One to Keep

by Tia Louise

  Once I was out of sight, I took the steps two at a time. Jumping the last flight, I burst out the bottom door, quickly making my way to the Charger and punching up Kenny’s number.

  Chapter 6 – Fucking Fatal Attraction

  MFGDMFS! I typed and hit Send before backing out of my parking space.

  I didn’t look out my window, but I could feel Star watching me from the offices above. I’d seriously screwed the pooch this time—in every sense of the word. And I was pissed as hell. My phone vibrated and I glanced at it.

  LOL, WTF? Kenny texted back.

  I waited for the next red light and answered. Any chance I can crash with you this weekend?

  The light changed, and I dropped the phone on the passenger’s seat. My brain was working out all the possible scenarios. Star knew where I lived, and judging by her behavior just now, I was pretty confident she’d be stalking me this weekend. But how far would she go? My grip tightened on the steering wheel. I’d never get any sleep worrying about having to fight off some knife-wielding crazybitch in the middle of the night.

  Kenny texted back: Only if you can figure out what to tell my parents.

  Fuck. I pulled into my parking garage and replied: You don’t have your own place?

  How much money do you think I make, Bingley?

  Shit. That plan was out. I slammed the car door and jogged up the few flights of stairs to my place. My brain felt scrambled, and I was tired. I needed to lay low for a few days and figure this out. Pressing my lips together, I figured I could rent a hotel room somewhere in town… I considered the other what if as I unlocked my apartment. What if I was overreacting?

  Just because Star was screwing around on her husband didn’t mean she was a psycho. Yes, her words in my office and that crazy-assed look in her eyes were not encouraging signs, but I could be wrong about the whole thing.

  What’s going on? Kenny texted.

  For a moment, I only stared at my phone, thinking. Then I typed it. I figured Kenny’s response would give me a good idea what to expect.

  I might’ve fucked Fatal Attraction.

  LOLOL!!! She texted back.

  Thanks.

  Actually, her laughter gave me the tiniest bit of hope Derek might see the humor in this situation as well, however slight. Then my mind scrolled through all the possible ramifications of what I’d done, and I felt sick all over again. Nope. He’d be pissed.

  Sorry. Are you really in trouble?

  I’ll be OK. I answered. Don’t worry.

  Now I’m worried.

  Don’t. I’m handling it.

  I dropped the phone on my bed and went straight to the shower. I wanted to wash, no scrub this day off me. I wished I had a brillo. Turning the water on hot, I waited until the thin, white steam started to rise before I stepped inside and laid it all out in my mind.

  Problem number one: Star was a subordinate, which meant she could claim sexual harassment and sue me. Whether it was true or not, the publicity would kill us. Derek was going to kick my ass. And I deserved it.

  Problem number two: Star’s husband. Was he crazy? Did he own a gun? Would he show up at the office threatening to use it? Again, Derek was going to kill me. I had to fix this.

  Then a new potential problem hit me. If this shit got out of hand before Sunday, I had no backup. Maybe I should just tell Derek now and ask if I could crash at his place for a few nights. That option made my stomach burn.

  I decided to think about it more before pulling that trigger. It was possible once Derek returned on Monday, Star would take one look at him and drop it. “Mr. Alexander” was a pretty intimidating force in the office, and he ran a tight ship. Maybe I could slowly disengage.

  Washing my hair, giving my body and particularly my dick an extra good scrubbing, I stepped out feeling calmer. I wrapped the towel around my waist and noticed the face of my phone was covered in texts. Picking it up, my adrenaline started pumping again. Sixteen texts. One from Kenny, fifteen from Star.

  Kenny: Check in, okay?

  Star #1: You there?

  #2: Patrick?

  #3: Please text back. I’m worried.

  #4: I miss you already.

  #5: When I move, I can tell you’ve been inside me.

  Fuck.

  #6: I can still taste you.

  Double Fuck.

  #7: Do you miss me?

  #8: Why aren’t you texting me back?

  #9: Where are you?

  #10: Are you avoiding me?

