Catch

by Bladon, Deborah

  She stays in place. “I know what it feels like to want something very badly. I know you want Fletcher as a client.”

  I want to know what she wants very badly. I’ll get it for her. I’ll get her ten of them if it makes her smile.

  “I can help him build his career,” I state without reservation. “He’ll be in the right hands with me.”

  She reaches to press the button to hold the doors open. “Go back to the office, Keats. Don’t keep them waiting.”

  I glance at the lobby to see Pace on the approach. “What the hell?”

  “You swore, so that’s a hundred dollars. I asked Pace to drop by to meet Fletcher face-to-face.”

  Jesus. This woman is incredible. I asked Pace to join us too, but he claimed he had plans he couldn’t break. Fletcher is going to be over the moon when he sees his idol walk into my office.

  “Maren!” Pace calls as he nears us. “I’m here just for you.”

  She motions for him to step into the elevator. “I can’t thank you enough, but I need to leave.”

  The smile on his lips disappears. “Seriously? You’re leaving me with this guy?”

  “You two will be just fine.” She steps off the lift. “Have fun.”

  We both stare after her as she walks away while the doors slide shut.

  Chapter 22

  Maren

  I scoot around Dudley as I head out of my bedroom. I’m showered and dressed for the day. I didn’t put much effort into how I look this morning. I don’t have the energy. I spent most of last night tossing and turning in my bed.

  When I got home from work yesterday, Arietta wasn’t here, so I paced the living room floor talking to myself until she opened the door.

  Self pep talks are something my mom taught me. I’d catch her walking up and down the hallway in our penthouse when I was a child.

  Sometimes she was trying to convince herself that she would pass over a piece of chocolate cake after dinner. Other times, I’d listen as she questioned whether she was a good mom.

  I always stepped in when that happened. My mom devoted herself to me when I was growing up. She walked away from a promising career as a psychologist to stay home and care for me.

  When I was twelve, she went back to work, and the light that had dimmed inside of her was bright again.

  For years, she was always the person I’d go to for advice. That changed when she retired. I didn’t want to burden her with my problems when she was finally settled into a calm place.

  Bianca Marks is the person I look to for help now.

  We met seven years ago at a yoga class. Bianca was cursing out a creep who was eyeing up the instructor. She chased the guy out of our class.

  After that, we hung out a few times and built a friendship that has stood up to job changes, relationship disasters, and a few vacations together.

  Arietta and I are close, but if something weighs heavy on my mind, I know Bianca will cut through the bullshit and give it to me straight.

  I press the video call button on my phone, hoping I won’t wake Bianca up. I crawled out of bed when I heard the apartment door shut as Arietta raced out of here before daybreak. Her boss must still be in Italy, barking out orders across the ocean.

  I sit patiently waiting for the call to connect.

  Bianca’s messy brown hair comes into view. I can tell her head is resting on a pillow. One of her blue eyes cracks open.

  “Hey, Bianca,” I say quietly. “How are you?”

  She shifts the phone to show the pristine state of the pillow and bedding next to her. “Alone.”

  I laugh aloud. “I’m glad I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  Both of her eyes spring open. “I’m not. I wish there were something to interrupt.”

  She sits up far enough that the white silk bra she’s wearing pops into view. “What’s happening, Maren? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I reassure her with a nod of my head. “I started a new job a few days ago.”

  She rakes a hand through her long hair as she shifts her position again. “What happened at Knott?”

  “Christian fired me.” I sigh.

  “He’s a joke.” She laughs as she places the phone down. “I’m going to grab a robe. Don’t hang up.”

  “I won’t,” I call out as I watch her arm move across the screen.

  “There,” she says as she comes back into view with a light blue robe wrapped around her body. “Where are you working now?”

  “Morgan Sports Management?”

  “Keats Morgan is your boss?”

  That surprises me enough that I suck in a breath. “You know him?”

  She shakes her head. “I know of him. He’s a pretty big deal.”

  He seems to think so .

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks since we talked.” She tilts her head. “You landed on your feet quickly. I’m happy for you.”

  I know Bianca has to get to work, so I spit out what I called to say, “He’s trying to land a new client. He’s a big deal college baseball player.”

  “What’s his name?” She rubs her hand over her eye.

  “Fletcher Newman.”

  “He’s going to kill it when he hits the majors.”

  My mouth falls open. “You know who he is?”

  Nodding, she laughs. “I read an article online about him a few months back. If I remember correctly it was all about up and comers in sports.”

  I inch toward why I really called. “His parents are celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversary and they invited Keats and I to the party.”

  She moves to the left slightly. “That’s a good sign for your boss.”

  “It is, but there’s a catch.”

  She tilts her chin up. “What’s the catch?”

  “They think we’re dating.” I sigh. “It started as a misunderstanding, but now we’re caught up in it, so they think I’m attending as his girlfriend.”

  “Go.”

  I slump my shoulders. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  She leans closer to the screen. “Go, Maren. You like him, so go.”

