Hers To Love: Bad Boys and Bands
Page 7
Oh. My. God. Did that mean I got the job? “I am your girl, Mr. Stark.”
“Can you start tomorrow? The last girl who showed up took one look at her office and bolted. There’s a backlog of emails to work through on top of the product testing. Are you up for a challenge?”
“The bigger the better.”
He laughs. “Let’s hope that’s true. We’ve relocated our offices. We are at 926 Market Street. There’s no sign on the door, so just walk in. We’ll go over the details soon, but I have to run or you’ll be the only one at work tomorrow.”
He hung up before I could say goodbye. I throw my hands in the air and shout at the top of my lungs. “I’ve got a job!”
A loud thud sounds from the floor above me. Glinda, the not-so-good witch pounds her cane on the wooden floor. “Stop that racket, I’m watching my show.”
Goal number one is to make enough money to move out of my cruddy apartment in the Mission District. It’s a dump, but the rent is cheap, and it serves its purpose for now. Beggars can’t be choosers.
A year ago, I came home to my apartment in the Haight-Ashbury District to find my boyfriend gone. He had vanished with everything we had. Well, not exactly everything. He left a duffel bag by my door that held most of my clothes. The bastard even took my vibrating bullet. It was like he was sending a message that said, “If I can’t please you, nothing can.” Well, the joke’s on him because that little buzzing bean is the only thing that pleased me, and I’m saving up for a new one as soon as I get a new place.
Solo sexy time in this apartment isn’t an option. The old woman upstairs will bang her cane until my ceiling falls, while the guy downstairs will probably send up a client for me to service.
When I signed the lease I didn’t know that I’d be living below Satan’s mother and above a brothel.
At exactly eight a.m. I walk out the front door and hop over the drunks in the entryway. I catch the bus from Mission Street to the Embarcadero Center. It doesn’t take long to find the address Mr. Stark gave me. In front of a frosted glass window, I look at my reflection. I suppose I look professional enough for coffee. Black slacks. White button-down shirt with a cute embroidered collar. Pumps—not too tall—not too short. A ponytail hanging down my back.
I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and sigh. This is it. This is my new beginning. This job is my first step on my way out, and my way up. I grip the brass handle and turn it slowly. I breathe in the surrounding air not picking up a hint of coffee. Strange for a place all about the brew.
The long carpeted corridor eats up the sound of my shoes until I get to Office C. After a big breath, I walk inside to find the front desk empty. Off to the right a door is cracked open. The lights are flickering to life as if whoever is in there has just arrived.
“Hello.” I step up to the empty desk hoping that a secretary or someone else will come out and greet me. “Hello, is anyone here?” Of course I know someone’s here because I can hear them rustling papers and closing drawers.
“Come on in, I'm in the office to your right.” His voice is like warm hot chocolate on a cold day; the kind of day you get in San Francisco when the fog rolls in. He has a deep dark chocolate voice that sounds richer and more full-bodied than the man on the phone. Then again, the connection wasn’t the best.
I take several steps to his office, grab the handle and inch it open. Reaching into a tall cabinet is the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. His back is turned toward me, but I can already tell he’s going to be delicious to work for. He’s tall with dark hair and an ass made for a jeans commercial.
“I'm sorry, I thought I’d be more organized. I'm suffering from jet lag. That trip from Taiwan always kills me.” He pulls several papers from the top shelf. “Here it is,” he turns around and stops. His eyes scan me from head to toe. I fight the urge to wipe my face thinking maybe I missed a crumb of muffin on my mouth. He shakes his head like he’s clearing it. “Employment forms.” He waves the papers in the air. “Janey, right?” He stares at me long and hard like I’m going to tell him something different.
“Yes, I’m Janey,” I reach across the desk and offer him my hand. When he takes it, my entire body burns like he’s the frayed wire in a heating blanket and I’m the flammable material. I snap my hand back and glance at it sure there will be a scorch mark. There isn’t. “It’s my pleasure to meet you. You must be Caine Stark.” Please say yes. I’d be happy to have his face in my head while I quality control his merchandise.
