by Josie Kerr
This is a work of fiction and does not in any way advocate irresponsible behavior. This book contains content that is not suitable for readers 17 and under. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
Any resemblance to actual things, events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, products, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and ownership of any location names or products mentioned in this book. The author received no compensation for any mention of said trademark.
Cover image:
Photographer: RLS Model Images
Model: Matthew Eaton
Copyright © 2016 Josie Kerr
Published by Hot Words and Cold Coffee, LLC
All rights reserved.
Digital Edition
to the lovers and the fighters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Epilogue
Tig & Charlotte’s Playlist
From The Author
About The Author
Charlotte Markham ignored her mother’s scrutiny by quietly adjusting the placement of the table setting until the chef brought the food to the table.
“Charlotte, stop tapping your foot. It’s irritating,” her father said.
“Sorry, David.” She sucked in a quiet breath to steady her nerves and then resumed tapping her toes inside of her shoes.
“Charlotte, dear, that color is divine on you.”
Charlotte’s head snapped up at her mother’s compliment. “Um, thank you, Angelique.”
Angelique Markham cocked her head at her only child, surveying her from across the round table. “I generally think of that particular shade as very aging, but it suits you.”
“Oh.”
“Though, a woman your age should not wear her hair as long as you do. And it’s too dark. It needs to be lighter.”
Charlotte huffed a breath. So much for a compliment.
“This is my natural color, Angelique.”
“And this is my natural color.” Angelique’s chestnut hair tumbled around her shoulders. “I’m just saying that some people are suited for long hair, and some are not. Just like your purple suit. Not a lot of people can wear that particular shade.”
Charlotte made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.
“But you really should think about cutting your hair, Charlotte. It . . . weighs you down.”
Charlotte frowned.
“I’m just saying that you could do with something more flattering is all,” Angelique continued.
“So you’re saying it makes me look fat. Or rather, fatter.”
Angelique rolled her eyes. “It’s just much too . . . too. When it’s back in that tight knot, your face looks like a full moon. And when you wear it down, all I see is . . . hair. It’s just too much.”
“Fine, I’ll wear a ponytail.”
Angelique looked at her daughter in horror. “Dear Lord, that’s even worse. Way too juvenile. You are almost forty years old.”
“I’m a week out from my thirty-sixth birthday.”
“That’s almost forty. . . .”
“Oh my God, Mother. You are in rare form today.”
Angelique pursed her lips. “How so?”
“Just never mind,” Charlotte grumbled.
“Oh, Charlotte, I got the strangest phone call a few days ago,” David said, changing the subject from mundane things that were of no interest to him.
Charlotte froze, a roll in one hand and a knife in the other. “Oh?”
“Why would a security firm called Tara Security Systems be inquiring about you?” David Markham peered across the table at his daughter.
Well, here it goes, Charlotte. Just get it over with.
“Because I’m their newest employee.”
“You?”
“Yes. Me.” Charlotte slowly buttered the roll and popped it by handfuls into her mouth. God, so good. I’ll be damned if I have this conversation on an empty stomach.
David threw his hands up in frustration.
“So, you just quit? Without telling anyone, you just changed jobs on a whim?”
Charlotte squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was going to look confident even if she was scared senseless.
“No, David. I did not just quit. I gave three weeks’ notice. And the whole interview process with Tara Security Systems took six months.” So there.
“I pulled a lot of strings to get you that position with Brad’s father, Charlotte.”
“And I didn’t ask you to do that, David. I didn’t even want that job.”
David slammed his fist on the table. “You embarrassed me. Sid Gloster is a close friend of mine who did me a favor, and as repayment, you quit after not even a year and go join some . . . start-up.”
“This start-up is one of the top security firms in the country.”
“Sid’s firm has been in business for thirty years. People would kill for a chance to work there.”
Charlotte took a deep breath and kept her voice level. “It just wasn’t a good fit for me, David.”
“And I suppose Brad wasn’t a good fit either?”
Oh, that’s what this was about.
“No, as a matter of fact, he wasn’t.” Steady, Charlotte. You’ve got this, girl. You don’t owe anybody any explanations.
“What the hell happened there?”
She shrugged. “We just . . . grew apart.”
“You and Bradley broke up?” Charlotte could not suppress her groan at her mother’s voice. “Oh, honey, I really liked him. He’s so big and handsome.”
“Really, Mother. If you like him so much, you date him.”
“Charlotte.” Angelique’s eyes were wide, but nothing else on her face moved. You need to lay off the Botox, Angelique.
After a few tense moments, Charlotte straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I need to get going. I have an early morning meeting with London. Thank you for inviting me for brunch.”
She stood, inclined her head at her father and mother, continued through the house and out the front door.
