by Claire Angel
“Hey, Mom, smells great in here,” I said. I grabbed a cherry tomato from the salad bowl and popped it into my mouth.
“Stop that, you little thief. Save some for lunch.”
I smiled and went across to hug her.
“Oohh, a hug. Does that mean we’re still friends, even though I sold you out to the enemy?” she asked, chopping a cucumber.
“That depends on the quality of the lasagne and the garlic bread, Mom. Those were the terms of our agreement.”
“After this lunch you may volunteer to stay on for another six months.” Mom grinned.
“You’re right. You do need to get away, Mom. You’re delirious from exhaustion.”
“Pour us each a glass of wine. I’m in the mood for a Chardonnay. How about you?”
“I’m on it.” I opened the fridge and retrieved the bottle of ice-cold wine, poured us each a drink, and put it down on the counter.
“I’ll grab Dad a beer,” I said.
“Thanks, darling. I’m sure he needs one—been out there polishing Lola for hours. He must be close to dehydration,” Mom said, shaking her head.
A meal spent with Mom and Dad was always a hoot. The two of them had a fantastic rapport, and the banter was precious. After a fabulous lasagne and a mountain of garlic bread, I unbuttoned my jeans, and helped Mom load the dishwasher, while Dad checked the score of the games on TV.
“That was great. Thanks, Mom. I’m going to miss your food while you’re away.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll sneak in a few frozen meals just for you.” She smiled.
“What will Dad do with himself while you’re out there, traveling the globe?”
“Are you kidding? He’ll be on the golf course five days out of seven, and at car shows the rest of the week. Besides, we’re meeting up in Arizona for a month, after which he’s visiting his school buddies. They are very excited about catching up. He won’t be bored for one second. I just hope he’ll want to come home afterward.”
“Of course I’ll be back,” Dad yelled from the living room. “How can I desert my Lola?”
“Big ears.” Mom smiled.
“Thanks for lunch, guys. It was delicious. I’m going home now to sleep off, what I can only imagine, is a brewing food hangover.”
“Pop by the office on Monday, darling, so I can show you the ropes.”
“Will do, Mom. See you Monday.”
I kissed my parents goodbye and left for home. I needed my strength if I planned on keeping up with Jennifer.
I was back to fine form after a good snooze and a hot shower. Jennifer was a whirlwind in a teacup, when I picked her up, talking a hundred miles a minute. Her energy was so uplifting.
“Oohh, come here, you,” she said at bat-hearing frequency. “Let me give you a hug!”
“Hi! So glad you’re back.” I hugged her tightly, pleased to have my partner in crime all to myself for a few days.
“So, what’s this news you have?” she said as she flopped into the front seat of my Mini.
“Okay, but first things first. Where do you want to go?” I asked as my Mini roared to life.
“I haven’t been to JoJos in forever! Let’s take a spin past the old joint.”
“Cool.”
“Now stop stalling. What’s up?”
“It would seem that yours truly has a six-month temp gig.”
“Really? Wow, that was fast. I thought you were starting in the new year. What changed?” she asked as she flipped down the sun visor and checked her lipstick in the tiny mirror.
“Mom happened. She’s off to the wild blue yonder on some retreat she’s been eyeing for a year, so she asked if I would fill in as her temp while she’s away.”
“You’re shitting me. Noah Blakely! If it’s verbal abuse and downright nasty you’re craving, you’re on the right track. You must have done something truly awful to your mom. Payback is a bitch.” She laughed.
“Thanks, Jennifer. You’re not helping. Mom whipped out the puppy dog eyes. How could I say no?”
“Yeah, she is terribly cute when she does that. Okay, when do you start?”
“In three weeks’ time. I’m popping in on Monday so Mom can show me the ropes.”
“Have you ever met Noah?” Jennifer asked, flipping through her Instagram feed.
“No, not face to face. Mom started working for him while I was at uni, so I’ve yet to shake hands with the legend. Why do you ask?”
“Well, he may be an absolute asshole and a stinker, but the man is sex on wheels. Pity all the cute ones are either gay, taken, or narcissistic assholes.”
