I pat the top of her head before I lean down to kiss it. “I love you.”
“Me too.” She squeezes me tighter. “Daddy and I love you very much.”
That should be all I need in life. It has been for a long time, but I want more. I want Maren. I don’t know if I can make that happen, but I’m going to do everything in my power to be the man she falls for.
Chapter 38
Maren
I walk into the office on Monday morning, steady on my feet.
I spent the better part of yesterday being coached back to health by Arietta. She got me off the couch at noon and into the kitchen. We made a salad together, and then once the food had settled, she guided me through some stretches and yoga poses.
It didn’t seem like a lot of movement for my ankle, but it was tender by the end of the day.
It was a quiet Sunday, filled with lots of laughs with my roommate, good food, and thoughts of my boss.
As soon as I step off the elevator, I notice something on my desk.
It’s a pink rectangular box with a white bow on it.
I glance around, but my co-workers are all busy tending to what needs to be done.
This is the first day I haven’t arrived at the office before all of them. I took extra time to get ready this morning.
“Hey, Maren.” Everett passes by me. “How was your weekend?”
“Good,” I answer honestly. “How about you?”
“One of the best I’ve had in a long time.” He smiles before he disappears down the corridor toward his office.
I stare at the pink box as I drop my purse into the bottom drawer of my desk.
It only takes a glance into Keats’s darkened office for me to realize that he’s not at work yet.
Scratching the side of my nose, I lower myself into my office chair.
That’s when I notice a small white card next to the box with my name written on the front.
I open it and read the masculine handwriting.
You said they were your favorite shoes. Keats.
A smile creeps over my lips as I untie the bow and lift the box. I rip through the pink tissue paper and gasp. “What? How?”
I pick up one shoe. It’s the same brand and size of the shoes I had on the other night. I reach for the other.
I don’t know how Keats found another pair of the same shoes since I bought the originals when I was in college. It was at a small store in Boston that was going out of business.
My mom took me there for the weekend. She called it a girls’ trip, but it was more of a rediscovery of our relationship. I had matured during my years in school, and she wanted to treat me to martinis and caviar.
I bought the shoes even though she insisted on paying for them. I wanted to show her that I was responsible and capable. Every time I slipped them on, I remembered that weekend.
I carefully place the shoes back in the box with shaking hands. “Wow,” I say softly. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it.”
I look up to see Keats standing in front of my desk. The smile on his face makes my heart swell.
“Thank you.” I smile. “How did you find these shoes?”
“Anything is possible if you want it badly enough,” he says. “Join me in my office, Maren.”
I push back from the desk and stand on shaky feet. “Give me a minute?”
He nods and sets off toward his office door.
I watch as he walks away. The gray suit he has on may make him look sexy-as-hell, but the heart that beats inside his chest makes him irresistible.
I smooth my hand over the skirt of my dress. Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes and mouth to myself, “ It’s okay to like your boss.”
When I look toward his office, he’s standing in the doorway staring at me. With a crook of his finger, he beckons me closer, and I go.
I let my heart take the lead.
Chapter 39
Keats
It’s okay to like your boss.
Damn right it is.
I watched Maren silently say those words before she walked into my office.
She likes me. She fucking likes me.
Is it finally my turn to be the luckiest man on this planet?
“You look happy,” Maren comments as she stands in front of me.
I close the door with a click.
Her eyes widen beneath long lashes. “Is something wrong?”
Everything is right. I keep that to myself and try and remember what I do for a living as I stare into her blue eyes.
“What is it?” She grimaces. “We can handle this together, Keats.”
She’s right. We can handle anything together.
I finally shake myself out of my infatuation fog and clear my throat. “Everything is fine.”
She nods as she twists the end of the leather belt around her waist in her fingers. I glance down at the light green dress she’s wearing. I would tell her she’s beautiful, but I won’t be able to stop there. How do you fully express to the most stunning woman in the world that she lights up every room she walks into?
“Are we going to talk about what happened the other night?” She lets out a breathy sigh. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about that.”
I take a step closer to her. “The almost kiss?”
Her eyes drop to my lips. “Yes.”
“Arietta’s timing is shit.”
She bits her bottom lip to ward off a laugh. “You swore.”
That draws me even closer to her. “I know, and here comes another. Do you agree that your roommate’s timing is shit?”
She nods. Her gaze is still trained on my mouth, so I smile.
“Have you kissed anyone you work with before?” she asks.
“Everett,” I answer. “Just once.”
Her shoulders surge forward as she huffs out a laugh. “Are you serious?”
“I went to plant one on his cheek the day he became a grandfather.” I tap my cheek with my index finger. “Everett moved, and the kiss landed on his lips.”
Her head shakes. “Did this happen in front of everyone, or was it a private kiss?”
