by Gun Brooke
“Come, let me introduce you to some people.” Eleanor guided her by placing her hand on her back for the third time. Her skin tingled under the dress, making her shiver. This was so wrong on so many levels. Eleanor was being accommodating and making sure her foray into the world of business went well. She could not allow her body to respond to the innocent touches like this. Eleanor was bound to notice and, God, that’d be horribly embarrassing.
They stopped next to a group of people, and the way they scattered into a circle around her and Eleanor was rather interesting. Eleanor introduced her. They were all working in different companies that had one thing in common: they belonged to the Ashcroft Group. Eleanor was their ultimate boss.
“Addison Garr?” one of the women, Kit Nielsen, said, and frowned. “From which branch?”
“Oh, you didn’t realize.” Eleanor’s silky voice was like the purr of a tigress. “Addison doesn’t work for me. In fact, I’m her client. She’s an independent contractor with whom I will be working closely to breathe new life into one of my companies. Addison will be most instrumental and will serve as our connection with the public. All of our products will originate from her. I promise, next time you see her, you’ll know exactly who she is.”
She would be what? What did Eleanor mean by the products originating from her? Would she have her okay all Face Exquisites products? Glancing at Eleanor, she saw the pleased expression that reminded her of Mr. K., the cat her parents gave her when she turned eight. He would sport that exact expression when he caught a bird or a mouse. Addison almost expected Eleanor to spit a feather elegantly from the corner of her mouth. Snorting softly, Addison tried to control herself.
The hand on her back jumped a little, barely noticeably, but enough for Addison to arrange her features into something blank.
“Let’s go find a waiter. I want some champagne.” Eleanor merely started walking, clearly so sure people would move out of the way she didn’t slow down.
Addison followed her, missing the hand and actually feeling a little cold now that it was gone again. A waiter approached and Eleanor snatched two champagne flutes. Handing one to Addison, she raised hers, smiling faintly. “Here’s to fame.”
“Fame?” Addison frowned. What kind of toast was that? “I’m not in this for fame. You’re going to be really disappointed if that’s what you expect from me. If that is all you expect?” She didn’t raise her glass. Instead she twirled the tall stem between her fingers.
“Then to what would you toast?” Eleanor pressed her lips together.
“Oh, that depends on who I’m with. Right now, in this particular situation, I’d merely say thank you.”
Eleanor blinked. “Thank you. To me? What for?”
“Thank you for taking me with you so I could start this new journey. Thank you for making it possible for me to meet those girls outside. Thank you for making it possible for Stacey to attend her party.” Addison raised her glass for each sentence and then finally took a sip. The champagne wasn’t what she expected. Not sweet, not very bubbly, and even a little bitter. “This really is real champagne?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
Eleanor laughed, a low, discreet chuckle, but it sounded genuine. Rare. “No, this is some cheap knockoff. Rather pitiful of the hosts to save on champagne when they’re entertaining every single one of the movers and shakers of the Manhattan corporate world.”
“I’m kind of glad this wasn’t it. I suppose I may have a romantic view of what champagne should be like, but this certainly isn’t it.”
“At the first appropriate opportunity, I’ll treat you to real champagne.” Eleanor’s eyes softened for a fraction of a moment. “All right?”
“It’s a date.” Addison wanted to kick herself for her choice of words, especially as Eleanor’s pupils grew, darkening her eyes. “Um. I mean, it’s a deal. Yeah.”
“All right then. Now, let’s work the room. Pay attention and memorize names. You might even get some business cards. You should give them yours—what?” Eleanor stopped in mid-stride.
“You will think I’m a moron, but I don’t have any hardcopy business cards.”
“How’s that even possible? Everybody has—”
“No. Not everybody. Remember, I conduct my business online. I have digital business cards. So much easier to share, store, and look up.”
“Really.”
“Yes. If anyone wants my business card, I can send them one with a tap on my smartphone. Surely you do that too?” Addison couldn’t believe that a powerful businesswoman like Eleanor wasn’t using the latest technology.
