“It sure is coming down out there,” he said, already wheezing from the exertion of the few steps it took to cross her office.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in and play WOW on the clock?”
“No one plays that anymore.”
Lauren might work in IT, but a gamer she wasn’t. A ding announced a new Facebook message and she waited until he had safely lumbered to the other side of her monitor before clicking on the message that read: Want to go out for drinks with us?
Lance. So not her dream guy, but his best friend from high school sure was. She’d had a crush on Jack Haywood ever since her freshman year at South Meck. A hopelessly impossible, from a distance crush, considering he’d been the star football player and she hadn’t even registered on the popular kids’ radar. Back in the day she would have been thrilled to have gotten Lance’s attention. Now, not so much. She’d only friended him in hopes of finding a Jack Haywood on his friends list and of course Lance, the guy whose hard drive she’d had to swipe for viruses from surfing to non-work appropriate sites, would somehow have his Facebook account set up to only see mutual friends.
Typing quick before losing her nerve, she asked, Is Jack going?
Lance: Doubt it. Paper Dolls isn’t exactly his scene.
Dude was asking her to a strip club? If he only knew. Oh wait, maybe he did, and… She looked up at Hank, curious to see if he might have somehow gotten a look at her job application. He hadn’t been the person who hired her, but he probably knew how to hack into the human resources database. Deciding to see if she could get a reaction out of him, she said, “Are you going Paper Dolls with Lance?”
From the way his face reddened, that was definitely a yes, at least on the location for drinks. “I’m just going to, you know, hang out with the guys.”
“You do know that’s a strip club?”
He nodded, too embarrassed to even meet her gaze.
“Have fun.” She waved him off dismissively, figuring her secret was safe.
Lauren clicked back to Facebook and typed. Nope, I’m going to Tootsie’s.
Only tourists go to Tootsie’s, Lance quickly replied.
Tourists who generously buy drinks for local cowgirls.
Lance: I’ll buy you a drink.
Hoping to shut him up, she typed: Only one drink? How about a lap dance? Better yet, how about a link to Jack’s page?
Surprisingly enough, after a couple of minutes he replied with the link that she wanted. After clicking it to make sure he wasn’t messing with her, she replied, Thanks! Swing by Tootsie’s and I’ll buy you a beer
You got it, babe!
Babe? Could Lance have been any more clueless?
Lauren exited out of chat before he could prove her right and went back to browsing the page of one Mr. Jackson Haywood. Browsing might not have been the best word, since he’d set everything other than his profile photo to private. So, she decided to risk it and promptly sent him a friend request.
Jackson
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the titty bar with us?”
“No,” Jackson Haywood said, not even looking up from his computer screen. “I’m going to stay over and knock out these reports.”
Lance laughed. “You know what they say, all work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy.”
“I’ll risk it.” He pulled a dollar from an every growing pile of take- out lunch change and handed it to Lance. “Here have a lap dance on me.”
“That won’t even get you a wink and a smile at the Paper Doll Lounge.”
“Must be a classy joint then. Even so, don’t give out my number. I’m still having nightmares from that last chick you tried to set me up with.”
“Dude, you seriously need to lighten up and get laid.”
Jackson stopped typing long enough to wave him off, and then it was back to work. If he finished these reports maybe he’d reward himself by stopping at Publix for a pizza and a six back of import beer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any serious carbs, much less, as Lance so non-eloquently put it, got laid. All those five a.m. early mornings in the gym and no one was seeing his newly chiseled abs but the guy staring back at him in the bathroom mirror.
Yeah, he was definitely overdue for a pizza and… No time for that right now. He had work to do.
A boom of thunder startled Jackson into looking up from his report just in time to see a bolt of lightning flash across the Nashville skyline. He got up from his desk to take a rare moment to stand in front of his plate glass floor-to-ceiling windows to enjoy the spectacular view of the storm pelting LP Field. He had a covered parking spot within walking distance of the stadium, but he could count on one hand the number of times he’d used his Titans season tickets.
“Yeah, I guess I really do need to get a life.” He quickly reached to close the door to his office and stopped when he realized there was no one around to hear him talking to himself. Or catch him in a compromising yoga pose. He slid off his shoes and did a quick descent into downward dog, holding the pose until his mind started to clear.
Next time, he told himself, he’d at least try to strike up a conversation with one of the decent looking women in his Saturday morning yoga class. His divorce had been finalized over a month ago and he hadn’t so much as asked a woman to coffee much less an actual date. Much less…. No use in dwelling on that now.
Jackson went back to his desk and opened another spreadsheet. Number and formulas he knew. Women, not so much.
Another boom of thunder caused Jackson to look up, noticing the sky had gone pitch black and it was raining so hard that he couldn’t even see the “bat tower” points of the nearby AT&T building. Maybe he should just crash on the sofa in his office instead of attempting to brave that kind of weather. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for him at home.
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” he said, sprinkling a few pellets of food to the betta fish that swam in a bowl on top of the bookcase beside a withering fern. Jackson opened the mini fridge, one of the perks of his recent promotion, and twisted the cap off a bottle of AquaFina. He took a swig and then watered the fern. “Sorry for neglecting you.”