I lean in closer. “That one was public. This one will be private.”
“This one?” Her eyes search mine.
“This one,” I repeat before I cup the back of her neck, pull her to me, and press my lips to hers.
***
The kiss is soft. It lingers. I tug her into me, and she responds with the slightest sigh and a hint of a moan.
I dive deeper, tangling my hand in her hair as I skim my tongue over her bottom lip.
This has to be what a kiss is supposed to feel like because fuck me, I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before.
With a groan, I trail my fingers over her back.
“Keats.”
What the fuck? My name has never sounded like that before.
I rest my forehead against hers to catch my breath, or to calm my heart down because that thing is slamming against the wall of my chest trying to escape.
“Maren,” I say her name. “What the hell?”
She lets out the smallest laugh. “We kissed.”
We did more than kiss. We connected on a level I never knew existed. If kissing her feels like this, what is fucking her like?
My dick hardens more when I think about touching her, bringing her to orgasm, hearing her come as she rides me.
“Kiss me again,” I almost beg.
She takes a step back. “Is this wrong?”
“No,” I blurt out without thinking. “How can this be wrong when it feels…”
“So good?” she interrupts me. “Did it feel good to you too?”
I glance down. “What do you think?”
Her hand pops up to cover her mouth when she gets an eyeful of the bulge in the front of my pants.
“I’ve never had a kiss quite like that,” I confess.
“Me either.” Her gaze drops to the floor. “I work for you.”
/> I inch her chin up with a touch of my finger. “So?”
“That makes it complicated.”
Shaking my head, I run my fingertip over her bare arm. “It doesn’t have to be.”
A knock at my door sends her back a step. “This is what I’m talking about. People will know what we’re doing.”
I don’t give a fuck about that.
I stalk toward the door. “You’d think the closed door would be a hint to scram.”
When I swing it open, I almost stumble back. “Stevie?”
My niece looks at me before her gaze darts to Maren. “Is that Maren? You kissed her, didn’t you?”
How the hell did she figure that out in two seconds flat?
“You have lipstick on your mouth, Keats.” Stevie marches into my office, holding tight to the stuffed dog I gave her yesterday. She stops when she’s right in front of Maren. “I’m Stevie Morgan. I’m very happy to meet you.”
Chapter 40
Maren
I stare at the little girl in front of me with the big blue eyes. Her brown hair is braided to the side. She’s sweet and incredibly polite.
I offer a hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Maren.”
She slides her small hand into mine. “Keats told me you had red hair.”
I smile. “He told me you love Dudley.”
She cradles the stuffed animal in her arms. “This is Budley. He’s my buddy when I can’t see Dudley.”
“Clever,” Keats quips from behind her. “Did you drive here or what?”
She bends over in a belly laugh. “I’m eight. I can’t drive.”
“You’re eight,” he affirms with a nod. “Doesn’t that mean you need to be in school right about now?”
“You’re twenty-nine,” she points out. “Doesn’t that mean you should know how to brush your hair by now?”
I hold in a laugh.
Keats runs a hand through his hair. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“You need a cut.” A man’s voice calls from the open doorway.
“Daddy!” Stevie races over to him. “This is Maren. See her red hair. It’s pretty, right?”
Keats’s brother grabs hold of his daughter’s hand and crosses the floor toward me. “I’m Berk.”
I see the family resemblance almost immediately. Their hair and eye color are different, but Berk has the same strong features as his brother. He’s slightly taller and nearly as handsome as Keats.
“Should I know why you’re here?” Keats questions. “Am I missing something?”
Stevie glances at him. “I told you yesterday that I didn’t have school today. My teachers are learning new stuff.”
“It’s a staff development day.” Berk glances in my direction before he looks at his brother. “I took the day off, but Nicholas wants to meet up. I think it’s good news. I was hoping you could watch Stevie for an hour or two?”
“Watch me watch him.” Stevie points at her eyes before she levels her fingers at Keats.
He laughs. “Miss Morgan can work for me today.”
That sets Stevie’s back straighter as she stands tall. “I can work here?”
Berk nods. “Listen to Keats. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick you up.”
Stevie bounces in her shoes as her dad leans down to kiss her forehead. “Good luck, Daddy.”
Berk tugs on her braid. “Thank you.”
I smile when Berk looks at me. “It’s been nice meeting you, Berk.”
He winks at Keats before he turns his attention back to me. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Maren.”
***
“Did you invite Maren to our concert?” Stevie asks from where she’s sitting behind Keats’s desk.
Keats took a seat in one of the visitor chairs facing his desk. I’m back at my desk, but with the door to Keats’s office open, I can clearly hear the conversation between the two of them.
“You’re ready for an audience?” Keats asks.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Stevie answers.
