Jeremy reached for the phone once more, snagging the receptionist after a single ring. “Naomi? I need you to clear my schedule for the afternoon. And please send over the phone number for Miss Reese in Sales.”
Vanessa had just become the biggest problem on his plate. And he sure was hungry.
Chapter 11
Vanessa hummed under her breath as she navigated the streets of South Park, driving past barred windows and crumbling rows of beige buildings. Bea had made her a Spotify playlist of pump-up songs, and since Vanessa was on her way to a job interview, she’d take all the good vibes she could get. After Bulletproof, which was currently blasting, there’d be Titanium by Sia, followed by Eye of the Tiger and We Will Rock You for some nostalgia. Nothing like some power anthems and some deep bass.
A few days after their dinner, Bob had come through and put Vanessa in touch with the director at South Park’s local homeless shelter. They couldn’t offer anything other than an administrative position for now, but it was a start.
Unfortunately, the surrounding neighborhood was not one of the incentives of the job. Not only had chemical runoff from the nearby industrial area leached into the soil, the air hung heavy and gray with pollution. Crime rates were statistically higher here than other spots in Seattle—Vanessa had checked. But part of helping other people meant going where the help was needed. So here she was. Almost.
An incoming call blocked Vanessa’s view of her phone’s GPS, and she squinted at the device.
She tapped the screen to decline the call, but instead of the chipper British voice of the GPS suggesting that she turn right ahead, a deep, male inhale sounded in her ears.
Shit, she’d hit the wrong button.
“Vanessa? This is Jeremy Glass.”
His voice made her stop breathing. The thought of him had dominated every dream she’d had for the past week, and hearing him on the phone made her wonder if she was actually still asleep. But, nope, the car honking at her across the intersection snapped her back to reality.
“Do you have a minute?”
No, she didn’t have a minute. Vanessa stabbed the End button to drop the call. She trained her eyes back on the GPS and signaled to turn.
The phone rang again, sending her stomach skittering. Her sweaty palms slid along the steering wheel as she guided the car through the intersection.
She picked up once she made it safely through. “Please stop calling me. I’m in the car, and I need to use this phone for GPS.”
“I need to talk to you.” It was the kind of voice that could seduce her, make her forget everything about herself. And she wasn’t going to give in.
“Give me one good reason,” she said.
“I have your Tupperware.”
“Shit.”
She could hear his smile. “Shit I have your Tupperware?”
“No, shit I missed my turn.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“The Mission Shelter in South Park. At least I’m supposed to be. But I need you to get off the phone so I can get there in one piece.”
“Are you going to be there long?”
What the hell? “Maybe?”
“Okay, right.” Jeremy cleared his throat before hanging up the phone. “Drive safe, and I’ll meet—” His voice cut out, and the call ended.
Good riddance.
Vanessa rolled her eyes and tried to focus. As she navigated the streets, she ran over her résumé in her head. Temp work through Passage & Co. for eighteen months after graduation, volunteering for Girls Run Our World for the last eight. Hopefully, it would be enough to land the job answering phones. She’d left the role at X Enterprises off her work history, of course. Not only was it an embarrassingly short run, but working in a sex toy company could only count against her. Better to show a gap in her employment than expose the truth.
The humiliation of it still burned. Screw Jeremy Glass for firing her and screw him for interfering in her life now.
She was not going to be late.
Vanessa drove past the shelter twice before she spotted an open parking spot and eased her car into the space. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror before hurrying into the street. She looked competent and willing to work hard. She was going to land the job.
Vanessa stepped out of the homeless shelter, a smile stretching her face. Whatever Bob had told Trisha Abernathy about her had worked, and the shelter’s Director had been practically willing to offer her the job before she even asked the first question. All Vanessa needed to do was think things over and call Trisha back. So what if the neighborhood itself sketched her out? This was all part of the work, right?
Speaking of sketchy, a sleek, expensive vehicle paced her as she made her way to her Camry. She set her jaw and trained her eyes forward, determined not to show her fear. But the car purred along slowly, a dark shadow at the corner of her vision, and her heart kicked up in her chest.
Shit.
With her heels and dress she looked put together, and while she’d borrowed the heels from Bea and bought the dress in the sale section of Forever 21, she still stood out too much for this neighborhood.
Her fingers flexed around the strap of her purse, and she wanted nothing more than to reach in and pull out a can of mace. Just in case. But she’d swung out her apartment door without it this morning, naively thinking that she’d have to get used to the neighborhood anyway.
Stupid, stupid.
Instead of grabbing mace, Vanessa reached for her keys. She wrapped her fist around them, holding one of the sturdier keys between her thumb and index finger like a knife. Her dad had insisted she take a self-defense class before she moved to college, and now she was glad. The feeling of the cool metal in her hands steadied her just enough to risk a glance over her shoulder.
