Eric didn’t bother to knock. He barged in and grabbed me by my elbows before I had a chance to say anything. His face was a mask of fury and his dark brown hair was mussed and singed at the ends. (Actually, in any other circumstance, it would have been kind of sexy. But seeing as he was about to rip my head off, I found it less than appealing at the time.)
Emmett Vance, Vance Publishing’s CFO, raced in as Eric launched into his attack.
“What the hell are you doing here? Who the hell do you think you are? Did it ever occur to you to put my keys on my desk? Goddamn it, Anna, could you possibly make the day any worse?!” His fingers dug into my arms as he continued his rant.
Emmett reached over to put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Blake, she’s bleeding. Take it easy for a minute. Go get the first aid kit so we can get her cleaned up.”
Eric whirled around, took a deep breath to finish his rant on Emmett and promptly blew the breath out as Emmett’s brows came up in a clear warning. Emmett turned to me and smiled apologetically as Blake stormed out. He rubbed my arms with his hands to get the blood running again and gently pushed me into my chair. “Take a deep breath, Anna. I don’t know that this is a good time to explain what you saw, but we can get you cleaned up and calmed down before you go home.” He reached for my ripped pant leg. “May I?”
I nodded and struggled to hold back tears. Unfortunately, one rogue tear snuck through before I could stop it and landed on my torn linen pants.
“Oh, Anna,” Emmett said as he reached for a Kleenex. “Here. Tears will only piss off Blake even more. Suck it up and look at me.” I obliged and was taken aback as I always was when I looked at Emmett Vance.
The man was outrageously handsome in that ‘big, tough, outdoorsy, manly’ way. His short, dusty brown hair was perfect, as usual, and sported a bit of grey at the temples. His deep blue eyes were graced by perfectly arched eyebrows and his mouth looked like it was sculpted by Michelangelo. In his early forties, Emmett Vance was a total fox with big, wide shoulders, strong arms and big hands. If I didn’t already know what he did for a living, I would swear he was a Linebacker for the Bears. If there was any resemblance between him and his father, Lloyd Vance, Vance Publishing’s CEO, it was lost on me. That night he looked particularly sexy in black track pants and a plain gray t-shirt that stretched perfectly across his huge shoulders.
I’d been secretly lusting after him since the first day I started at Vance Publishing, though our paths rarely crossed. I was actually pretty surprised he even knew my name.
Emmett smiled and because my hands didn’t want to work, wiped away the tear tracks with his thumb. I smiled weakly and looked down at my torn knee. “Shit,” I sighed.
Emmett chuckled and began to roll up my pant leg. (Thank God I shaved that morning! Winters in Chicago are brutal. Shaving isn’t an every day occurrence when you’re likely to freeze your calves off while filling your gas tank.)
“Blake said you had a mouth on you. From what I’ve heard, you already ruined a blouse today. Why not go for broke and ruin your slacks too, eh?”
My smile grew for a moment before promptly falling again as Eric walked back into my office.
“I’ll get this, Emmett. She’s my responsibility,” he said as he strode over to us.
That set me off. “Your responsibility? Excuse me?!” My temper began to flare as the events of the day flashed through my memory. “I’m not a fucking dog, Blake! I’ve had a shitty day that only gets shittier every time I see you. I’m not your buddy’s little sister. I’m not your personal minion, charged with doing your random tasks. And I’m sure as hell not a verbal punching bag for you to work your frustrations out on!”
For ten full seconds, no one said anything. Eric opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, turned and stormed out. I dropped my head back into my hands and took three deep breaths. When I lifted my head, Emmett was grinning at me.
“That, my dear Anna, was inspiring. Absolutely amazing.”
“Yeah, it’ll be more amazing if I still have a job in the morning,” I muttered, wincing as he began to clean the cut.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. He likes you too much to fire you over standing your ground,” Emmett said as he worked on my wound. “Besides, the guy’s an ass. He has no excuse for coming down on you that way.” He patted the tops of my thighs and stood. “Now then, your knee is clean and you’ve returned Blake’s keys. Is there anything else you need to do before heading home?”