Trying to have conversations with fish and ferns? Damn, he really did need to get out more. He stood at the window a couple more minutes, watching lightning flash across the Cumberland River. A dark stormy night might have been kinda romantic, if he ever found anyone to get romantic with. His ex had been terrified of storms, always drinking herself into a stupor. Like he should even be thinking of that bitch. She was her poor girlfriend’s problem now.
“That’s right, she left me for a woman.”
The betta fish kept right on swimming, not at all concerned by his now lesbian ex-wife or her tennis pro girlfriend.
“Nice to know someone made good use of those country club dues.” There he went talking to the damn fish again. “Oh, well, back to work.”
Jackson sat down behind his desk and clicked open another file. He started scanning the report, only to be distracted by the beep of his cell phone. He checked the phone, intending to tell Lance he’d talk to him later. Surprisingly, it was a friend request from a hot blond named Lauren. He added her and without clicking elsewhere went back to crunching the latest budget.
He had just made it down to the last row of figures when an unusually loud clap of thunder rattled the windows. There was a boom and the lights went out. He waited a moment for the emergency backup on his surge protector to kick in.
Nothing. No chirps and no monitor flickering back to life.
“Damn!” He kicked at the useless backup power supply. “Damn. Damn. Fucking damn.” If he’d lost all the updates he’d made he was so fucking screwed, and not in the good, fun kind of way. “Damn.”
Jackson fumbled through his desk drawer for a flashlight. He clicked it on and went out into the hallway, thankful that his secretary always kept a candle on her desk. He lit the candle, coughing over the sticky sweet smell
of…he read the candle label: Love in Bloom. How fucking ironic. He couldn’t take care of a fern, much less grow anything as complicated as a relationship.
He carried the candle to his desk and just as he sat down the lights flickered back on. His monitor, however, stayed dark. He tried pushing the power button on the tower and got nothing but beeps as the monitor power button flashed an angry orange.
“If this doesn’t blow big fat chunks, I don’t know what does.” The betta fish fluffed up its tail, finally, agreeing with him. “Guess I’d better call the helpdesk.” He picked up his phone, pounding the buttons in frustration when he didn’t get a dial tone. “Damn.”
Yeah, it sure seemed that way.
Lauren
The lights started flickering just as Lauren finished painting her last nail a pretty shade of electric blue. The overhead light went out, plunging the IT department into darkness. The screen on her work computer went black, but her MacBook stayed on, providing enough light from the glare of her screen saver to cap the nail polish. She glanced at the time in the top right of the MacBook screen. Nine minutes until the end of my shift and this happens. At least she’d already done her makeup and changed into a way too short for work denim mini skirt and her new shiny black leather cowboy boots. She wasn’t about to let a little rain keep her from going to Tootsie’s.
Those classes were a hell of a lot more fun than shaking her ass at Paper Dolls. Especially considering that damn three-foot distance rule. Not that she got off on being groped by drunk rednecks, but lap dances were where the real money was. If the club she’d worked at back home in Charlotte had that rule, she’d never have been able to pay her way through college, stripping to earn a degree that left her alone in a dingy second floor office making half the money. She laughed over what might not have been the best of career choices.
Lightning flashed through the room’s only small window and she jumped from the latest loud clap of thunder, startled by a not-so-pleasant reminder that she wasn’t really that person anymore. Maybe this whole helpdesk gig would be worth it in a few more years, when her tits started sagging and her feet ached in stilettos.
Until then, she was just about bored fucking shitless. Sometimes bored was a good thing, at least five minutes until quitting time. Lauren hoped the power would stay off these last few minutes so she’d be able to get the hell out of there without getting any calls.
She made herself stop watching the clock by browsing back to her Facebook page and noticing that Jackson had accepted her friend request. She clicked over to his page and sighed as she scrolled through his now accessible photos. He was as gorgeous as the day he’d graduated from South Meck. Same dark hair. Same full, oh-so-kissable lips. Perfect white teeth. And that bod. Even better than it had been in high school. Not that she’d ever gotten that close to it then, other than occasionally passing him in the school hallways.
Lauren clicked the About link and saw his relationship status was hidden. Lance had told her he was divorced, so…. Her heart skipped a beat when she read that he was employed by Hutchings and Holmes. Their offices were on the twenty-eighth floor and just happened to be one of the Pinnacle building businesses supported by this helpdesk.
I sure would like to get hold of his hard drive, she thought, just as the lights came back on. She blinked and checked the display on her phone, 6:59. One more minute. Just one more minute until she could clock out and go get her groove on at Tootsie’s.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Her office phone shrilled like a siren.
“Fuck a duck!”
Lauren glared at the damn phone, seeing it was an extension on the twenty-eighth floor. Any other floor and she would have let it roll into voice mail. The name “Sue Tinery” flashed across the display. Any other damn floor. If she wanted to keep her miserable excuse for a job, she had no choice but to take the call.
