Charlie glanced up to find Mr. Pearse standing at the entrance to her cubicle. Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled her skirt down to hide the offending run.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pearse, I was—”
“Ms. Flynn, since you have plenty of free time to carry on a conversation with yourself about problematic lingerie, in addition to putting the Ainsworth presentation together, I need you to head down to the Copy Edit Department and see what is taking them so long with the Curry woman’s galley.” Pearse straightened his tie. “Do you think you can manage to do that?”
Do I look like an office assistant? Charlie looked up to meet Pearse’s gaze. “I’ll be happy to ask Natalie if she —”
He cut her off. “Ms. Flynn, I wasn’t making a suggestion. I would like you to pick them up. I will see you this evening.” He held her gaze for a moment, jaw clenched, before turning on his heel and storming off.
***
Six hours later, Charlie made her way to Pearse’s office, manuscripts in hand. His secretary was nowhere in sight, so she knocked on his office door. No answer. She slid the reports through the mail slot and hoped they scattered across the floor so he would have to pick them up and sort through them himself. It would serve him right. Her presentation on Daughters of Rome was mostly in order, and she found herself laughing hysterically at how fantastically dreadful her day had been.
Chapter Two
Peeling off her clothes, she left a trail to the shower. Under the scalding spray found herself plotting a drawn out and bloody end for the intern in the copy edit room. It was a simple job. All he had to do was make a copy of the Curry galley and bind it. What should have taken minutes took well over an hour. Now she had little time to get ready for her date. Despite her attempts to wriggle out of the arranged dinner, her sister had sweet-talked her into going out with one of Aaron’s friends.
Aaron was Mikki’s latest conquest. She usually had dates with more men than Charlie had pairs of shoes, but she seemed to settle into a pattern with Aaron, and they had recently announced their engagement and fast approaching wedding. Aaron worked at Pearse in the Acquisitions Department. Charlie had introduced Mikki to him at the last fundraising event.
Since she played matchmaker for her older sister so successfully, Mikki was hell bent on helping, more like pushing, her sister to find her soul mate. Although she couldn’t confirm it yet, Charlie had been suspicious of the good fortune the cookie foretold the other night. She grew more so when Denny conveniently rammed into her at the store. Bachelor Number Two would confirm her suspicions if she could only find out his name. Mikki refused to tell her, insisting that knowing every little thing about the man before she met him ruined the point of a blind date. Charlie bristled at the possibility of another dud like Denny.
Still, she had promised, and now she was making a half-hearted attempt at looking drop dead gorgeous. Just as she was rifling through her pitiful excuse of a wardrobe, she sent a quick text to Mikki.
Charlie: Mikki can I borrow a dress? XO Charlie.
Moments later, her phone beeped back.
Mikki: Sure thing Sis. You have a date with destiny tonight.:) XO M.
Charlie raised an eyebrow and responded.
Charlie: Oh Mikki what on earth have you done!?
Her phone beeped.
Mikki: DUH! YES! Remember your cookie reading the other night? This guy is perfect, and his name just happens to start with ‘D’. It never hurts to get the fates aligned in your favor, even if you have to give them a little shove.
Charlie laughed off the message, now realizing the whole cookie thing was a set up and quickly sifted through her sister’s extensive clothing collection. Needing a boost in the confidence department after the disaster of a workday, she spotted a low cut, charcoal knit dress that would hug all her curves in just the right places. She held it against her body. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, Charlie decided to escape her predictable self. She yanked the still-attached price tag off the beautiful dress with her teeth. But her secret confidence weapon was her pretty little things. Charlie had always had a thing for expensive lingerie. Wearing something sexy underneath her clothing was empowering, and the pair she had donned tonight was no exception. She slipped the dress on over her lacy lingerie and paired it with a pair of killer black boots. Tousling her wavy caramel hair, she let it fall naturally past her shoulders, and applied some light makeup. Catching a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror as she headed out, she dared anyone to mistake her for a nameless research drone tonight.
Settling into her car, Charlie fastened her seat belt and plugged her iPod into the docking station. She pressed shuffle and hummed along to Florence and the Machine’s Howl. Just then, beeping from her phone startled her. A text from an unknown number flashed at her. She gave it a cursory glance and decided it must be from her blind date.
Unknown: Good Evening, Ms. Flynn. Your sister gave me your phone number. I look forward to dining with you this evening. I will see you at the restaurant shortly after eight. - D.
Charlie hesitated for a moment but responded.
Charlie: Great. Looking forward to it.
She cringed as she pushed the send button. He sounded like a stuffed shirt. This time “D” must mean “dud.” You so owe me, Mikki!
She traveled forty minutes into the heart of the north shore of Pittsburgh to Thirteen, a restaurant where she would meet this “D” guy. Charlie loved the city at night. Dusk was darkening into evening, and the office buildings speckled the horizon with lit windows. From the looks of the restaurant, she already knew this date would be a vast improvement over the clumsy affair at the pizzeria with Denny. She stepped inside, grateful for her sister’s expensive taste in clothing. Waiting for the host, Charlie scanned the dining space, and it was elegant but not ostentatious.
