by Harlow James
“I don’t know. Something about this just feels… off.” My gut is stirring, wanting to make sense why a man like him would be interested in a woman like me. He said on the card he’d like to take me out, but what does that entail? Is he just looking for some arm candy? Does he just want me for sex? Is he going to go all Christian Grey on me and make me sign a contract and then take me to his red room of pain?
“Shayla, you know I love you, but what is the problem? This incredibly rich man is interested in you. You should be excited, feel honored, feel …”
“Exactly like my mom,” I finish for her and I see the moment it all clicks for her. Chloe knows the shit I went through with my mother. She knows how it’s fucked me up and left me untrusting of men and their intentions. She watched my mom throw herself at men, be pursued by them all for the momentary thrill of feeling cared for and special.
But she never was. She was just another notch on the belt of too many to count. And I promised myself I would never put myself in that same situation.
“Okay. I get it. I do.” She smiles softly, but it quickly morphs into something along the lines of a Grinch-like grin. “So, why don’t you ask him what he wants? Be you. Go into his office, guns blazing, and make him spell it out for you. Then you’ll know if he’s worth the time. Yes he’s rich. But maybe he’s actually a nice guy. I mean, a basket of cheese? What billionaire would send that? Diamonds would definitely be more his style if he were just in it for the pussy.” She stands confidently, like she knows she just told me exactly what I needed to hear, but I can’t help but break out in laughter from her words as well.
“You’re right,” I declare, standing up tall again. “I don’t have to let him have the control. I’m Shalya fucking Mitchel and I don’t let any man walk all over me or think I’m easy. I know what I deserve. I know what I don’t want. And maybe it’s time that Wes Morgan finds out just exactly who he’s pursuing.”
Chapter 5
Wes
I can’t concentrate, which is a first for me in God knows how long. Images of a feisty woman with long black hair and an insanely fit body keep popping up at the most inappropriate times, making my body itch with each passing moment wondering if she got my delivery. My knees won’t stop bouncing under my desk, and I swear that I’ve checked my email inbox and darted my eyes over to my office phone at least one-hundred times already in the past twenty-four hours.
But no matter how hard I tried to fight it, the thought of her never left my mind after that first night at Loft 24, a place I most certainly never would have stepped foot in if it weren’t for Hayes. And I had every intention of accepting that the initial draw to her was a one-time moment.
But then she was here, in Santa Barbara, working at a local coffee house just a few miles away from my new office, a shop I had never visited until that day. When I saw her, I felt paralyzed, as if I had seen a ghost. And then she opened her mouth and brought me back to reality, solidifying that she was in fact real and I couldn’t brush away the intensity she invokes in me any longer.
If she was here, that means she was close enough to be a temptation, a diversion from my purpose of staying in Santa Barbara for the next few months. It had been years since I’d been here anyway, but this project was important to me and it was time that I had returned to face everything that made me run away in the first place.
Two encounters were tempting for sure, but then I literally ran into her a third time on the beach, and that’s when I knew I didn’t stand a chance. No matter how much my brain was fighting the draw to her, my body was winning the war. Actually, more like her body and wit were the secret weapons of the enemy that were about to desecrate me to dust.
Fuck me. When I realized who she was, when she stood in front of me and found her balance as well as her sass, it was all I could do not to reach out and trace every line of her curves with my fingers and then shut her up with my lips. Her skin glistened in the sunlight with sweat and her back talk held me prisoner even more.
It’s safe to say she probably doesn’t know who I am. Either that or she doesn’t give a shit because she’s seemed extremely unimpressed with my attempts at flirting with her. And then without thinking, I asked her to coffee, a momentary lapse in judgement that had me squirming as I waited for a reply.
I haven’t asked out a woman in years, and then I did it without thinking. The anticipation of her answer made me feel like a teenage boy asking out a girl for the first time. But I was a man now, a man whose life has been altered in recent years, a man that vowed not to put my wants and desires ahead of other’s needs for the rest of my life.
So why did I all of sudden act out of need, out of want?
Shayla.
And then she turned me down in that usual sarcastic demeanor of hers, which I couldn’t help but find amusing, even after I felt like someone had told me Santa Claus wasn’t real. I walked away from her, but she never left my mind. So I did something I never thought I’d do in a million years.
I sent her a basket of cheese.
Only knowing two things about this woman, I decided to go with that morsel, hoping that she would find it ridiculously charming and would be willing to give me a snippet of her time.
Perhaps my draw to her is momentary, fleeting, and miniscule, and when it’s all said and done, we’ll part ways never the wiser.
But I think deep down I know the opposite will be true—because if I was willing to break the carefully constructed rules of my life to put myself out there for her, then there has to be more to what I feel between us.
And that thought scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
But a part of me is enjoying the thrill of it too.
My phone rings on my desk and I’m embarrassed by how quickly I jump from my chair to answer it. Thank god there aren’t cameras in here to record my pathetic reaction.
“Wes Morgan,” I answer.
