“So?”
“I want you to match me. Now Percy explained that I’d have to probably go on a lot of dates.”
“A lot? Man, I could find you your perfect match in the blink of an eye,” I snarl with a snap of my fingers for emphasis. “Not that I’m bragging about that since I pity the poor fools I’d match you with.”
I shove away the screaming in my head that insists I’m his perfect match and just glare as the oaf drinks his coffee and lounges as if we’re chatting about the freaking weather instead of me hooking him up with other trolls.
“Good, because as of today I would like to have exclusive rights to you until such a time as I am matched with a suitable woman. Now don’t just refuse, hear me out first and then you can decide. If you agree to what I have in mind, you will work only with me. I will be your only client because I will expect you to be on call at all times when I need you. Not only will you find me suitable dates, you will also be my tutor and help me understand the differences in charm and real companionship.”
“You want me to teach you how to romance a woman?” I wheeze, surreptitiously feeling around on my chest for the gaping hole that must be pumping blood at this point.
Jones smiles at my shock and probably all the disgust I can’t mask and nods happily, oblivious to the death blow he just dealt me.
“Correct.”
“Hell no. Nuh-uh. Not in this lifetime, buddy.”
He smiles and throws out a figure that makes my eyes pop at the irresistible amount. With all that money I could so rent that office space I was eyeing just days ago, and I could employ someone to bring me coffee and do all the things I hate doing and—
And no! This is ludicrous. I can’t be exclusively bound to Woody Jones and not only teach him how to romance a chick, but also watch him use all that shit on someone else when he never once bothered to use it on me.
But that is a huge chunk of change and I am greedy. I won’t lie. I like money, and what I really like as my brain starts firing, is the thought of taking money from the ass in exchange for doing a job I love.
And let’s be reasonable, it’s not like refusing would make a whole hell of a lot of difference.
“Fine, and I want a bonus if I have to see your ugly mug on a daily basis.”
That gets me a huge smile and the smile gets even bigger when I start babbling about meeting dates and when to meet.
“I don’t think you get it, Indie. You’ll be moving into my guest room today and you will stay with me until I’m happily matched. I want you on call twenty-four seven, that means being at my side all day, every day. You will sleep in my home, share meals with me, and come to work with me every day. I want you to observe what I do, how I interact with people, and find me someone to suit as well as being there to stop me from flirting with the wrong type of women.”
“No, not happening.”
“It so is. Come on, Indie, are you telling me you really want to give up the amount of money I’m offering, as well as the opportunity to meet the challenge I just threw out there? If you haven’t realized it yet, I don’t believe you can do it and I certainly do not believe you have what it takes to change me. I’m giving you the chance to mess with my entire existence here. Take it.”
Mess with his entire…
No, I’m just drooling uncontrollably and ready to jump in feet-first. Hell yeah I want to mess with him and set him up on some doozies, as well as prove him wrong too.
I could make a freaking snake and a possum fall in love if I put my mind to it, and this skunk doubts my mad skills? What a loser.
“Fine,” I mutter, shoving my hand out over the table. “Challenge accepted. Just don’t get your period when I kick your slimy ass all over the place. Oh and, Jones? Consider yourself in my sights.”
“There’s no place I would rather be, Indie baby.” He grins, oozing charm with those lazy green eyes and seductive air as he grasps my hand and brings it to his lips, his tongue flicking out over my skin.
If I had a peen I would so be raising the table right now.
Oh hell. I’ll have to remember to bring the toy if I have to spend at least the next week with this man.
“First lesson, douche. Flirting is not on the cards until you learn to be less gross.”
Gross? The only way that wouldn’t be a lie is if I tacked on the words yummy, attractive, or edible.
I won’t tell him that though, I muse as I pull my hand back, scrunch my nose, and give him a filthy up and down with my blazing eyes.
“If you can’t be un-slimy you won’t be anything. Now stop pouting, Madonna, and let’s get that contract signed.”
Chapter Ten
“Getting to know you, getting to know all about you.”
Woody
I’m in my element and high on success as I walk into my office and hold the phone away from my ear as Indie rants and yells curses at me about my “gross” apartment and the lack of comfort.
She’s currently bursting my eardrum with gems such as “where do you keep the dead bodies in this morgue?” and “if I open some of these doors, will the corpses of your other victims fall out?”
I have the unholy urge to laugh at her ridiculous insults and crow again about the victory I just won, my very bones vibrating with a feeling I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Stop yapping and get your office set up already.”
“I hate this place! Who decorates with black-and-white marble? Are you Elton John’s long-lost kid or something? Oh God, I haven’t seen a speck of dust anywhere. Why is this toilet shaped like—oh sweet Jesus, you have one of those fancy robot toilets that cleans your ass?”
She keeps griping and I keep smiling as I sit down behind my desk and lean back, enjoying her horror at my home. I get it. I don’t really like the place either, but Dad bought it for me as a graduation gift when I got out of college and I didn’t have the heart to tell him it sucked.
