All I Need: Ian & Annie

by Callie Harper

  I headed straight back to the apartment, but once I arrived I stood there in a daze.

  “You all right?” one of my ever-rotating mix of flatmates asked. “You want in on this?” He held up a joint.

  “I think I just need to lie down.” I headed off to my bedroom, but I felt far too restless to sleep. Instead, I decided to take a shower. Standing there in the heat, the spray hitting my back and shoulders, I finally felt sensation returning to my body. And with it came some questions.

  Had Ian known I was in Edinburgh? He didn't seem surprised to see me at that meeting. It seemed as if he'd known I was at Callahan and Spence.

  Had we been living in the same city for months now? After all we'd been through, how could he have not gotten in touch with me? Did he not care at all? With no word from him, I’d assumed the worst. I'd left him in a dark state, and naturally assumed that was where he still wallowed. Now to see him walking around and leading a business meeting, I felt amazed. I also felt a little pissed off.

  But there in the shower, other thoughts came to me as well. He looked so damn good. He walked slowly, and I knew him well enough to guess it was because of the degree of effort walking required. But that was not the impression he gave. With that slow, deliberate gait, he exuded power and assurance. He stood so commanding, looking even bigger than when I'd seen him last. He had to have put on 10, maybe 15 pounds of muscle. I barely recognized him.

  I recognized his eyes, though, and the way he looked at me. Just a couple of times, but when our eyes had met, the intensity had left me breathless. I felt a throb between my legs, remembering how he'd made me feel, how much he’d taught me about pleasure. I hadn't felt anything remotely like it since. Closing my eyes in the warm spray, picturing his powerful build, my fingers almost traveled down to where I knew I'd find myself wet for him.

  But I didn't. I opened my eyes and toweled off, wondering why in the hell he hadn't lifted a finger to get back in touch with me. He hadn't even sent an email, a quick, “Hey, looking forward to seeing you at the meeting tomorrow.” I wasn't going to let myself get caught up in all that was Ian all over again. That hadn't gone well last time. I wouldn't let it happen twice.

  The next day, I was back at work, not exactly rested, but snapped out of my state of shock. If Ian could go about his business as if it were no big deal to see me again, I could do it too. Even if it felt like the whole axis of my world had tilted.

  Later in the day we got word that we got the account. “Douglas Distillery!” Greg came over to try to lock me in an embrace, probably wanting to let his two-cheek kiss stray a little too close to my lips. I broke away and gave him a lukewarm high-five instead.

  “I think we got the account because of you.” He winked at me. “You’re our good luck charm. I just want to keep you right in my pocket.”

  Creepy. I tried to keep focused on other tasks, reminding myself how hard I worked to build this life for myself. Seeing Ian again shouldn't rock me to the core. Plus, I didn't even know if Callahan and Spence would put me on the team working with them. They had a large roster of clients. Honestly, if I had to continue to see Ian in only an impersonal, professional context? I didn't even know if I really wanted to be on the account.

  After lunch, Deidre, the VP of strategy, called me into her office. I didn't think I'd ever spoken to her directly before, she was so high up and I was so low down.

  “Close the door behind you,” she said as I entered. “You must've impressed the hell out of them at that pitch yesterday.” She surveyed me with sharply analytical eyes. I'd hardly call dropping my water glass and staring at my fingers a recipe for success, but I didn't say that to her. I smiled at her blandly.

  “The client wants you on the account,” she informed me. “They asked for you specifically, by name.”

  “Oh.” I blushed, not sure what to say. “That's great.”

  “You'll be on it with some senior staff. They can help you out. But I want to make sure you're up for this. Douglas is a small business, but there’s high growth potential, and we see this as investing in a long-term client relationship. They have an aggressive timeline and we want to help them meet it. It's going to take some long hours and late nights. Are you in?”

  “Yes, of course,” I agreed automatically. “This is a great opportunity.”

  Deidre nodded. “I've heard good things about you. Don't let us down.”

