Knocked Up on Valentine's Day

by Amy Brent

  Not if I could get a sweet look at that rack she was carrying.

  “I think all that sounds good, as long as you can promise that some of these investors will be snagged. I know they can if I go, and I know they’d practically beg if Sheila went, but I’m not so sure with Charlene,” he said.

  “What the fuck am I, chopped liver?” I asked.

  “If you’re comfortable with it, than so am I. Just update me every once in a while.”

  “Yes, Mom. I can do that,” I said, grinning.

  “So, if you aren’t wanting to wiggle your way underneath Charlene’s clothes, things must be going well with that supermodel of yours. What was her name? Jodi?” he asked.

  “Eh, she’s already gone,” I said.

  “The fuck? L, she was smoking hot. Legs for days, sun-kissed skin, tits that just fell into the palm of your hand. And she wasn’t afraid to eat.”

  “You’ve always liked women with appetites,” I said.

  “Hey. I like feeding them food. So what?”

  “That how you broke your leg? Trying to dig a strawberry out of her asshole or what?” I asked.

  “Holy shit, L. I fell down the fucking stairs. Get over it.”

  “You’re just such an easy target,” I said.

  “So was Jodi. So, what the hell happened?”

  “She’s just like the rest, dude. Wants my money, wants all the presents, wants me to pamper her. Gets pissed when I have to break dates to work for the money I’m spoiling her with. I want a real partner. I’m over women thinking they can suck my dick then drain my bank account. I feel like I’m hiring legal hookers.”

  “Any other man in your position would be ecstatic at that proposition,” he said.

  “And I was, for a while there. Women fall all over me and practically beg for a piece of this. But, then they want to steal my checkbook and buy themselves a car or bullshit like that. I don’t want a fucking gold digger,” I said.

  “You’re just bored. You’ve slept with all the supermodels Miami has to offer, and they aren’t switching them out fast enough for your dick.”

  “I’m bored, but not with the women. That entire scene is played out. You know I tried to take Jodi on a romantic nighttime helicopter flight over the ocean while we ate chocolate-covered fruit? Fucking full moon and all this bullshit, and her? She was pissed that I didn’t take her to dinner.”

  “Did you lick her pussy to apologize?” Mike asked.

  “Nope. Didn’t wanna break my hip,” I said, chuckling at my own joke.

  “I give up,” he said.

  “Exactly. I’m over the gold diggers, no matter how hot they are. Find me a woman who wants me for more than my money, and I’ll show you a man who will lick her pussy every damn morning just so she wakes up with an orgasm.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to do that anyway?” he asked.

  “I don’t fucking know anymore,” I said.

  “L, everything’s gonna be fine. You’ve broken up with Jodi because she pissed you off during one of the most stressful times of your business year. Take the trip with Charlene, see how she works, snag some new investors, schmooze the old ones, then come back and get Jodi a gift that will make her wanna drop to your knees and pull your dick out right there. You can’t expect a woman to date a billionaire and not wanna be spoiled.”

  “Your girlfriend demands your money like that?” I asked.

  “Only when I can keep my balance in bed,” Mike said. “Just think about it. Put your mind to the task at hand, try not to fuck the new girl, then come back and go get Jodi. You know she’ll take you back.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it. Take care of that leg, Michael.”

  I cut the call with him and leaned back in my chair. The flight manifest put me leaving in the morning and I still had to inform Charlene she was going with me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get those beautiful tits out of my mind when my secretary walked in.

  “How’s Mr. Jeffries, sir?” she asked.

  “Doing alright. Listen, contact the travel agency and let him know there’s been a change to the manifest. Instead of Michael Jeffries traveling with me, Charlene Simpson will be. Then, notify Miss Simpson and tell her she’ll be traveling with me in the morning,” I said.

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?” she asked.

  Get me some bleach so I can get the imprint of her body out of my mind.

  “Put a hold on the rest of my meetings until I get back.”

  My secretary turned on her heels and walked out of the room while I sat there in my chair. The first thing I needed to do was go home, take a cold fucking shower, and then pack for the trip. If Charlene was coming with me, I needed to make sure I took my power suits so every person in that damn meeting knew exactly who was controlling this thing.

  I also wanted to make sure Charlene understood who was in control as well.

  “Sir?” my secretary asked.

  “Yes?”

  “What time should I tell Miss Simpson to be ready by?” she asked.

  “Tell her the flight leaves at 10:06 AM. She can pick up her ticket at the airline kiosk when she gets to the airport. We’re taking an international flight, not the private jet.”

  “Any reason why, sir?” she asked.

  “It’s above your pay grade,” I said, murmuring.

  She ducked out of the room and I got up and walked to the windows that lined my office. I had to mentally prepare myself for the meetings now. Michael would have taken the lead, but since he couldn’t go, that task would fall to me, and that meant I needed some time to myself.

  Right after I got the image of Charlene’s body out of my mind.