Mikki raved about this place all the time. It took months to get a booking, but Aaron knew the chef and had pulled some strings to get a reservation for the originally planned double date. It was one of the most popular spots in the Strip District on the cusp of downtown Pittsburgh. It boasted soaring two-story ceilings. The interior displayed an eclectic mixture of exposed brickwork, polished dark woods, and warm leather furnishings.
The friendly host interrupted the tour her gaze feasted on. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss. Do you have a reservation this evening?”
Charlie was at a loss; she didn’t even know whose name the reservations were under. What could I possibly be thinking? I don’t even know his last name! God, help me, my life is starting to sound like a country song! Charlie shook her head free of those thoughts. This was no time to channel Carrie Underwood.
Sensing her distress, the host politely inquired, “May I have your name, Miss?”
Charlie nervously offered, “Yes. Sorry. It is Charlotte. Charlotte Flynn. I am here on a blind date.” She bit the inside of her cheek and winced, making a mental note to stop offering up unnecessary details.
Oliver, as his nametag read, scanned the list and glanced up, smiling at her. “Yes, Ms. Flynn, we have you here. We have specific instructions to seat you and bring you some refreshments. Shall we?”
Oliver led Charlie to the second-story opera box that overlooked the bar area. It was a private dining section that normally looked to seat four people, but it was set for two. Oliver politely led her to a spot facing the scene at the bar unfolding below. Charlie graciously took her seat and watched the entertainment. She smiled and thanked the host, and he left her alone, but not for long.
Soon, a sharp looking waiter appeared with a drink and something that resembled a bite-sized appetizer.
“Here you are, Miss. Our Amuse Bouche for the evening is yellowtail, lemon mignonette, apple, and trout roe. Our chef’s pairing this evening is a glass of Laurent-Perrier champagne.” He set the flute in front of her.
Charlie’s eyes grew wide. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and champagne on an empty stomach might be trouble.
The waite
r, sensing her hesitancy explained to her, “Chef Costa’s specialty is food and wine pairings. Each of your courses this evening pairs with a glass that complements and draws out the flavors of the dishes. Your dining partner requested the chef’s tasting menu. This is the first of several courses. Please enjoy.”
Charlie took a small sip and quickly decided it was delicious. It was crisp and fresh but well balanced and served with the yellowtail, it was the perfect combination.
She laughed, pondering whether she could land a job as a food critic penning reviews for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette if she couldn’t cut it in the publishing world. She took another sip, mesmerized by the two-story wine cellar she spotted behind the bar. She loved the location Oliver had placed them tonight; floating above the bar like a fly on the proverbial wall.
Charlie let the atmosphere of the restaurant wash away the stress of the day. She closed her eyes and savored the last morsel of the fish. When she opened them, she found Mr. Pearse parting the curtain to the opera box aside. What in the world? How did he track me down here? How dare he interrupt my night!
Charlie eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t look any different than he did at the office today. In fact, he looked sexier than hell. His ink black hair was its usual perfect mess, as though some woman had buried her hands in and tousled it during a moment of passion. Something in his demeanor had the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. Tension gripped her body as she became acutely aware of the lace at the edge of her underwear. His eyes seared from across the room almost as if he heard her thoughts. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? He kept staring at her, and Charlie finally had to break the mutual stare. She found it impossible to keep up with the level of intensity coming at her from the opera box entrance.
The urge to flee kicked in first, but Charlie gulped another swallow from her glass. Suddenly the need to escape fizzled away like the champagne bubbles that floated to the surface of her flute, giving way to some semblance of courage. With her newfound bravery, she stood up, lifted her chin, and walked over to confront him. Why did he have to be so damned gorgeous?
“Mr. Pearse, if you are here about work, I slid those reports you requested into your mail slot before I left for the day. Didn’t you find them?”
His sapphire gaze pierced her brave front, but he offered no response.
Charlie started to speak again, her voice wavering. “What are you doing here, Mr.—”
And then it happened. She stopped midsentence; her breath caught in her throat. He walked toward her, grasped her hand in his, and looked into her eyes. “Good evening, Ms. Flynn, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced. My name is Declan Ryan Pearse, and I will be your date this evening.”
“Are you crazy?” Charlie seethed.
“Well, I had this reservation for a not so blind date. And I am fairly certain I am not mentally unstable. Sounds a bit better than crazy, don’t you think?” Declan kept hold of her hand and grinned.
Smart-ass. Charlie decided to play along. “Charlotte Flynn, but most people call me Charlie.”
Declan released her hand. “And now that we have been formally introduced—Charlotte, Declan—” he said, pointing first at Charlie and then to himself, “will you dine with me?” He motioned her to return to the cozy table set for two.
Charlie swallowed hard. “Why should I?”
“Because I promised Aaron that I would show you a good time. Because you look so lovely sipping that champagne, but I know you have had little, if anything to eat today.” His gaze flicked over her. “Because I want to enjoy a wonderful meal with an intelligent, intriguing, and yet infuriating woman. So many reasons, Ms. Flynn.”
“But I really don’t know you. Yes, I know you are Kellan’s brother, and you now have his job, but you could still be some stalker or psycho or something in your spare time.” Charlie bit her lower lip in nervous frustration.
