Misadventures with the Boss

by Kendall Ryan

  I informed HR of my departure two weeks ago—a fact I’m sure they told you but you’ve allowed to slip your mind. Thank you for the opportunity, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out. As I’m sure I’ll not be receiving a recommendation from you anyway, and this job will not be listed on my résumé, please allow me to provide you with some advice for dealing with future assistants.

  I can’t read your mind. Nobody can read your mind. And you can’t work people like they were born specifically to serve you.

  Good luck finding someone who will be able to meet your insane standards.

  Regards,

  Jane Clarence

  I blinked, reading over the last paragraph again. She had a hell of a lot of nerve telling me what I could and couldn’t do when she barely knew how to type, file, or keep a damn schedule.

  Tossing the letter into the recycling bin, I made a mental note to confront HR first thing on Monday about my lack of assistant. I’d go straight to the head of the department—after all, there was no reason I should have had to train eight assistants in the past three months unless the candidates they were providing me were subpar.

  Clearly, there was a systemic issue at play here that needed to be addressed.

  With a muttered groan, I settled into the chair behind my desk. I pulled up the Meals-to-Go app on my phone and ordered in some dinner and then opened a browser for a list of dating sites.

  I hated this. Hated every last detail of having to enter my personality type and what I was looking for in a soul mate. Because, you know what? I wasn’t looking for a soul mate. I wasn’t even looking for a girlfriend. I was looking for a quick, casual piece of ass. A good time in exchange for a guaranteed good time.

  I briefly considered just heading to the nearest nightclub and hoping for the best. Fact was, it usually worked out in the end, but the last thing I wanted to do after a long week at work was spend four hours in a noisy club in exchange for an hour or two in the sheets. Especially if it meant having to extricate myself from a needy woman who had missed the memo. I shuddered at the thought.

  I’m not an asshole. I don’t lie or make promises I can’t keep. But some women just can’t shake the feeling that every guy they sleep with might be “the one.”

  PSA: I’m not “the one.” And I will never be “the one.”

  Which was why I opted to click on a site notorious for no-strings hookups.

  I downloaded the app and entered all the usual information before searching the database of women looking for casual sex, just like me.

  With a bunch of them, I could tell it was a ploy at first glance. There was a needy hope in their gazes. Like, they’d say all the right things, but deep down they hoped that as soon as some poor sucker saw what was underneath their dress, they’d magically want something more from them than a good lay.

  Those girls, of course, I avoided like the plague.

  And the girls who said their idea of a romantic night was a candlelit dinner in Paris?

  No thanks.

  I didn’t need a night with a dreamer. I wanted a dirty, uncomplicated romp.

  Which was when the sixth girl in my matches caught my eye and made my cock pulse.

  She wasn’t my usual supermodel-lean type of girl. Her cheeks were full and smooth, rounding out a perfect, heart-shaped face, and her long mane of dark-red hair looked soft as silk—but it was something in her broad smile that made me click on the picture and read on.

  In the description, there was another picture of her. In this one, she was dancing on a table, her wild hair flying behind her while she kicked out her feet and laughed at the camera. She wore a low-cut black dress that accentuated her luscious curves. I swallowed hard before glancing at her bio.

  She liked Netflix and comfy couches. She was an animal person and a busy professional. All her sentences were quick and to the point—she wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Which meant maybe, just maybe, she meant what she said. I double-checked she had indeed checked off that she was interested in casual sex, and then I bit the bullet and sent her a message.

  Jackson21782: Hey, you interested in dinner and hooking up tomorrow?

  Quick and to the point. If she wasn’t interested, I’d move on to the next girl. No harm, no foul.

  Within a matter of seconds, though, my screen dinged, and I clicked over to see a response.

  Fantasy Girl 29: Absolutely. Name the time and place.

  Jackson 21782: Florentine Inn. 6 o’clock.

  I paused, and figured, fuck it. Might as well make sure she knew the score right out the gate.

  Jackson 21782: Don’t wear underwear.

  I waited, mildly curious to see what her reply would be. A second later, my screen dinged again.

  Fantasy Girl 29: I can’t make any promises.

  I grinned at that and scrolled back to her image, feeling satisfied and already a little less tense just thinking of our date. One slow, hard fuck, and I’d be right as rain. Then, when I came in on Monday, I’d be able to deal with this whole HR problem without wanting to rip people’s heads off at every turn.

  I closed the app’s messenger and penned the meeting into my date book, secretly wondering if she might dance on the table for me without her panties on tomorrow night if I asked nicely.

  Damn, would that be one hell of a view…

  During my work day on Friday, I pushed the date from my mind, focusing instead on the upcoming merger and the innumerable speeches I’d be forced to make at any given press junket or business conference. Of course, the fact that I had no assistant made that task all the more difficult. After a few fumbling tries with the new management software, I was quickly getting the hang of things. I’d set up a meeting with Sally from HR but had been forced to cancel when a new real estate listing had fallen through the cracks and required my attention. I was so busy, the rest of my day went by in a blur.

