Please (Please #1)

by Willow Summers

  Seriously, why me?

  Another staff member came bustling out, a portly woman with a fantastic bee-hive. Her gaze swept the area, landing on me. My stomach tightened up as I stood in the wake of a self-made natural disaster.

  Hurricane Jessica.

  “I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!” I bleated.

  I braced myself for the rant. For the store owner to barge out, yelling about the mess. Threatening me with a counter-suit if I even dared think of a lawyer. He would chase me out of the store, my backside a welcome sight in the wake of the mess. I would then go to the next grocery store where I wouldn’t be known for disturbing the peace.

  Only problem was, I wasn’t in L.A., and I had no idea where another shop was. They weren’t on every corner in this neck of the woods.

  Beehive-lady clutched my arm as I stooped for more balls. “Don’t worry yourself none.” She escorted me to the side as the young guy went about straightening the ball cage. Her eyes glanced over my body and lingered on my knees, a small tear marring my jeans. “You alright? You hurt yourself?”

  “Oh no, no no! I’m okay. Seriously. Just wasn’t paying attention.” I brushed my bruised knees in an effort to wipe off the scuffs.

  “Here, come over here and have a seat. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She gestured me to a wood bench next to a small flower display. In shock, I took two steps, carried away by her concern. It took logic to still my feet.

  Why the hell wasn’t she mad? I’d just rumbled through and blasted a stand of kids’ balls!

  That sounded wrong.

  The brown haired guy was picking up the balls now, but making quick, worried glances in my direction. He wore the same mask of alarm, probably worried I’d set fire to the place next, or something else equally outlandish. No telling what I was capable of, really.

  I needed to fast forward this scene. My embarrassment was out of hand.

  “No, no. Oh my God, really, I’m fine. I’m just clumsy and totally ridiculous! I have no idea what happened. Sorry for the mess! Really!”

  My eye scoured the ground. Where the hell was my damn purse? I had taken the tumble in the doorway, but it wasn’t there. That brown-haired staff member was more than halfway done corralling balls, uncovering nothing on the walk-way.

  “You don’t worry yourself about no mess,” Beehive-Lady said with her hand on my back, trying to get me to the bench. “Ronnie will have that dealt with in a jiffy. C’mon’ere and have a seat. You sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Oh, ha! No,” I said distractedly, frantically searching for my bag and its contents. “I’m good, seriously. Just so sorry for the mess!”

  I took a step around Beehive-Lady, scanning the sidewalk, when the Greek God Apollo himself stepped up with my handbag in hand, a devastatingly handsome half-smile filled with mischief lighting up his face. His blue eyes caught and held me, that weird heat returning to my body.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” He tried for a concerned look after a quick glance at Ronnie and Beehive-Lady, but only managed a handsome farcical look instead. “I’m sorry to have startled you. I believe this is yours?” He reached out with my purse.

  Must-pull-eyes-away.

  God he was so beautiful.

  NO! PULL-EYES-AWAY!

  I managed to look down at my purse long enough to get my hand on it. It was bigger and fuller than I was used to, because I shoved a bunch of little bits in there when I was moving, and Apollo must’ve had muscles of steel to make the weight seem nonexistent, so when I thought I had hold of it, it plummeted toward the ground.

  In his eagerness to help me, Mr. Apollo took a big step toward me, snatching the bag with lightning fast hands before it could spill onto the floor. I was acutely aware of his musty man smell. It wasn’t a clean, fresh out of the shower smell, but like a man that was working outside all day. Eau d’Homme. Not BO or anything, but pure Man.

  My groin burst into flame. A million points of lava erupted across my skin; the heat of him so close, the smell of him, the man-ness of him. I couldn’t help a tiny moan escaping my lips before he stepped away nonchalantly.

  My God woman, get a grip! This was all going downhill so fast I had skid marks! Literally. I needed to get the hell out of there. Away from him.

  But I didn’t want to.

  But I had to! I looked like a mental patient. No hot guy would want to be ten feet from me.

