by Jenna Sutton
Disappointment flooded him. He had hoped they would be able to have dinner together.
He waited, hoping Kyla would invite him to her mother’s home for dinner and a movie. He’d met Letty when she had stopped by the office to have lunch with her daughter, and he had immediately liked her. She would be a good mother-in-law.
When he became conscious of the drift of his thoughts, he got a little light-headed. He abruptly realized that he wasn’t just in love with Kyla. He wanted to build a life with her.
Marriage. Children. Pets. Minivans … okay, maybe not minivans. Maybe a mid-size SUV.
“Are you okay?” Kyla asked. “You have a weird look on your face.”
His mind was filled with a slideshow of Kyla—naked in his bed, wearing a wedding dress, pregnant with his baby, surrounded by kids who were just as smart and sweet as their mother, growing old with him.
“Jake?” Kyla asked, her voice shaded with concern.
He focused on her face, and she frowned. “Are you upset that I talked with Vanessa about you?”
Shaking his head, he asked, “Did you talk about me a lot?”
“Yes.”
His question was his best attempt to ascertain how she felt about him without being too obvious. He needed to know where she was emotionally so he could plan his next move.
He was in love with Kyla. He wanted them to be exclusive. Hell, he wanted to put a ring on it.
But he had to be realistic about the whole situation. Although he didn’t think she considered him as a weekend fling, he had no way of knowing. He was probably far more emotionally invested than she was, and he needed to be patient. Every gambler knew that you couldn’t show your hand too early, or you’d risk losing the game.
He crowded her against the counter until their bodies were pressed together. She tipped her head back and met his eyes.
“What did you talk about?”
She licked her lips before saying, “We talked about a lot of things.”
Grasping her waist, he boosted her onto the countertop and stepped between her knees. “Like what?”
“At first I just talked about the projects we worked on together.”
He brushed his mouth against hers. “That’s boring.”
She smiled, and he felt the movement against his lips. “I’m never bored when I’m with you.”
That made him smile. “I’m glad I can entertain you. What else did you talk about?”
“One day Vanessa asked how old you were, and when I told her that you were thirty-one, she asked what you looked like.” She smoothed a hand over his hair. “So I described you.”
She slid her fingers into his hair and lightly ran her fingernails over his scalp. The gentle scratch made him break into goose bumps.
“What did you say?” he asked as he skimmed his hands under her robe.
“I said that you were handsome. That you were tall and had beautiful eyes. And that you were sexy and had a great butt.”
He cupped his hands around the smooth globes of her ass. “You have a great butt, too.” He squeezed lightly. “There were a few times when I had to put my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t grab it.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirmed.
Stroking his hand over her hip, he found the springy hair at the juncture of her thighs. She widened her legs, and he eased his fingers between the folds of her pussy. She was soft and hot and so fucking wet he almost came right then and there.
As he circled the entrance to her body with his forefinger, he wondered if she was too sore for this. He’d taken her so many times they had used all the condoms he’d brought with him and all of hers, too.
He dipped the tip of his finger into her, and when she let out a little moan of pleasure, he withdrew and slowly pushed two fingers inside. “Every time we were together, I thought about this. I had a constant hard-on.”
She clutched his shoulders. “Every time we were together, I was afraid that you’d guess how I felt about you.”
“How do you feel about me?” he asked, pumping his fingers in and out of her.
She rocked against his hand, panting softly. He flicked her clit with his thumb, back and forth, back and forth, and she whimpered.
“How do you feel about me, Kyla?” he persisted.
She looked at him, her eyes hazy with lust. “I want you.”
Before he could formulate another question, she pushed her hand between them and cupped it over his, forcing his fingers deeper. She cried out, and her pussy clamped down on his fingers, almost vibrating with the intensity of her orgasm. He stayed with her until the last pulses had faded. Her hand fell away from his, and she slumped against him.
“It’s different with you,” she whispered. “It’s not just sex. It means something.”
And that was enough. For now.
CHAPTER NINE
A loud knock on Jake’s partially open office door pulled his attention from the oversized computer monitor where he was reviewing a spreadsheet. He glanced up just as Quinn O’Brien stuck his head around the door.
“Hey, there.”
Surprised, Jake vaulted to his feet. “Good morning.”
“I thought you might already be here,” Quinn said.
Jake darted a glance at his watch, wondering why the president and CEO of Riley O’Brien & Co. stood in his office at seven-thirty on a Monday morning. Quinn rarely dropped by unannounced, and even though Jake didn’t think he had any reason to worry about his job, an arrow of anxiety shot through him.
If Quinn had come by fifteen minutes earlier, he would have found the office empty. At approximately seven-fifteen, Jake had been in his Mustang on the deserted lower level of Riley Plaza’s underground parking garage. He hadn’t been alone.
Kyla had been with him, sitting on his lap with her skirt hiked up to her waist and his cock lodged deep inside her. It had only taken a few deep thrusts and a couple of strokes across her clit for both of them to go off like rockets.
The sex had been fast and rough, and it had barely taken the edge off his hunger for her. Since the party eleven days ago, Jake and Kyla had spent every night together. And every morning, he’d woken up wanting her more than he had night before.