  Chapter 2

  Charlie

  Oh. Holy. Shit. I couldn’t believe it. The secretary to Mr. Ellison James himself had just called and informed me that I was to accompany Mr. James on his business trip to Helsinki. What the fuck was happening? I had just been promoted in his damn company, and already he was wanting to throw me to wolves?

  Pull yourself together, Charlie.

  I got on my laptop and searched the weather for Finland. What the fuck kind of weather did they have in Finland? Cold. It was fucking cold in Helsinki, Finland. It was the middle of January with temperatures in numbers I didn’t think existed, and the more I read the more pissed off I got. If we were lucky, there would be six full hours of daylight for each day we spent there.

  Six. Fucking. Hours.

  How the hell were we supposed to drive around and see? Miami was so toasty and warm, and the sun shone down on the ocean. It reflected more light than it ever soaked up, and the palm trees were so soothing. The warm breeze would rush by my window and it would cause me to throw open the shutters while my nose inhaled the salty scent of the beckoning ocean.

  Who the hell would wanna exchange that for six hours of daylight and a biting wind so cold you have to protect yourself against frostbite?

  I threw open my closet and dug around for cold weather clothes. I’d lived in Miami pretty much my whole life, and except for the occasional pair of jeans, everything I owned was geared towards Miami weather. T-shirts and tank tops, bikinis and flip flops. Shorts, leggings and sunglasses. None of this was appropriate for a business trip, but even my business clothes weren’t appropriate for a business trip to the fucking North Pole.

  “Shit!”

  I threw my closet doors closed and began to dig through my drawers. I pulled out a couple pairs of jeans I owned, along with one pair of fleece-lined leggings I’d purchased accidently online, but that was about it. Even the long-sleeved shirts I had were that see-through material. I’d put that shit on over my brightly-colored bikini tops and the men practically fell at my feet.

  And again, not appropriate for an important business trip.

  I pulled out my professional tights and threw them on the bed before I grabbed some bras and underwear. I’d definitely have to find stores that were open later on so I could go get some winter-appropri
ate clothing, but for now I had enough to pack. I folded up my jeans and shoved them into my suitcase, but when I turned around to pick up a pair of underwear I’d dropped, I heard Johnson meow from the corner.

  “Don’t you even think about it,” I said.

  I heard my cat pounce on the bed before he launched into my suitcase and began pawing at my clothes. He played around with my bra before he grabbed it with his claws and tossed it over the bed, so I picked him up and tossed him onto a pillow.

  “I don’t need your help, Johnson. What I need is to go shopping.”

  I heard him pounce into my suitcase again, but this time he was clawing at a pair of tights I’d thrown in, no doubt causing damage.

  “Damn it, Johnson! Come on!”

  I scooped him up in one arm while I pried the tights away from him, and I knew the moment I looked at them I’d have to throw them away. They were ruined—my nicest pair of course—and I groaned before I tossed them in the trash bin.

  “So much for those,” I said.

  I put Johnson in his crate so I could finish packing. I emptied every single drawer and dug through every single place I could think of that I might have stored clothes in, but when all was said and done I could only piece together four decent outfits suitable for cold weather. I looked over at the clock and clenched my jaw when I realized it was almost 6 PM, and I knew the stores I needed to be open wouldn’t be. I was too late.

  “For the love of shit, it’s Miami. No one’s selling cold clothes anyway,” I said aloud.

  It was the truth. Even in January, Miami never dipped below 60 degrees. For some people, that might have been cold, but for me it was perfect. I had light leggings and flats to wear on the beach, and I’d throw on a light scarf or a coverall on and let the wind catch it while I walked. Winter was actually my favorite time of year in Miami because the beaches were deserted, and the ocean seemed to reflect a different sort of beauty it didn’t seem to have in the summer.

  The waves would be as still as they could be and the sun would reflect off the waters. If you went out at night, you could see the moon and the stars twinkling on the ocean top. For hours, I’d sit in the cool sand and let the cold water lap its tongue over my bare feet, and every night— when airplanes and helicopters would pass over the ocean—I would think about how lucky those bastards were for being able to see the beauty of the ocean from a bird’s eyes view.

  One day, I hoped to take the time to enjoy a night time helicopter ride over the ocean myself.

  I ripped myself from my trance and looked down at my pathetic suitcase. Only half of it was full with clothes that were actually appropriate for cold weather, but none of them were appropriate for the type of business we would be conducting. It wasn’t Mike’s fault he had broken his leg, but I still wished I’d had more notice. I didn’t get the note on my desk until this afternoon, and I was lucky to have finished my work early so I could get home and pack.

  I began grabbing my pencil skirts, blouses, and heels. I folded them nicely into the suitcase before I placed the heels on top, telling myself I’d get my toiletries in the morning. I’d want to take a shower before I got on a God-knows-how-long flight to Finland, but now I didn’t know what I should wear for the flight. I was flying with Ellison James, the owner of the entire fucking company, and something told me he’d probably be flying in a suit.

