Start With Me: A Novel (Start Again Series Book 3)

by J. Saman

  I drop my head back against the wall of the restaurant because if I don’t, I’ll kiss her. My eyes flicker across the high ceiling and the round, red paper lanterns overhead without seeing any of it. I’m doing this to think. But mostly, I’m doing it to create some separation from the woman near my lap that I’m starting to want on a different level than what we normally have going on.

  And this sort of pisses me off. It kind of makes me angry with her. With myself too.

  But anyway . . .

  “I don’t know,” I admit before I drop my chin and meet her steady gaze. “I just don’t know.”

  She smiles at me, and I feel that warmth spreading like a drug through my veins. “I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there’s a pair of us!” She winks at me. “Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!”

  I laugh. In the midst of my heavy emotional revelation about my life and my job, Claire busts out with Emily Fucking Dickinson. I think I might be in love. I hug her and we end it at that. She’s tired and we both have busy days tomorrow. I pay the bill and we leave the restaurant shortly after.

  This night turned on me. Everything that came out of my mouth tonight felt wrong. It took me down the rabbit hole of overly emotional bullshit. I can’t even explain why. Maybe I just needed someone to see a bit deeper into me. Claire certainly did that. And then she made me laugh when I needed it most.

  We approach the glass doors of her hotel and the valet politely opens them for us. I could leave her here. There would be nothing wrong with that. In fact, it would be the smart thing to do after I nearly kissed my friend tonight. Twice.

  But I don’t seem to be doing anything smart tonight so why start now?

  “I’ll walk you up,” I tell her when she pauses just outside the door, no doubt waiting for me to say goodnight and goodbye.

  “Oh,” Claire says, clearly taken off guard at my offer. “Okay.”

  We’re silent as we walk through the busy lobby and when we step into the elevator, we’re alone. Claire swipes her card along the pad and then hits the button for the eighteenth floor and off we go.

  “What time is your meeting tomorrow?” I ask softly, tingling with the intimacy that only an elevator can provide.

  “Two,” she says back equally as quiet, as she bounces on her toes a little. She’s feeling this. This damn stupid tension I’ve created.

  “Are you around tomorrow night?”

  She nods her head. That’s it. Her eyes are locked on the numbers as they illuminate with each floor we pass and she’s still fucking bouncing.

  “Well, if you want, I’ll be around, but it won’t be until late. Maybe eight or nine at the earliest.”

  The elevator chimes indicating that we’ve reached her floor and the doors open, and I feel like I can finally take a deep breath as I step off into the hallway.

  “Maybe,” she says and it takes me a moment to realize just what the hell she’s answering to. My mind is locked on too many other things. Like her.

  “Let’s see what shape I’m in. I have an early flight out Tuesday.”

  “Right. Makes sense.” Shit. I sound like a total idiot.

  “This is me.” Claire stops in front of a door, unlocks it with the key that never left her hand, but instead of opening it all the way, she hovers in the entryway. “I had fun tonight. If we don’t catch up again tomorrow, I’ll call you when I get back to Seattle.”

  “Sounds good, cupcake. I had fun too.” I smile.

  She smiles back and now we’re stuck in that moment again in between normal interactions and awkward as ass.

  “Well… goodnight.” I tug her into my arms and hug her small body against mine. She feels good there. Wrapped up in my arms. Like this is where she’s actually meant to be.

  I pull back, and just as our faces pass, I get a flash of wanting to kiss her again. And I think she feels it too. She’s looking at my mouth and her eyes are darker, and she licks those bow-shaped, red-tinted lips of hers. Heat mixed with a sudden onslaught of insatiable lust slams into me. My cock thickens instantly and my hands squeeze her arms just a bit tighter.

  I should stop this.

  I should pull away now.

  But that’s the last thing in the world I want to do.

  Then she blinks and shakes her head subtly.