Quinn cleared his throat. “Do you have some time to talk?”
“Of course,” Jake replied, rounding his desk.
At thirty-five, Quinn controlled a multi-billion-dollar company, and he did a damn fine job of it. Jake wasn’t the only one who thought so, either. Two well-known business magazines had named Quinn as one of the nation’s top CEOs.
“A new smoothie bar just opened down the block,” Quinn said. “Let’s take a walk.”
They took the escalator to the ground floor of Riley Plaza and exited the building. Since it was so early in the morning, the sidewalk was fairly empty, and they were able to stroll along side by side.
“So…” Quinn said, drawing out the word, “Amelia told me that you played referee when she met with Diana to go over the annual budget for the Women’s Division.”
Jake glanced sideways. “Were those her words?”
Quinn met his eyes. “No. But you and I both know that’s what you were doing.”
A smart man went out of his way to avoid getting caught between two strong-willed women who disliked one another. Unfortunately, Jake didn’t have that option when it came to Amelia and Diana. So, he slipped a whistle between his teeth, metaphorically at least, and called personal fouls when necessary.
Quinn stopped in front of a storefront with a bright orange awning. “This is it. Smoothie Criminal.”
“What’s their tagline? Our smoothies are so good they should be illegal?”
Quinn grinned as he pulled open the door. Jake followed him into the store and took a look around. With the exception of a couple of people occupying the barstools near the windows, it was empty.
“It’s not very busy,” he noted sotto voce. “I hope the product is better than the
name.”
“I think it’s clever,” Quinn countered. “Smooth Criminal is a great song.” He hummed a few notes of the hit before asking, “Don’t you like Michael Jackson?”
“Of course I like Michael Jackson. Who doesn’t like Michael Jackson?”
“Prove it,” Quinn said, his dark blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Show me your moonwalk, Lilliard.”
Jake glanced down at his feet. “Even Michael Jackson couldn’t moonwalk in motorcycle boots.”
Quinn made a rude nose. “Don’t blame your boots. I’m wearing boots, and I can still do this…” He brought his arms close to his body and perfectly executed the spin move that the King of Pop had made famous.
The young guy behind the counter laughed. “Nice moves, dude. What can I get you?”
Jake looked at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter. All the smoothies were named after illegal activities.
“I can’t decide whether I want a ‘Drunk & Disorderly’ or a ‘Public Lewdness,’” Quinn said, his voice threaded with laughter.
They placed their order. Quinn paid, joking that he was going to expense their smoothies since this was a business meeting.
As they waited for their smoothies, Quinn said, “Thank you for trying to ease the friction between Amelia and Diana.”
“Somebody has to do it.” Quinn’s dark eyebrows arched, and Jake winced when he realized how rude his reply had sounded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s the truth. Somebody has to do it, and it can’t be me.” Quinn massaged his forehead. “If I interfered, Diana would accuse me of nepotism, and Amelia would accuse me of doubting her competence and her judgment. Either way, I’m fucked.”
Suddenly, the loudspeaker blared throughout the small store. “Quinn O., you’ve been charged with public lewdness and petty theft.”
Quinn snickered. “That’s us.”
They grabbed their smoothies and squeezed into a two-top in the corner. Jake lifted the plastic lid just enough to get a whiff of his smoothie.
Quinn took a big pull on his straw. “Mmm. This is good. You should try yours.”
Jake tentatively took a sip of his smoothie. The sweetness of strawberries teased his taste buds, along with the complementary flavor of bananas. For a drink that was named after a criminal act, it tasted pretty good.
Quinn slouched in his chair and studied Jake unblinkingly for several seconds. “I think Diana is the problem. What do you think?”
Jake took a moment to consider his response to Quinn’s pointed question. It wouldn’t reflect well on him to throw Diana under the bus, but it also wouldn’t reflect well on him to be dishonest.
“I think Diana dislikes Amelia, and the feeling is mutual.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Quinn said dryly.
“Okay. Amelia purposefully does things that she knows will annoy Diana.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”
“Like kicking Diana’s desk non-stop during a meeting and then pretending that she can’t control herself because she suffers from restless legs syndrome. I’m sure it’s just coincidence that she’s always wearing pointy-toed cowboy boots on those days.”
Quinn burst out laughing. “Damn, I love that woman.”
“She’s something, alright.”
As Jake took a sip of his smoothie, one corner of Quinn’s mouth lifted in an ornery smile. “I think I know a cure for her restless legs syndrome.”
Jake choked a little on his fruity drink. He had a pretty good idea of how Quinn planned to “cure” his wife’s condition.
“Amelia isn’t the only person who has a problem working with Diana,” Quinn noted. “Most people think she’s a huge pain in the ass. I’ve always been impressed that you work so well with her.”
Jake laughed. “Compared to some of the people I encountered when I was a bookie, Diana is charming.”
“I have a lot of respect for her. She’s smart and loyal and a very hard worker.”
“I have a lot of respect for her, too.”