  Over the next week, I thought about Ian all day long, but now it was my job. I sat in meetings where I got briefed on the history of Douglas Distillery. I participated in brainstorming sessions about the unique qualities of Douglas Scotch and how to communicate them to consumers. I even took part in a tasting session, in which a representative from the company walked us through samples of the products, encouraging us to breath it in, hold it on our tongues before we swallowed. To say the least, it was surreal.

  I did not hear from Ian. It helped that I did not expect to. He was stubborn as a mule, and had he wanted to get back in touch he could have done so, maybe months ago. No, I focused on what I had control over, and that was putting together the best marketing campaign we could.

  I felt half-crazy the first time I headed over again to Ian’s office for a meeting to discuss our preliminary concepts. I dressed to the nines in a crisp, narrow-cut jacket paired with slim cigarette pants and stiletto heels. I was a businesswoman now. I'd moved on, thank you very much.

  This time around, I did fairly well in the conference room. I didn't drop any water glasses. Prepared for when he walked into the room, I looked down, hoping it would make me immune to his magnetism. I refused to make eye contact, and that helped me keep my voice level and direct as I addressed the group for my portion of our presentation. I walked them through a few sketches, narrating a storyline that we thought might connect with a younger audience.

  After the meeting, I felt my stomach flutter, my nerves finally surfacing. Would we talk? What would he say? Turned out I didn't need to worry. Another member of our team, a sexy thing who'd made the rounds through half of Callahan and Spence including Callahan himself, had Ian on lockdown.

  “I love your product. It's so authentic.” She flicked her long, dark hair behind her back, playing with the top button of her blouse as if she wanted to unfasten it right then and there. I huffed out of the room, jabbing at the elevator to take me down like it had done me wrong.

  “Annie, is it?” One of Ian’s marketing execs came and found me before I could make my escape. “Mr. Douglas would like a word with you before you leave.” How could I say no? Reluctantly, I followed him to a large, modern office. A few books on the shelves, a couple of pieces of artwork, the main feature of the room was a large desk and two, giant windows overlooking the bustling street below.

  “Nothing beats the ocean, but it's not a bad view.” Ian rose as I entered, but I didn't meet his eyes. I felt too raw with emotion. He came to stand beside me.

  “It's good to see you, Annie.”

  I gave him a sideways glance. “Did you know I was in Edinburgh?”

  He nodded. “About two months ago I looked you up and saw you were at Callahan and Spence.”

  “And you didn't get in touch?”

  “Would you have wanted me to?” He searched my face as if he really didn’t know.

  I looked away. This was a ridiculous conversation. I'd fallen madly in love with this man, ripped my heart out of my chest and left it behind with him when I walked away over a year ago, and he wondered whether I would have wanted a call?

  A thought occurred to me. “Did you request that I work on this account?”

  “I did.” He looked at me, his gaze level. “Would you rather not?”

  “No, it's fine.” It felt like my world was upside down, but if he could act cool and professional, well, then, so could I. “I was just wondering.”

  “You're very talented. I've always told you that.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I wanted to leave. So much emotion was brimming in me, right a
t the surface. I didn't want my eyes to fill up with tears in front of him. But I had to ask. “So, when did you…” I gestured at him, standing there in front of me looking like a man reborn.

  “Start walking again?” I nodded. “I had surgery on my left foot. It was successful.”

  He was the king of understatement. It had to have taken more than surgery to create the dramatic transformation I now saw standing before me. “Apparently so.”

  “And you?” he asked. When did you move to Edinburgh?”

  I shrugged. “In the fall.”

  “Your mother could spare you?”

  “Brian's in a new school.” I wasn't really interested in having a friendly catch up with him. This much time later, I still felt raw, wounded, and knew it would be all too easy to fall for him all over again. But he didn't seem to want anything more than a professional relationship with me now. If he did, he had to know all he needed to do was pick up the phone.

  “Listen, I should probably go.”

