I swallow down every emotion that’s bubbling up and step forward. I move across the office slowly and carefully. Finally, I take a seat across from him and he looks up at me. When our eyes meet, the breath is stolen from my lungs. I’m suddenly hit with images of the things we did: him moving between my parted knees, the way my hands shook with need for him, the sound he made when his release took over. It causes goosebumps to prickle my skin, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
“What do you have for me today?” he asks, clasping his hands together on top of his paperwork.
“Uhh, I . . .” I start, but I honesty have no idea where to go from here. I was expecting a recap of what we did, as well as a discussion of how to put it behind us. I was expecting awkwardness and a sense of unease. I’m completely thrown off by his attempt to ignore the situation completely.
I clear my throat and give my head a small, unnoticeable shake, trying to clear it. I open my notebook, looking over the list of ideas I have. “I wanted to talk about giving back to the community. It’s been brought to my attention that there’s a local family whose barn recently burned down. I guess most of the donated money the Spring Fling brought in went to them. I was thinking that it’d be great if you could make a sizable donation to help rebuild their barn.”
“Sure. Would $20,000 cut it?” He opens his desk drawer and pulls out his checkbook.
“I . . . I think that would be more than enough.” I nod my head. I can tell that my eyes are stretched wide. I’m being weird, but I can’t help it. He must find it amusing, because his eyes are glistening and his mouth is slightly turned up at the corners.
As he writes the check, I look back at my list, trying to find the next thing. “I’ve been doing some digging into the families who own the surrounding properties where you’re wanting to build, and I discovered that Lucy Jones just had a baby girl. I thought we could send them a card, and maybe a floral arrangement or something, just to let the family know we’re thinking of them.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Seems pointless to me, but whatever you think is best.”
I sit upright, straightening my back and raising my chin. “We need this brewery to be considered a small hometown family business.”
“It is,” he points out. “It’s been passed down from generation to generation, and in this town, that’s as good as it gets.”
“I know, but you’ve kept yourself so locked away that the town doesn’t even consider you a part of it. You’re a billionaire thanks to this business and your family’s wise investments, and the people here know it. Small hometown businesses care about their community and the people in it. They support other local businesses. They support families in their times of need. A company that shows compassion for its customers is a good company. And in return, customers will show respect for the company.
“So did you already pick out the flowers?” he asks, rolling his eyes.
I quickly send him a link to the flower arrangement I’d previously selected. I also text him the address of where it’ll need to be sent.
“Great. My assistant will handle it. Anything else?” he asks.
I nod, a wide smile in place. “Yeah, the town is putting together a Battle of the Businesses. I thought it’d be great if you entered.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“It’s where all the local businesses enter a competition. There will be all kinds of contests, and the business with the most wins, wins!”
“What do they win?”
I shrug. “No idea, but any exposure is good exposure.”
“Fine. Sign me up.”
I smirk just thinking about watching Drake in a potato sack race.
With a smile, he hands me the check he wrote. I reach out and take it, our hands accidentally touching in the process. The moment we have skin-to-skin contact, everything seems to freeze. Everything but my heart, that is. My heart starts racing. I thought after our one night that this would be out of my system, but it’s not. It must not be out of his, either. His eyes squint as they take me in, his back straightens, and his chest moves up and down quickly like he’s out of breath.
“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” he asks, not taking his eyes off me.
I let my hand fall back to my lap as I look down at the notebook I’m holding. I’m too afraid to make eye contact with him now that he’s seen my body’s natural reaction to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try.
He laughs and it causes my eyes to cut to him. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?” he questions.
“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter, because we had an agreement, remember?”
“Oh, I remember, but I regret it. The agreement, not us,” he clarifies.
“Wha-what do you mean?” I can hear the nerves and fear in my voice. It’s drenching every word that leaves my lips.
“I hate that I agreed to keep it as a one-time thing, because once wasn’t enough. I haven’t gotten you out of my system yet. And honestly, I don’t think you’ve gotten me out of yours.” He’s leaning closer to me. I’m thankful the desk is between us.
“Why would you think that?” I ask, if only to delay the inevitable.
“The way your body came alive when our hands touched. Your chest started rising and falling quickly, causing your nipples to harden and poke against your top. Your eyes filled with lust and passion. And I can’t ignore the sudden change between us. Things went from friendly business talk to awkward and shaky at best. I want you, Celeste. Not forever—I’m not that kind of man. Not anymore. But I want you now. I want to bend you over this desk and slide inside you until you beg me to stop. I want to hear my name come from your lips in gasps. I want to feel the way your body shakes around mine. I want you walking out of this building pumped full of me. And I want that until we’re both done with each other. I can’t offer you any more than what I am.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, a little too out of breath.
“A broken man who needs more than he lets on. I need you out of my system, and there’s only one way to do that. I want to fuck you, Celeste, over and over. I’m not promising sweet love; I’m promising carnal lust and desire. What we both want.”