Quinn took another pull on his smoothie and shook the cup. “Diana has been with Riley O’Brien & Co. for more than thirty-five years, and it’s time to make a change. She’s done a good job for us, but I don’t think she’s the right person to lead the finance group moving forward. She’s resistant to change, and she always thinks of why something can’t be done instead of thinking of ways it can be done.”
Unfortunately, Jake agreed with Quinn’s assessment of the current CFO. Diana wasn’t a problem solver. She was a finger pointer and a road blocker.
“I’m going to ask her to retire at the end of the second quarter,” Quinn said.
Jake’s stomach clenched, and he had to work hard to keep his poker face. He had never imagined that Quinn would demand Diana’s retirement, and certainly not within the next four weeks.
“I think the company is ready for a new CFO,” Quinn continued.
Jake placed his smoothie on the table, his gaze locked on Quinn. Ever since the day Jake had joined Riley O’Brien & Co., he’d been working toward one goal: to be the company’s next CFO.
“I don’t think you’re ready to take on the CFO job,” Quinn said.
Jake couldn’t stop his shoulders from slumping in disappointment. He’d thought that he would have more time to show Quinn that he could handle the responsibility.
Once Quinn brought in a new CFO, it was unlikely that Jake would have an opportunity to move into that position any time soon. The average tenure for a CFO was more than ten years.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think you’re ready?”
Jake hesitated. He wanted to assure Quinn that he could perform the responsibilities of the CFO satisfactorily, but he didn’t know if that was true.
Before Jake could answer Quinn, the chief executive spoke again. “You’re not ready to be the CFO of a multi-billion-dollar company. You’ll probably never be ready.” Quinn smiled slowly. “I wasn’t ready to take over a multi-billion-dollar company, but I did it anyway, and somehow I muddled through. So will you.”
Jake shook his head uncomprehendingly. “What?”
“You’re not ready to be the CFO, but you’re the right person for the job.”
“Are you serious?”
Quinn leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table. “Yeah, chief, I’m serious. Do you want the job?”
Jake exhaled roughly. “Hell, yes, I want it.”
“Then it’s yours. I’ve already cleared it with the Board. We’ll announce it at the same time Diana’s retirement is announced. I’m meeting with her later today.” Quinn laughed dryly. “That’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.”
They spent the next twenty minutes hashing out compensation including bonuses and profit sharing. Quinn was surprisingly generous. Jake would have taken far less than what the CEO had offered.
They made the trek back to Riley Plaza in silence. Quinn seemed to understand that Jake needed time to process his unexpected but much desired promotion.
When they reached the second floor reception area, Quinn stopped and turned to face Jake. “You belong in the CFO office. Never doubt that.”
“Thank you for the opportunity. I promise, Quinn, you won’t regret giving me this shot.”
“Lilliard, I knew that the moment I met you.”
Quinn slapped him on the back and sauntered toward the elevators. Jake was pretty sure that Quinn planned to stop by Amelia’s workshop to discuss her restless legs syndrome.
For a moment, Jake stood in the reception area. Within a two-week period, everything he had wanted so desperately had fallen into his lap. First Kyla and now the CFO gig.
He laughed, almost giddy with happiness. The sound echoed off the stained concrete floors in the reception area.
He rushed to the elevator, eager to see Kyla and share the unbelievable news. As he entered the cab, he realized that in a few short weeks, he would
move into the executive wing, and the nameplate next to his door would read: Jacob C. Lilliard, chief financial officer.
As CFO, he would supervise everything and everyone in the finance department. He stared at the metal panels in front of him, abruptly realizing how his promotion impacted his relationship with Kyla.
Everything and everyone.
Once he assumed his new role, he would be Kyla’s boss again. The buzz of a million bees filled his ears, and only one thought came through clearly: luck is a fickle bitch.
*****
When Kyla arrived at Nick and Teagan’s house in Pacific Heights, she bypassed the front door. She was, as her mom liked to say, “back door company”, which meant that she could let herself in.
Nick and Teagan lived in an Italianate-Victorian mansion that had been built in the early 1910s. Before they had married, he had renovated the entire house. Vanessa had designed the new floorplan, even though her specialty was commercial design and not residential.
Teagan had asked Kyla to stop by so they could discuss the report she’d written about Riley O’Brien & Co.’s management trainee program. Originally, they had intended to meet at Riley Plaza, but Teagan had left work early because she’d been feeling under the weather.
Kyla hoped the conversation wouldn’t take too long because she and Jake had plans for dinner. As soon as she finished with Teagan, Kyla planned to speed over to Jake’s condo.
Fingers crossed he would be naked when he answered the door. She wanted a repeat of what they’d done this morning in his Mustang. Maybe they could find a deserted area in the parking garage under Jake’s high-rise.
Kyla jogged up the stairs at the back of Nick and Teagan’s house and opened the back door. It led to a spacious mudroom that was furnished with a massive steel blue hutch. After hanging her bag on one of the hutch’s large bronze hooks, she pushed through the interior door and into the kitchen.
With its cream-colored, glass-fronted cabinets, natural stone backsplash, and commercial-grade appliances, the kitchen was elegant without being sterile. It was far nicer than the one she and Vanessa shared, but that was okay since neither could cook.