  “I don’t like him,” I protest. “That’s not it. I just don’t feel right pretending we are dating.”

  She blinks twice. “You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t like him. It’s a party, Maren. Go and have fun. Don’t overthink it.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?” I ask honestly. “Am I overthinking this?”

  She skims a fingertip over her bottom lip. “Think of it as a work commitment. You go and do your job. If Keats makes a move on you that night, you find a bathroom and call me.”

  I let out a laugh. “I’m not calling you from a bathroom, Bianca.”

  “You might.” She stands. “I need coffee. Do you want to meet for a cup before work?”

  I glance at the time display on the corner of my screen. “I can’t. I need to get to the office.”

  “We’ll do it soon.” She raises her hand to her mouth to blow me a kiss. “I love you, Mare. Call anytime.”

  “Love you,” I whisper back before the screen goes dark.

  Chapter 23

  Keats

  I spent the last hour listening to my niece tell me why dinosaurs are extinct. I learned that shit back in a grade I can’t remember, but the fact is, Stevie’s animated gestures and the expressions on her face made it a worthwhile lesson.

  Berk dropped her at my place on his way to work.

  He went in early to touch base with an author he wants to sign, so I made Stevie blueberry pancakes and bacon. I topped that off with orange juice served in a champagne glass.

  Every other glass I own is crammed into my dishwasher. I finally remembered to press the start button on that before I left to walk Stevie to school.

  I dropped her off five minutes ago, and now I’m standing across the street watching her with her friends. She’s the chattiest of the bunch. That has everything to do with her mother.

  Layna brought good things t
o this world. She cared for people who had less than her. She went to the animal shelter once a week to visit the dogs and cats with nowhere to go. She wrote poetry and short stories that my brother published before she died so she could hold her work in her hands.

  Stevie represents the best of both of them.

  I can only hope one day I’ll have a child who will look up to her and learn about dinosaurs and everything else a kid needs to know to make it in this world.

  I sigh when I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my suit jacket.

  Stevie walked through my closet and chose my suit again today. I’m wearing a gray three-piece with a light blue shirt and tie. The shoes are black leather with red soles.

  I may need to hire her as my stylist because I captured a few looks from both men and women on the walk here.

  I read the text message that pops up on my screen.

  Pace: Get your ass to my place now, Morgan.

  Well, good fucking morning to you too, Callahan.

  I type out a reasonable response because if Pace weren’t killing it in the world of sports, he’d make it as a dramatic actor, and I won’t feed into that.

  Keats: Keep typing. I don’t see the word please on my screen.

  I look up to see Stevie filing into the school with her friends. The pink backpack slung over her shoulder sways with every skip of her feet.

  My attention darts down when my phone vibrates again.

  Pace: My dick needs you.

  My brows pinch together as I read that once, and then again.

  Pace and I play on the same team even though I’ve never worn a baseball uniform. I’m straight, and he’s obsessed with chasing after women. That’s clear by the number of calls my office has fielded from women looking for him after spending a night in his bed.

  I type out a response.

  Keats: Come again and that’s not a fucking pun, Pace.

  I stare at the screen.

  Pace: I sent a dick pic to a woman online and it’s everywhere. I fucked up my contract, didn’t I?

  I watch as the three dots bounce on the screen.

  My fingers type out a message quickly.

  Keats: Don’t send me the picture. PLEASE don’t send it.

  Pace: Help me out here.

  I turn to set off on foot to the nearest subway stop, typing as I go.

  Keats: I’m on my way. Don’t respond to anyone, Pace. No one. Keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants. I’ll fix this.

  I will. This is a speed bump. I’ve helped other clients recover from worse. Pace will be just fine.

  ***

  “You’re looking at it, aren’t you?” Pace swings open the door to his loft.

  I keep my gaze pinned to my phone. “I’m looking at what?”

  “My cock.”

  I grimace. “Hell, no.”

  He cants his head to catch a glimpse of my phone, but I shield it from his view.

  I’m sneaking a peek at something I shouldn’t, but it has nothing to do with what’s in Pace’s pants. I’m currently in Tribeca. Maren lives in this neighborhood, so I opened the map app on my phone to see exactly how far her apartment is from this place.

  I might pull a teenager with a crush move and stroll past her building when I leave here. I don’t expect her to be there, but I’ll at least get a glimpse of the lobby.

  “What am I going to do, Keats?”

  I finally look up to see the naked chest of my client. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. I dart my gaze up quickly because I don’t want to be looking in the direction of his dick while I’m talking about it.

  “You’re going to do a charity calendar.”

  His eyes widen. “What?”

  “You’ve seen them before.” I brush past him to make my way inside his massive living room. “You’ll pose nude with a baseball bat between your legs or a glove. Hell, I have no idea of that size of that thing, so maybe a baseball will suffice.”

  He grabs his crotch. “It’s big, Keats. It’s huge.”

  Shaking my head, I laugh. “I talked to the network on my way over here. They’re on board for the calendar idea. They’ll even let you push it on air. I’ll call in some favors to get enough players for a year’s worth of half-naked shots.”