“In the flesh.” He pulls out his leather executive chair, sits, and points to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Janey.”
Despite the butterflies in my belly, I sit tall and attentive. “I’m so excited to work for you.”
He leans back, the weight of his body causing the springs in his chair to creak. “You’re different from what I expected.”
That causes me to tilt my head to the side like a confused puppy. “Really? How so?” I suppress the urge to play with my hair or bite my lip, two things I do when I’m nervous. My fingers twitch to pull at my ponytail so I tuck them under my legs. “Is there a type of girl this job usually attracts?”
His eyes grow as large as saucers. He moves his head left to right like he’s placed his thoughts on a scale. “Never mind.” He writes on a piece of paper and slides it to me. “This is the offer.”
I look at the amount and gasp. “I’ve never made this much money.” It’s twice the amount of my last job.
“It’s a specialty job. We believe you should be compensated well. I’ll assume the amount is satisfactory?”
He looks at me with black espresso eyes so intense, I’m forced to turn my head and stare at the boxes that line the walls of his office.
I nod. “You really are just setting up business.” When he said the company recently relocated, I thought maybe weeks ago, but it’s more like today.
“Yes,” he looks around the mess on his floor and shrugs. “We outgrew our old location and needed more office space.” He slides the forms forward and places a pen on top. “Despite the condition of my office, my partners Andrew and Brad have set up your office so you’ll be ready to dig in.”
My office. It sounds so important. “That’s amazing. I’m happy to help you set up yours if you like.”
He rubs his chin while he looks at me. “While your offer is generous, and tempting, your time is better spent…” he pauses for a long second, “testing our products.”
Of course he wants me to get started on the product line right away. It’s what he hired me for. “I’m ready.” I quickly fill in the employment forms and pass them back to him.
He stares down at the documents. “Janey Pickle,” he says. “I would have sworn that P was a typo. You know how things get mixed up when you do all your business online.”
“It’s easy to get confused when the tap of the wrong key can change everything.” I follow him to the door.
He turns right and walks past the desk, leading me all the way down the corridor. “We thought you might prefer some privacy, so your office is set up at the end. The two offices nearest you will be empty except to warehouse products.”
Disappointment washes over me knowing that I’ll be stuck in the end office and not likely to see my sexy boss often. “Do your partners work here full-time as well?”
He turns toward me and walks backwards until he reaches the closed door at the end. “Andrew travels a lot. He’s an advertising specialist always out pimping our stuff. Brad oversees our production line for the exclusive items we make in the United States. It’s our goal to eventually manufacture everything here.”
“And I’m your satisfaction girl.” I give him a big warm smile.
He falls backwards against the door like my grin slapped him. It swings wide open. “And here you are.” He looks around the room. “If there’s anything you need beyond what we’ve provided, please let me know. Feel free to take anything home. In fact, you may prefer to do most of your work from h
ome if that makes you more comfortable.”
My knees wobble as I look around the office. The entire perimeter is floor to ceiling shelves full of rubber cocks and sex toys.
I have made a huge mistake.
“Where’s the coffee?” I ask. My mind races to the ad. It said The Grynd, but I was certain the Y was a typo. I just said one wrong tap of a key changes the whole meaning. Holy hell. Each of the items sitting like Oscars on the shelf is intended for the Y between a woman’s legs not the I in I’ll have another cup please.
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About the Author
Adele Hart is a stay-at-home mom who secretly writes sexy stories whenever she gets a chance. After reading hundreds of romances, she decided to skip all the angst and ugliness, and just get to the good stuff. You know, the part that makes you say, 'Oh my!'
So if you're like Adele, and you want to indulge your guilty pleasures with naughty but nice, fast and fun stories about super hot, practically perfect men and the sweet women who love them, then you've come to the right place.
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You'll have that loving feeling from start to happy finish. Nothing ugly, no BDSM, no cheating bastards, just fun, flirty, dirty goodness.
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