“Maybe you could just say ‘thank you’.” He’s mocking me. I can hear the amusement in his voice.
“Yes, yes. Thank you. It’s beautiful,” I say, passing from one deep shade of red to an even deeper one. “But why – why did you send it to me?” I cringe, knowing that the gift is a sick ‘thank you’ for the x-rated conversations we’ve been having each night after office hours.
“Don’t think too much of it, Amber. Just consider it my way of showing appreciation for all the work you’ve been doing on the Montreal file. I enjoy working with you on this. ” He pauses. His voice drops a few octaves. “…And I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I glance around to make sure that none of my co-workers are listening in. “This is really inappropriate,” I whisper.
He chuckles. “It’s a pen. You write, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I say reluctantly.
“Okay, so there’s nothing inappropriate about it. Now, is there?” he argues.
I feel defeated. “I’m – I’m busy right now. I’m at work.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Amber. I just want you to have the pen. That’s all. Okay?”
I try to regulate my breathing.
“So, enjoy the rest of your day, beautiful.” With that, I hear the phone click and the line goes dead.
Chapter 12
I’ve doubled down on my NA meetings this week.
Usually, falling for someone is exhilarating and exciting, but for me, falling for Spencer only stirs anxiety within me and makes me unable to focus. Having a relationship with him could get me fired. And I really need my focus now if I’m gonna keep this job.
So, I went to two NA meetings this week. I always sit at the back and I haven’t shared at an NA meeting since I left rehab. I’m too embarrassed to discuss my inner turmoil out loud. Talking about my addiction only makes me anxious and reminds me of the person I was back then.
I don’t want that.
I don’t want to remember that person.
So, when I go to an NA meeting. I sit at the back of the room and listen intently, but I don’t share.
I never share.
Chapter 13
“What do you taste like?”
“Spencer?”
“Amber. Answer me. What do you taste like?”
“Um. I – I.” I’m flustered. Thank goodness he’s on the other side of town right now because there’s no way I could have this conversation looking him straight in the face.
He continues before I am able to gather my bearings. “I was just laying in bed, thinking about you and I couldn’t help but wonder what you taste like.”
I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I glance at the time on my digital clock. 11:30 on the nose.
“I – I don’t know how to answer that, Spencer.”
I hear him take a deep measured breath. “Man, if I was with you right now…”
I close my eyes and imagine him in my bed. Laying next to me. On top of me. Intertwined with me.
“I wanna come over to your apartment right now. Just to taste you…”
A hungry sigh escapes my lips.
“Are you lying down?” His voice is husky.
“Yes.” My voice is a breathy whisper.
“I need you to hear you come again,” he whispers.
“Spencer –“ I say in a warning tone.
“I have to fuck you, Amber.” He sounds determined.
“We can’t do that,” I say, my defenses so weak.
“I have to fuck you,” he repeats. “It’s killing me. I have to find a way.”
Chapter 14
All my assistant told me was that I was needed in conference room four. So, when I sauntered in, the last person I expected to see was Spencer.
Stella and Matt are here too.
But all I can see is Spencer.
We had spent all night on the phone making each other explode again and again. And he’d never mentioned that he would be at my job, in the flesh, today. I am mentally unprepared to see him.
“Morning,” I say meekly trying to compose myself.
I attempt to avoid eye contact with him, but he insists on addressing me directly. “Ah, there’s my favorite summer associate,” he says jovially. I flash him a quick smile before busying myself in the corner of the room, pouring myself a cup of earl grey.
But Spencer won’t give up that easily. “How’s your first month in the shark tank been, Amber?”
Is he taunting me? He knows he’s making me uncomfortable. “Fine!” I say. My voice comes out much more high pitched than I expected. I could talk all kinds of cheeky to him over the phone, but looking him in the face is proving to be somewhat difficult today.
Matt is eyeing me suspiciously with a cocked brow. Thankfully, Stella pipes in. “Gosh, I remember my first month at the firm. It seems like forever ago. It was hell, though. I couldn’t tell my ass from my elbow.”
I smile at her nervously before sliding into the chair to her left.
“I don’t think that Amber’s doing so bad.” Spencer is still addressing me. “The memo she sent me yesterday concerning the zoning by-laws really helped me wrap my head around the issue.”
“Good job, Amber!” Stella cheers softly doing a small fist pump. I can’t help but giggle.
Just then, Mr. Moretti scurries into the conference room. “Sorry, I’m late,” he announces. “Mr. Harrison, I just got off the phone with the seller on the Chelsea property. We’ll be closing by Tuesday of next week.”
“Okay. Good to hear,” Spencer says looking pleased. “That’s one less thorn in my side.”
