by Chiah Wilder
Cierra
Hyped up on a triple espresso, I walked into Lindsey’s office and placed the sketches in front of her. I was proud of them and pretty sure Absolute Glam would love them.
Lindsey picked the sketches up and flipped through them. “These are really good, Cierra. Fantastic, actually.” A frown creased her brow, and she put them down and gestured for me to sit.
Something was wrong. I could see it in her face and sense it in her demeanor. Blood rushed to my head and I gripped the sides of the chair. “What’s going on?” I asked softly, not really wanting to hear her answer.
“After all the work you’ve done on the campaign, I feel bad telling you that the account has been pulled. I’m sorry.”
I sat mutely, blinking and trying to comprehend what Lindsey had just told me. As the words sank in, my disbelief turned to anger. That asshole! He’s punishing me for having a date. Is he that sick and petty? I stood up and marched out of Lindsey’s room. She was calling my name, but I kept going until I was in front of Mr. Prescott’s office. I pounded on the door and heard approaching footsteps behind it. The door swung open and his pressed lips curled up at the same time his eyes brightened.
“Cierra,” he greeted me warmly.
I was having none of it, pushing past him to stand by his desk with crossed arms and foot tapping on the carpet.
He came over and half sat on the desk, his smile not as wide. “This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”
I jabbed my finger in his direction. “How could you? I can’t believe you’d take Absolute Glam away from me just because I had a fucking date. The first date I’ve had in months, by the way. And what business is it of yours if I have a date or not? You’re so petty. And vindictive. You’re a real asshole!” I turned away from him because the lump in my throat was getting bigger, and the last thing I wanted was to cry in front of him.
I swiped my hands across my cheeks and headed for the door. Strong fingers pulled me back and I fell against him. The scent of him cooled my anger down a few notches. I bent my head down, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.
“Are you finished?” His deep voice washed over me and my body instinctively molded against his. I nodded and he cupped my chin, tilting my head back and scanning my face. “First of all, I didn’t take the account away from you—the client backed out. I got a call early this morning.” As I started to reply, he placed his finger on my lips, scorching them. Instantly, a jolt ran from my mouth to my nipples and down to the dull ache between my legs. “Second of all, I’d never mingle my personal feelings with work. And thirdly, I can’t believe you haven’t had a date in months.” A smile played on his lips.
I drew away and chuckled. “Well I haven’t. I’ve been too busy working.” The way his gaze slowly took me in made me nervous. I chewed my cuticle and looked out the window. “I can’t believe Absolute Glam pulled out before they even saw the campaign.”
Then just like that, the sexual tension between us dissipated and he walked around his desk and sat down. “They were offered the same things we were giving them at a fraction of the cost.”
“How can that be possible? There’s no way they’re going to get anything resembling what we were giving them at such a low price. Who’d they go with?” I sat down.
“DTG Agency. Have you heard of it?”
I tucked a stray hair into my loose bun and nodded. “They’re a new company. I can’t believe they’d be able to woo such a big account.”
“They seem to know a lot of the things we’re doing. They’re the ones that are trying to sabotage the launch of Vibra. I put out the fires there, but they’ve hit up three of the accounts I was trying to get. I told Absolute Glam that they’d already signed a contract with us and I’d be turning this over to our legal department.”
A sudden coldness hit at my core as what Trace was saying sank in. “Are you saying we have a snitch at Velocity?”
He inhaled sharply, then exhaled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary with any of your coworkers?”
My mind raced as I tried to analyze every conversation and encounter I’d had for the past few weeks. Nothing came to mind. “No. Do you think this was going on when Mr. Linder was running the company?”
Trace sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “It seems to have started when I took over. I’m thinking someone is disgruntled with me or my grandfather, or both of us. It has occurred to me that someone may be trying to ruin me so I’ll step down.”
“That’s awful. I’ve worked with a lot of the people here and I can’t imagine any of them as turncoats.”
He smiled wryly. “Money makes people do a whole lot of things.”