  #11: You know you can’t avoid me.

  #12: I see your lights on.

  Fuck Fuck Fuck! I resisted the urge to slam my phone into the wall and instead read her last three messages.

  #13: I’m waiting here til you text back.

  #14: Patrick?

  #15: I’m coming up.

  The thought of no backup again crossed my mind, and I decided to vacate the premises. Tossing my towel on the bed, I jerked on my jeans and a maroon tee. I stepped into a pair of loafers, and snatched my keys off the front counter, slipping out the door and locking it behind me. The lights were still on, but that would add to my story—I’d forgotten to turn them off before I left.

  Last thing I wanted was to run into Star, so I used my stealth training. Creeping down the breezeway, I went opposite my normal route. With my back to the wall, I edged down to the parking garage. Not seeing anyone, I went car by car until I was at the Charger and jumped inside, jamming the key in the ignition and turning it. This whole scenario was pissing me off even more, but when I turned the wheel, I saw a dark figure exiting the garage in the direction of my apartment. Dammit. Now I’d have to tell Derek.

  There was no way to know if she’d seen me. Well, I could wait for the texts to start pouring in, but I was scrolling through my contacts first. When I saw his name, I took a deep breath and touched the screen. A few buzzes later, and he answered.

  “Patrick?” Derek’s voice held a note of confusion. “Is something wrong?”

  “Hey, man.” I switched to casual cool. “Need to ask a favor if possible.”

  “Okay…”

  There was a brief pause, and I thought about my story. He was going to be pissed as hell, so I decided to let him finish what he was doing and tell him the truth in person when he got back.

  “Seems they were doing some maintenance in my building today, and the power was knocked out. Still is.”

  I heard him exhale. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s probably too much to ask, but would you mind if I crashed at your place tonight?”

  “Sure.” A smile was in his voice. That wouldn’t last long. “Stay as long as you need. I’ll call the manager and have the doorman let you in.”

  “Thanks, D. I owe you one.”

  “No worries.”

  I ended the call and turned the wheel toward downtown. It was possible Star might figure out where I’d gone, but with valet parking, a gated garage, and a doorman, I’d at least have three layers between me and the crazy. And I’d bet my life Derek Alexander didn’t have any female visitors that looked like her. Although, now that I thought about it, he could do whatever he wanted, and I’d never know. Nah, he wouldn’t have been as quick to let me crash at his pad if he were hiding a secret double-life.

  By the time I reached the glass doors at the entrance of his building, the doorman and valet were waiting for me. There was something to be said about luxury living. Maybe in a few years, I’d look into a similar arrangement.

  “Good evening, Mr. Knight,” the doorman said, glancing briefly at my ID. “This won’t be necessary next time.”

  “Thanks… Walter,” I said, reading the man’s small, gold nameplate. “I’ll only be here a day. Two tops.”

  “Enjoy your visit, sir,” he said with a smile.

  I nodded and started for the elevator, but then I stopped. “Oh, Walter—”

  “Yes, sir?” He stepped back to me.

  “I’m not expecting any visitors.”


  “Of course.” He nodded, and I smiled.

  “Thanks.”

  He returned to his post, and I entered the waiting elevator, collapsing against the back wall as the doors slid closed.

  * * *

  Standing at the dark windows overlooking the lights of Princeton, I let out a deep exhale. I was tired. I’d been drinking since lunch, I’d had no lunch… I’d fucking fucked through lunch—all followed by that insane adrenaline trip from hell. Now I was looking back over the whole thing, growing more and more pissed. Mostly at myself.

  I’d sent Kenny a short text that I was at Derek’s, and after her smartass response about hiding, I’d silenced my phone after Text #50 from Star. My head hurt, and I couldn’t believe I’d been such an amateur.

  Walking through Derek’s plush condo, I debated how I could present this in a way that didn’t end up with all signs pointing to me applying for one of those Afghanistan jobs.