  In fact, I barely even thought about Fantasy Girl 29.

  The end of the day came just as quickly as the start, and before I knew it, five o’clock had finally come around. As usual, I was going to stay behind for a while to work—the restaurant for our meetup was just around the corner—but before I settled into the pile of listings I’d set aside to go through, I picked up the receiver and dialed Human Resources.

  Sally, the head of the department, answered the phone in monotone. “Jackson.”

  “Sally, how did you know it was me?”

  “Who else would be calling me at five o’clock on a Friday?” she asked. “Everyone else is gone. Can we make this quick, Jackson? I have dinner plans with my husband.”

  I resisted the urge to play the world’s tiniest violin for her, but she had a strong work ethic and typically got the job done, which tipped the scale in her favor in my book.

  Except with this whole assistant thing. That was out of hand.

  “When will the agency be sending over a new candidate for me to interview?” I asked, jumping right to the point.

  “Oh no, you’re not interviewing them anymore. In fact, the agency stopped working with us when the last two candidates left here in tears. I hired this one myself.”

  “What? Why?” I demanded.

  “Something to do with unrealistic expectations, boss. You’re burning through their candidates faster than they can send them.”

  “Ridiculous. I think maybe we ought to get a new system for vetting candidates so I can—”

  “No, I don’t think so. In fact, our legal team has advised me that your behavior could be stepping into hostile work environment territory, and they’ve asked me to handle the details of your staff from here on out. Your new assistant starts on Monday. If she doesn’t work out, you can talk to our counsel and tell them you want to hire the next one yourself.”

  “And when am I supposed to find time for that? You know we’re on the verge of a possible merger with Global Business Solutions.” I didn’t mean to snap, but the words definitely came out a little clipped.

  “Which is exact
ly why legal wants to keep us out of lawsuit territory. At this rate, I think the only person who’ll work for you is a superhero. Nobody can keep your insane hours. I know this place is your baby, and you’re amazing at the business side of things, but my advice? Honestly, sir. You need to back off.”

  I wanted to reprimand her, but frankly, half the reason I’d hired her was for the straight talk. Yes-people were part of the game, but maybe-not-sir-people were twice as valuable.

  “Right, well, thanks for the help, Sally,” I said finally with a frustrated sigh.

  “Yup. Have a good weekend.”

  The line died, and I put the receiver back down and stared at it for a long moment.

  I wasn’t impossible to work for. I was exacting, yes, but I never asked for anything I couldn’t do myself. That was important when it came to being a boss. Or, at least, that’s what I used to think.

  Again, the tension inside me rose, and I considered phoning my hookup and asking her to come straight to my office in nothing but a trench coat and some thigh-high boots. Unfortunately for me, that was what strippers and prostitutes did—not random strangers from a damn internet app. The least I could do was buy the woman a nice meal and a good bottle of Cabernet.

  For a second, I allowed myself to fantasize about something easy. A long-term casual arrangement with a woman—someone who knew what I needed and when and didn’t have to get her heart involved. Someone who didn’t want a ring or children but just raw, carnal satisfaction.

  That was all I was good for, and that was exactly what I wanted in return.

  “Just be happy you’re at least getting laid tonight,” I muttered to myself.

  Tapping my fingers against the arms of my chair, I considered the files piled high on my desk and shrugged. Tomorrow was a new day, and I could always stop by and pick up the files to work on them from home over the weekend. I needed out of here, stat.

  I grabbed my jacket and made for the elevators on the far side of my floor. I would be early for my date, but I needed a good stiff drink, and I couldn’t sit around here waiting any longer—I felt like a damned caged animal.

  Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I headed toward the Florentine Inn around the corner and sidled up to the bar, ignoring the interested glances of the waitresses I passed.

  “Sapphire martini, dry as a bone, three olives,” I told the bartender, and he offered me a little nod before setting to work. As I waited, I stared at the door, willing the girl I’d seen online to stroll in, laughing like she had in her pictures.

  Fuck dinner.

  When I saw her, I was going to corner her and suggest we have a drink or two and then get straight to the main event. Even now, I could feel my blood running hotter at the thought of sinking deep into her hot, tight—

  “Your drink, sir.”

  The bartender set my glass in front of me, and I took a sip and tried to relax. I enjoyed my drink and the quiet of my thoughts for a few minutes before my gaze ventured to the door again and landed on a woman who was unmistakably the one I’d been looking for. She was walking through the wide glass doors with pink cheeks and wind-swept hair. A long tan trench coat hugged those supple curves, but based on the hint of cleavage peaking out from under her coat, I knew the pictures hadn’t been a lie.

  She was stacked, a perfect hourglass my hands itched to trace.

  Still, as she walked toward the bar on long, shapely legs, I couldn’t help but think she didn’t look like the one-night-stand type. She looked…sweet. Almost innocent. Maybe it was something to do with her wide blue eyes or the curve of her full, luscious lips. More school girl than call girl.