“Hey, tight ass.” Hayes chuckles through the line as I roll my eyes at him.
“What do you want?”
“Well, judging by how angry you sound, I’m guessing you haven’t taken my advice to heart yet and found a way to relax.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes as I sink back into my chair. “I’ve only been here for a little over a week, Hayes.”
“So, times a wasting, Wes. There are plenty of gorgeous women out there who would be more than happy to sit on your dick.”
“Jesus Christ, will you stop talking about my dick?”
“I can’t. I’m worried for your health. A lack of sex can be damaging to your prostate.”
“Why are you calling?” I change the subject, hoping to steer the conversation into something productive.
“I wanted to see how the meeting went.”
His words actually bring a smile to my face. “Perfectly. The contracts have been signed and permits have been filed. We’re hoping to start demolition next week.”
“Fuck yeah, Wes. That’s great.”
“Yeah. It’s definitely weird being here, but I’m glad I came.” I stare out the window at my back, enjoying the view of the ocean in the distance. And just looking at the ocean has me thinking of Shayla again.
“I am too. I’m sure it’s hard, but it was time. Plus, you know this facility is going to help Nolan and other kids like him.”
“I know.”
“So how has it been being at the house?” he asks and I take in a deep breath, contemplating my answer.
“It’s… surreal. It’s like I can feel him there, you know?” The estate that I’m staying at while I’m here used to belong to my grandfather, but now belongs to me obviously, as does the company that I currently preside over. I have so many memories of time spent with him here and haven’t been back since he died a little over six years ago—when a small part of me died too.
“I bet. But that’s your house now, you know. Make it your own.”
“It doesn’t feel quite right yet.”
“It will.
I can always give you the number of my interior designer I use for the clubs if you need someone.”
I laugh at his suggestion. “First of all, I don’t need my house looking like a nightclub. And secondly, you know I have my own that handles the design of my hotels.” Hundreds of hotels that I now own, that is.
My grandfather started Morgan Enterprises back in the forties. He purchased a dilapidated hotel with a hefty loan from a bank, and renovated it into something remarkable. That hotel now resides in the historic district of San Diego, and from there he just kept building. Now we, or should I say I own more than three-hundred hotels worldwide, and in the last six years I have expanded our business into historic restorations as well, like the building I purchased here in Santa Barbara.
Although this project is unlike anything else I’ve done before. But I know that in my gut it’s the right thing to do.
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend.”
“You are. I just… there’s been a lot of unexpected feelings running through me since being back here.”
“Have you seen them yet?”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No. But I have been in contact. I just need to get my bearings before I go over there.”
“That’s understandable.” It’s reassuring to know Hayes understands how hard it will be for me to face them, but I’m glad I can at least lean on him through it.
“But I have seen someone I wasn’t expecting …” My words trail off as I mentally debate whether I should bring this up to Hayes. But then again, he was with me the first night I saw Shayla, and I desperately need someone to talk to.
“Who?”
“The bartender from Loft 24,” I say on a cringe, waiting for his knee-jerk reaction.
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouts as I pull the phone away from my ear. “How? Where?”
“I have no fucking idea. I was just as shocked as you, but she works at a coffee shop here too, I guess. And then I ran into her on the beach.” I leave out the part that that particular encounter is quite literal. “I think she lives here.”
“Holy shit. So, what did you do?”
I scratch the back of my neck as I spin around to face my desk again. “I actually asked her out, believe it or not.”
“Shit. My dick just twitched for your dick.”
“Jesus Christ, Hayes.”
“And… what happened?”
“She turned me down.”
“Oh, fuck,” he says and then starts laughing.
“Are you really laughing at me, asshole?”
“I’m sorry,” he breathes while gasping for air. “But you finally ask a woman out after how long and she says no? I take it she doesn’t know who you are?”
I shrug. “I don’t think so, but that’s part of the allure, I think. She seems very unimpressed by anything I’ve said to her thus far.”
“Let me ask you this, is she as hot up close as she looked far away that night?”
I stare across my office, pulling every detail of her appearance from my memory. “She’s more beautiful in person, for sure.”
“You were looking at her that night, you fucking twat.”
I huff out a laugh. “Fine. I was. But seriously, Hayes, I never thought I’d see her again.”
“But you did. And you asked her out. But she said no. So… what did you do?”
“I walked away. Thought that was that. But then …”
“Yes?” he asks, the excitement vibrating in his voice. I hate that he’s so invested in this, but this is how Hayes is. He latches onto some idea and invests in it wholeheartedly—not the best attribute for a business man, but his gut hasn’t steered him wrong yet.
“I sent her a basket of cheese.”
Silence fills the line as I wait for his response. “What the actual fuck, Wes? Have you seriously been out of the game that long that you think women want baskets of cheese as a way to convince them to date you?”
“Shut up, fucker. There’s a reason, okay?” I fire back and then proceed to explain the meaning of the gift to him.
“Alright. I take back what I said. That was actually pretty genius.”
