by Lila Monroe
“You’re McKenna the Ever-Prepared,” he says, his grin widening. “I think she’ll be safe with you. What I’m more concerned about is whether you can let loose and have fun with it.”
Okay, I’m up to that challenge. “You’re on.”
We pull over at the next gas station and trade seats. I haven’t driven much since moving to Manhattan, but I used to love zipping around Philly in the beat-up Beetle I’d scraped together the cash to buy. I can tell the second I start adjusting the sports car’s seat that it’s several large steps up from the old Beetle.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
I look at Jack again, and he just nods. He leans back in his seat, watching me. “Good to go?”
“Oh, yeah. I like cars a lot better than I like cliffs.”
I hit the gas, and the car zips forward. Wow, that does handle nicely. We roar onto the freeway. I let the car fly as fast as I figure I can get away with. It slips from one lane to another like butter. I let out a whoop, and Jack laughs.
“Thatta girl,” he says. I’m not sure whether he means the car or me. As long as I’ve got my hands on this wheel, I don’t really care.
Jack has enough faith in my driving to let me keep the wheel all the way to Montauk. He directs me off the highway and along the shore before we reach a long driveway that ends right by the beach. The house rears up in front of us, huge but rustic-looking, and way more understated than some of the fancypants mansions I caught glimpses of on our way here. There are faded brown shingles and a white trim, and a wooden swing hangs on a huge wraparound porch.
I step out of the car and inhale a breath of salty sea air. “It’s a gorgeous place,” I say.
“Wait until you see the inside.”
He isn’t lying. I stop in my tracks just inside the front hall, taking in the immense living room. Everything is rustic, bleached wood and beachy tones. A silky fur rug sprawls between the sofas. Beams crisscross the high ceiling. Jack heads to the big stonework fireplace and flicks on a gas flame.
“Not the most traditional fire,” he says. “But it saves an awful lot of time chopping wood.”
“Well, you’re not exactly a traditionalist, are you?”
“Only when it suits me. Here, you can pick your room.” He motions for me to follow.
He isn’t kidding about me being able to pick, either. The place has not one, not two, but three guest rooms. Makes that, guest suites. Since I’m the only one there, I figure I can take the largest of the three, which has a big window overlooking the ocean.
“Take your time getting settled in,” Jack says. “Consider the whole place yours for the weekend. Wi-Fi password is my phone number, but you should take a walk down by the beach, too. Brainstorm, whatever you need. I have a conference call in five minutes, but I’ll catch up with you after that.”
So he is actually planning on doing some work this weekend. He walks away, and I relax a little more. With a happy sigh, I flop down onto the four-poster bed.
Oh Lord, the softness of that down duvet. I have the urge to wrap myself in it and just cocoon for an hour or two. After all, this is a vacation. But after just ten minutes, I get restless. I jump up and unpack a little, hanging my things in a closet that smells like cedar. The room has its own private bathroom, all gleaming marble. Jack really goes all out for his guests. How many other women has he brought here?
Nope, not going to think about that. Anyway, this is different. I’m not a fling, I’m a colleague.
Laptop bag slung over my shoulder, I poke around the rest of the house, avoiding only the office where Jack’s voice carries faintly through the door. The kitchen would probably make Maggie drool. It’s all shimmering stainless steel and buffed countertops as far as the eye can see. There’s a dining room with a ten-seater mahogany table just off it.
On the other side of the living room, I find a sitting room that’s a little more cozy. I curl my legs up on one of the armchairs and pull out my laptop. The soothing crash of the ocean filters through the window. I could get used to working like this, that’s for sure.
I bring up our marketing plans and get to work, and before I know it, the afternoon passes me by. It’s after three when Jack makes an appearance. He leans against the doorframe, watching me with a smile. Something about that look sends a warm shiver over my skin.
“You’re looking comfortable. And I should have known I’d find you working already.”
“That was the plan, right?” I ask.
He chuckles. “I was thinking we’d start with the relaxing, and then take a look at what you’ve got tomorrow. Clear our heads before diving in. If that’s all right?”
He might have a point there. I haven’t stopped poking at these documents all week. I yawn and make myself close the laptop. “Okay. I think I can manage that.”
“Is there anything you need? It’s a bit remote out here, but I’ve got pretty much anything a person could desire on hand.”
Desire. That word wriggles under my skin even more than his look did. Suddenly I feel more hot than I can blame on the fireplace. My voice might come out a little squeaky when I say, “No, really, I’m totally good. Thank you. Maybe I’ll take a bit of a walk along the ocean.”
Cool down.
He nods. “We’ve got a nice stretch of beach here. I was thinking we could grab dinner in town tonight? There’s a place I quite like, nothing fancy, just down the waterfront.”
“That sounds great.”
“Good.” He grins. “It’s a date.”
It’s a date. Jack’s voice echoes in my head a couple hours later as I pace between my suitcase and the closet. I packed five different outfits for different occasions, thinking I’d be covered, but now that just means I have no idea which of them to wear. I make a face at the hanging dresses and grab my phone. Jill is always good for fashion advice.
“Mac!” she cries when she picks up. “How is the place? How is the man?”
