing in front of him, breathlessly waiting for him to relieve me of my panties. About the only thing that hadn’t been my imagination was his very fine ass.
Cara, my assistant, blinked at me. “Jeez, Jess, your face is blushed pink. Something tells me I just interrupted one hell of a daydream.” Her eyes followed my sightline. “Oh my. Well that explains a lot. And it tells me that we have to find you a new man and fast. The last thing we need is the vice president of the company taking her lunch break up against the vending machines with the good looking delivery man between her legs.”
Cara, whose voice tended to carry as far and wide as dandelion seeds in a brisk wind, caught the attention of the man. He shot me a crooked, conspiratorial smile as if he’d actually taken part in my erotic musings.
I picked up the pizza and stood from the table. Cara skittered close behind, her heels clacking the slick tile floor of the break room.
“So, my all powerful and excellent boss, do you think we’ll get to move to that big corner office?”
I tossed my underwhelming lunch in the trash. “Why would we be moving offices?”
Cara huffed. “Because of the whole vice president promotion.”
I’d been so flustered by my sensual daydream, I’d forgotten all about her inane comment. “Vice President? Have you been sniffing the permanent markers again, Cara?”
We headed down the hallway toward my office.
“One time,” she protested, “and I thought it would get rid of my headache. Everyone says you’re a shoe in for V.P.. If you’d stick your head out of your office once in awhile, you’d hear the rumors that are making their way around the building and circling the water cooler.”
We reached my office, and rather than taking a seat at her desk outside, Cara followed me in, sticking to me like a koala on a eucalyptus branch.
I sat in my chair and pulled my computer monitor toward me. “Rumors? Oh well, why didn’t you say so? I mean everyone knows that rumors around the water cooler are as good as set in stone.”
She waved off my sarcasm. “Fine, don’t believe me, but I get a lot of pertinent information while I’m filling up my water bottle.”
“Right. Isn’t the water cooler the source of the conspiracy theory that Mindy the Muffin Lady was actually an undercover boss, taping a reality television show to uncover just how her employees were feeling about the company? Only it turned out she was just a nice, little woman who baked muffins. And incredible ones at that. After that terrible lunch, I could go for a banana walnut.”
“That’s right, make fun.” Cara turned to leave.
“How long until the meeting?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes. I’ll buzz you when it’s time.” She winked at me over her shoulder. “In case you drift back into one of those daydreams.”
Chapter Two
I shooed Cara out of my office and clicked the mouse to wake up my computer. As it sprang to life, a scent drifted off the tiny static charges. It wasn’t a fragrance I could pinpoint like grilled onions or peppermint. Instead, it was a mix of things—fresh cut wood, cinnamon mixed with something indistinguishable—sweat, maybe. But a good manly sweat, not a trapped in the elevator on a sweltering hot day with the neighbor who doesn’t believe in deodorant kind of sweat. It was the kind of rugged scent that made that same blush from earlier warm my cheeks.
Daydreaming about sex in the lunch room and breathing in imaginary man scents—coming from my computer, no less. Cara was right. I needed a man in my life. It had been two months since I’d asked Randy to pack up his stuff and move out. I hadn’t thought once about him, mostly because there just wasn’t anything about the man that was memorable. Even the sex had been so vanilla and mundane that I’d found myself thinking about work and shopping while he was on top of me.
I needed to focus back on my work day. I set about pulling up the current sales reports for the meeting. As my hand covered the mouse and the cursor flew across the monitor, a website popped up. Silk Stocking Inn was emblazoned across the top of the site. A picture of a somewhat dilapidated Victorian house that was being nearly overrun by climbing roses popped up in the corner of the page along with a prompt that said ‘click here to make your match’. A pink and gold banner across the top of the page read ‘Silk Stocking Inn—where every heart’s desire is filled . . . and then some’.
I picked up the phone and pressed the button for Cara.
“Yes?”
“Cara, have you been on my computer?”
“Why would I be on your computer?”
The prompt started blinking at me. It was an obvious spam site. “Never mind.” I hung up and clicked the X to close the window. The site stayed. Five minutes later, after trying every trick in my limited technology knowledge tool belt, I was still staring at the Silk Stocking Inn. And the prompt was nagging at me like my mom did whenever she was in the mood to call and lecture me about my life mistakes, like going after a career instead of a husband.
I had to finally resort to drastic measures. I reached around and held the power button until the computer wound down and went dark. I waited the obligatory five seconds to turn it back on.
As my computer powered up, I thought about the V.P. rumors. I was sure Cara was completely delusional. The current vice president, a grumpy old guy with a comical hairpiece, had been in the position for years, never making it to the top spot, which had only made him more grumpy. Once his retirement had been announced, a short list of possible replacements had been floated around, and I was on it—with four other managers, all men. I just couldn’t see an all male board voting in a female vice president.
I shook the notion from my head and returned my attention to the computer. “There’s no damn way. What the hell?” The mysterious website was back.
The prompt returned, taunting me with its tempting message. This time the message changed. “What are you waiting for, Jessica? You’re not getting any younger.”
I could see my open-mouthed reflection in the monitor. My mom knew three things about computers, how to turn them on, how to turn them off and how to infect them with viruses. Unless her skills had improved considerably, there was no way she’d designed a website on her own, particularly a tenacious one like this.
Tenacious wasn’t even the word for it. Silk Stocking Inn seemed to have a life of its own, and now, it was addressing me personally.
“In fact,” more text appeared, “I’m not getting any younger either. So let’s get this started. You need a man, and I’m here to help.” The website was talking to me as if we were having a one on one conversation.
I sat back and smiled. Someone was playing a brilliant joke on me. But who? I sat forward and decided to go along with it. I had a few minutes to kill before the meeting. My fingers flew over the keyboard. “Fine then. I’m ready and willing. How does this work? Should I put in a few names, like Chris Hemsworth or Jake Gyllenhaal and then wait for them to appear at my office door? Oh, hey, do you have one of those 3-D printers? In that case, I’d like a combination of the aforementioned prospects.”
A light pitter patter sound like fingers drumming a table top floated through my computer.
“That tapping sound you hear is me waiting for you to finish with your silly wish list so we can get to the real thing. Besides, I don’t really think Thor and the Prince of Persia would make a pleasing combination. Might look really weird. Now, down to business. I understand you’re a high-powered, big shot who has quickly climbed her way close to the top of the corporate ladder. I suppose you want a man who you can control and boss around in bed?”
“And we’re done here.” I hit the X, forgetting that it would be a waste of time. The site stayed stuck to my monitor as if it had been glued there with cement.
“Wow. Guess you’re a little sensitive.”