“I don’t trust technology the way you do.” Tension increased around Eleanor’s perfect pink lips. “Perhaps a generational thing.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. Just different habits.” Addison did her best to defuse the sudden unease between them.
Eleanor stood quietly for a moment, and then she turned and walked toward yet another group of people. Addison could only surmise that she wanted her to follow, so she did. It occurred to her during the rest of the evening that people generally didn’t approach Eleanor. She was the one who initiated contact. They parted around her as if she were the queen and the rest of them her loyal subjects.
As for loyal, Addison wasn’t so sure about that point of the analogy. She had seen a range of emotions in the faces of the people around them. Greed, envy, anger, reluctant admiration, but rarely devotion or loyalty. Were they all afraid of her? Yes, she was intimidating, that was true, but afraid? What did they think she would do? Fire them on the spot? Run them out of Manhattan? Have them shot at dawn?
Eventually, and now Addison’s feet were aching so badly, she was ready to walk barefoot all the way to Newark, Eleanor signaled to Susan to bring their coats.
“Time to go before you fall over.” Eleanor glanced down at Addison’s shoes. “Make sure you walk often in the other pairs I sent over. You’ll be expected to attend functions on a regular basis. We can’t have you limping and holding on to the walls for support.”
Addison let go of the table she’d been stealthily leaning against. “Sorry. I’m a bit sore.”
“I bet you are. Susan should have the car pulled up. Let’s go.”
Thank you, Unnamed Deity. Addison managed to walk without falling or limping only to more or less dive into the limousine. She pushed off her pumps immediately and pulled her feet up on the seat while moaning out loud. “Oh, damn. I can’t wait to dip them in some icy saline.”
“Icy saline? Your feet?”
“A trick I learned from someone else on YouTube. It hurts at first, but then it really soothes the feet. I used it when I was on my feet forty-eight hours a while ago.” Quickly changing the subject, as she didn’t want to think about the time Stacey had been so sick with migraines she had to be hospitalized, Addison shifted sideways and massaged the ball of her right foot. “Ow.”
Eleanor cleared her throat and seemed to have lost her train of thought. Addison followed her gaze and realized that while she’d pulled her feet up, the short dress had ridden up and showed her right thigh almost to the edge of her lace panties. Trying to move casually, she lowered her foot off the seat and tugged at her dress. Her cheeks warmed and she didn’t know what to say.
Why was Eleanor even looking at her that way? If it had been any of the few girls Addison had dated, such a look would have been easy to decipher. Such looks meant there was a definite attraction. Someone giving you such a heated glance meant she had the hots for you, one way or another. But this was Eleanor Ashcroft and she wasn’t a lesbian. She was a middle-aged, straight, accomplished magnate, whose only interest in Addison was purely business.
Addison straightened and met Eleanor’s gaze head-on. And totally lost her breath. Something was amiss. Or at least strange as hell. Eleanor’s gaze burned through her clothes as they traveled from her face, down her dress, along her legs, and slowly back up again.
The car came to a stop, sending a jolt through Addison.
&nb
sp; “Good night,” Eleanor said, and slipped out of the limo before the driver had the chance to open the door. She hurried toward the entrance where a bear of a man opened the door for her.
Addison closed her eyes after checking the time on her phone. Stacey should be home and in bed. She had to have some time to herself to try to figure out exactly what the hell had happened just now. The vehicle pulled out into the busy Friday-night traffic.
Addison couldn’t wait to get home.
Chapter Seven
Eleanor stopped inside her front door, slamming it shut with her back. What the hell was going on? What must Addison be thinking of her? Her mouth dry, she tossed her coat on a chair in the living room and her clutch on the coffee table. Pouring herself a Four Roses bourbon, she grimaced at the way it burned and soothed at the same time. Normally she settled for a single glass of red wine, but that wouldn’t be enough on an evening like this.