Mr. Moretti nods in agreement. “Yes, I was starting to worry that we might have another uphill battle on that one.”
“Now that that issue is pretty much put to bed, we can bang out the Montreal deal.” Spencer’s choice of words is not lost on me. The smirk he throws in my direction is all the confirmation I need that the double-entendre of his statement is deliberate. “I’m going to Montreal tomorrow night to try and convince the seller to choose my bid. I could use a member of my legal team there with me.”
“I can probably move some things around in my schedule to make the trip,” Matt offers.
Spencer is quick to shut him down. “I’m not sure that your French is good enough for prime time,” Spencer says. “Sorry, buddy.” Matt looks pissed at Spencer’s condescending tone but doesn’t push the issue any further. Spencer’s attention moves to Mr. Moretti.
“Well my French is no better,” Mr. Moretti concedes. “Besides, I need to be here to hammer out the final details of the Chelsea deal.”
Now, all eyes in the room are on Stella. “Don’t look at me. Mon français est parfait, but as you can see, I’m way too pregnant to travel. The last thing I need is to end up giving birth in some igloo in Canada,” she jokes.
Being the last candidate at the table, evidently, all the attention shifts to me. “I’m free, I guess.” My voice lacks confidence.
Matt looks like he wants to object, but Spencer springs to his feet. “Okay. It’s settled, then. Amber, I’ll have my assistant email the details to you and I’ll see you tomorrow night.” With that he’s headed towards the door. He turns back to Mr. Moretti just before he slips out. “Don’t worry about booking her a flight. We’ll take my jet.” He looks over to me. “You’re riding with me, kid.” He tosses me a wink and disappears out the door.
Chapter 15
“So, Hot Shot, you’re going to Montreal…with a client…alone?” Nadia whispers loudly as she bends forward into downward dog. I crane my neck to the right to watch her as she talks.
“Yeah – how the hell did you score that?” Hailey asks, whisking a tendril of her golden blond hair behind her ear before adjusting the waistband of her yoga pants. She’s on my left.
“Tell me how you hooked that up!” Nadia demands. I chuckle but I’m sure she’s not joking.
Oh shit! She knows about me and Spencer! She knows! “Are yo
u trying to imply something?” I ask defensively all while quaking on the inside that my dirty little secret is about to be revealed.
“Okay, I’ll just ask you straight up –“ Hailey blurts out. “—Are you sleeping with Matt?”
“Eww! Hailey!” I shriek, utterly offended.
“Shhh!” the yoga instructor hisses tossing an angry glare in our direction.
I push back on my heels and straighten my spine, intensifying my downward dog, before turning back to Hailey. “For the record – No, I’m not sleeping with Matt. I’m not sleeping with anybody. I’m just good at my job. That’s all. So, let’s just drop this conversation, okay?”
Hailey stretches her thick arms above her head in a sun salutation. “Okay. If you say so.”
Chapter 16
I’m sitting on my bed, glaring at my phone on the nightstand, willing it to ring.
11:27 p.m.
I am fuming.
Spencer needs to call me right now.
That shit he pulled today just doesn’t cut it for me. My co-workers are becoming suspicious of me. He’s gonna make me lose my job. And then, I’ll have to kill him.
I have a heap of case law to review for a client memo that’s due tomorrow, but I can’t get any work done before I have this conversation with Spencer. It looks like, yet again, I’ll be up all night.
I see my phone start to vibrate at 11:30 on the dot. I leap on it.
“Spencer!” My rage is boiling to the surface.
“Hi,” he says in that bedroom voice of his.
“What the fuck was that at my office today?” I spew.
“What are you talking about?” he’s feigning innocence but I don’t have time for the games.
“You weren’t very discreet about your little plan to get me alone in Montreal.” I say, bitterness infecting my tone.
“Was I that obvious?” he asks sheepishly.
“Well, yes. Matt was perfectly suited to go with you but you blew him off for no good reason –“ I know I’m whining but I really don’t care.
“Matt can’t speak French for shit.”
“You knew Mr. Moretti’s hands would be tied with the Chelsea transaction –“
“Moretti’s way too expensive to keep him on call for three whole days, anyway. His fees are through the roof. That’s just not cost-effective.”
“And you knew that Stella would never travel being nine months pregnant.”
“Plus, she’s not exactly eye candy with that big old belly of hers.”
“Would you stop playing around, Spencer? This is my career we’re talking about. You’re putting my job in jeopardy!”
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry, Amber. All week, I’ve been trying to devise a way to get you alone. All to myself for an extended period of time.” His voice softens, “I like you.”
I soften too once I hear his admission. “You don’t know me, Spencer. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you better than you realize, Amber.”