I sigh. “Both gorgeous, unsurprisingly. He’s taking me out to dinner. I don’t know what to wear.”
“Oh, a classic dilemma. What exactly are you worried about?”
“Um … what I should wear?”
She laughs. “I mean, what effect are you trying to get? Let me put it more bluntly: Do you want to sleep with him tonight?”
My face flares. “Well, I mean, you know I want to, but—”
“Oh, no, no. No buts. You’ve got to go for it, Mac. The two of you all cozy in his beachside mansion? You’re never going to get a better chance.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to take that chance.”
Jill clicks her tongue. “Look. You’re not setting him up with anyone else from the app. He’s already invested. What reason have you got not to?”
I grimace. “I don’t know. General standards of professionalism?”
“Professionalism, smaressionalism. I want you wearing whatever piece of clothing shows off the most leg, cleavage, or preferably both. And that’s an order from a friend.”
I don’t feel all that much less conflicted when I hang up. But at least Jill has distilled the problem down to one simple question. Do you want to sleep with him?
I drape two different outfits on the bed and consider them. He said the restaurant wasn’t fancy. If I’m just going as a colleague, the jeans and casual black tank top would make the most sense. But I did also bring my little black bombshell dress, just in case Jack did have something fancy planned. It doesn’t exactly flaunt my assets, but it definitely makes it clear I have them.
I bite my lip. This is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
I pick the dress.
19
Jack
“So … you brought McKenna up for the weekend?” Hallie asks, her voice amused on the other end of the phone.
“I do it all the time with my colleagues.” I straighten the collar of my shirt. “We have a lot of business to cover now that the funding is in place,” I say. “I thought a concentrated work period would be a goo
d thing.”
“And how much work have you gotten done so far?”
“She was on her laptop in about five minutes of setting foot in the house,” I say, which is technically true. I don’t have to mention that I made her put the laptop away.
“Uh-huh,” Hallie says, skeptical but still amused. “Well, the only other thing you need to keep in mind is that development meeting Monday morning. Otherwise, that covers it until I see you in the office.”
“Perfect. Thank you, Hallie. You’re a champ.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
She clicks off. I head out to meet McKenna. She’s already waiting in the foyer, studying the painting on the wall. It’s a good thing I see her before she notices me, because in that first moment I almost stumble.
She’s got on a stunning black number that teases the shape of her hips and her breasts, and she’s put on a touch of makeup. Enough to bring out those striking eyes even more, and to fill out that sharp mouth.
God. You’d think I was a horny teenager, the way my body reacts. To hell with petite blondes, she’s everything a man could want. And so much more.
She turns then, and her face lights up with a smile. I’ll be damned if my heart doesn’t skip a beat. There should be laws against women looking that good while standing in my foyer. At least, women who aren’t intending to move from that foyer into my bed.
“Ready to go?” I recover.
“Sure. I’m famished.”
My favorite dining spot in Montauk really is just a short hike down the coastline. During the summer, it’s a pleasant half-hour walk. With the winter nip in the air, we drive. There are only a couple other cars in the parking lot when we arrive. “Off season, it turns into a ghost town around here,” I explain, opening the car door for McKenna. “But come summer, you can’t move for traffic.”
Inside, the owner, Jeffrey, greets me with enthusiasm and shows us to a table by the windows, overlooking the shore. The sun has long since set, but the lights reflecting off the water are a pretty decent view.
I nod to the other diners—distant neighbors I run into most times I’m out here. Jeffrey summons one of the newer waitresses, Cecile. She sets two menus in front of us. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Callahan. The usual wine list?”
“Sure. How’s college treating you this semester?” I ask her as McKenna looks over the menu.
“Oh, pretty good, I think. I passed all my midterms, anyway.”
“That’s a good start. I hope Jeffrey isn’t working you too hard.”
“No, not at all,” she says, with a more relaxed smile.
“Do you remember something about everyone you meet?” McKenna asks after I’ve picked out our bottle.
“I try to,” I reply. “I see too many guys act like everyone is there just to serve them. But even my waitress, or my driver, they all have their own lives to worry about, too.”
“Still, you meet so many people. How do you remember everyone?”
I like that she seems impressed. It’s not easy to get that reaction from her. “It takes some work, but it can be quite a useful skill when you’re networking.”
McKenna turns her attention to the restaurant, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Nothing here is showy or expensive. Just simple, stripped-down dining. But that’s why I like it. Maybe I enjoy indulging in life’s finer experiences, but there’s something fine about simplicity too.
As if she’s guessed what I’m thinking about, she says, “You haven’t told me anything about your family, you know.”
I take a sip of wine, uncomfortable. “There’s not much to tell. My dad worked in a factory. My mum did shifts in the local supermarket. They were always good to me, but … they didn’t understand me. They weren’t educated; they didn’t read or watch the news. Not that it was wrong, it was just … I wanted more. Even as a kid, I knew there was a whole world out there. Places I wanted to see.”
“That must have been hard,” McKenna says softly.