I shook my head and lowered my pant leg. “No. Thank you, Mr. Vance.”
“Call me Emmett.” He held out a hand to help me up and tucked my arm into his elbow as he walked me to the elevator. “Be prepared to talk about this incident tomorrow,” he said as we reached the doors. “It can’t be ignored. Don’t lose any sleep over it, though. I’ve got your back and believe it or not, Blake does too.” He brushed my hair behind my ears and smiled. “Goodnight, Anna. Drive safe.”
I smiled and stepped onto the elevator around a still groggy Carl. “Goodnight, Emmett. Thanks.”
When we reached the main floor, I nudged Carl with my boot. “Hey big guy. Can you get yourself home?”
Carl looked up at me, blinked and shook his head clear. “Yeah. I’ll take the bus.”
I took pity on poor Carl and drove him home. Luckily, it was past rush hour and I made it home within forty-five minutes. When I pulled into the lot, I noticed my friend Lea’s car parked in a guest stall. She and our third amigo, Jo, were sitting on the hood of her car, bundled up in oversized parkas and stocking caps. Lea smiled and lifted a bottle of wine out of a grocery bag at her side. She wiggled the bottle and winked.
“Hey girl!” Jo smiled and walked over to me. “We got the call and raced over. We ordered sushi and brought wine and crappy movies!” She hugged me and stepped back to look me over. “Let’s get upstairs and get some soda water on those slacks before I sew them up.”
Sometime over the past five years, Jo became a mom. I’m not talking a mother, as in, she had a baby. I know when that happened. I was in the room. It was disgusting. (Did you know ten centimeters is the size of a bagel? A MOTHERLOVIN’ BAGEL! Wowzers.) Anyway, over the course of the past five years, she’s become a mom – sewing my ripped clothing, bringing over casseroles and even feeling my forehead when I sneeze. It’s strange and incredibly endearing. She has two children: a 3-year-old son named Max and a 9-month-old named Libby. They are constantly covered in boogers and peanut butter and tend to get into everything imaginable. They’re perfect.
Lea, on the other hand, is the exact same person she was when we graduated high school. Adventurous, fun-loving, slightly crazy Lea. She has a new love interest every other day and knows everyone in Chicago. I wouldn’t call her slutty. She’s too classy for that. Just well-versed on the love scene. Last I knew, she was dating the county prosecutor, Joshua, but that was days ago. Could be Mick Jagger by now.
We did the girly group hug thing and walked inside. I was unlocking the door to my loft when I remembered what Jo said. “Jo, what did you mean when you said you got the call?”
“Oh! Emmett Vance called Lea and told her you might need some girlfriends tonight,” she replied as we walked in.
I turned to Lea. “You know Emmett Vance?”
“Honey, I know everybody,” she answered smugly. I raised my eyebrows as a wave of jealousy washed over me. Lea is everything I’m not. She’s tall and thin with just enough curves to make men do a double-take. Her platinum blonde hair is ruler straight and hangs down to her ridiculously perky butt. It would figure that she and Emmett had some sort of a past.
Lea rolled her eyes. “I don’t know him know him, if you know what I mean. I almost did … Should have. The man is a hunk. Anyway, we do lunch every now and then. He said you had a killer day and that I should intercept you before you caved on your chocolate lust. So here we are! I ordered delivery sushi. Jo will pour the wine. Now sit and tell us everything.”
So I did. A
box of Kleenex and two bottles of wine later, I was feeling much better.
“Hang on. They were what?” Jo asked.
“Yeah! They were like, shooting balls of fire and flying and moving objects and all sorts of bizarre stuff!” I exclaimed, sloshing wine across my ripped slacks. The doorbell rang and I rose to answer it.
“No, no,” Jo interjected. “I’ll get the door. It’s probably the sushi. You go get your pajamas on so you can come back and elaborate on your crazy story.”
I sighed and trudged to my bedroom to change. Five minutes later, I returned to find a large bouquet of daisies on the kitchen counter and Jo and Lea arguing over whether or not to open the accompanying card. I cleared my throat and they both snapped to attention.
