by Flynn, Mac
"You shouldn't have been an actress," Sheila playfully replied.
I dropped my arm and the act. "You're right, I would've been too good for the cameras, but to answer your question, again, there really isn't that much to tell. I have a boss-with-benefits relationship with him until I decide how I feel about him."
Sheila's face drooped. "That's it?" she asked me.
I snorted. "You act as if we should be playing hide-and-go-seek with each other's clothes."
Sheila slid her chin down onto the table. "I was at least hoping for something mysterious about him. Does he look even more like Dracula without his clothes?"
I rolled my eyes. "He looks like most everyone else without their clothes, naked."
She scowled at me, but her eyes widened and she sprang up from the table. "If you're not going to take advantage of this then maybe I can. Any way he can introduce me to his rich friends?"
I evilly grinned. "He doesn't really get out all that much, that whole vampire-appearance thing, but he has an uncle that might be available. He's just slightly used by life."
"Slightly used by life?" Sheila repeated.
"Yes. He's about fifty."
"On second thought maybe I'll just keep looking for my own rich man," my friend remarked. And thus ended my short but memorable matchmaker career. "So how long are you going to take to figure out you want to go out with your boss?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I've been dodging Cupid's arrow for so long I bet his quiver is empty and he's abandoned me to a life of being an old maid."
"Just remember that even with his pasty skin he's a rich guy and girls all over the city would kill to get even a date with him," she reminded me.
"We'll just have to hope they kill each other and leave us out of it," I quipped.
"That's easy for you to say. I bet you're living in his house now, aren't you?" Sheila teased.
I surprised her by shaking my head. "Nope, still in that dingy apartment."
"What? Why?" she exclaimed.
I tilted my head in her direction and raised an eyebrow for added effect. "We've only known each other a week. In that short a time I wouldn't move in with the Queen of England if she offered me the best room in Buckingham Palace."
Sheila threw up her arms. "I give up. You really don't know how to milk a good situation."
"I'm not majoring in agriculture," I countered.
"Right, rocks." She playfully knocked her fist against my head. "Just like your stubborn skull."
"Hey, careful with that. I'm still using it," I laughed. My stomach interrupted us with its mournful cries of sorrow. "But how about we get some grub before I decide to be a cannibal?"
"I thought you'd never get around to that," Sheila replied with a smile. "Oh, and don't forget about that creep, Tanner. He might come back to bite you in the ass," she warned me.
"I won't forget," I promised; I cared too much about my ability to sit.
CHAPTER 2
"You look tired," John mentioned to me the next day.
We were at his house in the study going over the day's work, including the daily snail mail and email. "It's just this work. I think it prematurely ages people," I joked.
"I think you'll stay young forever," he softly commented.
"Sweet talk will not get any of this done, but flattery with a cookie might get you a kiss," I suggested with a smile.
He shot up out of his chair so quickly I thought he would hit the ceiling before he came back down. "Just a cookie?" he asked me.
I rolled my eyes; this guy was incorrigible. "Hold on there, Chef Boyardee. Before you start cooking up a batch of the largest cookies in the world we need to get through some of this stuff." I glanced at the papers in my hands; that was the day's snail mail. "Why is there so much mail today?" I peered closer at the return addresses. "And isn't this your office building?"
John took the stack, tore open a representative sample and browsed the letter. The further he read the more his face tightened and his lips pursed together. Finally he threw the letter onto the desk and growled; I wondered if he'd caught rabies from the paper. He whipped his eyes up at me, and I started back at the anger in them. "Do you recall a few days ago when I told you trouble was brewing at my business?" I nodded. "The trouble has brewed and is coming."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked him. He grabbed the letter and handed it to me. I read over the contents.
Dear Mr. Benson;
Please accept this small olive branch of peace I extend to you through this letter. You made your dissatisfaction of this arrangement known at the last board meeting, but I hope to bridge the divide between us to the benefit of ourselves and the company. I will visit you at the set date as scheduled, and hope to find you well.
Sincerely,
Greg Monroe
I looked at John seated in his chair; his pale fingers were intertwined with one another, and he had a sour expression. "This is quite the lemon, isn't it?" I wondered.
He curtly shook his head. "I would say it's a bitter fruit."
I tapped on the part of the letter about the visit. "He said something about a scheduled date. Why's he coming here?"
John stood and paced the dark room. "The board has decided on a guardian of sorts for myself. They feel with my inability to handle the company problems in person leaves me at a disadvantage, and I should have a representative on my behalf. The board chose Monroe over my choice of Cecil, citing bias."
They wanted to babysit him. "Can they do that?" I wondered.
"They have," he bitterly replied. "They feel it's their obligation to the company because I hold thirty percent of the stock."
I frowned and looked at the letter. "And this Greg guy is going to do what? Make sure you do your homework?"
John gave a wry laugh. "I suppose that's one way to look at it, but I doubt his intentions are so honorable. He is charged with keeping me in contact with the board, a secretary of sorts." I stiffened; this sounded like the guy was ousting me from my position. John noticed my alarm and went over to clasp his hands gently on my upper arms. "Don't worry, Angel, I don't plan on ridding myself of you. You're stuck with me." His eyes had me trapped in their tar pit trap, and before I knew it he'd pressed his lips against mine. My traitorous body reacted with heat and an aching need between my thighs.