  He nodded, then reached out to touch me lightly on my shoulder. Even through my shirt, I could feel the warmth of his palm. “It's good to see you, Annie.”

  I felt drawn to him as if by a strong magnet. Looking up into his eyes, swaying slightly toward him, for a second I almost felt as if we were about to kiss. His gaze flickered down to my lips, his grip tightened on my shoulder. But then he dropped his hand, stepping aside to let me pass and exit. I headed out without saying another word.

  Working for him was going to be a form of sweet torture.

  18

  Ian

  She started coming over to my office a few times a week. I was putting a lot of money into the contract, so it made sense that Callahan and Spence were devoting a lot of resources to our account. The specific inclusion of Annie, however, was because of me.

  I knew how companies like them worked. The ones on top had had to wade through all the muck, doing everyone else's dirty work for years before they ascended to their thrones. Once they got there, they made everyone else do the same.

  Annie didn't deserve that. She'd already waded through enough muck in her life. I'd be willing to bet good money that she'd worked harder for years than most anyone in that office. I requested that she be put on the account full time. I wanted to do what I could to help her along, give her an opportunity to show what she could do, impress everyone with her talents as much as she'd impressed me.

  But that was only part of why I made sure Annie was on the team. The other part was I liked to torture myself. I felt so hyper-aware of her I could almost sense when she walked in the office before I saw her. There was a shift in energy. The place felt lighter, happier. I'd hear her laughter floating in the air or catch a hint of her scent, lavender and honey.

  The real giveaway that she’d arrived was the fact that every man in the building turned his attention to her. That I did not like. But I understood it. I was one of them, hopelessly drawn to her like a bee to a flower. Annie was gorgeous, of course, and now that she'd shed the hideous jumpers in favor of slim-cut shirts and skirts, or formfitting dresses, all the world could see it too. But her charm went so much deeper than that. It was in the way she moved, the kindness in her eyes, her helpfulness and humor, the way she appreciated everyone around her. She was grace personified.

  I skulked around, alternately bulldozing my way into whichever room she was in and taking charge, or hiding out in my office, thinking about a reason to call her in. Thankfully, I also had a lot to do. That was probably the only thing that saved me from grabbing her, hauling her over my shoulder and kidnapping her.

  Our company had a great product that no one bought. In the months since I'd taken the helm, I'd infused a lot of energy into the brand and we were already starting to see a rapid uptick in sales. But those sales were correlated with a sharp increase in spending on marketing, advertising and promotion. I was convinced we were making smart investments, ones that would pay off in the long run, but in the short run, I had to keep on my toes, taking advantage of every opportunity, thinking out of the box and getting creative to take advantage of this window. Because at some point, cash would simply run out. Then we'd have to decide would this company make it, or would we need to pull the plug?

  That morning, a small group was working in one of our meeting rooms. Knowing Annie was in the building made my pulse pound. I wanted to cut to the chase, ask her to dinner, take her in my arms, trap her in a closet where we wouldn't be disturbed for a week. Any of those scenarios would do.

  Unfortunately, I'd learned that patience in addition to determination and strong will was the real secret to success. If I'd been impatient over my year of surgery, rehab and recovery, I never would be where I was today. Sometimes you had to take it slow to get what you wanted. As far as Annie was concerned, I had to employ the cardinal rule: show don’t tell. I had to show her I’d become a better man instead of making a lot of what might seem like empty promises. She needed to see that I’d changed so she could believe in it body, mind and soul. Otherwise, she’d never be able to trust me.

  That didn't mean I couldn't go see her, though. I straightened my collar and left my cane by the side of my desk. I’d grown strong enough that I didn't always need it. If I were to walk a full city block, I'd bring it for the added stability. For longer distances, I still might require a wheelchair, though I hadn't been in one for months. If I had my way, I'd never be in one again. I reveled in my ability to walk unassisted. Those who'd been able to do it every day of their lives would never appreciate the freedom, the sense of power that came from walking on one's own two feet. I would never take it for granted.