  But he was so hot!

  But I smelled. I was here to get a toothbrush. I probably peeled his eyebrows off when my breath hit his face.

  Wait…did I talk to him?

  I pushed my schizophrenia to the side and about-faced. Along with my body, my face was on fire…of a different kind. Of the can one person really be this humiliated? kind. I muttered a quick “thanks,” nodded to Beehive and Ronnie, and turned to go further into the store. Grudgingly, but necessary.

  I was such a douche! My first day here and I meet the most ruggedly handsome guy I have ever seen, with manners no less, and eyes that are as deep and bottomless as eternity, and I blow it. It was a fairy tale encounter. Right up until I walked into the door, knocked over a stand of balls, spilled my handbag everywhere…I mean, did I have to go on? I almost dry humped the guy’s leg! I suck. I so suck. What is my problem?! Seriously, what-is-my-problem?

  Lost in self-incriminating thought, I collected the basics for my new home. I walked into the checkout line, checking my list off item by item in my head, when I felt a presence.

  No. Oh no. Not again.

  Yes please, my inner self peeped.

  I knifed my inner self immediately.

  I knew it was him. I knew it was. I don’t know how I knew—maybe it was the rubbery quality of my legs. Maybe the lightheadedness. Maybe it was the musty, not quite sweaty eau d’homme smell. Or, maybe it was the fire combined with goosebumps that once again spread throughout my body. Christ-on-a-crutch, what was going on with me?

  Don’t look up. Don’t look up! Be busy. Busy and important. Crap to do. Dinner to cook. Or not. Something to do. Don’t look up.

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  Synopsis:

  On the tail-end of her ex-boyfriend crashing through a restraining order and putting her in the hospital, Krista realizes that the only way to effectively escape her past is to put distance between it. She gets her life back on track in San Francisco with a job that has limitless potential.

  Unfortunately, to achieve her dreams, she must brave her boss.

  Incredibly handsome and sinfully charming, Sean has a line of women waiting for his call. But when he sets his sights on the intelligent new hire, he finally meets his match.

  It’s a struggle against a blazing attraction neither of them knows how to resist.

  Excerpt:

  A few hours into her day, Krista finished scrubbing her whole office and still hadn’t heard from her boss. To pass the time, she decided she’d find the amenities.

  As she exited the break room, which was right down the hall, water in hand, she found the break room, grabbed a glass of water, and turned back when she caught the most delicious of scents. It smelled like a crisp, ocean breeze mixed with the most divine, mouth-watering cologne money could buy. She wanted to bottle it up and use it as an air freshener in her room.

  Shrugging the thought away, Krista entered a copy alcove right across the way stuffed with office delights and whirling machines. The big commercial printer was active, and there was a hutch with note pads, staples, sticky notes, and—“Yay! Pens!”

  Krista took a couple out of the box, found a pen holder, and happily turned to go pick a place on her desk where she could house her new treasures. As she stepped forward, eyes on her prize, she nearly bumped into a large expanse of chest. Backing up quickly while trying to contain the water within her cup, she looked up with an apology.

  “Saaawww—”

>   Shock caused a sudden hatching of butterflies to explode out of her mouth, mangling the rest of the word. The smell from earlier wrapped around her head, suffocating her brain.

  “What have we here?” said a silky voice with deep, masculine overtones. The man’s muscled body dominated her space.

  Krista met green eyes so intense they looked Photoshopped. “I got some pens…”

  Her hand stupidly raised her penholder to communicate via show-n-tell. She probably looked like a puppet in the hands of a drunk.

  A devilish grin lit up his face, frazzling every coherent thought except for one: You’re acting like a pre-teen that just saw her favorite boy band! Get it together!

  “I—uh…” She looked around pseudo-calmly for a prop. Settling on a piece of paper in the printer, she smashed her pens to her chest and grabbed it.

  “Just needed the fax. I mean printer. Printed piece. Of paper. No big deal.” She shrugged like an idiot.

  This is not getting it together!