She poured one more shot of bourbon and took it with her to the bedroom, where she removed her cocktail dress. Moving more out of habit than real concern for the designer dress, she hung it carefully on a hanger in her walk-in closet. After returning to the bedroom, she caught her reflection in the full-length, triple mirror. She stopped, staring at herself. She wished she could see herself with Addison’s eyes. Or perhaps not. To a young woman in her mid-twenties, someone close to fifty was old. Not just old, but boring-old, no doubt.
Trying to take stock objectively, Eleanor scanned one area of her body after another. Legs. Yes, not bad. Pilates did wonders for keeping them toned. No major cellulite. Hips, curvy. Waist, not as narrow as it used to be, but smaller than her hips. That was all right. Chest…She unhooked her bra. Her breasts were the only thing she’d had fixed a few years ago. No implants, but she’d had them raised just enough so as not to look droopy. So, breasts were all right. Skin. Soft and smooth. Eleanor chuckled; showing off her parts like this didn’t reveal the entire truth. It was when you put all the pieces of her together and paired the whole with her persona that things got interesting. Addison had seen some of the reactions she induced in the people they’d encountered. Not very encouraging when combined with being twice Addison’s age.
“Fuck. I’m not making any sense!” Eleanor headed into the bathroom and ran the shower. She removed her lingerie and rolled off her stockings before stepping under the hot spray of water. Moaning, she closed her eyes as she washed the hair spray and makeup off.
That turned out to be a mistake. As soon as she closed her eyes, a vision of Addison appeared behind her eyelids. Her long, auburn hair hung over her left shoulder, as usual, and she was dressed in that sinfully sensuous dress. It had ridden up like earlier, but this time on both legs. Addison’s skin glimmered like pale satin. She was massaging her foot, and with every flick of her wrist, blue lace flickered between her strong thighs.
“No, no. No.” Desperate for something to distract her, Eleanor pressed her forehead against a cool tile. “No.” Why were these images, these thoughts, haunting her? She rinsed off and wrapped a soft terry-cloth robe around her shivering body.
Hurrying into her bedroom, she was ready to climb into the king-size bed when she heard a popping sound. Listening intently, she heard it again; it came from her desk. Her laptop. She logged in to get past her screen saver and saw that Skype was active. Immediately, she spotted Addison’s nickname. “Blushaddict is online.”
Not sure what possessed her, Eleanor took the laptop with her to bed and typed a message.
Valkyrie: Is your sister home safe and sound?
Nothing happened for a couple of minutes, but then Eleanor could see the pen-symbol move, an indicator that Addison was typing.
Blushaddict: Yes. She had a great time. The limo was the coolest part, according to her.
Valkyrie: Excellent.
Another minute-long silence.
Valkyrie: Well. Good night, then.
Blushaddict: Wait. Please? I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in the car.
Eleanor stared at the screen. She was sorry? She typed quickly before she started editing herself.
Valkyrie: I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry too.
Blushaddict: No, I didn’t mean to flaunt myself like that. I’m not used to such short dresses.
Valkyrie: You did nothing of the kind.
Several moments went by.
Blushaddict: Can we talk? I mean do a video call? Or you might have had enough of me for one night.
Blushaddict: Oh, God, I can’t believe I just wrote that.
Eleanor thought fast. She was in a modest bathrobe, completely free of markup, but this was just a brief video conference, wasn’t it?
Her heart pounded as she clicked on the button that dialed Addison’s computer. As soon as Addison’s webcam had focused, Eleanor knew she was in trouble.
“Hello,” Addison said, and pulled her laptop closer on what had to be her bed. She was dressed in what most likely was her night attire: a formerly black, now charcoal-gray sleeveless T-shirt that reached her hip bone and light-blue flannel pajama pants. “Thanks. I was a little uneasy as we left things a bit weird.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eleanor curled up on the large white chaise lounge.
