Savin' Me (A Heat Wave Novel)

by Alannah Lynne

It might be those things, but deep in her heart, she suspected it was more than those superficial discomforts.

  She looked around at the various mix of agency staff, clients, and vendors—all here for the supposed purpose of celebrating SMG’s move into their new offices. It looked nice, neat, and polite on the surface. Regular people playing nicely, shaking hands, telling jokes, and laughing. Sharing a few—but not too many—personal stories.

  But if one looked at these interactions with a microscope, they’d see the ugly truth of advertising life. She supposed all businesses were competitive and cutthroat, but few reached the pinnacle of advertising. In advertising, your best friend would set you up, cut you down, and steal your job. That was tough to beat.

  Handshakes and nice-to-meet-yas took place in most polite circles, but not much about this job included any real sincerity or concern for the people you met. It was all about getting what you wanted, and to hell with everyone else.

  The hardest part of her job would be the suck-up ass-kissing required to get and keep an account—that’s where the laughing and joke telling came in. And the personal stories… those were told to prove you were actually a human being. Sometimes in this business it was difficult to know for sure.

  But right now, she was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home, shed the office armor, and crawl into bed. However, as the future VP of Client Services, it was critical she familiarize herself with all of the agency’s clients. This event coincided perfectly with her move to Riverside and gave her the opportunity to meet most of the clients all at once. So, until the last guest had their fill of food and drink and headed out the door, she was stuck.

  Rusty Sinclair, owner and president of SMG, had spared no expense in throwing this open house celebration to show off his pride and joy—the restored Victorian that now housed the SMG offices. And nowhere was it more evident than in the overflowing food tables.

  Shrimp, every color vegetable known to man, stuffed mushrooms, meatballs, and fruit galore sat awaiting a taker. But what appealed to her most were the chocolate-covered strawberries. Actually, it was the chocolate that had her mouth watering, but she could hardly run her finger along the inside of the bowl, or hang her head under the flowing chocolate fountain, so she was forced to take the strawberries, too.

  Since leaving this shindig wasn’t an option, her best bet was to find a secluded corner where she could drop the smile, slip off her shoes to give her poor, aching feet a break, and take a few deep breaths.

  And soothe her soul with chocolate.

  She picked a few of the larger berries—because they held more chocolate—loaded them down, then stacked them on her small plate. Settling into an empty corner of the lobby, she kicked off her shoes and sagged in relief against the wall. She picked up a berry, licked her lips, then slid the fruit into her watering mouth, savoring the mixture of sweet, smooth chocolate and tart strawberry.

  Oh God, that’s good.

  After several moments of delectable bliss, the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle. For the past thirty minutes, she’d had the strangest sensation of being watched, and the feeling became too strong to ignore.

  She grabbed another berry and casually scanned the crowd. She’d just bitten down, once again enjoying the near-orgasmic feeling of the thick chocolate rolling across her tongue, when she stumbled across a brilliant-blue gaze boring straight into her.

  Ohmigod!

  Her heart stuttered, her stomach plummeted, and she gasped at the sight of him. Chocolate and strawberry juice shot to the back of her throat, and she began to choke. She yanked the mangled strawberry from her mouth, stifled the coughing as best as she could, then grabbed her glass of water. After a few sips, she had the coughing under control, but her heart rate and breathing remained out of step.

  She’d give just about anything to convince herself it wasn’t him, but she’d never mistake or forget those eyes. She saw them every night in her dreams and often in daydreams. Even on a cellular level, she recognized them, and everything feminine within her came alive.

  Maybe he doesn’t recognize me.

  Just because she’d spent the last thirteen months reliving every second of their incredible night together didn’t mean he had. However, as she flicked her gaze back to him, that tiny fragment of hope slipped away and was replaced with dismay.

  The million-watt smile that had played so easily on his mouth the night they’d met was gone, and a severe scowl took its place. Oh yeah, he recognized her and he wasn’t happy. In fact, he looked downright pissed.