“No. You don’t know me,” I insist. How could he know me? We’ve only ever seen each other a handful of times. He doesn’t know a thing about me. I think back to my addiction to prescription drugs, my stint in rehab and that miserable semester I took away from law school trying to piece myself back together – He doesn’t know me. If he did, he would run far and fast in the opposite direction.
“Amber…” His voice trails off.
“What, Spencer?”
“I just want to get closer to you. Why won’t you let me?”
“You can’t do this. I need my job.”
I hear him sigh in frustration on the other end of the line.
“I’ve gotta go. Good night, Spencer.” Without waiting for an answer, I press the red button and end the call.
Chapter 17
So I got a bikini wax – a Brazilian, actually – for my trip to Montreal.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
At first, I was really skeptical about going on this trip with Spencer but the truth is that a part of me is aching to be alone with him. For the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about a guy.
Firm policies be damned.
Besides, it’s out of town. No one will ever find out.
There’s so much sexual tension between us. Our nightly telephone booty calls are hard evidence of that.
We just need to fuck – get it out of our systems so we can turn over a new leaf and proceed with our business relationship. Simple as that.
Spencer’s palm is on the small of my back as I walk across the narrow red carpet spread on the tarmac. Lightening crackles up my spine from his mere touch. He breaks contact as I climb the steps into his twelve-passenger private jet. At the top of the stairs, we are greeted by a middle-aged man with a bit of potbelly, a neat salt and pepper goatee and jovial brown eyes. He introduces himself to me as the captain. I shake his hand politely before stepping onto the plane.
All day, I had prepped myself not to look too impressed when I boarded. I didn’t want to seem like an indigent who’s never been anywhere fancy before, but as soon as I cross over the threshold, my jaw promptly falls wide open.
Three rows of luxurious cream-colored leather double recliners are lined up on either side of the narrow aisle. The low-pile carpet lining the floor is a slightly darker shade of cream. Plush turquoise pillows and blankets are neatly arranged on the seats. Towards the back of the plane is a highly polished executive desk with intricate hand carvings etched into the wood, a stack of stationary tidily arranged in one corner next to a pile of newspapers and glossy travel magazines. The windows are rimmed in a glossy deep brown wood paneling. This is like no other plane I’ve ever been on before.
As I sink into a window seat, an elegant woman with a neatly-combed bun and a red-lipped smile greets me charmingly. Spencer slips into the seat next to me and I catch the yearning in the stewardess’ eye as she greets him. Who could blame her? He looks totally lickable tonight. His blue tie hangs loosely around his neck. The first few buttons of his crisp white shirt are undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His thick, brown-gold hair is tousled after a long day at the office.
He throws me a yummy smile as the plane commences its taxi down the runway and I feel myself melt just a little.
Once the plane stabilizes in its cruise through the darkening sky, the stewardess offers Spencer a copy of Fortune magazine before handing me some silly women’s magazine. Next, she prepares a crystal tumbler of bourbon for Spencer and a long-stemmed glass of red wine for me. Spencer slips on his black thick-framed reading glasses as he opens the magazine. I’ve never seen him in glasses before. He’s got that sexy nerd vibe going and it’s totally making me hot.
We sit in silence for the entire flight and to tell the truth, I’m a bit disappointed. All day, I had had a running fantasy about joining the Mile High Club with Spencer replaying in my head. Now that we’re actually flying through the skies, I’m more than ready to make that fantasy a reality but he seems distracted.
When the plane touches down, getting through customs at the private airport is actually simpler than checking in to a hotel. No lineups. No dealing with luggage. I could get used to this.
A town car is waiting for us. Spencer glides into the backseat next to me and promptly jumps on his phone and starts to make phone calls. He barely looks at me throughout the entire ride.
Once at the hotel, we go our separate ways. It’s almost 10:45 when I jump into the shower in my suite. I stand under the spray and let the water beat my skin. I feel totally perplexed. I had expected Spencer to jump my bones the moment we were alone. After all, he admitted last night that this whole trip was just an excuse to get me all to himself. But now we’re over 300 miles away from New York and he is holed up in his own room while I am alone in mine.
Maybe he’s tired.
Or maybe he realized that he’s not attracted to me.
Is he just nervous about the meetings tomorrow?
; I get out of the shower and check my phone, realizing that I missed Spencer’s 11:30 call. He’s left a message. “Amber – It’s Spencer. I’m gonna go have a drink with some associates down by the water. We have a meeting with the seller tomorrow at 2:00. A car will pick you up at 1:20. I’ll leave the details at the front desk. See you then. Good night, Amber.”
Amber Nights - The Esquire Girls Series - Amber's Story (Books 1, 2, 3 & 4) - Box Set Page 5