*****
“How’d it go, killer?”
“Ab
out how I figured it would, Brad,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “But I didn’t cry or anything, so that’s good.”
“Excellent,” her closest friend said with a laugh. “I’m so proud of you, Charlotte, even though I hate that I’m not going to see your lovely face in the mornings.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet.” Charlotte sighed. “But you’ve got an issue. Someone from Gloster called my father and told him about the job at Tara. David thought he was being sneaky, but there’s no way that anyone at Tara would have called him about my position.”
Brad cursed. “I think I probably know who it is, but don’t worry. You just keep being you. You’re going to impress the hell out of Rory Doyle and the crew at Tara Security Systems.”
“You really think so?”
“Charlotte, honey, I know so. Now, did you get to eat, or did those buttmunches spoil that, too?”
“I had a roll and then I came home, but I’m just going to have something here. I don’t think I can deal with anybody—even you.”
She heard Brad sigh. “Okay, LottieLou. Call me after you get home, and tell me how your first day went, okay? And give me the scoop on Doyle. That man is hot like fire.”
“Oh, Lord, Brad. Take a cold shower,” she said with a laugh. “But I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Kisses to you. And congrats, Charlotte. I really mean it.”
“Thanks, Brad. Bye-bye.”
Charlotte clicked off the phone and tossed it to the couch with another sigh. She looked around the apartment that her father paid for, her mother decorated, and she hated.
Her cell phone buzzed with a message from her mother, advising her of birthday reservations at a swanky midtown Atlanta restaurant.
“I don’t even like that place,” Charlotte muttered to herself. “You’d think the Birthday Girl would get to choose some place she likes. But then, heaven forbid that I actually eat something.” So typical.
Charlotte could feel herself unraveling. She sucked in a shaky breath and put her hands flat on the cool granite kitchen counter.
Breathe in and out, Charlotte. That’s all you have to do.
She removed the small dinner from the microwave, looked at it, and immediately dumped it in the garbage can.
Goal number one for my thirty-sixth year: learn to freaking cook.
Charlotte looked around her apartment until she spied what she needed. She grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, filled up a large cup with ice, and plopped down on the couch with a notebook that had exactly one entry in it, dated last year to the date. She marked through the number five, turning it into a six, and began writing.
When she had filled ten pages with her goals and dreams—some realistic, some unrealistic, some already complete so she could mark them off—she leaned back on the couch and once again looked around her apartment.
“I am almost forty years old. It’s time I grew up.”
And with that proclamation, she got up and went into her bedroom to pick out her outfit for the first day.
Charlotte contemplated the monstrous chocolate cake in front of her. On one hand, she did not need any cake, especially since it was her birthday weekend and Brad was taking her out— and that outing would invariably include cake, and lots of it.
On the other hand, it was her birthday weekend.
Hm. Maybe just a teeny piece.
She looked around and then cut a sliver of the cake, catching a blob of icing on her finger as she cut a tiny wedge out of the cake. She sucked the frosting from her finger—divine.
Charlotte savored each bite of the sliver of cake. She let out a tiny whimper when she finished the last morsel.
“Oh, thank goodness someone’s gotten into the cake,” Bailey Jenkins, office manager of Tara Security Systems, said as she cut a large slice of cake. “I always feel bad cutting into the cakes, because they’re so pretty, but not enough to not have any, because they taste so good.” She wiggled her eyebrows, put a large forkful of chocolate cake in her mouth and hummed with glee. “Mm, so good.”
Charlotte nodded. “It was.”
Bailey waved her hand at Charlotte. “You always look so cute. I love your suits.”
“Why, thank you, Bailey. That’s always nice to hear.”
Bailey grinned and pointed her fork at her. “You better keep an eye on Em, though. She’ll cut a bitch for a good blouse with a pussycat bow.”
Charlotte laughed because Em, the main data analyst, and she had just had a conversation the previous day about that very subject when she and Charlotte had shown up at the office wearing almost matching shirts.
“I’ll cut who for what?” Em poked her head into the break room. “Oh my God, Charlotte, that suit is to die for, and it makes your eyes so absolutely violet. Gah—so pretty.” At seeing Charlotte’s furious blush, Em rushed over to her coworker and began apologizing. “Oh, Charlotte, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I meant to do.” She continued babbling until Bailey burst out laughing.
“Em, you’re making things fifty times worse,” Bailey said, shaking her head and laughing. “Just stop.”
“Sorry.” Em grinned sheepishly. “I get carried away.”
“It’s fine. I’m just not used to working with people that appreciate my style choices.” Or anyone that appreciates my style choices, for that matter.