“What’re you going to do?” I asked, then lowered my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m not management.”
“No apologies. I want you to be able to ask and tell me anything. I have to admit that you have the ‘telling me’ part down pat.” There was a smile in his voice.
I groaned. “I’m so sorry about all that. I don’t know what it is, but you bring out such intense feelings in me. I never go around telling people off, especially my boss.”
“I hope not all your intense feelings toward me are angry.”
“Not at all,” I said, meeting his intense stare.
Sexual tension crackled between us once more as we looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Tingles skated all over my body, and I was ready to leap over the desk and throw myself at him when there was a knock on the door. He didn’t say anything or move a muscle. His penetrating look held me, grounded me, made me crazy with desire.
Another knock.
I broke away and pointed at the door. “Don’t you think you should get that?”
“Come in,” he said, his gaze still on me.
Chandra Pierce’s eyes widened when she saw me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott, I didn’t know you had a meeting.”
“What do you want?” He finally tore his eyes from me to glare at her.
“I finished typing up the contracts for Ace Sports.” Chandra strutted across the room, and I couldn’t help but notice how tight her skirt was and that the neckline of her blouse was definitely lower than it had ever been when Mr. Linder was running the show. She bent down more than she had to and handed Trace the documents.
He seemed oblivious to her blatant actions and glanced at the contracts. “I’ll look them over. Thank you.”
“Did you need coffee or anything?” She threw her shoulders back and her already ample bust stuck out more.
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
Her shoulders dropped and she pressed her lips tightly. As she walked past, she threw me a dirty look. Chandra was one of the biggest gossips at Velocity, and I didn’t want her spreading any lies about Trace and me. I knew if they were taken seriously, I’d be the one out of a job, not him. I pushed up from the chair. “I better get back to work. The launch is next week, and there’re a lot of last minute details I have to go over. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and let you know if anything seems suspicious.”
“I’d appreciate it.” He jumped up and walked me to the door.
As I started out, he came in close behind me and whispered in my ear, “And for the record, I was pissed as hell that you had a date. Have a good day, Cierra.” Then he stepped away and I heard his footsteps retreating to his desk.
Taking a second to compose myself, I glanced backward and saw his head bent down over the contracts. I paused for a moment, then headed toward the elevators.
It was Saturday morning and I was in my apartment trying to keep busy so I wouldn’t think about Trace, Kelsey, work, and why I rejected Cory for that night. I hadn’t felt like going out with him. I wasn’t sure why, but there was something I didn’t like about him.
“It’s because you watch way too many true crime shows on TV,” Sofie had said when she’d heard me turn him down. She’d been in my office
the day before when he called.
Maybe she was right. I mean, she and Colin were doing great. The chicken soup won him over, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Sofie had invited me to hang out with them that night, but I really didn’t want to be a third wheel. I didn’t feel like going out at all.
The night before, I’d picked up a bottle of chardonnay and went over to Kelsey’s place. We hadn’t spoken since dinner at Emerald’s. I’d called her a couple of times but she’d never called me back. She was being weirdly reticent, and it was as though she were trying to avoid me. So when she’d agreed to me coming by, I’d been a little surprised.
As usual, the conversation centered on her and how she just couldn’t get into Chandler. Then she told me she thought the reason was because she was still in love with Trace. I’d almost choked on my wine.
“I thought you were over him,” I’d said. “I mean, you’ve been hanging out with Chandler a lot.”
“That’s just for some fun.” She’d waved her hand, dismissing me as though it should’ve been obvious. “Trace is still… I’m still hurting over it, you know.”
“Sure.” I’d eyed her slightly suspiciously. I’d seen her go through plenty of breakups over the years, and none of them seemed to have stuck the way this one with Trace had. And she had never seemed that into him in the first place. I just couldn’t make sense of it.
“It really was that bad.” She’d seemed to read my mind and glared, unblinking. “He’s an asshole, Cierra. A total dick. Don’t let him charm you, because I know he’ll try.”