Besides, it’s not like I’m here that much anyway. When I’m not at work I’m on a date and then I’m in her bed. I only crawl this way by two, three in the morning, and my own bed sees me for maybe two hours before I’m up and out again.
It’s not a home. I haven’t really even tried to make it one because I always had the idea that I’d find my one and buy one of those big cosy houses near where Marks and Percy built their place.
You see, I had an epiphany after an hour of shooting the breeze with Freddie. Jack walked in just as I was having this brain fart, took one look at my wide eyes and panic, and started laughing.
Then the schmuck started rubbing his hands and I knew then my life was never going to be the same.
My epiphany? I want Indie. For more than one night, perhaps for a long, extended period in which I can finally get rid of these weird feelings I have regarding her.
It’s not my usual style, planning her seduction and an affair as opposed to some love crap that she won’t go for. I’m going to do what I need to and lull her before proposing a sexual affair that will get her where I want her.
We’re not in love or anything, but we are both highly attracted to one another and for that reason…I will have her.
So Jack helped me tweak my plan and I even got Freddie to call Marks.
Why they all laughed at me at the end of the conversation is a mystery, and I really don’t care either. What I know now is that Indie has a few weaknesses that I can exploit to get at her.
One, she can’t resist a challenge. She’s ornery that way and would probably die in the desert trying to walk through without water if I said she couldn’t.
Two, Percy rhapsodized about her greedy little heart. I find it damned adorable how unabashedly forthright she is about that quality. The girl likes money and bling. Noted.
Three, Indie has been attracted to me for a long time and I pissed her off by treating her poorly. For that, Percy threatened to emasculate me. With a butter knife. While Marks held me down and poured vinegar.
There are a couple of
other things she told me privately while Jack and Freddie glared at me, but those are for only me to know and I am so glad to know them.
For instance, I didn’t know that Indie’s foster mom is on medical insurance that she pays for even though she hates the woman with a passion.
Percy told me that one because she wants me to understand that Indie may have a hard shell, but inside she can be a total marshmallow, so I was warned not to hurt her feelings.
I know as well that she has limited settings, as Percy put it. She can be happy and playful, losing all hint of sarcasm, which I don’t quite believe but will keep an open mind about.
She can be angry. She can also be soft and we all know this because I have seen her in action when it comes to Callie and Luci’s kids.
Lastly, she can be broken.
I know her so much better than I thought I did, and just knowing these things makes me happy and scares me a little because it’s made her so much more human to me now and I’m finding it harder to see her as a mistress, which is what I want from her.
I’ve been thinking a lot, and I got a lot done today in the coffee shop watching her reactions and I’ve decided that Miss Indie McGee is just the sort of spice I’ve been missing from my life.
Who needs marriage and children when I’ll have her in my bed at the end of the day? As far as I can see, there is nothing stopping us both from living our lives like single thirty-somethings while being there for each other.
I’m not talking anything as crass as fuck buddies and I’m not juvenile enough to think in terms of boyfriend and girlfriend, but with her I wouldn’t at all be averse to an exclusive sexual relationship while we live our own lives and hang out.
Hell, it would be a good thing since I feel affectionate towards her and I know that despite her snarling, she likes me too. We’re sort of the same in a lot of ways and we’d be good together.
Just thinking about the things we could do to each other makes me hard, and as she finally winds down in her rantings I let myself smile and take a nice, easy breath.
“You done, McGee?”
“Yeah, just about. Thanks for giving me the creepiest fucking room in this place, by the way. I do not do white.”
“So grab the credit card in the kitchen drawer and go get some stuff to make your room all snazzy.”
“Credit card! In the drawer?”
I hear beating feet and the clank of wood against metal and then she’s crooning incoherently. I can just see her stroking the plastic card and that brings a grin to my lips.
“What’s the limit?”
Oh my greedy lady, I adore you, I think, laughing out loud.
“I hesitate to say this since I’m thinking you’re looking at the thing like Frodo did that ring, but it doesn’t have a limit.”
“OH MY GOD!”
The line goes dead and I turn to see Jack laughing at me from the doorway.
“Big mistake. You ever seen Indiana shop with someone else’s money?”
“You heard that?”
“Wood, the people a floor down heard her have the big O when you offered her your money.”
Ah, my kinda girl. No wonder Mom and my terrors love her so much, she’s a freaking carbon copy.
“She agreed then?” he asks, falling into a seat and stretching out.
“You doubted me?”
“Of course. This is you we’re talking about, man.”
“I can make and close any deal I put my mind to, Levin, you know that.”
“Ahh, but the fine print is always a bitch.” He laughs, shaking his head when I frown. “You’ll see. Now, work. What’s happening with Thorpe?”
***
Indie
I am in love with the place, I think as I stand back and take in the transformed living room with its new turquoise sofa, colorful cushions, and rug to cover the gloomy marble beneath the oak coffee table I replaced the chrome and glass one with.
When Jones gave me his credit card and whispered those two magical words no limit, I sort of lost what was left of my mind and went crazy with the thing.
I should probably be ashamed of myself for spending that much money in one day, especially considering he told me only to outfit my room, but I feel nothing but satisfaction as I take in the new and improved space.
