One Night

by Ramona Gray

  ONE NIGHT

  By Ramona Gray

  Copyright 2016 Ramona Gray

  This book is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed.

  Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Adult Reading Material

  Cover design by Melody Simmons

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  “Oh darling,” he murmured tenderly into her ear, “Until this very moment with you in my arms, I didn’t realize just how empty my life was.”

  “Show me just how much you love me,” Kate whispered.

  His mouth was warm on hers and as he rained soft kisses on her full lips, Kate pressed her body against his. He kissed her passionately and Kate tried to lose herself in the moment but was increasingly distracted by his facial hair. Did he have a beard before? She couldn’t remember. She shook off the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right and parted her lips further, eager to deepen the kisses. She tried to slowly slide her tongue into his mouth but was thwarted by a thick layer of his facial hair.

  What the hell?

  She tried to pull back but his facial hair was everywhere, in her mouth, up her nose - she couldn’t breathe. She was about to be the first woman in history to die of asphyxiation from facial hair. Before she could succumb to death by beard, the loud beeping of her alarm clock jarred her awake.

  “Chicken, get off me!” She grumbled, her voice muffled by the fourteen pounds of cat currently lying across her head.

  When Chicken refused to budge, Kate made the error of touching her. She had adopted Chicken from the local animal shelter three years ago. She had gone in with the expectation of adopting a cute, fluffy kitten with big eyes and long hair and who would charm everyone with her sweet personality and beautiful looks. An hour later she left with an old, fat grey tabby named Chicken whose personality was described by one volunteer as “unexpectedly angry”.

  But, as she explained to her best friend Olivia over coffee the next day, “She was scheduled to be put down that day. How was I supposed to just walk away from her?”

  “Why is your hand all bandaged like that?” Olivia asked.

  “Chicken’s not so, how do you say it…friendly with people? She likes her space,” Kate replied.

  “And those big scratches down your leg?” Olivia pointed to the painful looking scratches that started at Kate’s knee and ended just above her ankle.

  “Oh that? Well, you know my chair by the window in the sun room?

  “Yes,” Olivia replied.

  “Chicken’s decided that’s her chair now and when I tried to move her over so I could sit down and share it with her she got a little, eh, territorial. But I’m sure she’ll be fine in the next few days. She’s still traumatized from being on death row,” Kate said cheerfully.

  In the three years since then Kate and Chicken had arrived at an unspoken agreement. Chicken wouldn’t use her as a shredding post if Kate didn’t try to touch her unless specifically invited to. Kate also learned fairly quickly to warn her guests to avoid touching Chicken, resist from looking her in the eye and that it was, in fact, probably best to just refrain from looking in the general direction of the angry tabby.

  This morning, however, her body’s will to survive overrode her common sense and as she reached up and gave the cat a shove on the butt to get her moving, Chicken growled and flung herself off Kate’s head with an irritated hiss.

  “Ouch! Dammit, Chicken!” Kate cried.

  She slammed her hand down on the alarm clock, silencing it’s frantic beeping, and crawled out of bed to inspect the damage to her face.

  “Nice,” she muttered as she peered into the bathroom mirror.

  Thanks to Chicken’s quick exit and razor sharp nails she now had a bright red scratch down the middle of her forehead. She had been shamelessly flirting with Josh, the super cute guy from the train, for the past two weeks and she could only imagine how well the flirting would go with a giant scratch on her forehead.

  Nearly an hour later Kate carefully weaved her way through the usual crowd of people on the train. Why she was even moving to the back of the train where her potential boyfriend usually sat, she wasn’t sure. Her morning hadn’t gotten any better with the realization that she really should have done some laundry yesterday instead of re-watching the first two seasons of ‘The Walking Dead’. Her lack of clean clothes had left her no choice but to wear one of her least flattering pairs of pants with a white shirt that had seen a few too many accidental spins in the dryer and was now a bit too snug for work. The shirt cupped her full breasts and hugged her lean stomach and as she pushed past people she could feel the unwelcoming glances of a couple of the more lecherous type fellows who rode the train.

  “Excuse me, please,” she murmured as she squeezed past a lady in her fifties.

  “Sorry,” she muttered to the young guy whose foot she had just stepped on.

  She was almost at the end of the train - she could see the back of Josh’s head. Just a few more steps and she’d be there, prepared to flirt her way into a dinner and movie date. With a sudden jolt the train started to move and Kate was flung sideways. Her feet tangled together and she fell with a graceless heap into the lap of a well-dressed businessman sitting on one of the side seats, her head slamming against the back of the seat with a loud bang.

  With an unladylike grunt, she sat up straight and tried to scramble from the man’s lap but his hands were on her waist and he was holding her firmly against him.

  “Are you okay?” His deep voice washed over her.

  “I’m fine, I’m so sorry…”

  She trailed to a stop as her breath caught in her throat.