  “Goodnight, Kyle,” she whispers, her voice full of regret. And longing. It’s there too. Or maybe that’s just me because Claire steps back into her room and shuts the door.

  Chapter 7

  Claire

  “Mr. Masters will see you now,” the blonde with the obnoxiously perfect bun says with a smile.

  I stand, straightening the skirt of my business suit that Ryan made me promise to wear. It’s uncomfortable as sin, but Ryan insisted it was necessary.

  “It’s New York, not Seattle, Claire,” he said.

  Fine. Whatever. I’ll dress like a grownup if it means that much to him.

  But this suit is like five years old, and perhaps its purpose is to make me look smart, but all it does is make me feel dumb.

  “Thank you.” I subtly adjust my skirt that hugs my knees and thighs in a vice, making walking an awkward challenge. Whoever designed this, thinking that removing a woman’s ability to walk would be sexy and clever, was a fucking asshole. I nearly trip over my damn feet twice.

  I follow her through the lavish office on the top freaking floor of some tall ass skyscraper in the financial district. It’s like a maze up here, so I’m really hoping they don’t expect me to find my way back out on my own. We pass by cubicles, and offices, and open atrium-like spaces until we’re at the very last corner office.

  Blondie knocks softly on the hardwood door. “Come in,” a disembodied voice with a sexy-as-sin English accent says.

  She opens the door with a flourish like she’s presenting me to the King. “Mr. Masters? I have Claire Sullivan for you.”

  “Thank you, Judy,” he says.

  Judy steps back, allowing me to enter and just as I do, my mouth practically hits the floor. Damn, this man is super hot. Blond hair of his own and bright blue eyes. He’s wearing a crisp charcoal suit that clearly costs more than my monthly rent, and a light blue tie that closely matches his eyes.

  I feel like I’ve walked into the town of Stepford. Is everyone here blond and perfect?

  “Miss Sullivan.” He smiles grandly, standing up nice and tall as I enter, his posh English accent making me want to sigh. He kind of sounds like Ivy, but not really, since she’s Australian and he’s not.

  “I’m Tom Masters.” He shakes my hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  His smile only grows as he tactfully takes in my appearance and gestures for me to enter his ginormous office. This is New York and real estate is a precious commodity, right? His office is about the size of my apartment and I have a two-bedroom in Seattle. Get where I’m going with that?

  “Mr. Masters.” I smile back. “Please call me Claire.”

  “Claire. Lovely name. Please come in, and do call me Tom. May I offer you coffee, tea or water?”

  “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

  Tom nods his head in Judy’s direction. “How do you take it, Miss Sullivan?”

  “Black, please.”

  “Of course,” she says before scurrying off. She’s way better at her job than I am. I totally suck in comparison. I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten someone coffee, or even offered to, now that I’m thinking about it. Then again, we have Keurigs in the conference rooms and interns to make it when needed.

  But Seattle is a very different corporate environment than New York.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  I do, but I nearly fall on my ass in the process. I have to sit on the edge of the chair and slide myself back.

  Note to self: when you get home, you’re buying a new goddamn suit.

  I finally manage to sit in the plush black leather chair, crossing my legs at the ankles because I can’t c
ross them at the knee, and sit up straight. I place my black leather laptop bag on the floor, leaning it up against the leg of the table. I feel like an impersonator. I feel like any second, he’s going to look at me in my clown outfit and laugh his gorgeous ass off. Or, at least comment on my not-so-graceful entrance.

  But he doesn’t.

  Instead, he sits back in his own equally impressive chair and taps his four-hundred-dollar pen on a notepad. “I appreciate you taking the time to fly out here,” he starts. “Our company is growing. We’re going global. I’m currently heading up the London office, and we’re in the process of opening branches in Germany and France.”

  I nod, folding my hands in my lap and meeting his eyes.

  “And as of now, we’re quite lax in the security arena. We have in-house technology and a small information security department, but it’s not what it should be for the caliber of clients we handle and the amount of information we’re responsible for. I’m hoping that your firm can change all that.”