“Helpdesk,” she said, not sounding the least bit helpful.
For someone named Sue, a quite masculine voice said, “My computer died and I’ve lost all my work.”
“What’s it doing?”
“Nothing!” She, he, or it, said. “Can you please come up and see if you can retrieve my files?”
“Hold on.” Lauren typed the extension into her work system, hoping to remotely log in for a quick fix. The terminal attached to that phone extension wasn’t even turned on. “Can you tell me the service tag number on the top of your system?”
“I’m not in my office. I’m on my secretary’s phone.”
“Okay, then what is your extension and I’ll see if I can find the tag in our system?”
“2806.”
She typed in the number and caught her breath when the name Jackson Haywood popped up on her screen. It was him. She was talking to Jack.
“I’ll be up in just a few minutes,” she said, her tone suddenly as helpful as it could get.
Jackson fucking Haywood needing her help. How fucking amazing was that?
Lauren grabbed up her tool kit and dashed to the bathroom for a quick inspection under the harsh florescent glare of a mirror. Good thing she’d changed and done her makeup already. No way would she have wanted to go to Jackson’s office in her usual sweat pants and plain-faced pony tail. She undid an extra button on her blouse and popped in a breath mint.
Tootsie’s was just gonna have to wait.
Jackson
Jackson paced the length of his office, too nervous about his files to even try to sit. He hadn’t expected his call to the helpdesk to be answered by some girl that sounded young enough to still be in college. Her Southern twang hadn’t done much to boost his confidence either. Having already decided that this couldn’t be good, he went to the elevator and was standing there with his arms folded over his chest when the door flew open.
He took one look at the curvy blond and instantly hoped she hadn’t noticed his jaw hit the floor. This woman looked like she should have been hitting one of the Broadway honky tonks, instead of showing up to try to fix his computer.
“Hey, I’m Lauren,” she said, showing him the ID badge clipped to her bag.
“You must be new here,” he said, trying to keep his eyes on her face and off the impressive swell of her breasts.
“Yeah, I’m the newbie.” She smiled, revealing surprisingly girlish dimples. “Six weeks and the big bad IT dudes have finally turned me loose on my own.”
“I’m–”
“Jack…” She laughed nervously and quickly corrected herself. Jackson Haywood. I saw your name on the screen when I tried to access your system.”
“No one’s called me Jack since back at South Meck.” No one other than Lance, anyway. He’d thought Jackson sounded more professional when he’d first gotten serious about establishing himself as a business executive—working as a bank teller the summer he’d graduated from high school.
“Really?” She laughed again. “I went to South Meck too. Class of ’09. Small world, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I graduated in 2006.” He gave her a good once-over, trying to place her and not for the life of him remembering her until it dawned on him that she was the chick that he’d just friended on Facebook. The one Lance had been going on and on about. “You know Lance, don’t you?”
Her blond curls shimmered as she nodded. “Guilty. I hope you don’t mind me sending you the friend request. I’ve not been living in Nashville long and don’t know a lot of people yet.”
“No problem. It’s always nice to meet a fellow Sabre.” Especially one as smoking hot as this lady. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you from back then.”
“Go Sabres!” Her blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I was only a freshman when you graduated, about fifty pounds lighter and a brunette.”
He couldn’t help noticing more than her eyes when he said, “You’ve certainly filled out nicely,” regretting how stupid that sounded almost as soon as the words left his lips.
“Thanks,” she blushed a little, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
/> “I’ve been working out a lot, weights and hot yoga.” This time he felt the heat burning across his cheeks, but he kept right on going. “You should try the Saturday morning yoga class sometime. Not that you need to work out or anything, but it’s really a lot of fun.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She tilted her head toward the door to his office, obviously just being nice about not calling him a new age nerd for going to yoga class. “Okay, then Jackson, what’s going on with your computer?”
“My computer?”
“You called the helpdesk about a computer problem.”
“Oh, yes.” Man, had she ever gotten under his skin. “It must have crashed when the power went out because now I can’t get it to come back on.” He led her into his office saying, “It knocked out my phone, too. That’s why I had to call from my secretary Sue’s desk.”
“Okay, let me see.” Lauren took a seat behind his desk, looking totally sexy in his huge, leather-backed chair. She tried the power button and when nothing happened he didn’t feel quite as stupid. She pulled the cord out of the back of the tower and held the power button again.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Discharging the power.”
She bent over to check the cables, offering up a spectacular view of her nice round ass barely covered in soft blue denim—a major improvement from the hairy ass crack of the usual three hundred pound plus male helpdesk person who’d responded to his last problem.
“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything,” he said while he waited. Surely she didn’t dress like that every day.
“I was planning on going to the line dancing class at Tootsie’s,” she said from under the desk. “You like country music?”
“Love it,” he lied. Jackson had only been down on Broadway one weekend when a few of his old college buddies had been in town. One night had been enough of the loud music and drunken tourists. He really was a late hours at work and Saturday morning yoga kind of guy. “Lance was just saying we should go to one of those classes.”
Executive Assistant Page 32
