Playboy was the word that was often used to describe me, but I didn’t really agree with that term. It sounded slimy and unappealing. I preferred to think of myself as a connoisseur of women. I loved women. I loved having them around, I just didn’t like keeping them around. I was always upfront with the women who came to my bed, but when morning comes around they always seem to forget the conversation and the request that they be gone by breakfast time.
Some are more persistent than others and some are so offended at the fact that I don’t want to give them a ride home, that they stomp off and never come back. I prefer the second type of woman, to be honest. I’m sure they told all their friends about me, but it didn’t stop the flow of women I saw in my life. My money and my charm were too much for them to resist. Hopefully, Lena wouldn’t be any different.
I placed a tooth pick between my lips as I walked through the doors of my towering office building. The marble floor clicked under the worn leather boots I wore every day. Most of my clothes got replaced when it came time to wash them, but it was hard to find a good pair of shoes. I hung onto my shoes until they were literally falling apart at the seams.
I greeted my employees in the hall way, waving and nodding my head politely. Sandy blonde hair fell into my eyes as I approached my secretary. Rachel was one of the only women who’d worked for me that I hadn’t fooled around with. Don’t get me wrong, I’d tried like hell to get her on a date, but she was the first and only woman to ever rebuke my advance completely. It was part of the reason I kept her around as my personal secretary and assistant. There wouldn’t be anything weird in the way of our working relationship.
“Rachel!”
“Mr. Whittle,” she said, tipping her head in my direction, her eyes not leaving the computer screen.
I put my hands flat on her desk and leaned over, grinning brightly. “How many times do I got to ask you to call me Jami.”
She cocked a perfectly sculpted brow and I could see her trying to resist rolling her eyes at me. “You know I prefer to keep our relationship professional.”
I grunted a little and stood back up. “To a fault.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders and went back to typing. God, I loved the way she ignored me. There was something thrilling about it. Powerful women were such a rare find. It was the reason I was so interested in Lena.
“What do I have going on today?”
“You have a meeting at 1:30 with the housing committee, but that’s about it.”
“Gotcha.” I started to walk away, heading for my office.
“Oh, and you ought to know that there’s a woman named Marie waiting for you in your office. She said she knew you, so I thought I should let her in.”
Rachel didn’t agree with my playboy ways and had a habit of retaliating by letting the women I slept with into my office. I think she got a kick out of seeing me try and confront them. She was lucky she was such a damn good secretary.
I groaned but made my way towards the elevator, taking it up to the thirteenth floor. Many people thought it was strange I put my office on such an infamous floor, but I’d done it on purpose. I didn’t believe that some number had a supernatural power over the universe. I’d made my own luck and I believed in that whole heartedly. It only seemed appropriate to flaunt my beliefs by putting my office in the thirteenth floor.
The long stretch of hallway was filled with the sound of muffled voices making deals and making money. It was music to my ears. When I finally reached my office, I could see the outline of a tall, busty woman through the frosted glass. The name Marie sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put a face to it. It was a fairly normal thing for me to not quite remember what my conquests looked like.
I stepped into the office and the woman’s face swung around. Her too-thin brows were pulled together and her bright red lips were twisted into a frown. She stood up, black dress clinging to every curve and line of her body, not leaving much to the imagination.
“Why didn’t you call?” she demanded.
God. Her voice was a little too high and her Brooklyn accent thick. It was like nails on a goddamn chalkboard. I winced and held my hands up, sighing softly. “I don’t call back, babe. We talked about that.”
“Don’t call me ‘babe’! You’re a sack of shit! My friends warned me about you! They told me about how you use women!”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past her, settling in my high back, leather chair. “Don’t start with this bullshit, Marie. You knew what this was. You knew what it was every time you came home with me. You use me just as much. Don’t pretend you don’t like the drinks and dresses I buy you.”
Marie was a returning customer. Now that I saw her face, I knew that I’d been with her at least twice. Both times we’d gone to restaurants outside of her price range and I’d treated her to clothes shopping, explaining to her that these little trysts weren’t signs of affection. They were obligations that I had accepted a long time ago. I wasn’t a total asshole, I wanted to give these women something in return for their time.
“I’m not a fucking hooker!”
“I never said you were!”
She stared at me, her hands balled into fists at her side. “You think you can pay me off with dresses and food! That’s not how relationships work!”
My eyes flashed with anger and I slammed my hands down on the table. “Look here, Marie! I was very straightforward with you! I told you what I wanted and I gave you what you wanted! It was a fucking exchange! I don’t play these dating games and you knew that from the start! You had every chance to walk away and you stayed exactly where you were!”
“I wanted you!”