I pushed him away and gasped for air. He frowned. "Is there something wrong?"
"Yeah, you need to give a girl a warning before you do that so she can get enough air into her lungs. Otherwise your love is going to drown her," I replied.
John grinned and moved toward me for round two, but I dodged around the desk out of his reach. He raised an eyebrow, and his eyes shone with a more feral light. "Playing hard to get?" he teased me.
"I'm playing not to get, and for keeps if you keep this up," I countered. "We have work to do and we can't-eep!"
My eep came when he ducked around the desk after me. I jumped out of his reach and was one step ahead of him until the next step caused me to trip over the leg of his office chair. I twisted around and grabbed the arms of the seat so my back fell against the back of the chair. John was on top of me in a moment planting kisses on my face and neck while his hands furiously tried to cool off my rising body temperature by removing my clothes. He tore off my uncooperative blouse buttons and dove his head down to nuzzle against my heaving breasts.
I gasped and clutched his head while his teeth nipped and licked at my trembling flesh. My skin was on fire and my underwear already wet. He really knew how to get my engine going, and I didn't have enough sense left to step on the breaks. Fortunate for me, and unfortunate for him, there came the sound of pounding on the front door. He jumped off me and I jerked up off the chair. We both glanced down at my ruined shirt even as the knocking grew louder.
"Quick, upstairs to my room!" John hissed at me. He pushed me out into the hall and we turned left until we heard the front door knob rattle. Then he turned me around and pushed me toward the back door
. He opened the rear entrance and tried to push me outside but I grabbed onto the sides of the frame.
"What are you doing?" I squeaked. "I can't go out there like this!" The door behind us opened, and I decided that I could go outside looking like that.
I jumped out and John slammed the door behind me. I flattened myself against the side of the house and heard his footsteps retreat up the hall. There were voices, one of them John's and the other familiar, but I had more important things to worry about than listening to their muffled conversation. My torn shirt had black stripes from the dirty slats, and as I slunk along I hoped nobody would mistake me for a runaway convict.
I made it to the front and peeked around the corner. My face drooped when I saw a familiar car out front; it was Carlyle's vehicle. I half expected the small man to be thrown out through the front door by an angry John; the other half of me hoped for it. I slipped onto the front porch, knelt down and pressed my ear against the door. A few muffled voices, but nothing too loud. Cautiously I opened the door and slipped my head inside; the living room door was closed.
I slipped inside the house with all the stealth of a mumbling rhino, namely because the tip of my foot caught on the door sill and I fell face-first onto the floor. The murmuring paused and I heard movement. I shot up the stairs in time to miss the opening of the living room door. With safety secured, I slipped into John's room, pulled on a random shirt that hung in his closet and made sure it fit well enough before I scurried back downstairs.
The living room door was shut again, and I wondered whether I could hide out in the study when the entrance opened. Carlyle stepped out with John behind him, and the old man glared at me. "At least there are some positive changes," he mysteriously quipped.
I wished I could have changed his face with my fist, but he was thankfully leaving. Carlyle turned to John and smiled at the young man. "Now keep me informed of everything that happens. I wish to study this young man I've heard so much about."
John shrugged, and I could see a stiff irritation in the effort. "You seem to keep good track of the goings-on in my life without my help," he bitterly commented.
Carlyle puffed up like an inflated chihuahua balloon; he willfully hadn't heard the anger in John's voice. "Yes, quite an achievement, but as I told you before, I have my sources." He tapped the side of his nose with a wrinkled finger and grinned. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be off now." He offered me one last glare that I returned for a full refund, and then he was thankfully gone out the door and out of our lives; at least for the time being.
I jerked my thumb toward the closed door. "What was that about?"
John sighed and his cute lips pursed together. "Carlyle heard about the arrangement with Monroe and came to congratulate me on a fine business guardian."
I gagged. "How'd he even find out about that? Is he on the board?"
John shook his head. "No, but he told me he had someone on the inside who kept tabs for him."
"Oh goody..." I grumbled.
"But now that that's over, we should get back to business," John insisted. He grabbed me and lightly pinned me against the front wall. His lips teasingly brushed against mine, and he pressed his hips against my own. He spoke in a thick, husky voice full of need. "Now where were we?" he whispered. We heard the crunch of car tires as a vehicle drove up to the house. There was the sound of a door slamming, and John rolled his eyes when someone knocked on the door. "Who is it?" he called out.
"What a way to call to your uncle," Cecil's voice chuckled through the door.
John sighed, released me, and opened the door. "You interrupted important business," John told him.
Cecil stepped inside and smiled at us both; his eyes settled on my shirt. "I can see that. She certainly looks better in that shirt than you," he quipped at John.
John and I blushed. "How'd you know?" John wondered.
"I gave that shirt to you two Christmases ago, but I didn't come here to speak about your wardrobe." Cecil took off his coat and pulled a letter out from his suit vest. "I received a letter stating the arrangements of your babysitting."