As she watched, the back window of the car rolled down to expose the devil himself, smiling at her. She gaped. From her vantage place on the sidewalk, Vanessa could only see Jeremy’s head and shoulders, but it was enough to heat her body. He wore a crisp, white oxford shirt unbuttoned at the collar to expose tan skin. A hint of stubble darkened his jaw like he’d just crawled out of bed after a night of naughty exploits. A lock of blond hair fell onto Jeremy’s forehead, and she had the sudden urge to push it into place. The devil was in the details, after all.
She shook her head to clear it. What was wrong with her? How was it possible to think someone was an asshole and still want to feel his hands on her skin?
That was the worst part of it, really. For whatever reason, she craved his touch like she craved oxygen. Her need was a fire, and she wanted to burn.
“You,” she gasped. Anger chased away her fear, but her heart still slammed in her chest. She hadn’t thought Jeremy would actually show up when she spit out the name of the shelter, and yet here he was. She didn’t know if she should feel violated or proud. She had no doubt he was here for her.
Vanessa took a step closer to the curb. Now that she knew she wasn’t about to be kidnapped, she could appreciate the car itself. Her motto about vehicles had always been, “If it gets me there safely, I don’t care what it is,” but the Jaguar in front of her made her reconsider her position. It was a car as seductive as its owner, its black exterior polished to a glossy shine, all streamlined curves that whispered about power.
Jeremy pressed a button inside the car, and the window slid all the way down. He leaned his elbow on the window frame and hung his head out the window. “Me.” He smiled like it was a totally normal thing to drive to the shittiest part of town in a hundred-thousand-dollar car to track down a woman he barely knew. “Hope your visit went well. Now can you please get in the car?”
Chapter 12
“Get in the car,” Jeremy repeated, this time opening the car door.
Vanessa took a step back and shook her head. Her pale gray dress clung to her curves, dipping in at her narrow waist before flaring out slightly above her knees. Her hair was twisted into a bun, and he longed to pull it down,
watch it tumble around her shoulders.
Seeing her in the flesh brought back all his initial reactions to her: the flash of attraction, the feeling that she could stare right into him. If only the look on her face mirrored the interest on his own. Instead, she glared at him.
He’d taken a gamble coming here, but he needed to see her. Thankfully he’d kept her damn Tupperware. It had stared at him from the corner of his desk for two days before he took it home to wash it. It didn’t match anything in his kitchen, but for some reason, he couldn’t get rid of it. Now he was glad for the excuse it gave him.
He offered Vanessa a placating grin. “Last I heard, you had a Tupperware problem.”
Vanessa stared at him like he was crazy and huffed out a throaty laugh. “You did not seriously drive across town to return my container. I am not the Cinderella of Tupperware.”
Maybe you are, princess. He had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment, so he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Not entirely. But, Scout’s Honor, I do have it with me.” He lifted the container as proof, and she rolled her eyes at him. He had been a Scout, really. He’d especially liked the fire-building challenges, the feel of wood in his hands as he made heat and light from nothing but nature.
Vanessa put her hands on her hips. “What do you want?”
“Do you have a moment?”
“A moment for what, exactly?”
“I want to talk.”
An annoyed look crossed her face. “I’m not sure we have anything to talk about.”
“Today’s discussion is strictly business.” Vanessa seemed like she wanted to say something more but he continued. “Please get in the car. You don’t appear to be carrying pepper spray, and this is a rough neighborhood. If something happened to you, I’d feel personally responsible.”
She cocked her head to the side with a hint of a smile. “I don’t know. This car makes you a bigger target than I’d ever be.”
He knew the kind of impression the Jaguar made—the sleek, dark car pulled to the side of the curb in contrast to the bleak, trash-strewn neighborhood. He’d chosen to arrive this way—with a driver, no less—for a reason. Normally he’d have driven himself, but he wanted to talk to Vanessa face to face, and the wide back seat could accommodate their conversation. The fact that the car luxuriated wealth and power was exactly the point. He could offer her enough to change her mind.
Vanessa looked like she wanted to make another snappy remark but she took a small step forward and slid into the car instead.
“Thank you.” Jeremy reached past her to close the door, catching the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut on her skin. She smelled like some sort of tropical treat that he wanted to devour. If he turned his head an inch, he’d be able to run his tongue along the line of her jaw. She’d hit him if he kissed her, he decided. It was probably good she wasn’t carrying pepper spray after all.
He leaned back against his seat and drew his eyes from Vanessa’s toes to her eyes, pausing for an extra beat on the curve of her legs, the swell of her breasts against the thin fabric of her dress. She wasn’t just sexy, she was beautiful, too.
“You look…” Delicious, he wanted to say. “Professional.”
“I just came from a job interview.”
Thank god. For one brief, horrifying moment he’d wondered if she’d been at the homeless shelter because of personal need. He couldn’t consider the fact that firing her might have led her there, that he could be responsible for causing her any more pain. But it looked like she’d landed on her feet just fine.
“At the homeless shelter?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you want? A job working at a place like this?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes.” Her gaze drifted to the door. “Helping other people is important to me.”
Yeah, he got it, she was a freaking saint. Instead of rolling his eyes, which he knew would piss her off more, he arranged his features in a show of interest. He needed to do this right, or she would run. “So, like, social justice?”