  The condo was noticeably free of any photos or personal mementos. It was like a fucking museum. At twenty-five hundred square feet, it wasn’t warm or homey. The décor reminded me of the office with its dark wood and spare furnishings. Glass and stainless, granite and all the latest appliances. The beds were plush with 800 thread-count sheets and those firm but soft mattresses. I think they were the Swedish kind. Of course, they were. This was Mr. Alexander.

  It was a dream living space, but it was clear the two-bedroom, two bath condo was just that—a living space. Nikki was right. My partner seriously needed to get laid, but I was pretty sure if I suggested anything like that to him on the heels of my latest fuckup, I’d be the one getting punched in the face.

  Digging around in the freezer, I fished out a bottle of Belvedere and poured two fingers into a crystal tumbler. There wasn’t much food in the condo, so I called for take out. Not only was I tired, I was hangry—hungry and angry.

  I felt conned. I felt trapped. My food-deprived brain plotted out all sorts of scenarios. What if Star was a plant from some angry client I’d sent away? Some client who knew my weakness for hot blondes and blow jobs.

  Or possibly she was a setup by Nikki intended for Derek, and I’d unwittingly intercepted her. No way. Nikki was smarter than that, whatever my senior partner said. He’d never fall for it. That thought made me fucking pissed at myself all over again. It would be the first thing he said.

  Once I’d eaten a boatload of sushi, I was thinking a little clearer. Yes, I’d screwed up. It was a slow day, and I’d been thinking with my dick instead of my brain. And it was biting me in the ass. Now I needed to figure out a way to smooth this over that didn’t involve us getting sued for sexual harassment or me having to take out a restraining order against some jealous ex-husband. If he even was her ex. My instincts told me they were still together. Where were my instincts around one o’clock this afternoon?

  Standing, I went back to the windows and looked out at the darkness, broken by streetlights, cars, and smaller businesses. How had I ended up here? I’d left Chicago determined to change how I did things, but my anger at Stacy had left me out of control. It was a dangerous place to be; out of control in my line of work was a career killer. I was the watcher, the thinker. The closer. And here I was committing frat-boy fuckups with would-be porn stars. Something had to give.

  My phone vibrated in my hand, and I was so distracted, I looked at it. Kenny. Don’t beat yourself up, Bingley. I’ve seen you. You’ve got that dangerously sweet charm.

  Allowing myself a momentary reprieve from the self-flagellation, I thought of Kenny and me. Being with her was really nice. For one night I’d felt calm.

  If only she wasn’t such a kid. I shook my head. Her circumstance had morphed all my feelings into nothing more than big-brother protectiveness.

  I was actually just awarding myself King Dumbass. I texted back.

  You are a dumbass. But you’re not the king. And Darcy is more understanding than he first appears.

  Her intuition made me laugh. Thanks.

  Warmth filled my chest, even if it was the warmth I usually reserved for relatives like my little sister. Kenny was special. And all I could do now was wait.

  Chapter 7 – Back in the Desert

  Watching the anger rise in Derek’s face reminded me of the day I decided he could probably be one scary-assed motherfucker if he wanted to be. I was absolutely correct in that assessment. Not only did his blue eyes turn dark navy, but his brow lowered in a way that had my muscles tensing, preparing to take the hit. It was going to hurt like hell, too. I’d seen him work out.

  “You did what?” His voice was quiet, way more controlled than I’d expected.

  My stomach was tight. “I made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” He let out his breath and turned, looking through the windows of his apartment at the bright Sunday afternoon. “A mistake is Nikki sending my car to LaGuardia instead of JFK. This is more than a mistake.”

  The comparison made me wince. I’d spent the weekend at his place, worked out on his Bowflex, lounged by the rooftop pool, watched his 110-inch flatscreen, tried to get my head straight. The more I’d thought about what happened, the more it didn’t make sense that Star would go from zero to on my dick unless she had an agenda. Sure, I’d grown used to panties flying at my command, but this felt contrived.

  “What do you think about it possibly being a setup?” It sounded even more ridiculous when I said it out loud, and even if it was a setup, it didn’t change the fact that I’d slept with a subordinate. On her first day in the office.