  She was very close to the man’s face, kissing distance as her mom liked to say, and she had never seen eyes that blue before. Her eyes traveled over his face before she could stop herself. He had dark hair with a hint of gray at the temples, a proud aristocratic nose and a hard angular jaw. She was mesmerized by the fullness of his bottom lip and stared in fascination when he smiled briefly and she got a glimpse of straight white teeth. She realized abruptly that she was still sitting on his lap and tried again to struggle her way free but he refused to let her go. He was saying something to her but her newly acquired head injury and the closeness of his warm, solid body seemed to have temporarily short-circuited her brain.

  “I didn’t hear - what?” She stammered, still staring at his mouth.

  “You’ve scratched your forehead on the seat,” he said.

  “What? Oh no, that’s from Chicken in bed this morning,” Kate mumbled.

  “Chicken in bed?” The man arched one eyebrow and stared at her. “Do you mean you were eating chicken in bed or you share your bed with a chicken?”

  “No! Chicken’s my cat.” Kate took a deep breath, her head had stopped ringing and she was aware of the bemused look on the faces of the other passengers around them. She was still sitting on the man’s lap, his hands now pl
aced firmly on her hips and their faces only inches apart.

  “Really, I’m okay,” Kate said, “I just need to stand up.”

  “Hold on,” he said, “let me look at your head first.”

  Before Kate could protest he was holding her jaw with his lean fingers and turning her head to one side and then the other. He tugged gently on her chin, forcing her head down slightly. His other hand left her hip and as he slowly threaded his fingers through her thick red hair she wondered why it suddenly seemed so difficult to breathe. She winced when his fingers rubbed against the large scrape on her scalp.

  “Sorry,” he murmured into her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine and a rush of heat to her lower body. “Looks like just a scrape, it’s not bleeding.”

  He returned his hands to her hips. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach from the weight of his hands and cleared her throat.

  “Please, let me up. I’m perfectly fine - just really embarrassed.”

  For the first time since she fell into his lap, the man seemed to really look at her. She could feel her face growing red as he stared at the scratch on her forehead. His astonishingly blue eyes looked briefly and intently into her light green ones and then moved lower to her mouth. Her mouth suddenly dry, she darted her tongue out to wet her lower lip. He made a low noise in his throat at the sight of her tongue. With dawning horror, Kate felt her nipples harden when his gaze fell to her breasts. The snug white shirt left no doubt to the effect his bold look was having on her and when he glanced back up at her, his large hands tightening a little on her hips, she watched a slight grin cross his face for just a moment.

  Angry at herself and her reaction to him, Kate placed her hands against his hard chest and shoved herself up and out of his arms as the train came to a bumpy stop.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said in a loud clear voice “but this is my stop”.

  She wobbled her way off the train, not caring that this was actually two stops early. She needed to get away from the intensity of his gaze and her body’s shameful reaction to it. In the cool morning air, Kate held her aching head and took a few deep breaths as the train pulled away.

  Everything is fine. Sure, you just fell into the lap of an incredibly handsome man and then humiliated yourself further by acting like some sex-starved maniac but you’ll never see him again. Everything is cool.

  * * *

  The law office of Harper and Thompson was a well-known law firm in the city. In 1988 Arthur Harper and Gerald Thompson had formed a partnership that had lasted almost thirty years. Over that thirty-year span the company had grown from two lawyers and an admin assistant working out of a small unassuming office, into a large, bustling company that employed over a dozen lawyers, eight legal assistants and six administrative staff. Five years ago Kate had interviewed for and was offered a job as Gerald Thompson’s personal assistant. The first year had been a difficult one. Gerald Thompson was well known for his fiery temper and loud outbursts and unless she was well rested and fueled by caffeine, Kate’s patience easily wore thin. Eventually they grew to an understanding. Gerald kept his temper mostly in check and stopped referring to Kate as “that girl who brings me coffee and types my letters”, and Kate ignored his occasional childish tantrum and went against her nature by bringing him a coffee every morning.

  Three weeks ago tragedy struck their office when Gerald Thompson suffered a fatal heart attack while playing the fifteenth hole at Westwood Golf Club. When Arthur Harper, who was as kind as Gerald had been callous, called Kate into his office the day after the funeral, she had steeled herself for the inevitable. Arthur already had a personal assistant, Olivia, and only the partners were given personal assistants. The other lawyers in the firm shared the services of three other admin assistants and there was no need for help from Kate in the admin pool. She had been shocked when instead of being handed a notice of termination, Arthur had gently patted her hand with his gnarled fingers and told her not to worry, that plans had already been put into motion and a new partner was going to be starting in a couple of weeks.

  “So you see, Kate,” Arthur had smiled at her “you’re still very much a part of the Harper, Thompson team.”

  Kate had thanked him and left his office, giving a quick smile and nod of relief to Olivia on the way past her desk. She had spent the last two weeks clearing out Gerald’s office in preparation for the arrival of the new partner, Edward Turner, this morning.