Declan chuckled darkly. “I am very busy with my new position in the Pittsburgh office, Ms. Flynn. I have absolutely no time to pursue a second line of work as a peeping Tom or a serial killer, I assure you.”
Charlie felt Declan’s hand press gently into her lower back before settling on the curve of her ass. The heat from his hand burned through the thin material of her dress and into her skin. She was certain he could feel the delicate bow gathered at the center of her power panties, right at the base of her tailbone. What the hell was he doing?
She could see Declan’s chest rising and falling, each breath he took deeper than the last. His strong jaw clenched as his thumb began to move, sliding slowly back and forth over the tulle bow clandestinely adorning her derriere. He was waiting for her to stop him. Charlie sucked in a sharp breath feeling suddenly like she was melting from the inside out. Every muscle in her body tensed. Charlie’s brain screamed at her to push his hand off, but her body had other ideas. How could I let my body respond like this? Traitor body.
As Declan led her back to her seat, Charlie still wanted to slap him, but more than that, she wanted him to keep going. There had been plenty of time for her to shove him away or leave, but she had too many feelings to sort out before she could react. Charlie had never felt this way, and she never expected to feel this way about him.
“What are you thinking?” Declan whispered, his eyes somehow both mocking and anxious.
“I am still trying to figure that out.” Charlie glared at him, willing rational thought to penetrate her clouded brain. What should I do? What do I want?
She was so overwhelmed she was trembling. Levelheaded logic was quickly abandoning her as she felt his hand run up her neck and into her hair. Gripping it tightly, Declan jerked Charlie’s head toward him and stared into her eyes. “Dine with me please, Charlotte.”
Charlie replied with a smirk of her own. “All right, Mr. Pearse. Consider it your lucky night. I will join you for dinner.”
“Damn it,” Declan growled as Charlie’s teeth grazed her lower lip.
“What? What exactly is your problem now? I thought we were going to call a truce and have a nice meal together so I could tell Mikki you weren’t a complete jackass.”
“I am. We are. It’s just that every time you rake your teeth across your bottom lip, it drives me wild. You’ve been doing it all day.”
“It’s not like I am doing it on purpose, promise. Besides, why does it make you so crazy?”
Declan leaned in closer and whispered, “When you do that, I want nothing more than to take that luscious bottom lip of yours into my mouth and suck on it. I want to run my tongue across your lips and bite them until you beg me for mercy.”
Charlie felt his eyes on her as she nervously flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, dragged her teeth slowly back across it, and then sunk her teeth into its beautiful, plump flesh.
“Fuck.” Declan’s voice became a wild snarl. His lips crushed hers, and he took her lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it. He shocked her with the sudden violence of his kiss, and she pulled away, panting.
“Mr. P … Declan, what on Earth are you doing? What are we doing?” Charlie panted, their faces close enough to feel the warmth of the other’s breath.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want it to stop. Do you want me to stop?” Declan asked, tucking a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear.
The mixture of anger and lust between them was a lethal combination, threatening to turn them both to ashes on the spot, but Charlie didn’t give a damn, she’d never felt anything so wild and out of control. Declan tore himself away from her mouth and moved to feast on her collarbone, like he was a starving man at a buffet.
She let out a whimper, her voice wild and sexy. “Declan, I can’t. I can’t do this. My job—I love it, I don’t want to quit,” she panted.
“That’s good, Charlotte. Don’t leave your job. I don’t want you to leave your job. You don’t need to quit because of this. Just … let me have you.”
Chapter Three
Declan unbuckled his belt
and pulled it quickly from his pants. The sound system in the room blared some damned song by Kings of Leon. “Charlotte.” Her name escaped his lips in a breathy moan, and then he cursed. She should be there with him right now, naked and wanton, but instead he stood half clothed alone in a hotel room.
The memory of how her delicate flesh pinked up from his mark flashed through his mind. Charlotte had spun around in an attempt to leave, but not before Declan could grip her arm to stop her. He couldn’t resist the urge to taste her skin again, so he had leaned in and gently sunk his teeth into her soft neck. She had shuttered, and he tongued the spot where he had just marked her. Before he could wrap his arms around her and press his hardened body against the soft flesh of her backside, she had pulled away from him and fled from their secluded place in the restaurant.
Pouring himself a glass of single malt on the rocks, he stared out into the night. It was his fault really. The second he realized she would be a perfect choice he should have backed down, been more in control. Declan shook his head in disbelief and took another sip. Damn, this woman was going to make him lose all control. He’d barely known she existed this morning, and now he was pouncing like she was his prey. He should have known this would not go smoothly.
Nothing about his first day at the Pittsburgh office went like it should. Transitions are never easy, but chaos seemed to reign. Kellan, God love him, had left in such a hurry for London, everything was in complete disarray. Sure, he would argue that it was organized, but not to Declan’s standards. Declan was precise and exacting. He liked his secretary to be too. Poor Ms. Ward. She meant well, but he would have to retrain her. It took three hours to get the schedule for next week to his liking. Why should the blind date Aaron set him up on go any differently?
Push (Bound #1) Page 2
