His Kind of Trouble

by Terri L. Austin

  “Pixie isn’t fit to look after that dog Paolo totes around. Staying here is simply out of the question.”

  “I’m not leaving.” Jules crossed her arms.

  Cal growled deeply. Goddamn shit fuck bloody hell. When had his life become so complicated?

  “Stay here. If you move, I’ll call Father, tell him where you are, and I’ll throw every one of your stupid pink suitcases in the pool.”

  “What? You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me, Juliette. Stay. Here.” He turned on his heel and marched down the stairs. As he passed the living room, he noted Pixie wasn’t perched on her chaise as usual. In fact, the house seemed empty.

  When he flung open the door, the brass knocker clanged, echoing through the night. Monica was leaning against the front fender of her car, staring up at the stars. As he marched toward her, her eyes grew wide.

  “I’ve had it, do you hear me?” He made a slashing line at his neck. “Up to here.”

  “Whoa,” she said. “What happened?”

  Cal pointed at the house. “Jules refuses to leave. Refuses.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “She can’t stay here, Monica. My mum would be a worse influence than I am.”

  “I don’t think you’re a bad influence, Cal.” That little line between her brows reappeared.

  “Tell that to my father,” he ground out.

  “If I ever meet him, I will. So what are you going to do?”

  “I have no bloody clue.” He parked next to her, resting his ass against her car. “She can’t stay here, and I’ll throttle her if she moves into the villa.”

  Monica gazed up at him with a mischievous smile. “I think I have an idea.”

  Chapter 14

  Allie hid her surprise well. Her gaze darted over Monica and Cal, but when it got to Jules, her placid smile slid into place. “Welcome.” Allie’s gaze swooped over Jules’s outfit, but her expression never changed. “Frances will show you to your room. No luggage?”

  “I’ll bring them ’round tonight,” Cal said. “Thank you for this, Allison.”

  “No problem. So glad to have you, Jules.” But as soon as Cal and Jules followed the housekeeper upstairs, Allie dropped the smile and shot Monica an annoyed glance. Then she snagged Monica’s hand and dragged her to the drawing room, making sure the double doors were shut before she let loose. “What the hell, Monica? I didn’t even know Cal had a sister. A heads-up would have been nice.”

  Monica took a little too much pleasure in Allie’s irritation. It was petty, but kind of satisfying to see Allie caught unawares for a change.

  Now Monica sauntered through the room, her fingertips gliding over a Grecian urn. “You like bossing people around. I thought you could put your powers to good use for a change.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Allie asked.

  Monica turned on her. “I got a very hostile visit from Deena Adams today.”

  “What did she want with you?”

  “Excuse me? I’m the coordinator. Why wouldn’t she talk to me?”

  With a sigh, Allie flopped down on the sofa. “You know what I mean. Why was she hostile? I’ll call her tomorrow and straighten it out, okay?”

  Monica’d always thought the expression seeing red was just that. But as it turned out, it was a real thing¸ because all the knickknacks in the room, every stick of furniture, Allie’s face—suddenly, they were all a shade of scarlet. “Are you fucking kidding me, Allie?” Monica’s voice was quiet and perfectly calm. Completely at odds with the anger building inside her, like a dust devil swirling its way across the desert.

  “What? Why are you mad at me? I said I’ll fix it.”

  “I don’t need you to fix anything. I’ve done nothing but work my ass off for the last two years. I think I deserve a little respect. You don’t have to clean up after me like I’m Monica the Fuckup.”

  Realization dawned in Allie’s light blue eyes as they took in Monica’s face, her hunched shoulders, her clenched fists. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Deena was pissed because I called all of the media outlets, at your insistence. She thought I was going behind her back, because she already had everything scheduled. Which I believe I mentioned.”

  Allie stood. “Well, it’s a misunderstanding. Why are you getting so bent out of shape?”