“Thank you.”
“But you haven’t heard from her?”
“Nope.”
“Well, don’t give up hope yet. I’m not. I have solid hope that your dick is well on his way to a warm, wet hug from her pussy.”
“Fucking Christ, Hayes.” His manic laugh rings out loud just as a voice pulls my attention elsewhere.
“Mr. Morgan?” My assistant, Sheryl, calls to me as I pop my head up and see her leaning inside my barely cracked door.
“Yes?”
“You have a visitor.”
“I do?” A spark of confusion runs through me as I think about who could possibly be here. Not many people know that I’m in Santa Barbara except for my immediate family, and Hayes, of course. I didn’t want the press to follow and start digging up reasons why I’d be here or information about the project until I was good and ready for them to be revealed.
It’s also part of the reason I chose a small office for my headquarters. My grandfather used to do most of his business down in L.A. and never set up an office here in Santa Barbara, working from his home when he needed to. But I’m the type of person that needs a separate space for my work and home life.
My mind continues to rifle through possibilities of who may be here. Maybe it’s my sister, Waverly, but I doubt she’d venture all the way up here when her social life is centered in L.A and she’s not due to visit for a few weeks. Although she is the type to surprise me, so I wouldn’t put it past her.
“What’s going on?” Hayes calls to me through the phone, reminding me that he’s still there.
“Give me one minute and then send them in,” I tell Sheryl as she nods her head and then closes the door behind her.
“Wes, answer me, damn it!”
“Unclench your butt cheeks, Hayes,” I grate and then take a deep breath. “Apparently I have a visitor, so I need to get off of here.”
“Alright, fucker. But you’d better keep me up to date on this unprecedented development.”
“Your interest in my life scares me sometimes, you know?”
“That’s just being a good friend, Wes. I… I fucking love you, man, and just want to see you happy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose again. “Jesus, what have I done. I never should have told you about this.”
“Well, can’t take it back now. I’ll talk to you later, fucker.”
“Yeah. Later.”
“And don’t think I didn’t catch that you didn’t tell me you love me back, Wesley!” he shouts as I end the call and shake my head at him with a smile on my lips.
“God help me,” I mutter just as a familiar voice shocks me back to the present.
“Is my presence that bad that you’re asking God for his assistance?”
Shayla.
Reeling with the surprise of her standing before me, I force myself to swallow and then stand from my desk, buttoning my jacket as I take her in.
She’s wearing a yellow sundress and her hair is down in loose curls. She looks angelic and much softer than in her attire she wears at the club or the dressed down version I’ve seen of her at the coffee shop. And even though her running attire has been my favorite outfit of choice up until this point for obvious reasons, seeing her standing before me in my office dressed like an angel bathed in sunshine is leaving me breathless.
“I’m sorry. That outburst wasn’t directed toward you. How—” I stall, forcing myself to form words so I don’t look like an idiot once more in front of this woman. “How are you?”
“Well, Wes Morgan,” she says as she grates out my name as if it’s leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I’m a tad confused and a whole lot of irritated. I’m here to get some answers from you.”
Smirking, I take in her stance—her squared shoulders, her lengthened spine, her pursed lips that all make me f
eel like I’m a little boy in trouble, but I’m eager to see what my punishment is.
“You have questions?”
“Yes.”
“But I believe I was the one who asked the question,” I challenge.
She pulls the card I included with her gift from her purse and then waves it in front of her face. “Technically, what you wrote here was a statement, not a question. But what I’m wondering is what you think is going to happen here?”
“Such as…”
“Did you think I wouldn’t figure out who you are?” She’s pissed, and I’m baffled by just how much.
“Who I am?”
“Yeah, Mr. Billionaire. Did you plan on keeping your identity a secret from me until we had our first secret child?”
I’m sensing a touch of crazy from this woman right now, but the other part of me that’s already partially invested in her is rooted in seeing this through. “I’m sorry… what?”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” Her hands find her hips now as my eyes dance down her body and then right back up to her eyes. Damn, she looks even more sexy when she’s pissed.
“Well, I don’t exactly introduce myself to people as Wes Morgan, the billionaire. As you can imagine, it’s hard to find genuine people in this world who want to get to know me for me, so I’m sorry if you felt like I was keeping a secret, but I would have told you eventually.”
I see her shoulders fall a bit with my answer, but then she re-evaluates her pursuit of the truth and moves forward with her questions. “Fine. But what’s the end game here? Is your interest in me for sex? Are you just looking for arm candy and then you’ll drop me like a bad habit when you’re done with me?”
I furrow my brows at her, wondering where all of this intense pessimism is coming from. “Is that what you think I want?” I turn the accusation back on her, but she comes back twice as hard.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here, asking you. Because I don’t do that shit, Wes. I won’t play into your games. I’m not going to sign some sort of contract so you can get what you want from me and then leave me high and dry.”
“Did the cheese basket really upset you that much?” I smirk at her as I watch her eyes widen and her jaw drop open.