  Rallying, she said, “See?” She waved the somewhat crumpled white flag in his face.

  As his smile grew in amusement, she gave up. Taking the coward’s way out, she dodged around him with the agility of a boxer, and blasted out into the hallway, splashing some poor woman passing by. She heard a deep syllable, but had no clue what shape it took.

  So, yes, then. People would absolutely notice she was just as weird as her boss. Question answered.

  Back at her desk, glass a quarter full, she sat down with darting eyes. She sincerely hoped that man did not work on her floor. Also that she would never see him again. Also that she was able to get a picture snapped off because holy Lord he--

  “Krista.”

  “AHH!”

  Mr. Montgomery stood near the wall, opposite her doorway. The rest of the water was on her desk.

  “Yes, it is nice and quiet in this department. I had the cubes positioned this way so as to block the noise from the rest of the company. They don’t seem to understand that we think in research, and don’t need the constant distraction of noise.”

  Krista nodded emphatically—it was a perfect explanation for her giddiness.

  “Yes, well, I thought I’d take you to see the rest of the company.”

  “Oh, great,” Krista said as she jumped up. Her hand, still slightly wet, hovered near her notepad and pen.

  Mr. Montgomery’s brow furrowed dangerously.

  Taking the cue, Krista left note taking devices behind.

  “You found the break room, already?” Mr. Montgomery asked as he stopped in front of the open doorway, obviously remembering the water all over her desk. A chorus of laughter floated out as Krista nodded. “Yes, well, most of the people that hang out in there are hopeless loafers. Waste of time.”

  Before Krista could replace the bewilderment on her face from that comment, an older woman with a shock of dyed red hair emerged from the doorway. “Oh, James. I thought I heard your dulcet tones. Whadda treat.” Her cynical gaze slid over Krista. “And you have yet another employee to handle your enormous workload, when I can’t even stay fully staffed. Yes, now that’s fair.”

  With her nose in the air, the woman walked away, loathing on her face.

  Krista tried to shrink into her sweater like a turtle.

  “Don’t mind her!” Mr. Montgomery said in a huff as he stared at the woman’s rigid back. “She’s just mad that they won’t hire someone to do all her work for her!”

  He turned around, his own nose in the air to rival his apparent nemesis. He kick-started his plodding speed and trudged down the hall, seemingly uninterested as to whether Krista was following. It was not a great start to the tour.

  When they finally walked through the last floor, Krista couldn’t say that she was sorry. Or that she’d learned anything useful.

  “This is the sales floor,” Mr. Montgomery droned. “We work with them the most. They’re pushy for the most part. They don’t think anyone else besides them works.”

  A smallish man shot out of one of the offices like a torpedo, heading in their general direction.

  “Ah, speak of the devil. Here’s John, the junior VP of sales.”

  The man, legs and arms pumping animatedly, focused on them. Seeing Mr. Montgomery, he slightly veered his trajectory, until his eyes slid past and hit Krista. He immediately swooped back and stopped right in front of them, hand out, eyes lit up.

  “Hello! My name’s John!”

  Mr. Montgomery recoiled, taken aback by the amicable verbal assault. He recovered with a large sigh, and said, “John, meet Krista, our new researcher. We have high hopes for her. She—“

  “Krista,” John boomed, cutting off Mr. Montgomery without so much as an apologetic flinch. “Nice to meet you. How do you find our company so far?”

  “Well, it’s my first day, but so far it’s nice.”

  “Great! That’s great!” John gave an energetic punch with his voice. “What have you seen—“

  “John!”

  As one, they all turned toward the speaker, now coming out of the same office at a much slower, more purposeful pace. Krista’s jaw clenched. Why me?

  “They want to know if I can go down ten percent on price if they opt for the package,” the newcomer said in a lackadaisical manner, powerful body strolling up with the graceful slide of a fencer. “I was thinking that’s more than satisfactory. If so I can close it today.”

  “Sure, sure. Get it done.” John waved his hand to shoo the man away.