  She didn’t know which was worse: him not recognizing her, or him recognizing her, but being so obviously unhappy to see her. A heavy sadness settled over her as she dropped her gaze to the floor, righted her shoes, and slipped her feet into them.

  What’s a girl gotta do to catch a freakin’ break?

  The last two weeks had been hell. Between quitting her job—the only job she’d known since college—packing her apartment in a heated rush, and moving from the big city of Charlotte to the small, coastal town of Riverside, where she didn’t know anyone besides her new boss, she was operating on a tightly stretched rope.

  And at this moment, she heard the faint tearing as a few more strands unraveled and gave way beneath her.

  She spotted Maggie and Seth, two of her coworkers, talking with a sales rep from a local radio station that she’d met earlier in the evening. Needing to know Erik’s connection to the agency, she casually made her way to them. If luck was on her side, she’d find that no one knew him. He’d be a lost soul who had wandered into the wrong party and decided to stay for a beer.

  She slipped into a space between Seth, the very talented and very gay art director, and Maggie, the equally talented and very northern copywriter. She patiently waited for a break in the conversation and when the opportunity presented itself, said, “I think I’ve been introduced to almost everyone, but there’s one gentleman I haven’t met yet. I wondered if anyone could tell me who he is.”

  “I’m sure between all of us,” Maggie said, waving her hand around the circle, “we know everyone here. Riverside’s not that big a place.”

  In addition to being talented and northern, Maggie was also, apparently, the queen of understatements. Kat’s previous apartment complex had been bigger than the entire town of Riverside.

  “I don’t want to turn around and be obvious, but he was standing with Elise a minute ago. Around six feet tall, dark hair that’s kind of curly and unruly—”

  “Rock-star stubble covering a strong jawline and gorgeous blue eyes?”

  Kat bit her bottom lip and cut her eyes to Seth. He didn’t hide his sexual orientation, but never had his excessive gayness been more evident.

  “Damn, Seth,” Maggie said. “Even men think Erik’s hot?”

  Seth looked offended. “Of course. Every gay man in town has the goal of being the one who turns him.”

  Kat burst out laughing, then threw her hand over her mouth. Erik was as hetero as they came, and there wasn’t a chance in hell of turning him. Thank God.

  Sexual genius like his couldn’t possibly play both sides of the fence, and what a shame it would be for womankind if he did. He had long fingers and strong, capable hands. She’d expected the jagged scars on his palms—the ones he’d flat-out refused to discuss—to be rough, like calluses. But his touch was soft, and he knew exactly where, when, and how to stroke a woman’s body to elicit sensations and feelings never before discovered.

  At least that’s what he’d done to her. And just thinking about it caused dampness in her palms and… other places that had no business getting damp at the moment.

  She needed to get a grip. Now wasn’t the time to remember, and it sure as hell wasn’t the place for a reaction. She now knew Erik was an equal-opportunity sex magnet, but she still didn’t know his relationship to the agency. “Who is he? Is he a client?”

  “His name is Erik Monteague,” Maggie said. “His family owns Monteague Boats,
and he’s one of our larger clients.”

  Damn, damn, damn.

  “Mmm… hmmm… I imagine he is.” Seth had taken on a stereotypical gay man pose—hip cocked to the side, one arm crossed over his stomach while his free hand held a glass of wine to his lips. His eyes were hooded and appreciative as he stared at Erik.

  “Life offers few guarantees, Seth, but one thing I can guarantee is that you’ll never have the opportunity to verify that,” Cara, the radio station rep, jumped in. Turning dark brown eyes to Kat, she explained. “Erik’s known for his wild escapades…” She cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes toward Seth. “…with the ladies.”

  Her words had been directed at Seth, but they’d settled in Kat’s gut like a heavy weight. The night she met Erik, she’d suspected one-night stands were a way of life for him. That had been part of the reason she’d left while he was still sleeping. However, knowing it intuitively was a lot different than hearing about his sexcapades first hand.