“And advocacy work. Helping people who got dealt a shit hand in life. That kind of thing.” She eyed him warily. “Why?”
“What if we could strike a deal?” Jeremy steepled his fingers under his chin. The flat line of her mouth said uninterested, but he pressed on. “Work for me for ten weeks. At the end, I can help you get a new social work position.” Ten weeks should get him into the next quarter—more than enough time for Yessir to get its act together and make him an offer.
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Here came the eating crow part. He would stroke her ego if she wanted. Hell, he’d stroke more than that just for fun. “You made an impression on the Yessir Unlimited account, and they’d like you back for a bit. To help cover some of the gap while Ramon’s on paternity leave.”
A small, pleased smile appeared on her face, but she still shook her head. “You might have missed the part where I just got a job.”
“I didn’t.” He ignored the way she bristled at the arrogance in his voice. “You don’t want this job anyway.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he cut her off. “The neighborhood’s shitty, the pay is low, and the hours are long. I can get you something better.”
She snorted. “Because you’ve got connections?” She said it like it was such a bad thing.
“I—yeah. I’ve got connections. At U Dub. In the campus violence prevention department. Or I could find you something different. Like social work with impoverished kids or something. Either way, it’ll be the kind of job you can stick around for a while. Something stable.” He noted the way her eyes widened, and he pressed the nerve. “And to give you some financial cushion, I’ll double what we were paying you before.” He could see the hesitation on her face.
Come on, Vanessa. Crack.
She drew her gaze to his. Her blue-gray eyes were an ocean, rimmed with lush, dark lashes. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to fall into her and drown.
“But you don’t even like me.” Her lips did this pretty thing as she spoke, curving around each word.
He felt a twinge of disappointment that he’d been successful in his ruse. Vanessa deserved to be worshipped, to feel wanted, but every wall he had placed between them was so he didn’t cross any lines. Today, though, the playing field had changed. This woman had a strong bullshit meter, and if he didn’t tell the truth now, she wasn’t going to agree to his terms. Still, letting her know how much she affected him was a dangerous gamble.
“I’m sorry if I ever gave you that impression. It was a necessary lie.”
Vanessa’s face clouded in confusion. “So you weren’t just being an asshole?”
He deserved that, but he still winced. “I was trying not to get distracted.” He held her gaze, needing her to see, to understand how he really felt about her. It had the intended effect.
Vanessa’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “I don’t see how you getting distracted is going to change if I come back to work for you.”
Yeah, well. He’d just have to figure that out. She could complicate his life just by showing up to work each day in those enticing dresses, smiling the way she did. Because no matter how innocent her intentions, his thoughts about her were anything but. “My distraction will be my problem. I’ll be completely professional,” he promised. “This won’t affect you again.”
Unless you want it to.
Vanessa smiled ever so slightly as she contemplated. “For the record, though, you were an ass.”
He grinned, remembering her closing comment as she’d stormed out his door. If he recalled correctly, she didn’t do assholes, but she could handle some dicks. Still, he’d better not remind her. “I was an ass. Apparently I, too, am human.”
Her smile grew, and her voice lifted in challenge. “I thought you only hired robots.”
Touché.
“Guess I better change my hiring policy.” He gave her a chagrined look. “And also for the r
ecord, I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t the strongest apology, but Vanessa seemed to consider it. She bit her lip in a way that made him want to bite it, too. At last, she spoke. “I want the University job.”
“Really?”
“Yes. If you’re not talking out of your ass.”
He leaned back against the headrest, his body already relaxing. He had her. “Okay then, it’s a deal.”
“I wasn’t finished.” Vanessa shook her head and wet her pretty lips before continuing. “I have one more stipulation.” The gleam in her eye changed from skepticism to amusement.
He needed her, but dammit, he didn’t have the patience for this. If she was going to say no anyway, he had to come up with a new plan. “What’s that?” He resisted the urge to call her sweetheart.
“I want you to come volunteer with me.”
Oh hell no. His body stiffened. “I’ve got a business to run. I don’t have time for that.”
She set her jaw. “Once a week. One, maybe two hours.” She crossed her legs and bounced her foot while she waited for his reply.
He watched the sexy curves of her legs move, and his mouth went dry. He needed to focus here, but all he could do was picture those legs wrapped around him. “I’ve already made a more than fair offer.”
“True,” she smiled. “But I already have a job. All I have to do is pick up the phone and say yes.”
God, she was a good negotiator. Maybe he should stick her in Legal instead of Sales. “Can I make a charitable contribution?”
Vanessa blew out a puff of air. “Please check your privilege. You are a straight, white, wealthy man. It’s easy for you to give money. It’s harder to give time. Ten hours.”
Jeremy raked his hands through his hair and looked over her shoulder to where pedestrians trickled past the bubble of his car. The afternoon gloom pressed a heavy hand against the windows of the Jaguar. Ten hours. Was this going to be the thing that broke him? Sure, his hourly rate was astronomical, but this would be a little over one working day of sacrifice versus a lifetime of money after he sold his company.
His Distraction Page 6