I’d shaken my head and drained the last of my glass. “I’m not going to fall for him that easily. Give me a little credit, seriously.”
After a long pause, she’d replied, “Make sure you don’t.” And then the conversation had turned to what she was going to take on her weekend getaway with Chandler.
I couldn’t help but feel as though there was something she wasn’t telling me. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I had some doubts about the story she’d told me about Trace, especially considering what I now knew about him. And what he’d told me about only knowing one side of the story began to ring louder in my brain. I knew Kelsey was flaky, but why would she lie to me about their breakup? Something wasn’t gelling.
I have to get out of here. I pushed aside the magazines I was going through and sprang up from the couch. I was restless and a little anxious, and sitting around all day wasn’t going to make that go away. There was a coffee shop down the street I used to go to all the time before I started working on Vibra. As I remembered, they made the best zucchini chocolate chip bread. With the memory of the gooey, melted chips, I slipped a light hoodie on over my T-shirt and yoga pants, then headed out.
The Roasted Bean was over a couple blocks at the top of the hill. When I ducked inside, the rich scent of dark roast, vanilla, and cloves curled around me, the place already brimming with activity and people. Idle Saturday-morning chatter seeped into me as I went to the counter and placed my order, then secured a seat at a small table. Hooking my ankles together, I pulled out my phone to catch up on the news that I all too often found myself cut off from when I was working as hard as I had been. My café latte and slice of zucchini bread arrived, and I took a sip before popping a piece of bread in my mouth, relishing the taste. That was exactly what I needed: something strong and sweet to get my mind off everything.
I was on my second coffee when the scraping of a chair on the wood floor caught my attention. I looked up and saw Trace sitting down, laptop case slung over his shoulder, steaming cup in his hand, and a leather boot hooked under the chair he was dragging. Once again I’d bumped into him. What was up with that?
I slunk down in the chair like that would hide me from his view. I thought that if I could quietly get up, I could be out of the shop before he could say—
“Cierra?”
Damn. I inhaled and exhaled quickly, then smiled. “Hi.”
Not missing a beat, he straightened and came over, claiming the chair across from me. “This is a small world.”
I nodded. “Do you live around here? I mean I’ve bumped into you twice in my neighborhood.”
“I don’t live far from here. I’m in Pacific Heights.”
I should’ve guessed he lived in the most expensive area in the city, but I pictured him in a mansion in Marin County. “Do you live in a house?”
“No, a condo.”
“There aren’t any coffee shops in your neighborhood, or did you feel like slumming it today?”
He stirred a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee. “I just like the easy, laid-back feel of the neighborhood. I’ve been coming to this place off and on for years.”
“I used to come here every week, but since I’ve been working on Vibra, I didn’t have time. This morning I thought I’d revisit it.”
“Then I’m lucky I picked this morning to come here.”
“Have you tried the zucchini bread? It’s the best. I’m seriously in love with it.” I put another bite in my mouth and chocolate smeared my bottom lip. I ran my tongue over it and he took in the movement.
“You make it tempting.”
“Do you want to try some?”
A small smile crossed his lips, so I broke off a piece and held out my hand. He opened his mouth. My muscles twitched and it was like a wad of cotton balls had just been stuffed into my mouth. With a slightly trembling hand, I put the piece inside. His lips immediately closed around my finger and licked it. Zap! An electric charge zinged through me, stirring up all kinds of emotions I didn’t want to feel. He relaxed his lips and I slowly pulled my finger out, the innuendo not escaping either of us. Silence stretched between us as he chewed.
I practically fell off the chair when my phone pinged. I glanced down and saw Cory had texted. Normally, I’d have let it go unanswered until I was done with my coffee and bread, but I needed a distraction. My damn finger was still scorching and my panties were wet as hell.
Cory: Just checking 2 see if u changed ur mind re tonite.
Me: I just can’t make tonite. Have plans I made b4 I met u. Maybe another time.