  “Because everyone thinks I’m your little puppet. And you know what? They’re right. You’re a total control freak, Al. Why did you even give me this job? You obviously have no faith in my ability.”

  Looking wary, Allie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

  Monica folded her arms across her chest. “You’re never going to see past all the mistakes I’ve made. You’ll never see me as a responsible adult or give me any credit for turning my life around.” Monica dropped her hands, defeated. “You’ve never forgiven me for anything, have you?”

  Allie jerked her head back. “Monica, that’s not true.”

  “Yeah it is. You’re the one who sacrificed everything, and I’m the one who made your life hell. You gave me a job, and you and Trevor basically bought my house. When Mom got sick, you gave up everything to take care of us, and I haven’t been grateful enough. So I should just shut my goddamn mouth and take whatever scraps you decide to throw my way.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Allie was starting to get pissed off too—her eyes became cold, remote. “We gave you the job because you’re capable, and I thought you’d want to honor Mom’s memory.”

  “I’m so damn tired of trying to prove myself to you, Al. You don’t think I’m capable, just the opposite. You look over my shoulder constantly. I can’t take a meeting without holding your hand. You’re always going to see me as that angry, fucked-up kid.”

  “I told you the other day, Mom would be—”

  “Leave her out of it.”

  “I can’t leave her out of it. She’s the reason we’re doing all this. And you never talk about it,” Allie shouted. “You never even mention her! It’s like you’ve forgotten all about her.”

  Monica’s brows slammed together. “Forgotten her? Because I don’t take out my grief and let you play with it?” She moved to the door and glanced back over her shoulder. “This shit at the foundation ends now. No more cc’ing you on every email. No more letting you micromanage every move I make. If you don’t think I can do this job, fire me.” She threw open the door and practically ran out of the house.

  She was tired of feeling like the family failure, tired of backing down, of changing everything about herself, only to find she would never be good enough. It was exhausting.

  She’d intended on saying good-bye to Cal and Jules, but she was too upset. Then she heard the door slam behind her. Assuming Allie was following her, Monica continued walking to her car.

  “What is it, love? What happened?” Cal’s sandpapery voice soothed her.

  Monica turned around and let her shoulders droop. “Allie and I just had a blowout. It’s been a long, shitty day.”

  He padded down the stairs and loped toward her. When he stood before her, Monica leaned her head back to look up at him.

  “I’d take you home and fuck it all better, but I think I should stay with Jules for a while. Your twin nephews have roped her into a game of hide-and-seek. I think she’s a bit out of her depth with them.”

  Monica smiled. “They’re a handful.”

  Cal placed his hands on the curve of her hips. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today. You were brilliant.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad I could help.” Monica spread her hands on his upper arms, tightening them to get another feel of those biceps.

  “I’m sorry our plans didn’t work out tonight, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” He swayed toward her and lowered his head. His lips were only a whisper away. “I’ll pick you up at the office. Six thirty work for you?”

  “What about Jules?”

&
nbsp; “I think she needs a dose of Trevor’s company. She’ll appreciate me a little bit more after a few hours with my cousin.”

  Monica started to laugh, but Cal captured her mouth with his own. As his lips moved over hers, he grasped her possessively. Monica’s arms found their way around his neck, where her fingers dove into the short layers of hair above his nape. His heat, his kisses, his rough touch left behind a trail of desire. Monica wanted him again. But too many obligations kept getting in the way.

  Cal’s hand softened and trailed down to cup her ass. Then he lifted his head. “Damn it, why do we keep doing this out in the open? Come on, let’s go have that shag in the garden.”

  Great suggestion. But his sister. Her sister. “Not practical.” Another difference between now and five years ago—back then, Monica wouldn’t let anything stand between her and what she wanted.

  “Practicality is highly overrated.”

  She leaned forward and placed a kiss in the center of his sturdy chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Be ready,” he said. “I’ll have something special planned.”

  “I thought you didn’t make plans.”