“So you’re saying I imagined you more or less fleeing from the car?” Addison raised an eyebrow as she put her chin in her hand.
“I did nothing of the sort. Were you expecting some mindless chitchat or to be invited for a nightcap?” Inwardly wincing at her tone, Eleanor expected Addison to hang up on her instantly.
Instead, Addison looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments before speaking. “You know I wasn’t. I think you’re trying to make me angry, or even upset, so I won’t dare question you again.”
This was unheard of. Of all the people she stared down on a daily basis, the only one who dared stand up to her was this…this girl. Still, there was nothing girly about the way Addison looked at her now. Yes, she was young, but something in her eyes and the way she carried herself showed the kind of maturity that only developed from experiencing hardship one way or the other. “And so you persist.” Eleanor ran a tired hand across her forehead. “Why do you need to know something so personal?”
“Because I felt it was my fault. That I did something that made you embarrassed or uncomfortable. I didn’t want you to think I was, you know, coming on to you or something.”
Eleanor tried to inhale, but her respiratory system was clearly failing. “What—what are you talking about?” She stared at the vision of Addison, her long hair spreading all over the pillows around her, the neckline of the old T-shirt hanging sideways, showing off the upper part of her right breast.
“Maybe I should’ve told you. I mean, before we signed the contracts and all, but I honestly didn’t think it would have any sort of impact.” She pushed impatiently at some errant hair tresses.
“What are you talking about now?” Bone tired suddenly, Eleanor gave in and carried the laptop over to her bed. She pulled back the down duvet and slipped inside, still in her robe.
“Um. Eh. You’re going to bed. It’s late.” Suddenly their roles were reversed and Addison was the one being evasive.
“I’m tired and, yes, it’s getting late. Speaking of that, did your sister enjoy herself?”
“She did. I found a note when I got home. Everything was a hit, from the limo to the dancing.” Smiling softly, Addison looked so beautiful. “Gina was promptly invited to be one of the chaperones instead of me. She was ‘the coolest one there,’ according to Stacey.”
“Excellent. I knew you wouldn’t send your sister off to be supervised by just anyone. Gina Gallo is a friend of my family and she did it as a favor.”
“That was really thoughtful of you, Eleanor. I can’t say how much I appreciate that. She’s all I have.” It was as if Addison had curled up around the laptop. She was closer, and clearly her camera was amazing.
Eleanor could see everything in perfect high-
definition. Suddenly self-conscious, she remembered she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. She no doubt looked her age and then some. “She’s lucky to have such a caring sister.”
Looking softer now, Addison only smiled. “I’m the lucky one. She’s a great kid, and she never gives me any trouble like some of her friends at school do to their parents. I guess our bond is strong in a special way. I’m not her mother. I never will be. I’m her parent in the sense that I provide for her and love her to bits, but I’m not her mom.”
Eleanor wanted to reach out and pat Addison’s hand, which wasn’t her usual response. She rarely engaged in private conversations, and never with anyone she worked with. Still, Addison’s voice was mesmerizing and Eleanor found herself genuinely interested. “I understand. Perhaps that’s why she’s not as inclined to rebel.”
Addison smiled, looking happily surprised. “Yeah, could well be.” She pulled her lower lip in between her teeth, hesitating. “Eleanor. I didn’t mean to totally flash you.”
“You didn’t.” Eleanor pressed her lips together. Her stomach clenched, as did her thighs when her mind recalled the heated pictures of long, naked legs.
“I know you were ill at ease. Since we’re going to work together, we can’t have this between us. Sooner or later you’re going to find out…about me. I figured I might as well tell you up front.”
“Tell me what?” She could hardly breathe. What was Addison planning to say? Whatever it was, it was clear that Addison thought it would have a major impact. She narrowed her eyes. Was Addison teary-eyed? What was going on? “No matter what it is, just say it. It’s late. I don’t have time for any drama.”
“I’m a lesbian.” Addison’s eyes grew huge and she kept blinking.