I leaned back in my chair, my golden eyes narrowed, staring at her in slight disbelief. Did she really think she was going to pull the wool over my eyes? Did she think I was born yesterday? I’d been doing this for a long time and I knew exactly what women like her wanted.
“You wanted money.”
“That’s not true!” She argued, walking over to my chair. She reached out and touched my cheek, her cold fingers running along my unshaven jaw. “I want you, Jami…I want to be with you.”
“What’s my real name, then? What is Jami short for?” She looked confused and just stared at me. “Come on. I told you on our first date and all you’d have to do was a quick internet search if you forgot.”
“Well…It’s a trick question,” she murmured, her face going red. “Jami isn’t short for anything.”
I stood up and grabbed her arm, tugging her towards the door. “I could handle the fact that you’re annoying. I could even handle your disgusting begging, but what I can’t stand is fucking liars.” I opened my office door and pushed her out.
She stood there, shocked and just staring at me. I was angry now. At first, I’d just been annoyed, but now I was pissed off. “Get the fuck out of here, Marie! And don’t every come to my offices again.”
“But—“
“Don’t ‘but’ me! My fucking name is Jamison!” I snapped, slamming the doors closed.
The office was silent for a moment before the muffled dealing resumed. I fell into my chair and put my head in my hands for a moment, taking a deep breath through nose before letting it out through my mouth.
People who knew me always asked why I didn’t date. They asked me why I’d rather just sleep around. I was thirty-two now and most people assumed that I would have settled down by now, but the truth was that I didn’t want to settle down and I had no real intention to. Women like Marie were the reason I didn’t settle down. For some reason, people thought that only men were able to be knaiving assholes, but the truth was that women were just as capable. I didn’t want to end up trapped in a relationship with a woman who couldn’t care less about me.
For a long time, I just sat there, trying to relax and get over the anger rushing through me. I needed to just let it go and continue on with my day, but I was struggling a bit. Encounters like the one I’d had w
ith Marie got under my skin more than I liked to admit.
There was a knock at the door and I lifted my head, grunting softly. “Come in.”
Rachel walked in, a stack of papers in her arms. She set them on the desk and glanced at me. “You look sour.”
“Don’t ever let that woman in this office every again.” I sounded a lot sharper than I meant to sound, but I couldn’t help it. Marie had put me in a bad mood.
“Mmmm…Did she piss you off?”
“Damn right she did. And I mean it, Rachel. If you let her in here again, you and I are going to have some words.”
She held up her hands as if to silently say she understood. That’s one thing I could always count on her for. She made me deal with my shit, even if I didn’t want to, but she always listened when I said enough was enough.
“If she tried to come back on the premises, I will make sure she’s removed.”
“Thank you,” I murmured going through the files. “What are these?”
“It’s the paper work on the cook you hired for your new restaurant.”
“Oh?” Wonderful Maybe it had her home address, not that I was going to do anything sketchy. “Perfect. Would you take down her address and have flowers sent over.”
Rachel looked at me, confused. “Flowers?”
“Yes. I want her to feel welcomed.”
“I don’t think It’s a good idea that you get mixed up with a new employee, Jami.”
I offered her a smile. “I ain’t getting tangled up with anyone. Just send her some flowers, alright?”
She rolled her eyes and took the paper. “When this comes back to bite you in the ass, I’m not cleaning up your mess,” she called as she leaved.
Once she was gone I closed the door and sat back down, glancing at the smiling face on the paper. Lena was gorgeous, and despite Rachel’s loving advice, I wasn’t going to give up until she was in my bed.
After all, it had been a long time since someone put up such a good fight.
Chapter Four: Lena
There was nothing like the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. Especially when it was brewed in your own coffee maker in your own apartment. I’d finally found a place and was eager to get settled into a routine. I’d never really had one before, but I wanted to try and ground myself. I was starting to get tired of running around without any kind of plan.
I settled onto my couch, folding my legs and staring blankly at the TV. It was weird having one of those again. I’d spent a lot of time in countries where the average family didn’t have a TV. Besides, I was often too busy running around exploring to stop and watch TV. Things were going to be different now that I was back in the States.
I sipped at my coffee and picked a book up off my coffee table, thumbing through it and humming softly to myself. Soon I was so engrossed in my reading and had tuned the world out completely. It was just me and my book. So, when my phone suddenly rang I jumped, spilling my coffee all over my lap and book.
“Fuck!” I picked the book up, trying to shake the access coffee off the pages, even though I was only making it worse.
I grabbed my phone and held it to my ear, sounding more annoyed than I meant to. “Yes?”
“Bad time?” It was Miguel.