  “You’re an exception to my rules, Monica Campbell.”

  She raised one brow. “Rules? I thought you didn’t believe in those either.”

  “Perhaps you’re reforming me.”

  * * *

  Monica sat at her desk and rolled her crystal pen between her thumb and forefinger. She should’ve been working, finishing up cost projections for the next board meeting, but she didn’t have it in her. Cal would be here in half an hour, and she couldn’t wait to see him.

  She needed a reprieve from another hectic day. Although Monica hadn’t received any unexpected visitors, Ryan had called, thanking her for coming to the hospital. He’d wanted to talk longer, drag out their conversation, but Monica had cut it short. Then his flowers showed up. A dozen red roses—so…expected compared to Cal’s colorful, over-the-top arrangement.

  Maybe Cal was right and Ryan wanted a reconciliation. That wasn’t going to happen, but she hoped he’d come to that conclusion on his own.

  And Monica hadn’t heard from Allie, either. She felt pretty awful for the way she’d lashed out, but Monica had tried reasoning with Allie before. Her sister never listened. Maybe Al was finally taking her seriously, allowing Monica to handle the day-to-day operations of the foundation. Or she could just be giving Monica the silent treatment.

  After fifteen minutes, Monica gave up the pretense of working and shut down her computer. Grabbing her purse, she walked down the hall to the bathroom. She was the last person in the office, as usual. In the mirror, Monica primped a little bit, fluffing her hair and applying a coat of lip gloss, then trekked back to her office.

  She’d just tossed her purse in the bottom drawer when she heard the outer office door creak open, and a moment later, Cal walked in. “Hello, love. Did you have a good day?”

  Would she ever grow accustomed to looking at him? That first glance always stole her breath away. As her gaze slid over him, she sauntered to the front of the desk. “It’s getting better.”

  He wore dark slacks and a navy shirt. Her eyes were drawn to the V at the center of his collarbone. She slid her gaze up his throat to the tilted grin. When she looked into his eyes, they crinkled in the corners, causing her heart to pound. “How was your day?”

  “Long. Jules talked nonstop as I worked on the Mustang. My ears are still ringing.” He yanked on his earlobe.

  “So did you really plan a date, or are we winging it tonight?”

  “I have something very special planned.” He rubbed his hands together and gave her a wicked smile.

  “Dinner? A movie? You’re going to let me drive your car again?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Cal strode forward, his thigh muscles flexing as he moved.

  She wanted time to explore those thighs, run her fingers up and down his legs and slowly feel her way to his long, thick shaft. Monica had a few plans of her own.

  Her gaze trailed over him, all the way down to his feet. Instead of work boots, he sported loafers. “You have tassels.”

  Cal stopped and glanced at his shoes. “Do you have something against tassels? Because I rather like them. When they’re attached to nipples, they’re even better.”

  She kept staring at his feet. “They’re cute.”

  He walked another couple of steps until he stood in front of her. “Cute?” He reached out and fingered the collar of her black blouse edged in lace. “Is this from the Italian Widows collection? Quite fetching.”

  She tried to smack at him, but he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes remained on hers as he kissed her palm.

  “I actually wore a skirt today, instead of pants. I should get credit for that.”

  Cal glanced down at her legs. “It falls well past your knees. Are you trying to seduce me with your ankles?” He pulled her toward him, causing Monica to lose her balance and grab his upper arm for support.

  “Cal.” Her smile fell away when she saw the heat in his eyes. Their one night together had been at the forefront of her mind for the last two days. The Mustang, his fresh, clean scent, his hard dick inside her…it replayed in her head over and over.

  Cal leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “I want you right now.”

  Monica nodded. “I’ll grab my stuff and we can get out of here.” She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Right now.” His gravelly demand caused her stomach to flutter.

  Monica’s gaze flew around the room. “We can’t. Not in my office.”

  “Everyone’s gone for the night. The place is shut down tight.”