"Don't remind me..." John grumbled.
Cecil forlornly shook his head. "I'm afraid it can't be helped. This man intends to cause us trouble, and I can't think of a way out."
John raised an eyebrow. "You have anything specific about this trouble?"
Cecil sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Call it a hunch."
"I don't need a hunch to know he'll cause us trouble. Constance Sievers is working for him now, and she may have been working for him before I fired her," John told him.
That didn't sit well with the older gentleman; his hands balled into fists, crushing the letter. "That treacherous little-" He saw me and paused.
"-wench?" I politely suggested.
He had a word higher in the alphabet, but Cecil smiled and bowed his head. "Exactly."
"So the only reason you came here was to comment on the letter?" John asked him. There was more than a little suspicion in his voice, there was a ton of it.
Cecil smiled and glanced between us. "I also wanted to see how you two were getting along, and to see how your burns had healed. Are they gone?"
"Yes." He wouldn't have been so randy if they still hurt.
"Then that's all I wanted to know, though your information about Sievers' betrayal is news to me. How did you find this out?" he asked us.
John nodded at me. "Angel saw them together at the board meeting. Speaking of which, why weren't you present?"
"As I knew the outcome of the vote, I didn't want to waste my time," Cecil replied with a smirk.
"I wish you had informed me..." John muttered.
Cecil shook his head. "I kept the information from you to get you out of this drafty old house, and it succeeded perfectly." So perfectly that John glared at his uncle. "But if you'll both excuse me, I will have a look into our old friend Constance Sievers' goings-on with Mr. Greg Monroe." He bowed his head to us and left before John could muster up the courage to strangle him.
"Damn him and his wily ways!" he hissed.
I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sure he means well, if I see what he means."
He wrapped his arms around me and grinned. "But I wonder if you see what I mean," he countered.
I slipped down and out of his arms. "I'm sure your intentions are noble and kind, good sir, but if you don't have any more use for my mind then my body needs to take it away to the library."
John sighed. "More homework?"
I grimly nodded. "More homework, specifically midterms. Those papers won't write themselves."
"Very well. I give you leave to leave work early," he replied.
My mouth twisted into an expression of disbelief. "You're giving me permission to leave?" I asked him.
"You are my employee," he pointed out. "If you want to leave early you have to gain my permission."
I folded my arms across my chest and squinted my eyes at him. "What if I use my permission slip?"
"Permission slip?" he repeated.
"Yeah, this." I grabbed my stuff hanging close by, and slipped past him and out the door. He hurried after me, but wasn't in time to catch me before I slipped off the porch. I turned and smiled at him. "That's my permission slip," I called back.
"That's a one-time use," he yelled back.
I waved to him and slipped into my old car. It sputtered to life with all the energy of a three-legged old mule, and I puttered down the road back to town. The fall day meant it was darkish when I reached the campus, and by the time I slammed my head into one of the larger volumes of "Rocks for Dummies," night had fallen. There weren't many people outside the library, most college students being allergic to reading and mold, but there were some softly glowing lamp posts positioned to scare off people who had other things on their mind than book learning.
When I stepped outside I found a familiar person standing beneath one of those posts; it was Will Tanner. I had a creeping sensation it wasn't a
coincidence we met, and tried to hurry by him. He flashed me a smile and pushed off from the post to block my path. "Good evening, Trixie."
"Hi, Will," I hurriedly replied. I tried to get around him, but failed when he stepped in my line of walking. I glared at him. "Do you mind?"
"Mind what?" he asked me in an innocent tone.
"Mind getting out of my way," I told him. There was another failed attempt at escape, and I let out a threatening growl the likes of which would have scared a man of ten. "I'm kind of in a hurry to get home."
His eyes widened, and I didn't like the glint in them at all; it reminded me of a thief who'd just found out a secret he could use to his advantage. "That's fine, I can walk you there."
I hadn't forgotten my conversation with Sheila, so the last thing I wanted was to bring this jealous stray home. "I think I want to go alone." Since I couldn't get around him, I lightly elbowed him in the gut and pushed him aside.
He didn't take the gentle hint, and instead followed me like a used car salesman trying his pitch. "I guess I deserved that," he chuckled.
"Yep."
"But I figure I can make it up to you by driving you home."
"Nope."
"You sure about that? It's pretty dark out here and you never know what can happen to a lonely girl."
"Yep."
"So you want me to come with you?"
"Nope."
Will tired of my eloquent speech and grabbed my arm. He turned me around to face him, and I glimpsed the possessiveness of which Sheila had spoken. "I guess I'm not making myself very clear, but I like you, Trixie. I like you a lot. You're smart and funny and-"
"-unavailable," I quipped.
His eyes narrowed, and he spoke through ground teeth. "You've got a boyfriend?" he asked me.
Not exactly. "Yes, so could you let go of my arm and leave me alone?"
He let me go, but he still didn't look too happy. "You like this other guy?"
I rubbed my arm; he'd almost bruised the skin. "That's my business, but I know I don't like you in that way. You're, um, nice and all-" nice and creepy, "-but I just don't feel the same way about you. Not at all."