  Cut the crap, Kat.

  Jealousy was ridiculous and immature. She’d been lucky enough to have one night with Erik, and the memories were hers forever. Tonight, however, was not the time to stroll down memory lane. The situation was surreal and like bad déjà vu. What would happen to her job if anyone found out she’d slept with Erik?

  It was before you took this job—relax.

  Easy to think, but hard to do with the past rushing at her like an out of control freight train destined for a horrible, fiery crash. She refused to let another promotion slip away because of a lapse in judgment. He’d been pissed off by her presence, so maybe he’d be happy to keep their fling quiet.

  Tightness filled her chest at the thought of asking him to treat their night together as a dirty little secret. She was sure to him it had just been another one-night stand, but to her it had been more. Much more.

  “His nickname is ‘The Full Monty,’” Cara said, interrupting Kat’s thoughts. “No one works harder than Erik, but he plays equally hard. He’s wild and untamed. Many have tried, but most believe he’ll never settle down.”

  Kat studied Cara as she absently stroked her arm and glanced around the room, obviously searching for the object of their discussion. Kat didn’t know if she was being warned off Erik for her protection, or because Cara had designs on Erik and wanted one less competitor in the field. Either way, it didn’t matter. Erik was off-limits to Kat regardless of his settling-down tendencies.

  “You said the name of his company is Monteague Boats?” Kat asked.

  Maggie confirmed with a shake of her head, and Kat ran a quick mental scan of the client list Rusty had passed on to her. She’d known Erik’s last name and that he lived somewhere along the North Carolina coast. Although his name hadn’t been the main focus of her memories, she felt certain if she’d stumbled across it on her client list, she would’ve noticed.

  At least she could take small consolation in knowing that, even though he was a client of the agency, he wasn’t one of her personal clients. Therefore, she wouldn’t have to see him on a regular basis. He might even be a client who preferred doing everything via email and fax, and she wouldn’t have to see him at all.

  Feeling slightly better about the situation, she thanked the trio for their information and excused herself. After that near freak-out, she needed to slip into the backyard garden for some fresh air and a moment of solitude before diving back into the fray.

  Chapter Two

  The old Victorian’s backyard garden was spectacular. The massive branches of the ancient oak trees were like giant arms, wrapping themselves protectively around the Victorian and all who resided within. Three magnolias stood sentry, protecting the side and back, while a climbing rose hung tenaciously to a trellis at the corner of the house. The fact that renovations had been completed without disturbing or destroying the rosebush, was a testament to the care and commitment Rusty had to restoring the old house to its original splendor.

  Gardenias, azaleas, and jasmine wore the last few fading blooms of spring, while other plants were just beginning to stick their heads through the soil and wake from their winter slumber.

  In the three days she’d been with SMG, she’d found the garden to be a peaceful refuge where she could grab a quick breath of fresh air or eat a quiet, leisurely lunch. The warm, homey atmosphere of the old Victorian, overlooking the Pamlico River from the front and surrounded by the peaceful gardens in the back, was the polar opposite to the chrome and glass environment of her old office. Everything about SMG implied the dog-eat-dog world of advertising might be a little gentler and friendlier in this small town.

  She wound her way along the path, moving deeper into the garden oasis until she reached her favorite spot, the gazebo and Koi pond. She climbed the steps and stared into the water, watching the colorful gold, white, and brown spots flit back and forth while she tried to make sense of the past half hour.

  Compartmentalizing had always been the key to maintaining her sanity, but as she sorted the information she’d just gathered into two separate compartments, personal and business, it kept collapsing back into one large debris pile: Erik.

  He wasn’t only a potential threat to her career; he was lethal to her emotional wellbeing. The universe had an incredibly warped sense of humor, and right now, it had to be getting one hell of a belly laugh at her expense. After the wildly tempestuous night she’d spent with him, no other man could turn her head. Now, when she needed to be fully focused on her job, who should appear but the physical incarnation of wild abandon himself?