  In the meeting room, Annie looked up as I arrived, almost as if she'd been keeping an eye on the door. She flushed at my arrival, looking down quickly and nervously and then up again to meet my eyes with a shy smile. I wanted to cross the room and drag her off with me caveman-style. I could have her clothes off in 10 seconds flat. Instead, I reminded myself that long term wins required short-term sacrifice. Annie deserved to be wooed by a man of quality. This time around, I planned to do things right.

  “How is everyone this morning?” Everyone murmured their hellos, catching me up on what they were working on. I nodded and glanced at the progress, pleased by what I saw.

  Except for the prick next to Annie. He stood too close. And what was with his bow tie? I did not like the way he looked at Annie. Or the way he touched her, finding opportunities to graze his hand along her back, even brushing a supposed hair off her shirt. He was copping a feel, the bastard.

  I glared at him and he took a step back in retreat. I could tell Annie didn’t like him. I told myself that was why I practically growled at him and made him back off.

  Positioning myself next to Annie, where Mr. Bow Tie had been, I asked, “What do you think?”

  “I like our ideas here.” She gestured to the upper left of the storyboard. “But we’re a bit stuck here.” She directed my attention to some sketches, but that wasn’t what drew my focus. Standing so close to her, I wasn't close enough. I wanted to reach out and brush my fingers along her silky hair. I wanted to lower my mouth to her throat, kissing and licking until a moan parted her berry-pink lips.

  Did a small shiver go down her spine? I could have imagined it, but I didn't think so. I suppressed a smile, nodding and reviewing their work, but I swelled with satisfaction that my nearness affected her in the same way. It made not touching her harder, but also easier in some way, to sense that she wanted me, too. It would only be sweeter when she finally came to me, knowing she'd been longing for it before she did.

  Later that week, I had lunch brought in to our large conference room, inviting all of the Callahan and Spence team. They'd been putting in long hours and I wanted to show them that their work was appreciated. Plus, I wanted to see Annie again.

  When she walked in, my grip tightened on the chair in front of me, my knuckles turning white. What in God's name was she wearing? The top was simple, a glorified T-shirt,
but it fit her perfectly, molding to her curves in some kind of draping, soft fabric. Her pencil skirt made my mouth water, clinging to her hips and her luscious ass, ending right at the border between professional and sexy as hell.

  The heels though, they were what made my mouth go dry, required effort to keep my tongue firmly in my mouth instead of lolling out like a dog in heat. The heels were four inches high and shiny black, but the soles were red. That flash of nearly-hidden color seemed to suggest a secret, inner naughtiness. Outwardly, my Annie might seem sweet, shy and a bit prim. But I’d seen more to her when she’d been alone with me. She'd let go and become a wanton goddess, reveling in pleasure, eagerly swallowing my cock deep down her throat and bucking her hips toward me as she came.

  These weren't good thoughts to be having in the middle of the meeting. I faced the wall, adjusting myself, before turning back to address the group. “Enjoy your lunch,” I told them. “Consider it a thank you from us to you for all the hours you’re putting in. We appreciate it.”

  “Here's to Douglas Distilleries!” Toasts went all around, though with sparkling water instead of the real deal. As much as I loved our Scotch, I didn’t make a regular habit of providing it during daytime functions. It didn’t exactly lend itself to productivity.

  Thankfully, I was still able to be a social drinker. It definitely made it a lot easier to be at the helm of an alcohol company. I'd learned from my year of rehab, my heavy drinking was more of a behavioral than a chemical addiction. It seemed my drinking was more driven by pain and depression that true physical need. I knew others had a much harder path to recovery from addiction, and I counted myself lucky.

  Now that I was in a healthier and happier situation, moderate drinking was not difficult in any way. That was a good thing because our Scotch kicked ass. It was a point of pride that I sincerely believed each and every one of our company members loved our product. We were a family, not just the Douglas name but bound together through our love of what we created, a part of our Scottish heritage. Now we just needed to convince the rest of the world to feel the same way.