Cory: Sunday? U can pick place this time.
“One of your girlfriends?” Trace asked.
I nodded.
Me: Sundays aren’t good for me. What about Tuesday? I can only do dinner.
Cory: Sounds good.
Me: Stella’s on Green St. in N. Beach is good. U like Italian?
Cory: Yes. What time u want me 2 pick u up?
Me: I’ll meet you at seven. Gotta run.
After a long pause, the phone pinged.
Cory: See u Tuesday at 7.
I was pretty sure the hairs on his neck were bristling when I told him I’d meet him, but if he wanted to go out with me again, that was the way it had to be.
“Did you finish your conversation?” Trace said.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
A bemused smile played on his lips. “No worries. And you were right. The zucchini bread was delicious.”
I knew my face was turning all kinds of red and pink. I seemed to get that way a lot around Trace, and I suspected he loved making me squirm. Grabbing my keys, I pushed my chair back. “I have to get going.”
“What’s the rush?”
“I have some stuff to do.” I pointed at his computer case. “And you probably have things to do too.”
“I’d rather sit here and talk with you,” he said.
“I have to go to the Embarcadero to pick up some things at the farmers’ market before it closes.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other before. We go to all the same places. I’ll take you there. I need to pick some things up too.”
My brain told me to beg off and just go on my own, but my body shivered at the anticipation of spending more time with him. “Okay,” I said, a thread of elation winding around me when his face lit up like a little boy’s on Christmas morning.
For the rest
of the day, we roamed the front and back of the Ferry Building, checking out the vendors, tasting various samples, and laughing a lot. It was one of the best days I’d had in a very long time. When we got back to Trace’s car, which was a wicked-ass black rose metallic Corvette, he took my bags of vegetables, cheeses, jams, olive oil, artisan bread, two double chocolate brownies, and several handmade bars of soap and placed them in the trunk alongside his one small bag of avocados and bananas. A part of me suspected he hadn’t had any plans to go to the farmers’ market, and that gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling.
When he unloaded the trunk in front of my apartment building, the late afternoon air had a sting to it. I zipped up my hoodie and held my arms out for the bags.
“I’ll take them up for you.” He slammed the trunk and walked to the front door.
“What about your car?” A sense of relief came over me for having the good sense to clean my apartment earlier in the morning.
“Is there a garage in your building?”
I shook my head. “Parking is a real bitch around here.”
“Is there a lot nearby?”
“There’s one around the corner, but it’s pretty expensive.” When he laughed and jumped back into the car, I realized that what was expensive for me was pocket change for him.
Fifteen minutes later, we were in my apartment unloading the grocery bags. I still couldn’t believe he was in my space helping me put vegetables in the fridge and jars of jalapeño and blackberry jam in the cupboard. After everything was put away, he took the beer I handed him, went into my small living room, and sat on the couch. Looking around, he said, “I really like your place and what you’ve done with it.”
“Thanks.” I sat in the chair next to the couch. “I love it here, especially the bay window.”
He glanced at the window seat and curved panels of glass and nodded. “It adds a sense of the old San Francisco along with the crown molding. It’s nice and so opposite my place. Mine is ultra-modern.”
“No bay windows?” I smiled.
“Only floor-to-ceiling.”
“I bet the view is spectacular.”
“It is. That’s what sold me on it.” He glanced at the phonograph in the back of the room and a grin broke over his face. “I haven’t seen a record player since I was a kid. My grandparents used to have one when I was young and I was fascinated with it. They’ve since moved on to CD players.” He stood up and went over to it, then rummaged through the albums. “Cover art back in the sixties and seventies was unbeatable.” He pulled out one of my Bob Dylan albums. “I love this guy. I grew up on him, Springsteen, CCR, Buffalo Springfield, and a lot of others. My mom would play the songs and grab my hands, and we’d dance and dance around the ballroom in my grandparents’ house.” He lifted his head, a far-off look in his eyes. “Damn. I haven’t thought about that in years.”