“Just my luck.” I sighed. “No mixing business with pleasure, I guess.”
“Pity. Legend has it his ball busting wife cheated on him, so after his divorce, he’s even grumpier than usual.”
“Right, that’s enough Miss Buzzkill. If you’re going to spend the rest of the evening scaring the crap out of me, I’m taking you right back home,” I said, sporting my best beady eye.
“Ouch. No more shoptalk. Drive Miss Daisy to the club, Hoke.”
The rest of the way was spent listening to Jennifer’s assessment of the available hotties from across the pond. I laughed until my stomach hurt.
“Jennifer, it’s good to have you home!” I said as we pulled up outside the club. JoJos was a
Chapter 5
NOAH
I awoke Sunday morning with glitter all over my left cheek, and a semi-comatose brunette in bed next to me. I rolled over onto my back and looked around the room. I wasn’t home. The beauty stirred next to me and threw her arm across my chest. Looking at her a little closer revealed that she was substantially less beautiful with her makeup all over the pillow case rather than on her face. It was so hard for a guy to gauge a woman’s actual features with the advances in makeup art. The dim lighting in the club didn’t help. She wasn’t not pretty, but she could have looked better.
I looked around the bedroom. Tammy, I think she said Tammy, was clearly a dancer of sorts, which would explain her killer legs and walls covered in pictures of dancers. She didn’t look like the ballerina type, so I guessed modern or hip hop. Her agility and exuberance was duly noted and much appreciated—by me especially.
Post-coital chit chat was not my strongpoint, so I slipped out gently from under her arm and got the hell out of dodge. My head was pounding, and I had a thirst that would bring a camel to tears. It took me a few attempts of critical thinking to find out where I was. Once I fired up the Jag, good old GPS saved my bacon. I needed a strong coffee and I needed it fast.
I stopped at a coffee shop on the way home. I’d been there before and remembered that the coffee was spectacularly good. Coffee was like whiskey—a bad one would do the job, but a good one could change your life. While I was inside, waiting for my cuppa, my cell phone rang. It was Charlie. I answered.
“Did I tell you I could get you laid or what? How was she? With legs like hers I would imagine she rang all your bells.” He chuckled smugly into the phone.
“Yes, once again you delivered, Charlie. I do think, though, that my charm may have had something to do with it,” I said.
“Oh, balls! Admit it. You’re lost without me. So, where are you? How about a game of tennis later?”
“I’m hungover. Go away!”
“Snap out of it, you sissy boy. I’ll fetch you at twelve. You better be dressed and ready.”
Charlie hung up before I could argue. Great. Just what I needed. Tennis on a hot day, on top of a brutal hangover. Thank you, Charles.
I managed to drag myself home, then to the tennis court, then after wiping the court with Charlie’s ass, I dragged myself back home, where I ate dinner, and called it a day.
***
Monday morning came too soon. It was time to get to work.
Martha had an extra spring in her step when I arrived at the office.
“Good morning, Noah.” She beamed. “Coffee?”
“Absobloodylutely. Make it a double espresso, t
hanks.”
I was upbeat about the coming week after two hours spent at my desk. The negotiations with the planning department were concluded, thanks to my whizzkid, Robin, and the owners on the ‘black sheep’ project were happy with the architect’s final draught, at long bloody last! I called the project manager on the job and gave him the good news. He, too, was close to a sense of humor failure, so the news perked him right up.
***
The next three weeks flew past, and before I knew it, Martha was in my office on Friday, wishing me all the best for the following six months.
“I’m going to miss you.” She smiled.
“You better. Don’t get any ideas. I want you back here as soon as you get back. No excuses.”
“Brooke won’t let you down, I promise. She’ll be in on Monday. I’ve shown her the ropes, and she’s more than capable of stepping into my shoes.”
“I hope so,” I said, not particularly amused.
“You’ll see. She's a pistol, my girl.”
And with that short farewell, Martha, my 2ic, dropped me like a hot potato, and hit the road. I could feel my ulcer knocking.