  “That’s going to fix this?” he questions.

  I slap him on the shoulder. “You’re going to need to say something on your socials. I’ll help you craft that. We’ll keep it light, and we’ll weave an apology into it.”

  “And then I’ll be good?” He perks a dark brow. “Everyone is going to know what my dick looks like.”

  “They’ll forget about it as soon as someone more relevant drops a nude shot.” I sigh. “Stop taking pictures of it, Pace. That’s a big no from here on out. Understood?”

  He nods. “Understood.”

  I point to where his phone is resting on his coffee table. “Stay off that all day. I’ll drop by later with a statement you can release.”

  “Okay.” He nods. “Did Maren happen to see the picture?”

  Shaking my head, I laugh. “If she did, she wouldn’t be impressed.”

  He joins me with a chuckle. “I saw the way you looked at her in the elevator. You like her, don’t you?”

  I’m not diving into that gossip pool with him. I’ve worked hard to keep my personal life just out of reach of my client’s curiosity. That blew up when Fletcher and his dad met Maren and decided she was my girlfriend. “Don’t worry about that. Worry about what your mom’s going to say when she realizes what you’ve done.”

  “Oh, shit.” He hangs his head. “I need to figure out what I’ll tell her.”

  “I’ll help you with that too,” I say, grateful that we got off the subject of my assistant. “I need to fix your fuck up, so I’m out of here.”

  “You’re the man, Keats,” he calls after me. “You’re the best.”

  When Maren thinks that, I’ll believe it. Until then, I’m doing what I can to be a better man every hour of every day.

  Chapter 24

  Maren

  Talk about a hard day on the job.

  I laugh to myself as I glance toward Keats’s office.

  As soon as I got to work today, Myrie, one of the women who work in the legal department, brought up the Pace Callahan scandal.

  Those are her words, not mine.

  She flashed me a picture of an erect penis on her phone just as I was swallowing a mouthful of hot coffee.

  I’m sure I scalded my tongue as I stood speechless and motionless.

  I didn’t want to see that.

  Myrie did. After she showed me, her fingers slid over her phone’s screen as she zoomed in.

  Why?

  I wanted to ask her that, but I can’t judge what anyone else finds interesting. I’d rather see a man’s penis in person than flashed all over the internet.

  When Keats arrived to work, he was greeted with a round of applause.

  I didn’t join in because although he looked hot as hell in the gray suit he’s wearing, it didn’t deserve a standing ovation.

  It took me a few minutes alone with Everett to realize that this isn’t the first time Keats has had to deal with a situation like this. In fact, this is the third time the world has seen the cock of one of his clients.

  I don’t take nude selfies.

  This is a reminder of why I never will.

  Even though Pace’s face wasn’t in the picture, the woman who had the photo claims it’s him.

  She has a screenshot of a text exchange to back that up.

  Pace may have an impressive cock, but he’s not romantic. At least, he wasn’t when he was sending out dick pics to a stranger. The gist of that exchange was that he was interested in hooking up and willing to share a preview.

  “Maren!” Keats calls from where he’s sitting behind his desk. “Do you have a minute?”

  I have all the time in the world. I spent most of my day saying “no comment,” to people calling
Keats looking for a statement about Pace.

  I’ve worked in public relations for years. I’ve dealt with scandals, including the exposure of extramarital affairs and political wrongdoing. I’ve never had to step into a situation like this.

  I stand up and make my way to Keats’s office. I don’t close the door.

  “Pace fucked up.” Keats laughs. “How many people have called asking about his dick?”

  He says the word so effortlessly that it sets me back a step. I skim my hand over the black pants I’m wearing so I can have a moment to catch my breath and chase away the blush I know has settled on my cheeks.

  “A few,” I say quietly. “I handled them.”

  “I knew you would.” He pushes back to stand. “I’m going to take off for the rest of the day to deal with this. I’m heading over to Pace’s loft.”

  I hold my breath, hoping he won’t invite me to go with him. The last thing I want to do is sit in on a conversation focused on Pace Callahan’s cock.

  “How do you feel about the Newmans’ party?” He asks in a low tone. “Our conversation from yesterday felt unfinished.”

  “Going to the anniversary party is important for work.”

  That sounded robotic.

  Keats tilts his head. “It’s very important for our business.”

  “Your business,” I correct him.

  A smile slides over his lips. “You still haven’t read your contract, have you?”

  Dammit. I meant to do that last night, but Arietta wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies, and I pulled clean up duties.

  Arietta is many things, but a tidy baker isn’t one of them. She used almost every bowl and measuring cup in our kitchen.

  “I’m planning on doing that today.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble.” He rounds his desk. “Every employee receives a bonus if one of our clients signs a substantial deal.”

  “A bonus?”

  He nods. “Fletcher Newman will be on the roster of a major league team in a few months. That’s a given. If we convince him to sign with us, we’ll all benefit from that.”