I nod. There’s something about her that makes me want to open up. “There was always a distance between us, but once I went to boarding school, it only got bigger. When I was twenty-two, I landed my first big deal, selling a company I’d acquired for next to nothing.” I smile at the memory. “I went home to visit, and I wrote them a check, more money than my dad had made in ten years. I thought they’d be happy, but … I don’t know.” I give a shrug. “At least I can give them everything they want now: house, cars, vacations …”
“That’s good.” McKenna smiles at me. “It’s nice you’re looking out for them.” She pauses.
“Doesn’t it ever get to you? Coming from a background where you couldn’t take things for granted, and then being surrounded by people who have no clue how lucky they are?”
I start to give a flippant response and catch myself. McKenna deserves a more thoughtful answer. A more honest one. “It used to. Way back. But people can read resentment awfully fast. I had to learn to let those kind of feelings roll off me. I choose the people I spend the most time with carefully. And I keep an eye on myself to make sure I don’t slide too far into that way of thinking.”
“Your charity projects.” McKenna nods.
“And making sure I stay hands-on with the projects I’ve invested in. Spending time with the people doing the real work.”
She pauses. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to let it completely roll off me. I mean, I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it. But I still get pretty pissed off sometimes at the way I’m treated. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m lucky,” she adds quickly. “I got to go to a good college, and my brother made sure I never had to worry about our parents. But still, it’s hard being an outsider in this kind of industry.”
I remember the guy I found harassing her at the gala. The way I saw some of the other men ogling her as if she were there for display purposes only. But she just keeps sailing through.
“I know it’s different for you,” I agree. “I established myself, and now everyone accepts me as ‘one of the boys.’ But I suppose you’re always going to have to contend with people seeing you as a woman first and everything else second.”
“Yeah.” She toys with her glass. “But that’s the way it goes, right? I haven’t let it stop me yet.”
She smiles at me again, determined, and I see again her strength and passion. She won’t let anything stop her from achieving her dreams.
For the first time in a long time, I feel in almost over my head.
“Cheers!” I say. “To two underdogs making it good.”
We clink glasses. McKenna lifts hers to her lips, her head tipping back just enough to show off the curve of her neck. Before I can catch it, my gaze darts down it to the hint of cleavage at the top of her dress.
I drag my gaze away before she notices. What the hell am I doing? She was just talking about how hard it is to be taken seriously, and here I am, panting over her body.
But I know, deep down, it’s not just her body. It’s all of her; everything. That brilliant mind, and her sharp sense of humor, and that brilliant spirit, too. That’s what’s making my head spin, even though I’ve had a single sip of wine.
Our dinner arrives. For the first few minutes, we’re too busy eating to talk.
“I can see why you like this place,” she says when she comes up for air. “I’d drive all the way out to Montauk just for this pasta.”
I grin. “I can always arrange more weekend work excursions.”
She smiles back over the top of the glass. “I may have to take you up on that. I mean, if you want me along.” The assurance in her expression falters. She glances down at her plate and takes a breath.
“I just need to make sure,” she says, meeting my eyes again. “You are funding Perfect Match because you believe in the project, aren’t you? Not because I practically harassed you into it, or because you were tired of dealing with the matches, or …” She bites her lip, and I suspect I know what that or stands for. “I wouldn
’t want you to invest in it unless you really do want to see it through.”
God, is that what she’s been worried about? I shake my head with a rough chuckle.
“McKenna, your app has amazing potential, I believe that. But more importantly, I believe in you. I’ve seen an awful lot of you, between your ‘harassing,’ and, well, other activities.”
Her face flushes a very pretty shade of pink. I can’t help smiling. “I can’t imagine anyone more likely to take the tech world by storm than someone with your commitment and determination and smarts. Don’t you dare think, even for a second, that you don’t deserve this.”
“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, but her face is glowing now. “That’s all I needed to know. You can hand over as much money as you feel like now,” she adds with an impish grin.
I outright laugh at that. “Let’s see how you handle that first million before we get carried away.”
There are all sorts of other ways I’d like to get carried away with her. Especially when she’s got that gleam in her eyes.
We spend the rest of dinner chatting easily. Once she relaxes, McKenna lights up. I haven’t had so much fun in forever—or wanted a woman like this, either. I manage to keep the car on the road on the way back to the house, but it’s a near thing. Every move McKenna makes, every rustle of that dress, goes straight to my head—and lower.
In the kitchen, I stash our leftovers in the fridge. Then I open one of my better bottles of wine—which means it’s really very good—and pour us each another glass. McKenna meanders through the living room and stops by the basement door. “Anything interesting in here?”
“I’ve got my game room downstairs,” I say. “Billiards, card table, but mostly my favorite old arcade games. It’s a good way to recalibrate the mind between work sessions.”
She raises an eyebrow at me.
“It’s also just plain fun,” I admit.
“Well, I’ve got to see this. I can’t believe you forgot to tell me you had a stash of retro video games.”
I flick on the lights as we step into the basement room. McKenna’s eyes glitter twice as bright. “Oh my God!” she says, walking from console to console. “Donkey Kong. Space Invaders. Ms. Pac Man! Wow. I feel like I’ve stepped back in time twenty years.”