I also bought him new linens and a duvet in a light blue with white pinstripes that makes his bed look less like a morgue table and more like something he wants to sleep in.
I stopped at buying plants since I can’t keep one alive, even on life support. My thumbs are both black and deadly apparently.
It’s just gone six, I’m riding high on my shopping spree, and I even went above and beyond the call of duty and made lasagna, one of my favorite meals since I envision a night in with his royal highness fine tuning our next step in finding him his match.
I’m not that jazzed about it, and for a brief moment I considered setting him up with trolls and nitwits alike just to see him crash and burn and suffer a little, but I am competitive.
He set forth the challenge and me being me, I will win it even if I’m losing in a bigger way. I’m just stubborn like that, I guess. With one final look and a smirk at the credit card bill that I’ve place right beside his plate on the table, I skip over to the oven and check on dinner, sighing as the aroma of bubbling tomato sauce and cheese hits my nose.
It’s just as I’m taking it out of the oven that I hear the door open and I turn with a smirk and exit the kitchen, only to stop dead when a woman, a knockout brunette, stops dead in my path and looks me over.
She’s gorgeous, and I don’t mean meh, she’s good to look at nice, but so beautiful I feel my jaw drop in abject appreciation. Wowza.
My brain finally stops perving and I snap to, watching her look me over with a dislike that makes my hackles rise.
“Who the hell are you, lady, and how did you get in here?” I bark, stopping myself from trying to smooth my hair and straighten the wrinkles in my T-shirt and loose shorts.
I feel like a frumpy troll beside this specimen of feminine perfection, but I’d chew off my own tongue before ever admitting that.
“Oh I am so sorry, dear, I didn’t realize Woody finally hired a housekeeper. I’m Lynn, we’re very good friends.”
Say what now? She thinks I’m the freaking housekeeper! Why I outta rip her eyes out if she can’t see all this awesomeness and…
Violence is not the answer right now, Indie. This building has cameras and Jones would definitely notice the smell if you throttled her to death and stashed her in the closet.
“I’m not the housekeeper and I asked you a question,” I grate, taking in the sky-high heels and perfectly applied makeup as opposed to my own bare feet and untouched face.
I get a titter and a very unimpressed once-over from Medusa before she tries walking farther into the apartment. My body-block makes her frown and I’m this close that I come to decking her when she sniffs at me and bares her teeth.
“Look, sweetheart, I know this may come as a surprise, but Woody is not a one-woman man. Whatever bull he’s fed you about happily ever afters and making his home your home,” she sneers at my new throw cushions, “he’s a free agent. We have a standing arrangement.”
Okay, I have to own to feeling really poorly about life in this moment, because as much as I want to deny it, this little redecorating spree was not just about me. Part of me wanted to make this place into a home.
I won’t even think about the whys right now, all I can say is I start feeling about ten feet shorter when I take in the homey vibe and start second-guessing myself and the message it must be sending.
But whatever! For now I have a skank to kick out of my new temporary home, and I can think of only one way to do that. What can I say? When I go, I go big.
“Well you’re going to have to cancel that arrangement, sweetheart, since I highly doubt he’ll have time for you after the wedding and the baby arrives.”
“Baby?”
&nb
sp; Her grey eyes aren’t so smug anymore, and I also notice that her face goes white beneath the sunset orange glow of her fake tan. I’m so engrossed in watching her brain try and fail to put one good thought together that I don’t notice Jones is home before he slides an arm around me and kisses my hair.
“Lynn.”
She snaps out of her hate-filled shock and treats me to one last glare before looking at Jones with an oozing sweetness that makes my teeth throb.
“Woody, darling, please tell me this, this person is having me on.”
I do not like the way she looks at me and I go to clean her broken clock when he clamps an arm around me and hauls me closer to his side.
“Her name is Indie, and as you can see, this is her home. Why would she lie? Anyway, what are you doing here?”
Huh! Standing arrangement my butt. I should have known she was talking out her vagina since we all know Jones hasn’t tapped the same ass in so long, he could have a degree in the science of ass.
Her “sultry” titter is a syllable too high and I watch in fascinated horror as she runs a hand down his silk tie and leans into him.
“Why, Woody darling, I thought I’d surprise you is all. We had such a great time—”
“Yes we did,” he cuts in, taking a step back and dragging me with him. “But that was weeks ago and I told you that it won’t happen again, Lynn. You know how I feel.”
Her face falls and then twists and I feel my skin shrink like cellophane wrap when she glares my way and sneers at me.
“But you want this, this thing instead? Look at her, Woody! She’s a mess.”
“Say what, now? Lady, I may not have had a team of makeup experts shellacking my ass together this morning, and yes, I may have tattoos, but that does not make you any hotter than me. In fact, it makes me hotter because I don’t even have to try to look and be this spectacular. Now do us all a favor and walk your bony butt on home before I show you exactly what this thing does to dogs who escape from the pound.”
Immature? Probably, but I don’t care. I hate snobs and I can’t stand people who look at me and judge me just because I’m into body art.
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 55