  When she smiled at me, though, all my blood rushed south, and I realized that nice in the streets and naughty in the sheets was okay by me.

  She had a mouth and a body built for pleasure, and I couldn’t wait to make her scream.

  Fantasy Girl 29 indeed.

  Chapter Three

  Piper

  I felt naked.

  Not just in that fresh-out-of-the-shower way, either. Nope. As his penetrating gaze raked over me, I felt raw and exposed, like someone had pulled my skirt down in a crowd of people and I couldn’t do anything to fix it. The weirdest part was, I didn’t hate it.

  Heat was rushing to my cheeks, and for a moment, I considered tucking tail and running from the bar, but something inside me kept me moving and making my way toward the man who hadn’t stopped staring at me since I’d walked in. Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time since I got to New York, I felt energized. Excited. Full of anticipation.

  There was no doubt in my mind this was the guy I was going for. After all, he was exactly Hailey’s type. His dark hair was a little shaggy but well kept, and his dark eyes were soulful and hot, assessing me and, based on the slight smile on his chiseled lips, liking what he saw.

  Which only made my blush deepen.

  He was too handsome and intimidating to be the kind of guy I normally would have gone for. Based on his perfectly tailored dark-blue suit, I had to guess he’d come straight from work, but even now, in the bar, he hadn’t bothered to loosen his tie or take off his jacket.

  No, he looked like he was ready to make a fresh acquisition.

  And based on the hungry look in his eye? I knew exactly what kind of merger he had in mind.

  You can do this.

  Clearing my throat as I reached him, I forced a friendly smile and stuck out my hand.

  “Hi there. I’m Piper.”

  “Nice to meet you.” His warm palm swallowed my hand, and he gave me one confident pump before releasing me and motioning to the chair beside him. “Jackson. What’s your drink?”

  “Pear vodka and cranberry,” I said automatically.

  “Interesting combo,” he said with a half smile.

  “When you taste it, it makes perfect sense. Sweet and tart and delicious. Heaven in a glass.” I slid onto the little stool, and Jackson summoned the bartender with a wave of his hand. When the other man approached, he ordered my drink and then watched as the bartender set to work.

  Following his lead, I watched too and was overcome with a swell of gratitude when I saw exactly how much vodka the guy poured for me. Something about tonight made me feel like I was going to need every last drop.

  “So, I, uh, feel like I should tell you that I don’t usually do this.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

  “It’s easy,” Jackson said. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  I nodded. “I guess just being in a new city always has its learning curves.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Have you ever moved someplace new without knowing anybody?” I asked.

  He considered me for a long moment and then shook his head. “I travel a lot, but I’ve always lived in the city.”

  “I see. So…you travel.”

  He took a sip of his drink, surveying me over the rim. God, what I wouldn’t do to get him to stop looking at me like that. Like I was the next, most delicious course on the menu. It made me hot in all the right places, but it also made it hard to focus on anything he was saying.

  “I do,” he said simply.

  “For work? What sort of job do you have?”

  He shook his head. “For work, yeah, but I don’t want to talk about work. I want to talk about you.”

  “Me?” I raised my eyebrows and then gave the bartender a grateful nod as he set my drink in front of me.

  “You. There’s nobody else in the room more interesting.” He offered me another smile, and I glanced away, my heart beating harder in my chest.

  “I don’t know about that.” I took a swig of my drink.

  “You don’t have to. I already know. Now tell me about yourself.”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Not much to tell. My sister actually set up my profile.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Younger. You know how they can be.”

  �
��I don’t. Only child.” He shrugged.

  “Oh, well, you’d think that the older sibling is the one who thinks they know everything, but when it comes to Hailey—my sister—it’s totally different. My parents let her get away with murder, so she basically thinks a person can do anything they want.”

  “And why can’t they?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Well…” I swallowed hard. “You know, responsibilities and stuff.”

  “So what do you want to do right now that you feel like you can’t? What would your sister do?”

  Rip your clothes off and tell you to have your way with me…

  No, wait. Where did that even come from?

  I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Nothing comes to mind.”

  “Well, you tell me when something does.”

  I nodded, sucking in my cheeks as I looked away for what felt like the millionth time. The intensity of his gaze was beginning to get to me, and already I wanted to fan myself, despite the comfortable temperature of the room.

  “Tell me something else,” he said, and his fingers brushed against mine.

  I glanced down, all too aware of the electric tingle coursing through my body at his touch.

  “I don’t know,” I spluttered. “But I’m starting to wonder what my sister wrote about me on my profile.”

  “You haven’t seen it?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Nope. Like I said, she does what she wants.”

  “But you’re still here. Why?” he asked, cocking his head and eyeing me speculatively.

  “Because…I was curious,” I admitted.

  “And is your curiosity satisfied now?” He sipped his drink.