“Not sushi.” Jo said. “Better. An outrageously gorgeous man dropped off these flowers for you. I asked him to come in but he declined, saying if you had us, that was enough. There’s a card. Lea wanted to open it but I wouldn’t let her.”
“Tattle-tale!” Lea cried and elbowed Jo sharply in the ribs. “We assume they’re from Emmett since he’s the one who sent us here. I just wanted to make sure the florist spelled his name right.”
I smirked and shook my head as I snatched the card from Lea. “I swear, I haven’t spoken to the man more than five times ever. How did he know to call you, Lea? How did he know I would go straight for the chocolate? And daisies? How could he know they’re my favorite?”
“Who?” Lea asked. “Emmett Vance? The man is gorgeous and loaded. He has contacts powerful enough to buy you the moon if he wanted. Open the card!”
I smiled and ripped open the envelope.
Anna, Here’s to hoping your tomorrow is better than
your today.
~ Eric.
P.S. Don’t you dare cash in this card until Saturday.
Inside the envelope was a gift card to my favorite bakery.
“Well?!” Jo squealed. “What did he say?!”
“It wasn’t Emmett Vance. It was Eric Blake.” I handed the card over to Jo.
“Eric Blake? Your douche bag boss who made you cry?”
I nodded.
“Aww …” Jo was sniffling. “That’s so sweet. Daisies and a gift card for donuts?”
I nodded again. I didn’t know what to think. Eric Blake doesn’t send flowers. On occasion, he could be thoughtful. But this nice? No way. Maybe he got hit in the head by one of those fireballs I saw. I shook my head clear and set the flowers on the counter.
“Anyway,” I began. “Back to the 29th floor. I’m telling you guys, I know what I saw.”
“You’re telling me your senior management team practices some sort of supernatural battle tactics on the 29th floor of your building in downtown Chicago?” Lea asked, not bothering to hide her skepticism.
“Lea, I have no idea, but I know it wasn’t normal. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m curious and scared and fascinated all at the same time. And I’m positive they aren’t just going to leave me alone after what I saw.”
“I’ve heard about these things,” Jo said. “Some people are born with extra talents. Supernatural gifts. The odds of every person on your senior management team possessing these gifts is extremely low. But it could happen.”
Lea rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. I’m cutting both of you off. We’ll save the rest of the wine for a later date.”
Letting it go, I gave her a shove and reached for my own bottle.
Three hours later, we were stuffed full of sushi and giggling from too much wine.
“Eeee!” Lea squealed. “Yikes! I was sitting on my phone when it buzzed!” Jo and I launched into another fit of giggles. “Ooo la la! It’s a text from Emmett Vance.
Thanks for checking on our girl. I hope you were able to get her mind off of her day. Just curious – is she seeing anyone?”
I about died on the spot. “That’s not funny, Lea. You can’t get my hopes up like that. Emmett Vance??? I wish!”
Lea was already clicking away on her phone. “No problem. That’s what friends are for. No, she’s not seeing anyone. Hasn’t been laid in a year. Take care of that, will ya?”
Oh. My. God.
“Lea! Tell me you didn’t say that! Please, please tell me you didn’t say that!”
“I didn’t say that.” She smiled wickedly.
I launched myself across the sofa and grabbed her phone from her.
“Anna, I’m not that drunk. Of course I didn’t say that. But I did tell him to go for it. The man is a total hunk, babe. Don’t be an idiot.” She looked at her watch before grabbing her purse. “Jo, it’s past my bedtime. Let’s head.” Lea snatched her phone back and plunked it in her purse.
“I was seriously considering strangling you,” I warned as I smoothed out my PJs. “Besides, it hasn’t been a year. It’s been… 10 months. Not a year.”
Lea and Jo joined in an eyeroll as they gathered their things. Jo gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek. Lea smacked my ass.
“Let us know if you have any more supernatural experiences,” she said as the door closed behind them.
Sighing, I bent down to scoop up Figaro and headed toward my bedroom. I sniffed the daisies on the counter as I walked by. It didn’t make up for the verbal bashing, but it was kind of sweet.
4
No talky before coffee.
The next morning I woke, yet again, to a cat butt.