Chapter 6
BROOKE
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this. Yes, I’m up. Yes, I’m on my way already. Uh huh, I left a little early in case traffic is a mess. Mom! Go and have a good time! Stop fretting. I love you, now hang up,” I said into my cell phone as I made my way to the office on the first Monday of my new temp job.
I didn’t have to park on the street—that was a good start. The offices were very modern—beautifully furnished, and spacious. I arrived early and unpacked a few of my own things onto Mom’s desk. I smiled as I looked at the picture of her and me on a camping trip when I was fourteen. For some reason or another, she adored that photo and refused to replace it with any others of her and me. Such a sentimental soul, my mom.
After I unpacked, I logged onto Mom’s computer and had a scan through Noah’s appointment logs for the day. There was no way in hell I would let Mom down. At exactly eight ‘o clock, the phone rang.
The caller said her name was Robin, and that she urgently needed to talk to ‘my boss’. I tried not to let my disdain for her condescending tone spill over.
“Have you tried him on his cell phone, Robin?” I asked sweetly.
“Of course I have! I’m not an idiot. He isn’t picking up.”
“I’ll tell him you called as soon as I see him,” I said politely.
Without so much as a thank you, she ended the call. Nice girl. At eight-thirty, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen appeared from the private elevator, speaking loudly into his cell phone, clearly pissed. He was well-built, muscles rippling through his shirt, with jet black hair, and hazel eyes. He was so engrossed in his conversation that he scarcely noticed me. He walked straight to his office and slammed the door closed behind him.
So, that was Noah Blakely. Jennifer wasn’t kidding—he was absolutely gorgeous. Unfortunately, he also appeared to be rather prickly. I hoped I’d see the ‘good heart’ in him that my mom kept banging on about. So far, I wasn’t terribly hopeful.
The buzzer on my desk went off. I pushed the button.
“Martha! Bring me the Donovan’s file to me right now, please.”
Before I could answer, he cut me off. Wow, what a dick! At that very moment I was eternally grateful that Mom had drilled the systems and procedures into me like a SEAL commander. I went over to the file cabinet and retrieved the large file with ‘Donovan’ written in big black font on the front.
I figured he meant ‘now’ to be as soon as my little ass could move, so I did. I knocked on his office door, then went in. He stopped what he was doing and stared at me.
“Who the hell are you? You can’t just burst in here without an appointment. How did you get past Martha?” He craned his next past me and yelled in the direction of Mom’s desk. “Martha! Where are you? Martha!”
“Martha isn’t here,” I said in a calm voice. “I’m her daughter, Brooke. I’m standing in for her until she comes back from her break.”
He stared at me for a moment before the light in his head clicked on.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. Uh, thanks. Put the file over there. I’ll call you if I need you.”
I was half-expecting an apology, or at least a cordial greeting, but clearly that wasn’t how he rolled. Mr. Sex on Wheels was about as cordial as carboard. Message received.
I left his office, closed the door, and went to the coffee machine. Never had I needed a caffeine injection so desperately. Thanks, Mom.
When all was quiet inside his office, after the yelling subsided, I dialed his number on the internal line.
“Yes?”
“Robin called for you while you were out, Mr. Blakely. She said it was urgent.”
“I just spoke to her, thank you.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked.
“Yes, thanks. Black, one sugar.”
“Got it.”
As quickly as his bad temper had exploded, it seemed to dissipate. I knocked on his door a few minutes later, coffee in hand, and waited for him to answer. I decided against my initial idea of spitting in it.
“Come in.”
Without a word, I put the mug of coffee down on his desk and turned to leave.
“Uh, Brooke, is it?”
“That’s right.”
I’m sorry about earlier. It’s been a rough start to the day. Please, sit.”
“Apology accepted. Not snooping, but was the rough start a woman with a very sharp tongue?”
“Robin? Really? She’s always very polite to me,” he said.
Yeah, that’s probably because you scare the shit out of people, and she probably wants to get into your pants!