  Judy silently airdrops my coffee like a ghost and I take a sip, looking at this guy with eyes that say I’m all business. I’m not really. It’s a freaking façade that I suck at portraying, but he doesn’t know that about me. Really, only Luke and Ryan do, simply because they’ve seen me in action.

  I smile and intertwine my fingers after setting my coffee down on the polished light wood table. “We can help you with that.”

  I pull out my laptop, open up the presentation and then I launch into my pitch. The one Ryan has given a million times over. The one Luke can deliver like a fucking master. Me? Yeah, I’m learning how to be professional. It’s ironic really, because I write nearly all of our press releases—that Luke delivers—but presenting in front of people is not my favorite activity.

  Mostly because I feel like I’m putting on a show.

  But I am business major, so I can rock this out.

  This whole corporate thing is new to us, given how far we’ve come. When I first met Ryan, he was small time. He was writing and developing security software, but he also had a lot stuff going on the side. He’s given up most of that other stuff to focus on his growing business and Kate. But it’s not that far back in time when we were working out of his tiny studio. I know for a fact that both Ryan and Luke still like to play the hacking game. Even if it’s in a totally legal way.

  I must deliver the speech well, because Tom says, “That’s precisely what we’re searching for.”

  “Excellent.” I smile. “We’re working on new software that could enhance the security posture of your network and business. It will also allow for complete cloud protection, as well as securing your backups while integrating all your systems. I imagine this is important given the type of financial information you carry, as well as your plans for expansion.”

  He nods, running a finger across his lower lip. “This chat was really crucial for us,” Tom says, leaning forward and pinning me with his light blue gaze. “I don’t relish the idea of doing business entirely over the phone and computer. I like to meet people face to face. That might sound a bit old fashioned, but I believe it’s simply smart business. I understand that you’re one of the original partners in your firm, and as such, I appreciate you taking the time to fly out. What I’m most interested in is your team assessment and specifically tailoring the software to our unique needs.”

  I smile. “That’s why we’re the best.”

  Clearly, he’s not privy to my exact title and position. But God love Ryan for saying that. And thinking it. Because even though he gives me a hard time, I know that’s how he views me. He may have asked me to fly out here because of Kyle, but he never would have done that if he didn’t trust me with this stuff too.

  “I’m scheduled to fly back out to London tonight, but—” he continues to talk about how he’s unable to delay his flight and as I continue to listen to his musings, I shift in my seat, tugging on the end of my itchy-as-sin wool skirt. I’m desperately trying to cross my legs, which appears to be an impossible feat considering the hem is cinched tightly against my thighs that are now starting to sweat. Scooting around, I pull on it this way and that, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. God, this outfit is the worst.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sorry?”

  He looks amused, his finger sweeping back and forth against his bottom lip again to hide his smile. “Is there a problem with your chair?”

  “Oh. No,” I say through a laugh. “I just hate this skirt.”

  He laughs, which isn’t really what I was expecting from him. “Well, it’s rather fetching on you. But it did look like you were having some difficulty with it.”

  “That obvious, huh?” I feel like I should be embarrassed by his observation, but I’m not. Maybe it’s his accent that absolves all rudeness.

  “Just a touch, but no matter. Are you staying around in the city this evening?”

  “I am. My flight leaves at nine tomorrow morning.”

  “Brilliant.” He pulls a small white rectangle that resembles a business card out of his inside jacket pocket and lays it on the table at an angle, like he’s about to write on it. “I do have to fly back home tonight, otherwise I’d take you out for dinner to celebrate, but as you’re here for another night, I’d like you to have dinner on me.”

  He begins to write something on the card as I’m shaking my head. “Thank you very much, but that’s really not necessary.”

  “I insist. You flew all the way out here.”

  “Thank you. That’s very gracious of you.”