“Figaro. What do you want from me?” I whined. “I feed you. I love you. I let you out on the balcony. I buy you fifty dollar collars and schedule bi-weekly groomings. And what do I get? Your angry butt in my face at 4:30 in the morning.”
Fig mewed in response and hopped down, sashaying his fluffy butt out the door.
I threw on my gym clothes and crossed to my closet to pick out work clothes. Knowing I’d be lucky to make it to 9am without getting the third degree from Eric Blake and Lloyd Vance, I chose my charcoal gray power suit and threw a teal lace cami and matching undies in my gym bag. At least part of me would be put together for the day.
I poured Fig a bowl of crunchies, which he stared at disdainfully, grabbed a protein bar for myself and headed to the gym.
Tuesdays and Thursdays are my favorite days at the gym. Tuesdays and Thursdays are resistance training days with “Hot Ian,” Vance Publishing’s most popular, most gorgeous personal trainer. Ian is at least six foot two with golden blonde hair that honestly sparkles under the fluorescent lights of the group class room. He’s a real life, anatomically correct Ken Doll. And if the bulges in his workout pants are anything to tell by, his anatomy is just as big and beautiful as he is. Unfortunately, Ian’s brain doesn’t quite rival his beauty. Outside of fitness colloquialisms, his vocabulary consists of maybe fifty words on a good day. I’d wager less than ten of those words have over three syllables.
Regardless of his brain, or lack thereof, Ian’s classes are always completely booked. Dozens of women show up forty-five minutes early with full makeup on, waiting for our sex-on-a-stick instructor. Sue in Accounting stuffs her sports bra and Dorothy in Operations wears support hose under her yoga pants. I’m not quite that desperate. I like to be able to carry on a conversation with my men. But I will admit to swiping on mascara before I left that morning.
After a grueling lower body session, I showered and headed up to my office. I swung through the door to find Carl sitting on my window sill.
“Anna!” he cried, racing up to me. “I’ve been thinking about last night and how our lives will never be the same and how close we were to death and how maybe we were meant to find out they were superheroes. Maybe we’re super heroes! I think one time I flew. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but I want to say I flew. If I can do it again in front of Lloyd Vance, I’ll get a promotion, won’t I? I’ll be a senior manager! Oh, God, that would be so cool. I need a name. Quick – Help me think of a superhero name.”
“How about Ritalin?” I offered as I set down my briefcase and booted up my computer. I walked
over, placed a hand on Carl’s shoulder and steered him toward the door.
“I’ll need a cape and something to conceal my identity too,” he stammered as I shoved him out the door. “Hey, wait – Isn’t Ritalin something hyper kids take to chill them out?”
“I don’t remember,” I answered. “Maybe you should find out.”
I shut the door and let out a whoosh of breath. I didn’t know what was scarier: Carl’s idea of senior management super heroes or the fact that I could only come up with a similar idea. I rolled my shoulders and crossed to my desk to check my e-mail.
Mae came bustling in five minutes later with a mug of coffee and a box of granola clusters. She was buzzing about her grandson Connor fracturing his tibia while jumping his dirt bike. I was simultaneously listening and pushing her out the door.
After politely ejecting Mae, I was about to sit down when someone else knocked on my door. I could feel my face turning red. I don’t deal well with people before my coffee and I had already depleted every ounce of patience I had when dealing with Carl and Mae.
“What!?” I snapped. The door opened and Emmett Vance walked in, looking extremely handsome in a black suit that probably cost more than my Mini Cooper.
“Good morning, Ms. Jennings. I hope you’re having a great mo…” He stopped as he noticed my expression. “I beg your pardon. Is this a bad time?”
I grunted and pointed toward the door. His eyes chilled and he opened his mouth to speak when Eric’s voice emerged from just outside my door.
“Step back, Vance. Jennings needs her moment every morning. She’s a bear until 9am.”
Emmett looked at me, cocked an eyebrow and smiled slowly. “Your moment?”
I nodded, my hand still pointing toward the door.
“Well… I’ll leave you to it, then. Call me when you’ve emerged from your cave.” He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Power Surge (Anna Jennings Super Novel Book 1) Page 3