  “No. Not here.” Tugging her hand back, Monica shook her head.

  With an indifferent expression, Cal shrugged. “Of course. We’ll go back to mine, assume the missionary position, and keep the lights off. Very good.”

  He was playing with her. She knew he was playing with her, and yet she couldn’t leave it alone. That damned last-word thing. “Just because I don’t want to use my desk doesn’t mean I do boring sex. And I didn’t notice you complaining the other night.”

  Cal raised his brows. “Who said anything about the desk?”

  That left her speechless for a moment. “Then where?” Curiosity overrode her sense of propriety. “I’m for sure not doing it on this floor.” She winced at the industrial gray carpeting. Looked scratchy.

  “Not the floor.” Cal reached out, his hand landing on her chest. His tanned fingers plucked open two of her shirt buttons.

  Monica froze to the spot, helpless to stop him. She was not having sex in her office. But the very thought of it caused thrills of excitement to skitter throughout her body. “Up against the wall?”

  “Everyone fucks against the wall. Where’s the imagination in that?” He placed a finger at the base of her neck and lazily traced to the third button.

  Monica watched its progress and stared in fascination as he flicked open two more, revealing the scalloped, lacy edge of her bra. The tops of Monica’s breasts were bare, pushed up high and firm in the scarlet demi bra. She’d worn it with him in mind.

  “Red.” His lips parted, and Cal’s chest expanded as he inhaled.

  He was pleased. No, not pleased—aroused. She really needed to wear this color more often.

  As Cal stared at her breasts, Monica’s heart pounded. Her panties grew wet. With one sexually charged look, he could draw that kind of response from her, make her body hum with desire. After a full minute, Cal dragged his gaze from her cleavage, up to her face.

  Monica’s gaze bounced away. “You said you liked the color.”

  “Seeing you in that, it’s better than Christmas.”

  She started to laugh, but when Cal used his finger to follow the upper curve of her breast, it turned into a gasp. “I’m not having sex in the break room,” she said as he finished undoing the buttons visib
le above the waistband of her black skirt. “I’d never be able to eat in there again.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.

  “Not the break room.” He used both of his hands to untuck her blouse and then peeled the edges back, revealing more of her pale skin. “The other night in the Mustang, I never got to see you naked. Tonight, I want to see everything.” With the pads of his fingertips, he brushed over the satin smoothness of her bra strap, then followed them downward and cupped her breasts. Her nipples immediately budded beneath his touch.

  The suspense was killing her. Not the desk, not the floor, not the wall. “Where?”

  “Where what?” Cal continued to lightly stroke her. “You mean where would I fuck you in this office?”

  Monica licked her dry lips. “Yes.”

  “First, I’d strip every bit of clothing off you.” He pushed her jacket and blouse over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving them hanging from her wrists. He bent down and swiped his tongue across her breast. “And then, I’d grab your ass. Have I mentioned how much I love your ass?” He licked her again.

  Was she really doing this? In her office, her professional sanctuary? Yes. Her bad-girl self wanted to come out and play again, and even though it felt dangerous, Monica wanted to walk on that fine edge. With Cal.

  Her breasts felt full and achy. Her nipples strained against the red satin. “What would you do next?”

  Cal knelt down before her. He slid his hands around to her bottom, where he kneaded her cheeks through the lightweight wool skirt. Gazing up at her, he leaned forward and nipped her naked waist.

  He didn’t play nice, and she loved that. Monica sucked in a breath. “Watch it. I bite back.” Her jacket and shirt still dangled from her wrists, constraining her, keeping her from touching Cal—and she really needed to feel him right now. With jerking movements, she pulled at the cuff until she managed to shrug out of the restrictive clothes, dropping them to the floor. Using both hands to capture his head, Monica ran her fingers over his fine, short hair, sifting through the blonder strands.

  Cal glanced up. “I look forward to it.”