I want that too, every bit of it, but I can’t. Not sober anyway. The other night was a mistake. I know it. He knows it too, deep down.
“The other night was a mistake,” I tell him, controlling my voice as much as possible, but it still betrays me.
He nods. “I know.” He sits back in his chair. “I never should have allowed myself to touch you, but I did, and now I need more than a taste.”
I shake my head and stand, needing distance. “I should go before I make another mistake.” I rush toward the elevator and push the button, but the door doesn’t open right away. I hear footsteps behind me and turn around, coming face-to-face with him.
His eyes lock on mine, and they’re dark and determined. He wets his lips as he steps closer, causing me to step back. My back hits the wall and he stops just inches from me. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t. I’m not that kind of man. But I think we both know how badly we want each other. If you think you can pretend you don’t, fine. But if you want to stop pretending and join me in the real world, I’ll be right here.”
The elevator dings and the doors open, causing me to jump. Drake backs away and I take this opportunity to leave. I push the button for the ground level and stand back, willing the doors to close as quickly as possible. Our eyes lock together as they finally begin to shut. When the elevator starts to descend, I lean against the wall and let out a deep breath, thankful for the space and distance. I’m not sure what I was hoping would happen. Did I want him to kiss me? Yes, but no. I need to keep my distance, but I don’t want to. I feel like a confused teenager again. I’ve never in my life been more confused. Do I keep my distance since my job could possibly be on the line, or do I give myself what I so desperately want, consequen
ces be damned?
I exit the building as quickly as possible, questions unanswered.
After I put in my time at the office, I find myself heading toward the bar, hoping to talk with Stephanie. Maybe all I need is another woman’s perspective. I take a seat and she smiles as she walks up to me.
“How you feeling after the other night?” she asks, hands busy making a drink.
I let out a deep breath. “That was rough.”
She laughs and nods along. “Yeah, I figured it would be. At least you seemed to be having a good time. Did you find yourself a suitor?”
I laugh nervously, “No. I’m not looking.”
She passes the drink off to the guy sitting a few seats down. She walks back and has a seat on the other side of the bar, in front of me. “So, you want a drink or—?”
“Ha, no. I don’t think I’ll be drinking for a long time.”
“What brings you by?” She lifts her eyebrows and gives me a knowing smile.
I press my lips together. “I’m confused,” I confess, laying my head against the bar.
“About Drake?”
My head pops up. “How did you know?”
She shrugs. “I’m good at reading between the lines. You were upset when you got his text. But your entire face lit up when you saw him here. Not to mention there was enough heat between you two on the dance floor, it could’ve melted the North Pole. Then when you left, it seemed like you were chasing after him. And it was easy to see how much he wanted you. The whole time you were dancing, he was just drinking and watching you.”
“It’s so stupid. I want him. Like, I really want him. But I don’t know him. And I shouldn’t want him. He’s my client! But it’s all I can think about and I don’t know what to do about it,” I confess, the words leaving my lips at lightning speed.
“If you want him, then go for it. I mean, how bad could it be?”
“I could lose my job if my boss finds out.”
She moves her head from side to side like she’s weighing the options. “Yeah, but what are the odds he’ll find out? Plus, you’re both adults. I guess I don’t see why you think it’s so bad.”
“He’s probably 15 years older,” I point out.
“So? That’s not that big a difference anymore. And he’s totally hot for an older guy. I’d do him,” she laughs out.
I roll my eyes. “So you really don’t think it’d be bad to start something up with him?”
“I’m all about choices, Celeste. It’s your choice. It’s your life. Do what makes you happy.”
I offer a small smile. “Thanks.”
8
Drake
HAVING to hold myself back and watch her walk away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I managed it. I don’t want to come on too strong. I don’t want to scare her. She’s obviously in the middle of a mental tug-of-war. When she’s no longer in my office, I take a seat behind my desk again. My mind fills with images of the other night. Just thinking about her makes me hard. The most frustrating thing is, I was hungry for her and had a little too much to drink that night, so I don’t remember much of it. I want to do it again—burn it into my memory so it can last forever.
Harrison walks into my office and drops a file folder in front of me. “This is everything I found on Linda Hammond.”
“Thank you,” I say, shaking the dirty thoughts from my head as I lean forward to study the contents.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not at this time. Thank you.”
He nods once, goes to take a step, but then stops.
“Is something bothering you, Harrison?”
“You and the lawyer . . .”
“Are none of your business,” I say, finishing his sentence.
“I know that, sir. But . . .”
“No buts.”
“Is there reason for me to worry? You are like a son to me, after all.”
“I’ll let you know when your opinions are needed. Until then, please, get back to work.”
He nods and finally leaves my office. I hate to make him feel unappreciated, but I really need him to mind his own business when it comes to my personal life. What Celeste and I are—or aren’t—doing is none of his concern.