  “He’s not Superman. He’s just a normal, ordinary guy.” Convincing the fish seemed easy enough. But the second she closed her eyes, memories from their night together crashed down on her, reminding her there was nothing ordinary about Erik Monteague.

  She’d loved the feel of his long, muscular legs, covered by course, dark hair rubbing against her smooth ones. Then there was his butt… perfect for sinking her fingers into with each thrust. And that wasn’t even his best feature. She groaned. He’d been nothing short of glorious stepping out of his boxers, stroking his—

  “Here. You look like you could use this.”

  At the sound of Erik’s voice, Kat’s heart slammed into the front wall of her chest. She whipped around to face him, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar—or her mind in his pants, as the case may be. As sweat popped out on her lip and the back of her neck, she prayed the accompanying blush couldn’t be seen in the evening's dim light.

  She flicked her gaze to his outstretched hand and the full-to-the-brim shot glass he offered. Needing to be a consummate professional, she’d kept her distance from the bar. But on the verge of snapping, that shot glass might be the only thing that kept her from swimming with the fish… so to speak.

  “What is it?” she asked, reaching for the glass, silently cursing the shake that sent the liquid sloshing onto her hand.

  “Southern Comfort with lime. Isn’t that your preferred poison?” The ferocious scowl was gone and an intimate smile softened his face.

  He remembered her drink preference?

  She almost preferred the scowl because this look caused a warm, mushy feeling to stir low in her belly, which in turn, caused red flashing lights and warning bells to fire in her brain. Her life had no room for warm fuzzies right now, especially where he was concerned.

  She closed her eyes and tossed the shot back like a pro. The heat sliding down her throat swirled with the warmth already building in her gut. She looked at the glass and considered the merits of rolling her tongue around the inside, hoping to maximize the benefits of every last drop.

  However, being the mature adult she was, she settled for licking the remnants from her lips… a move Erik noticed.

  She pulled her gaze away from his face and the heat in his eyes and began a quick body scan. Topsiders covered his sockless feet, which were braced shoulder width apart as if prepared for battle. Khaki pants did a good job of hiding the goods, but they did
n’t prevent her mind’s eye from envisioning the thick cock and heavy sac that lay beneath the cotton fabric. A casual knit T-shirt stretched snugly across his stomach, broad chest, and shoulders.

  His hand was tucked casually in his pocket and an amused smiled played on his lips, but his blue eyes weren’t twinkling like they had the night they’d met. Instead, they were guarded, and his overall posture was stiff and cautious.

  “Thanks,” she said, holding up the shot glass before setting it on the gazebo railing. As if she hadn’t already gotten the scoop on Erik and his association with SMG, she said, “What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing you a drink. I recognized the signs of distress. Wide eyes, choking”—he glanced to her hand—“shaking hands. All good indicators of someone who needs a drink.” He slipped his free hand into his pocket and shrugged. “I obliged.”

  Kat laughed nervously and crossed her arms over her stomach, trying to establish a barrier, even an inconsequential one, between them. “I meant what are you doing at SMG’s open house.”

  “Rusty helps me handle the marketing for our company.” Erik shifted his stance and in the process, moved a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

  She straightened her shoulders and stood taller against his penetrating gaze, which seemed to search her face for more than just an answer to his question. “I’m working here as an account executive.”

  His expression softened. “I guess things didn’t work out at your old job.”

  “It was for the best,” she said, waving a hand in the air while trying to summon a nonchalant shrug. “I knew it wasn’t going to change, so I started looking for another job pretty much right away. My non-compete agreement made things difficult.” She laughed. “As it was designed to do, so it took me a while to find something I could accept.”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had the awareness she should feel some kind of embarrassment standing here talking to him like this. She’d done things with this man she couldn’t conceive of doing with anyone else, and yet she wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable. The only thing she felt was an overwhelming desire to do it all again.