  “And maybe next time our paths cross,” his eyes flicker up to mine, a smirk on his lips, “I’ll be able to take you out properly. But until then, this will have to do.”

  I tilt my head, checking him out without really checking him out. He’s hot. And I think he’s hitting on me. Normally, I’d be interested. But to be honest, all I’ve thought about today is Kyle. That aside, this dude needs to lighten up a peg or two. He’s as stiff as it gets, and I have to wonder if that’s how he is at home. You know, if he’s the type that starches and presses his underwear and socks. Never mind, I take that back. He’s the type that pays someone to do that for him.

  No ring on his finger, either, but he’s the epitome of a catch.

  Ryan may kill me for this later, but I can’t help myself. And besides, he already pretty much asked me out on a date, so I think it’s safe to say that pretenses are done.

  “Can I ask you a totally inappropriate, definitely rude, and possibly insulting question?”

  His eyes glance up at me, pen paused mid-line. “Um. Yeah, sure. Alright.”

  “Are all English men this formal?”

  He laughs loudly, angling himself back in his chair and rocking once for good measure. “No. Definitely not. Are you implying that I am?” He points to his chest, with mock indignation. He’s teasing me now. I think I like this guy.

  “A little.” I shrug sheepishly. “But not in a bad way,” I amend quickly. “I mean, this is a business meeting and all. But you’re young and attractive. I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to you than this.” I wave my hand around the office.

  He’s smiling. Really big. I’m a bit relieved that he finds me entertaining, otherwise I could have just blown a multi-million dollar deal and then Ryan really would kick my ass. Or have Luke do it, which is not necessarily worse, just more annoying.

  “Miss Sullivan, much the way you’re wearing an uncomfortable skirt that does not fit who you seem to be, this,” he waves his hand around the office much the way I did, “as you say, is just window dressing. There is a lot more to me than business and expensive suits.” He finishes writing something and stands, white card in hand. I do the same until we’re both facing each other.

  “I hope we meet again, Claire. I’ll be quite honest with you, I was not looking forward to coming back to New York for many reasons.” His eyes turn sad and downcast before coming back to me with a small smile. “But you’ve somehow man
aged to turn all that around. I hope you enjoy dinner tonight. Thank you again for a lovely afternoon.”

  I don’t even make it to the waiting town car before my phone is blowing up in my hand with Ryan’s special ring tone screaming obscenities at me. “How’s it going on the west coast, papa bear?”

  “I don’t know whether to fire your ass or promote you.”

  I sigh. Apparently, Mr. Masters is a tattletale. “Neither?”

  “Jesus, Claire. Do you really not have any sort of filter on that mouth of yours?”

  I slip into the warm car, nearly splitting the damn skirt in the process. Nodding a hello to the driver, we set off into traffic.

  “You knew that when you met me, Ryan, and he didn’t seem too put off, considering he asked me out for dinner.”

  Ryan sighs. “I know. He said he was, and I’m quoting here, ‘quite taken’ with you. So thanks for doing an awesome job. But next time, keep your fucking mouth shut.”

  I laugh, shaking my head in the back of the car as we head back uptown. He would sound more convincing if he had even an ounce of edge to his voice.

  “I’ll try, but no promises.”

  “How was dinner with Kyle? Did he seem okay?”

  Did he seem okay? I don’t know. I think so? Maybe?

  “Dinner with Kyle was great. He took me to some Asian Fusion place that made unbelievable spring rolls and served large glasses of wine.”

  Ryan sighs, but it’s the relieved sort. “Good. Thanks for doing that. I worry way too much about him and it would piss him off if he knew I asked you to have dinner with him.”

  “It was my pleasure. But seriously, what’s going on with him?”

  Ryan groans and I can practically see him running a hand through his black hair and pushing up the bridge of his equally dark glasses. “Nothing. He’s fine. He just works too damn much and I miss him. That’s all this is.”