Now that I have my office to myself once again, I open the file in front of me. The first page is a piece of paper with all of Linda’s employee information. Her tax papers are included. I’m guessing that’s how Harrison managed to pull all this information together. The paper trail follows her throughout her time here at the brewery and then a few towns over in Mooresville after she quit. She rented a small two-bedroom apartment when she arrived there, and took a job at a local grade school, where she became a cook. She worked in that job for four years, and at some point during her first year, she took a six-week leave. I stop reading and think. Maternity leave is usually around six weeks, but then again, so is something like FMLA. I try to find more details about her leave of absence, but there’s nothing else available.
When she left the school, she moved to Southern Florida, where she lived until the day she passed away, just a few weeks ago. Her passing could explain the sudden need for this dipshit to find my father and claim what they think is rightfully theirs. In the entire folder, there’s no mention or proof of children.
I grab my phone and call Harrison’s cell.
“Hello?” he answers.
“You didn’t find any proof of this so-called brother—or sister—of mine existing?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“You can’t get your hands on some old tax forms to see if she claimed any dependents?”
“The information I gave you was what the company already had in their employee files. The rest I found by doing a simple internet search. The school she worked for had all of their past employees listed in their staff directory. I pulled her obituary from a Florida paper.”
“Do some digging. Hire an investigator if you have to. We need to get to the bottom of this,” I demand, hanging up the phone.
I push the file away. Anger and annoyance eat at me. More than anything, I want to find out if I have another sibling or not. I’m not happy about the thought of my dad fathering another child with a woman who isn’t my mother, but family is the most important thing. And if there’s a piece missing, we need to bring him or her home.
After leaving the office for the day, I pass by Celeste’s law office. I quickly pull a U-turn and drive into the parking lot. The sign on the door says CLOSED, but there are still lights on inside. I try the knob and the door opens easily.
“Hello?” I call out, taking a step inside.
“Sorry, we’re closed!” she shouts from the back before sticking her head out of her office door. “Oh, it’s you.” She steps into the hallway and crosses her arms over her chest. “What can I do for you, Mr. Slade?”
“Mr. Slade? Going back to that, are we?” I ask, amused by her tone as I step into the office.
She shrugs one shoulder. “Seems appropriate considering our standing.”
“Our standing? Seems to me like we’re on a first-name basis,” I say with a smile. But she doesn’t seem amused. She presses her lips together as she pulls her eyes from mine. Clearly, she’s anxious about this situation. “Let me take you out,” I say, almost begging.
“What?” she asks, clearly confused. Her eyes jump back up to mine.
“I want to take you out,” I say, taking a step closer. “Let’s go get dinner, talk, and get to know each other a little better.”
“How in the world does that seem like a good idea?” she asks, but there’s a smile playing on her lips.
“I want you, Celeste. You want me, I know you do. But I think something is standing in the way.”
“Yeah, attorney-client privilege. My job. Ethics. Morals. You know, real-life adult stuff.”
I shake my head as I start walking closer. “No, that isn’t it. I think you’re the type of person who grabs a ripe opportunity when
it’s right in front of you. I just have to prove how good it is. Right now, you don’t know enough about me to make it worth it. Let me change that.”
She’s fully smiling now, and I take that as a good sign. “Doing things a little backward, aren’t we?”
“I never claimed to be smart, Ms. Teller.” I’m only an inch away from her now. Our eyes are locked. I can feel the heat leaving her body. I absorb it, letting it warm a spot inside me that only she can touch.
“Come on, you’re not going to sleep with me then turn me down for dinner, are you?” I shoot her a little grin I hope she can’t refuse.
She laughs. “I guess that would be rather rude of me.” Her breath blows across my face and I want nothing more than to pull her in for a kiss, but I don’t. Holding off on the urge causes my stomach muscles to tighten.
“Get your stuff,” I request softly.
“Right now? You want to take me to dinner right now?” Her green eyes stretch wide.
I nod. “Mm-hmm, unless you have other plans.”
“No, no other plans. But there isn’t anything open in town other than the diner, and I can’t do stale black coffee and limp fries again this week.”
“I know a place,” I tell her, turning around for the door.
“All right, let me get my purse.” She disappears into her office, shuts off the light, and is back in front of me within seconds. “Lead the way,” she motions for me to go.
I open the door and step out, holding it open for her. She turns off the entryway light and joins me on the sidewalk. Taking her keys, she locks up the office. I lead her over to my truck and open the passenger-side door. She gives me a look but climbs inside. I close the door after her then jog around the truck to get behind the wheel.
“So, where is this secret little place?” she asks, pulling on her seatbelt.
“I didn’t say it was secret,” I say around a smile. It occurs to me that I probably look way too happy right now. It’s been a long time since I’ve smiled this much, and my cheeks are paying for it.
Billionaire's Unexpected Bride (Slade Brothers Book 1) Page 11