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
As the words left my lips, I realised how puerile they were. I was there as his PA. Obviously, I needed to help. It was my job for shit’s sake. But despite his pissy veneer, the vulnerable look in his eyes, however brief, called out for help. For some crazy reason I wanted to comfort him. No wonder Mom had a soft spot for him.
“Yes, there is. Please get Andrew on the line for me. Not sure if he’s at the site or not. The cell reception isn’t great over there. Try his cell first, and if it goes to voicemail try the site office. The numbers are in Martha’s pc phonebook.”
“Yes, she did show me where everything is. I’ll get him for you.”
I felt as if I was being a little prickly, but, to be fair, Noah had it coming. He turned his attention to the file on his desk, and I went back to mine, and found Andrew’s number. When I had him on the line, I put the call through to Noah’s office.
“Oh, hi! You must be Martha’s girl. We’re going to miss your mom around here. She’s such a sweetheart.”
The voice came from across the room. A pretty woman, in her mid-fifties I guessed, stood at the open door to my office. She was very stylish with a beautiful smile.
“Hi. Yes, I’m Brooke. Nice to meet you…”
“Oh, silly me. Claire. I’m the supervisor on the second floor, where they hide us number crunchers and other cogs in the Blakely dynasty machine.”
She was funny. I liked her.
“I see. I hope you have a desk open down there. I have a feeling I may need one.” I grinned.
“Ahh, you’ve met Noah, have you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sure did.”
“Don’t worry. His bark is worse than his bite, but, just as a helping little tip. Noah detests people entering his space when he didn’t invite them in. Clients, staff, the Pope, no one enters his sanctuary without an invitation in triplicate.”
“Noted. You’re about half an hour too late, but thanks, anyway.”
Claire smiled and put a file on my desk. “Guard this with your life.”
“What is it?”
“Hardcopies of important figures. Noah is very thorough. Just too much espionage in cyber
space.” She whispered the last bit, then giggled.
“Will do. Thanks, Claire. Oh, and thanks for the heads up, too. I hope your sweat shop is properly ventilated,” I said, and heard her laugh as she walked away.
Noah spent most of the day in his office. I heard him yelling at someone called Cassandra, but other than that, I didn’t see him or hear much from him. At three o’clock his office door opened, and he came over to my desk.
“I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon, Brooke. Here’s the Donovan file,” he said, putting it down on my desk. “Please file it away.” I couldn’t help noticing his strong fingers as he reached across. His nails were perfectly kept. Good start.
“Will do. Shall I take messages for you or tell callers to contact you on your cell?”
Wasn’t I being the efficient little minion? Or was that horny nymph? What was it about this man that had me all hot and bothered? Was it the challenge of winning him over, or the sheer magnetism I felt every time he looked at me with those sexy bedroom eyes of his?
“If they can’t get hold of me, they’ll definitely call here. I’ll call you later to check my messages. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Oh, Claire left the figures with me. I’ll leave the printouts on your desk,” I said.
“Thanks. Please lock my office door before you leave. Martha keeps the key somewhere around here. Not sure where.”
He looked about the room as he said that, his strong torso moving in a way that highlighted his firm chest and arms. Oh, Mamma!
“She showed me. Will do.”
“Great. See you in the morning.”
Noah seemed almost apologetic in his demeanor. Did he feel bad about snapping at me, or did he have bigger fish to fry?
“Have a good evening,” I said, and he mumbled something I couldn’t hear in return.
The elevator doors opened, and I watched his ass as the metal box whisked him away. Day one...tick.
Chapter 7
NOAH
Fuck! That was a dismal start to my professional relationship with Martha’s daughter. Not that I recognised her when she walked into my office. She looked nothing like the girl with pigtails, hugging her mom in the photo on Martha’s desk. The woman sitting at the desk right outside my office door was exquisite. Her eyes were such a beautiful green, I couldn’t look away from them. Her blonde hair framed her face in a shoulder length cut, and she was built like a gymnast—lean, with curves in all the right places. I almost swallowed my tongue when she smiled at me.