  “James, who is this?” the salesman asked in a sophisticated, smooth voice.

  She had a brief moment to wonder about her excessive sweating problem in embarrassing situations as Mr. Montgomery dryly said, “Hello, Sean. This is our newest employee: Krista Marshall. Krista, meet Sean McAdams. Sean is a salesman here at the company.”

  Sean’s intense gaze never left her. “Hello.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Krista comes to us straight out of college,” Mr. Montgomery continued in a bored voice. “She received top marks in her class from a prestigious school in Washington. You were what, top twenty, Krista?”

  “Top five percent,” she replied quietly, silently cursing him for embarrassing her. She was doing a good enough job on her own.

  “Yes, top five. A real dynamo!”

  And that was before he said dynamo…

  Sean smiled like a cat toying with a brightly colored bug. “It’s a pleasure.”

  He studied her for a moment longer before nodding to John and turning away toward his office.

  “Oh, and Krista…“ Sean’s gaze found her again. “I believe you have something that belongs to me, but don’t worry about it. I reprinted it. You can shred your copy, if you don’t mind.”

  Krista, realizing what he was talking about—what piece of paper she’d gotten off the printer that he was talking about—stared dumbly. He smiled and resumed his powerful stride into his office.

  Oh yeah, people would notice that weird factor. Great.

  “Well, Krista, you let me know if sales can do anything for you, okay?” John said earnestly, shaking her hand again.

  Mr. Montgomery sighed and started walking away.

  “Sur—“Krista cut off, watching her boss plod down the hall. She looked back at John in despair. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

  “John likes everyone to go to him for anything,” Mr. Montgomery said as soon as she had caught up. John was still within hearing range. “But you try to get anything done, and he bars the way.”

  All Krista could do was inwardly groan.

  When 5 o’clock rolled around, Krista couldn’t sprint out of work fast enough. She headed straight for happy hour with Kate and Jasmine, two friends from college who moved to San Francisco shortly after graduation. Krista had never thought to move, letting them escape to California unhindered, but when Jim had found her at a party, shortly after serving him a restraining order, and punched her in the face, she decided skipping town was the right, and o
nly, way to play it.

  Yes, he’d gone to jail—he took down another three people who got in the way, all of whom had pressed charges—but he’d get out eventually. Something as trivial as the law wouldn’t stop a man like Jim. Not being able to see out of one eye for a week drove that point home.

  Krista spotted Kate in the corner sipping her drink.

  Twenty-six with long brown hair and large, luminous eyes, Kate had a dainty look, but a contrasting foul mouth. She was also pygmy short, which was funny when she started throwing out the f-bombs. Her one, self-proclaimed, greatest flaw was always falling in love with gay men. In her defense, it was an easy thing to do, especially in San Francisco. More than half the population of gay men had great style, excellent hygiene and unbelievable bodies, not to mention being intelligent, educated and cultured.

  Kate was in love a lot.

  “Hey, Kate,” Krista said as she flung her handbag into the corner of the booth and crawled in.

  Kate jumped, and then giggled. “You asshole,” she said by way of hello.

  “Did I grow, or is this pub fashioned after people your size?” Krista asked as she tried to straighten her legs under the table.

  “Har har. How was your first day?”

  “No, seriously. Is this not the smallest booth in the world? Let’s go to the bar.”

  About then Jasmine showed up, looking like a painter. She was a tall girl and rail thin with a short bob and a cloudy disposition, but always managed to make things fun regardless. Or maybe she sought to up the fun factor since she thought everything was dismal.

  Though all of them went to the same college with the same major, each of them landed in different fields. Jasmine was a designer of some sort and Kate ended up in product development. They all had jobs, though, so they didn’t complain too loudly.

  “Hi,” Jasmine said, sliding onto her own bar-stool.

  “So, Krista,” Kate said. “What about these embarrassing stories from the day you text about earlier?”

  “Ooh, I love embarrassing stories!” Jasmine clapped happily, catching the eye of the older bartender and pointing to the tap of Harp.