  As if remembering something, Derek turned and went to the hall, grabbing his briefcase. “With what possible motive?” He was distracted as he walked past me. I couldn’t imagine what he was looking for—unless he had standard resignation papers on hand.

  “That’s the part I can’t figure out.” I exhaled, leaning against his leather couch. “But I swear, I was only planning to have lunch with her then go home. I’d gotten your email.”

  “Instead, you decided to jeopardize the reputation of our agency—my reputation—to satisfy your dick.” Again I winced as he dropped the folder on the table. “You’re going to Scottsdale. Leaving Tuesday morning. Take Monday off.”

  I nodded, expecting as much.

  “Perfect timing,” he growled. “I just picked up a huge multi-agency phishing scam targeting seniors. I need you on this. Instead, I’ve got to figure out if we’re going to be sued for sexual harassment. Or if some asshole’s going to show up at the office waving a gun.”

  My frown deepened. I still couldn’t believe I’d been so careless. “I guess it’s too late to apologize.”

  “Skip it,” he said, picking up his phone. “I’ll call Susan and see if the girl’s reported anything.”

  “Who’s Susan?”

  “My aunt.” He walked back to the dining area. “She runs the temp agency.”

  That one sentence made my setup theory DOA. Derek’s aunt would not be party to a setup. I watched as he listened and then put his phone down. “She’s not answering. I’ll follow up with her tomorrow. You get packing.”

  I bent down and collected the few things I’d brought with me Friday night. I wasn’t sure what to say in my defense at this point. My credibility was at an all-time low, and I hated it. I nodded, picking up my keys and my now-quiet phone. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll email you the agenda for the Scottsdale conference. It’s at the Windsor. Nice golf course, spa attached. Try the acupuncture.”

  “Right,” I said, shaking my head. With the extra-sharp needles, I was sure. “See you in a week.”

  Maybe a week in the desert was a good idea after all.

  * * *

  Two days later, I was at the outdoor bar at the Windsor resort, waiting for a bartender and watching the Arizona sky turn from orange and pink to purple and black. I was alone, and I contemplated being here, in the desert, starting over. I had my agenda for the week, and the plan was to bag at least five new clients as penance. This was me g
rabbing the reins, getting back in the saddle.

  Out of the blue, Derek had emailed to say he was joining me on the trip. Something about a last-minute job and needing to be here. He’d arrived earlier this evening, but I wasn’t interested in socializing. This trip was about me redeeming my reputation.

  And just like that, a vodka and tonic appeared in front of me. “From the lady.” The bartender pointed past me to a strawberry blonde with a sly smile on her face. She was slim and fit, and I could tell by the way she carried herself, she was older.

  Damn, if this wasn’t a test.

  I’d been with a few cougars after Stacy, and they were all crazy in the sack. They were experienced, confident, and usually not looking for anything long-term. Naturally, I felt a stirring down below, but I wasn’t getting sidetracked. My dick might be awake, but he was taking the backseat on this trip. I nodded and lifted the tumbler mouthing a thank you.

  She slid off that stool and headed in my direction. Shit. The filmy black dress she wore moved over her slim hips like smoky sex. Yep, a challenge.

  “Hey, handsome,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Barbara.”

  “Patrick.” I gave it a squeeze, and she leaned against the bar in front of me.

  Up close, she was even prettier. High cheekbones, bright hazel eyes with faint lines in the corners, and the sharp features that came with maturity. The little guy below was shooting all kinds of messages to my brain, but I was ignoring them.

  “Are you here for the banker’s conference?” Barbara signaled the bartender before turning back to me.

  “As a matter of fact I am. You?”

  She shook her head before ordering a glass of Chardonnay. “My youngest daughter’s getting married tomorrow. I’m just in for the night.” Following an obvious glance at my left hand, she gave me a wink before continuing. “Any plans for this evening, Patrick?”

  Trust me, I’d already checked for rings on her fingers as well—burn me once—but none of that mattered. “Just finishing my drink here—thanks again—then headed up.”