“Your confidence is next level.” Keats glances back at me. “Why don’t you grab some of that paper and make Maren a ticket for the concert?”
Stevie waves to me. “Do you think she can hear us?”
Keats looks back at her. “No. Why?”
“I think you should marry her, Keats.” She sneaks another peek at me. “She’s pretty and nice. You know that since you kissed her, and I like her.”
“Let’s worry about the concert for now,” he expertly avoids her comments.
“Okay.” She lets out an audible sigh. “Someone else might ask her to marry them, and then what?”
“If you get that ticket done in the next ten minutes, I’ll ask Maren to take you to see Dudley.”
I watch as she bounces to her feet. “Seriously?”
“Seriously?” Keats answers.
She drops back into the chair, grabs a piece of paper and a pen, and starts writing something down.
Keats stands and turns toward me.
I watch every step he takes as he approaches my desk. When he’s next to it, he looks down at me. “Did you hear all of that?”
I nod. “Every word.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know what it is about kids that age and marriage. They don’t understand how complicated that is.”
It doesn’t have to be complicated.
I sit on those words as I watch him scrub the back of his neck with his hand.
“Can you take her to see Dudley for an hour?” He glances at the watch on his wrist. “I’m expecting a call from a scout in Denver.”
“Of course, I’m happy to do that. I’m sure Dudley will be glad to see her.”
“She’s going to hand you a ticket to our concert.” He shifts from one foot to another. “It’s a piano recital, but feel free to say no.”
I take a chance and ask the question sitting on the tip of my tongue. “Do you want me there, Keats?”
His eyes find mine, and I see the answer before he says anything. “I do.”
“I’ll RSVP as a definite yes,” I say quietly. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Chapter 41
Maren
Spending an hour-and-a-half with an eight-year-old today was enlightening. I learned all about dinosaurs and unicorns.
By the time we left my apartment to head back to the office, Stevie was holding my hand and telling me about her piano recital tonight.
She has a special pink dress to wear. Keats is wearing something extra special too. She laughed when she told me that.
I’m watching her now as she hugs Keats and tells him goodbye.
She races over to my desk. “You’ll be there tonight, right?”
I nod. “I’m excited to hear you play the piano.”
“I’m pretty good for a beginner.” She clutches Budley close to her chest. “My mom played it too, so I think she’d be proud of me.”
Sadness nips at me. I never met her mom, but I sense she must have been an incredible woman. Her daughter is remarkable.
“Try not to be late.” She sighs. “I’m sometimes late getting up in the morning for school, and when it comes to doing my chores, I pretend to forget how to tell time.”
She holds up her wrist to show me the face of the pink and white watch she’s wearing. It flashes the time digitally. It’s just after noon.
“Let’s grab some lunch,” Berk says.
“I’m in.” Keats scoops up his phone off his desk. “How about you, Maren?”
I came to work today unsure of where things stood between Keats and me, and now a few hours later, we’ve kissed, and I’ve met some of his family.
I’ll be seeing them again tonight, so I need to catch my breath.
“I have something to take care of, so I’ll have to pass.”
Keats brow furrows. He knows that whatever I have to do isn’t related to work. “You’re sure?”
I nod curtly. “Very sure.”
“We’ll see you tonight?” Berk asks as he reaches for Stevie’s hand.
I keep my gaze on Keats. “I’ll be there.”
He smiles. “Good. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, Maren.”
“I’ll be here,” I say quietly as my gaze drops to the handwritten invitation on my desk.
As soon as they’ve boarded the elevator, I reach for my phone.
I scroll through the messages that were posted when I found Dudley. Some of the women included Keats’s office address, but more than a few directed me to his home.
I compare that address to the one Stevie wrote down on the invitation.
They match.
Tonight I’m going to my boss’s home. It’s the place that he’s taken many women to. I know I should be excited, but the pit of unease in my stomach is impossible to ignore.
Keats Morgan isn’t a one-woman type of man.
I can’t forget that. Not tonight; not ever.
***
I’ve lived in New York City my entire life, yet I’ve rarely ventured to the Upper West Side. It’s like that with many people who call Manhattan home. We settle into our familiar corner of the city and find happiness there.
I stand on the sidewalk looking up at Keats’s townhouse, wondering if it would ever be possible for me to find happiness here.
Maybe for a night, or two.
When Keats called after lunch to say that he wouldn’t be back to the office today because he needed to see Pace, I jotted down the instructions he gave me for contacting several of the athletes who are going to appear in the charity calendar.
My job was simple.
I had to confirm their participation and then discuss what time frame worked best for them.
Three of the six men I called asked to speak to Keats directly. When I told them that he was unavailable, they wanted to leave messages.
All were the same, just worded differently.
Essentially, they wanted me to ask Keats if he would be able to go to a bar or club with them the night of the photo shoot.
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