Em harrumphed. “That is absolutely ridiculous. Well, from now on, be prepared to be fawned over, because I’m gonna fawn.”
“Okay,” Charlotte said with a little puff of breath.
“Mail call for Em Davidson-Brennan and Bailey Jenkins. Ladies, I think I have some things that belong to you.”
Rory Doyle, the founder of Tara Security Systems, came into the break room waving two packages.
“I suppose I’m not a lady, since you don’t have a package for me,” Charlotte said with a laugh.
“You’re probably more of a lady than these two smut-reading hooligans.”
Em scoffed again. “You need to include your missus in with us, then; she’s the worst one.”
“I know. Believe me, I know,” Rory lamented while he handed a package to each woman. “Happy reading, you two.”
“Is that . . . ?” Charlotte started when she spied the cover of the book that Em took out of the package.
“Yes. Do you read these, too?”
“Yes. My book’s being held at the front desk of my apartment building, just waiting for me.”
Bailey shook her head. “You really are a perfect addition to our team. Do you do book clubs? I ask because we have a casual book club—just Em, Ashley, and me.”
“Hmm, I’ve been looking for a book club. . . .”
“Well, if we’re not too obnoxious for you, we’d love for you to join us. We’re supposed to get together next week.”
Charlotte grinned. “That’s perfect.”
“Then it’s a date. Yay.” Em did a little clap and dance. “Okay, I’ve got a meeting. We’ll make plans this afternoon, okay? Yay.”
“Wow.”
Bailey laughed. “You haven’t been here long enough to see her really get excited.”
“That’s not really excited?”
Bailey whistled through her teeth. “Girl, that’s nothing.”
Oh God.
*****
He was the tallest, biggest man that Charlotte had ever seen in person. His almost-black hair was on the long side, his silver-streaked beard unruly, and the black and grey tattoos that snaked up his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt, lent him an air of danger and menace.
And then he smiled. His silvery-blue eyes twinkled, the small crow’s feet at the edges crinkled, and he stuck out his hand.
“Mick Brennan,” he said. “I’m Em’s husband. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Charlotte Markham. Nice to meet you, too.” She blew out a breath, and he grinned even wider.
“Michael, are you scaring our new forensic accountant?” Em poked her head ou
t of her office with a mock scowl on her face and wagged a finger at him.
Mick scoffed. “I’m thinking that if she’s a forensic accountant, I’m the one who should be scared. I haven’t been audited in a while.” He winked at Charlotte, who rolled her eyes.
Mick barked a laugh. “Too soon for the auditing jokes, huh, b’y?”
Em came out of her office with her laptop bag and a cake carrier. “Don’t mind him, Charlotte. He’s harmless. And he pays his taxes.” She stretched up onto her toes, and Mick bent down to receive a peck on the cheek. “It looks like it’s going to be just you and Bailey for the rest of the afternoon,” Em said, motioning her head toward the lobby where Bailey sat. “Rory’s at the doctor with Ashley, and we’re headed out as well.”
“He texted me just a bit ago and told me to head home whenever. He said I needed a reward for putting up with all of you,” Charlotte said with a grin.
“He’ll be sorted as soon as he finds out the babby situation,” Mick said with a grunt. “Sweet Janey Mac.”
Charlotte blinked at the big man. Babby? B’y? What in the world?
“Mick’s from Newfoundland. Sometimes I still need a glossary,” Em stage-whispered, understanding Charlotte’s confusion at her husband’s unusual vocabulary. She shoved the cake carrier at Mick, who took it with another bright grin. “But take Rory’s offer of leaving early; who knows what hell’s going to break loose next week when everyone’s back from vacation.”
“I’ll get out of here at a reasonable time, I promise.”
Em gave Charlotte a look, and Charlotte laughed, saying, “I promise.”
Em winked and said, “Okay. I’ll see you on Monday, then. Have a good Thanksgiving, Charlotte.”
“You, too. It was nice meeting you, Mick.”
“You, too, Charlotte. Be safe heading out, okay?”
Charlotte nodded.
She watched the two of them walk down the hall and out to the lobby, and sighed.
They were a funny couple, a study in contrasts, short and tall, talkative and subdued, but they just worked.
The founder of the company, Rory Doyle, and his partner were similar. Well, they were very different from Mick and Em, but like their best friends, Rory and Ashley seemed to have found their ideal mate.
The morning that Charlotte started working at Tara Security Systems, she had come into the break room to find the two of them in a lip-lock, with Ashley’s legs wrapped around Rory’s waist and with one of Rory’s hands in Ashley’s pants. Rory had broken the kiss and grinned sheepishly, and Ashley adjusted her clothes while introducing herself and explaining that they had twin baby girls at home and did not get much private time.