  He’d probably be wearing one of his more expensive suits and living it up in first class, and I bet if I didn’t look as professional as he did, he’d probably leave my ass in the States. So, I laid out a black pencil skirt and a bright yellow top with black heels to match. I grabbed the only coat I had in my possession—a green pea coat I’d bought at a sale just because I could—and laid it out with my outfit. I wouldn’t need that shit flying out of Miami, but I sure as hell would need it when my bare ass legs touched down in Helsinki.

  Suddenly, a knock came at my door.

  “Coming!” I called out. I zipped up my suitcase full of clothes completely inappropriate for my business trip and rushed to get the door. Maybe it was someone hand-delivering me all the outfits I would need to ace this business trip and I could finally relax.

  But, when I threw the door open, the only thing that happened was my heart rate skyrocketed.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” Rick said.

  Rick, my fucking ex-boyfriend from college, was knocking on my damn door. We’d stayed friends since college, especially since we were the only two from our graduating class who had stayed in Miami afterwards, but he still felt the need to come swooping into my life at the most inopportune moments. My stress level was already through the roof and the last thing I wanted to deal with was a man I couldn’t shrug off.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “See, I knew it. I felt this tingling sensation in my gut that something was wrong, and I figured I’d come check on you,” he said, grinning.

  “How wonderful,” I said.

  “Whatcha up to?” he asked.

  “Packing for a business trip. What are you doing here, Rick?”

  “Oh, fun. Where ya headed?”

  “Finland. What do you want?” I asked again.

  “Finland. Fun. Sounds like someone’s coming up in the world,” he said.

  “Which makes one of us,” I said.

  “Ouch. That hurt, Charlie. You don’t have to be so mean to a guy who just wanted to check up on you.”

  “I highly doubt that’s what you’re here for,” I said.

  That was the issue with Rick—we were complete opposites. I was a workaholic who knew exactly what I wanted out of life, and he graduated high school with a general education degree because he didn’t have the forethought to declare a major in college or even dream about a career to strive for. He partied every weekend while I studied, and he couldn’t have cared less about his future. I had pushed myself to every limit both through college and with my career, climbing the ladder to where I was now, and meanwhile, he was still coasting on the bottom rung of every single job he fell into, before eventually being fired for his laziness.

  It really was pathetic, but he was the only other person in town that I really knew.

  “Since you’re going to Finland, who’s keeping an eye on that guy?” he asked. I followed his finger downward and saw Johnson sitting at my feet, and I rolled my eyes before I picked him up in my arms.

  “I really need to get you a new crate,” I said.

  “Sounds kinky,” Rick said, smirking.

  “Not you, you airhead. Johnson. He keeps getting out of it.”

  “So, I ask again, who’s watching the little guy while you’re away?”

  “I’ll only be gone for a week,” I said, as I backtracked into my apartment. “I was just gonna put out some food and water and change his litter box before I left.”

  “For an entire week?” Rick asked. “Nuh-uh. Let me watch him.”

  “Not a chance,” I said, giggling.

  “Like you said, you’ll only be gone a week, and someone needs to check up on this cat. I don’t have to stay here and housesit, I’ll just come by to see how he’s doing.”

  “I wouldn’t let you housesit anyway. You’d probably rifle through my underwear.”

  “Probably,” he said, smirking. “But, then again, maybe not.”

  “I’m not giving you a key to this place,” I said.

  “Seriously, Charlie. What if something happens to Johnson? For the love of everything holy and good, he can get out of his crate. What makes you think he won’t find a way out of this apartment?

  “Opening a crate and opening a door are two very different things,” I said.

  “Then, what if Johnson gets sick? You mean to tell me you’re gonna lock up all your candies and snacks and put away all the sharp things he could get into? Someone really needs to come at least once a day and check up on this guy,” he said.

  He did have a point. Leaving food and water out, then letting a cat roam freely was simply me asking for
trouble. But, was giving Rick a key to my place really a good idea? I knew which one of the two was least trustworthy.

  Did I really have a choice though?

  Yes. I did have a choice, and that choice was trusting my cat or finding a last-minute kennel.

  “I’m good, Rick. But, thanks,” I said.

  “I’m really good at stuff like this. I animal-sit all the time for other people in the area.”

  “Well, get me your references before tomorrow morning and I’ll consider it,” I said.

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “No, now get out. I have to finish packing,” I said.

  “We could really make a good team here, Charlie,” he said.

  “Rick, don’t start. I let you in my apartment, just leave it at that,” I said.

  “But you’re a hardworking woman who needs help! I could watch the cat and keep up with the place while you’re gone, and then you could come home from your business trip and tell me all about it while I massaged your feet after being in those monstrous heels all day.”

  “Goodbye, Rick,” I said.

  “Just think about it, alright? I’m serious! You really could have it all!”