I sighed and sat the book down on the coffee table, trying to blot the liquid off the pages. “No. The phone ringing surprised me and I spilled coffee all over myself.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?” I asked, settling back on the couch after setting my book on the windowsill to dry.
“Well, I think I got some of your mail.”
“Some of my mail? Who the hell is sending me mail? I haven’t been here for a month yet! Are they already trying to send my credit cards? I swear, some people just—“
“It’s not credit cards. It’s flowers.”
That took me by surprise. I hummed softly and cocked a brow, leaning against the wall. “Flowers? Who the hell is sending me flowers?”
“Beats me. Just thought I’d let you know.”
“There’s no name?” I asked, brows furrowing together as I tried to think of who might send my flowers.
“There’s a note, but it just says ‘looking forward to a very long, happy working relationship’.”
“Oh God.”
“What?” he asked.
“They’re from Jami.”
“Why is he sending you flowers?”
I grunted and leaned back against the couch. “Because he’s delusional and he thinks I’m going to go on a date with him or something.”
“Ahhh…Is he trying to butter you up?”
“I guess he is, but it isn’t going to work.”
“Good for you, girl. I’ll just throw these away.”
I struggled to keep my mouth shut when he said that. I didn’t want him to throw them away, if we were being honest. I wanted to see them. No one had ever sent me flowers before. I hadn’t stayed in one place long enough for someone to want to send me flowers. Most of my relationships up until this point had been one night stands. I was over with one night stands. That’s why I was avoiding my new boss at all costs, even if he was gorgeous and just my type.
“Sure.” I said, shrugging and silently hoping it might make me sound disinterested.
“Keep fighting the good fight, Lena. He’s not going to give up until he’s bored or until you say yes.”
“I’m always up for a good fight.”
“Atta girl. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
The line went silent and once I knew he was gone, I groaned softly and ran my hand over my face, shaking my head and sighing. This was not good. I was already starting to feel him tugging at me. I already wanted him. Now, my feelings were far from romantic, but they were physical. I wanted to feel his strong hands on my hips, tangling in my hair as his hand came down on my ass…
My cheeks went red and my eyes widened as the thoughts came into my head. What in the world was I thinking? Why was I suddenly wanting him so badly? I’d managed to push these thoughts away up to this point and now they were coming in strong.
I slammed my book closed and jumped to my feet, walking towards the bathroom. I needed a cold shower…
__________
It was finally opening night and I was ready to do what Jami had hired me to do. I was going to cook some really good food for a bunch of rich people who had no appreciation for the food I was cooking. I’d done that a million times before and it went just as well as it had all the other times. The food we put out was the best damn southern comfort food this town had ever seen, and by the time it was over, I was left feeling tired and satisfied. It was almost as good as sex.
I could have left clean up to my staff, but once the majority of it was done, I sent them home and decided to finish it myself. My fingers were sore and my ankles popped with every step, but I was used to it by now. The kitchen was still hot from all the cooking so I’d taken off my uniform, leaving me in a black tank top and the leggings I always wore underneath for situations like this.
When the door opened, I glanced over my shoulder. The rubbing scuffing sound was loud enough to hear through the entire kitchen.
“Hello? The kitchen is closed!” I called, my hand on a large butcher knife, just in case.
Jami came around the corner and smiled softly, tilting his head to the side. “If it’s closed then why are you still here?”
I put my hands on my hips and smiled, trying to be pleasant. After all, he hadn’t tried anything funny. Maybe I needed to go easier on him.
“Someone has to clean up, don’t they?”
He slid out of his blazer and my cheeks flushed when his strong, muscular arms pulled at the fabric of his shirt, showing off just how toned he was underneath. He rolled his sleeves up his powerful forearms and I cleared my throat, turning away before he could see the blush on my cheeks.
&n
bsp; “You alright?” He asked, starting to pick up bowls and other items.
I never expected him to come in here and help me. Rich guys didn’t normally like getting their hands dirty.
“I’m fine.”
I could practically feel his smirk burning into my back as we moved around each other, picking up pans and dishes. We worked together silently, though I could feel his eyes on me. He was being completely transparent and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, especially because I wanted him just as badly, even though I was holding it back.
When everything was finished, I wiped my hands on the apron around my waist before taking it off and tossing it aside. “I think that’s it, Jami. Thanks for your help. It really— “
As I turned around to thank him, I was silenced when his lips pressed against mine. I would have stumbled back, but I found myself trapped between Jami and the stainless-steel prep table. My fingers curled into fists as I tried to resist the warmth in those lips. He tasted like whiskey and fine cigars. He tasted like what I imagined a cowboy might taste like. He didn’t have the scent of a real estate mogul, he had the scent of a man who’d worked with his hands and dug into the earth. It was absolutely intoxicating.
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