  Kate hurried into the reception area, smiling warmly at the receptionist, Rose, who gave a brief wave and grin before answering another call on the switchboard. She walked the short distance to her desk and quickly turned on her computer, aware that her unplanned walk from the train station had made her ten minutes late.

  “You’re late, Katie pie.” Olivia was standing by her desk, tapping one perfectly-manicured finger on the dark wood. “Wow – that’s some screaming bright scratch you’ve got on your forehead. What happened?”

  Kate grinned ruefully at her best friend, “I tried to french kiss Chicken this morning.”

  Olivia sighed and rolled her eyes “You really need to get laid, girl.”

  Kate laughed as she tucked her purse under desk. She had met Olivia four years ago when she was hired as Arthur’s personal assistant and over the last four years they had grown very close. Kate had spent many evenings and weekends hanging out with Olivia and her husband Jon, an engineer for a local mining company.

  Kate loved Olivia and her weird sense of humour although she always felt slightly less feminine around her. At 5’5, with her blonde hair cut in a stylish bob and her light green eyes and slender frame, Olivia was a very striking woman. She oozed sensuality and femininity. At 5’11, Kate towered over her and her womanly curves looked almost chubby compared to Olivia’s sleek and slender body. But Olivia was also extremely intelligent and kind, a good listener and made a delicious and dangerous strawberry margarita.

  “So you’re late because you tried to french kiss Chicken this morning?” Olivia asked.

  “Nope,” Kate said. “I’m late because I fell into some guy’s lap on the train this morning and was so embarrassed I got off two stops early and walked the rest of the way to work.”

  “Really?” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows at Kate. “Was this guy good looking?”

  “I didn’t really notice,” Kate said innocently.

  “Liar!” Olivia laughed. “I can tell by the look on your face that he was.”

  “He was somewhat attractive. Listen, I need to get ready for Mr. Turner’s arrival so take your cute butt back to your desk,” Kate said.

  “Mr. Turner’s already here,” Olivia replied. “He’s in Arthur’s office right now. In fact, when I arrived this morning Rose told me that Arthur and Mr. Turner had just gone into his office and he had asked to not be disturbed. And apparently, Mr. Turner is, as Rose puts it ‘a real dish’.”

  “Shit!” Kate muttered. “He wasn’t supposed to be in until ten and I still haven’t finished completely clearing out the desk.”

  “Move your ass, girl,” Olivia said as she walked down the hallway.

  Kate ran into Gerald’s former office and began to hurriedly empty the desk drawers. A half hour later she had successfully cleaned out the desk of miscellaneous papers and office supplies. The recycling box was full and she heaved it off the floor. The top stack of papers fell out of the box and slid under the desk. Cursing to herself, Kate crawled under the desk and hurriedly scooped up the papers and tossed them back in the box. She straightened and promptly whacked her head on the desk in the same spot she had hit it on the train this morning.

  “Fuck!” She cried, holding her head as she staggered to her feet. Someone cleared their throat behind her and she whirled around, her hair hanging in her face and the front of her white shirt covered in dust. There in front of her stood Arthur Harper and the stranger from the train.

  “You,” Kate breathed in disbelief.

  “Kate, this is Edward Tur
ner. Edward, this is Kate Jones, your personal assistant.”

  “We’ve met, but not formally,” Edward replied curtly, holding out his hand. Kate shook the hair out of her face and gave his outstretched hand a quick shake.

  At the touch of his hand, her face went warm and her traitorous nipples hardened again. Quickly she bent and picked up the heavy box of recycling from the floor, holding it in front of her like a shield.

  “Kate, are you okay?” Arthur asked. “You’re looking a little flushed, and you have a huge scratch on your forehead.”

  “It’s from a chicken,” Edward offered.

  “What?” Arthur asked.

  “Her scratch - it’s from a chicken.”

  “It is not from a chicken,” Kate retorted, “it’s from my cat named Chicken”. She frowned at her new boss who stared back at her with an inscrutable look on his face.

  “I see,” Arthur said slowly. “Well, this is your office, Edward. You’ve met Kate and she can help you with any questions. Welcome to the firm, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  The two men shook hands and, as Arthur left the office, Kate shifted the box of recycling into a more comfortable position and faced Edward. As he studied his new office she took the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He was tall, she guessed about 6’4”, and lean with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His height and piercing blue eyes struck an imposing figure and she felt a little shiver run through her when he turned and looked at her.

  “As you can see,” she said awkwardly, “I’ve cleaned out your desk so you can put your - ”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Edward interrupted. “I’ve got some new furniture coming in tomorrow afternoon. Once it arrives, I’ll need your help with arranging it and organizing my files and paperwork which should be arriving this afternoon from my firm in New York.”

  He looked her up and down, but unlike the slow deliberate glance from the train this morning that had filled Kate with warmth, this one left her feeling like she was lacking something.