by Mackenzy Fox
“I cannot believe the things that you’ve said to him,” she scolds.
“What about what he said to me?” I try to argue, but even to me it sounds a little childish.
“Next, you’re going to say he said it first,” she laughs. “Anyway, that isn’t the reason I’m calling.”
“Oh, really? And here I was thinking it’s all about me.”
“You’re off the hook, at least until the weekend, there’s a new guy in accounts and I might invite him out with us this Saturday, he has a bunch of single friends,” she says giddily.
“Head of accounts? Sounds a bit gay to me,” I snort, trying to wind her up.
She tsks. “You are despicable, Morgan, might I remind you that you’ve not had a date since Ethan and that was over a million years ago.”
What’s life without your one best friend reminding you of when you last had any kind of resemblance of a relationship.
“Thanks for the reminder; I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten since you haven’t mentioned it for almost twenty-four hours,” I retort, opening a couple of emails as I listen to her babble on.
“It’s time to get back on the horse, kid,” she says, ignoring me. “You know it and so do I.”
“I do not need a man, Dixie, and right now, I’m working on me, on my business, I’ve told you a thousand times I’m not ready to date.”
“Did I mention that David’s hot? He kind of looks like that guy from Magic Mike,” she goes on. “And did you forget that he’s got cute single friends?”
“Holy shit,” I say, forgetting all about my emails. “Channing Tatum?” This could be really good.
She tuts. “No, not him, the other one, the hot brawny one married to that actress from Modern Family.”
“Oh, Joe Manganiello?” I stammer. “You gotta be kidding me!”
“I’m deadly serious. He’s got it going on,” she replies. “An accountant, single, tall, dark, and handsome, looks like Joe Manganiello, and I don’t even mind the grey.”
“Is he Joe with short or long hair?” I wonder. The man does suit anything.
“Short back and sides, kind of floppy at the front.”
“Floppy.” I laugh. “Beard or no beard?”
“In between and slightly greying there too, it’s very sexy, he’s got buns fresh from the bakery. God, this man in a suit…” she trails off and I know she’s fanning herself.
I think about Jaxon in a suit and my mouth goes dry. He is the epitome of freaking hot.
“Why don’t you go for dinner with him?” I suggest in all seriousness. I’m sure that would be better suited than him and his group of friends tagging along, but really, I’m just trying to get out of it.
“God, Morgan, how freaking boring, I know it’s been a while and all, but seriously, we need to up the ante.” I can just see her brain ticking over as I shake my head. “Besides, I don’t know if I want to be stuck with him by myself having dinner until I work out if I actually like him. I’m thinking we skip the wine bar and go clubbing instead.”
It is a strange kind of logic.
“Clubbing?” I say, horrified. “So, no dinner first but a green light to bump and grind against him on the dance floor surrounded by sweaty bodies and drunkards.”
God, I hate nightclubs.
“I certainly hope so,” she laughs. “It’s been a while for me, like forever.”
We’re both completely on the same page when it comes to men, which means we’re both a disaster. Dixie is in her thirties and gorgeous, but she hasn’t had the greatest track record and, like me, seems to attract all the wrong types.
All I’ve done since my last breakup is work my ass off and literally throw myself into the business, and eight months later, I’m still not ready to date. I’m kind of done for the moment. Ethan wasn’t completely awful but he had commitment issues, that and he liked to screw other women behind my back.
“I know, it’s been a while for me too,” I say, tapping my pen on the desk. “But we can’t be expected to fit in work, business meetings, and sex as well, nobody has time for all of that.” I look up as I see something in my periphery and I meet Jaxon Westbrook’s eyes just as the words slip out of my mouth. He’s standing in my office and he wears his usual stand-offish expression, except, this time, he rolls his lips inwards as he looks down at me with a slight spark of mischief in his eyes.
Oh, holy shit! Way to go, Morgan. He heard everything.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest for a few long, torturous moments, then I see a slight curve of his lips as he fights a smile.
Great, so now he knows all about my sex life too, or should I say my non-existent sex life, though he knows everything else about me, so why not this too.
“Well, you know what, this year is about us, babe, we have to take control and flip the lid, take charge and go out and get what we want,” she rabbits on as I fumble around nervously at my keyboard as he just stands there watching me. “So, let’s flip it this weekend, let’s get something new to wear. Come over tomorrow and we’ll go to Ladies Wear and max out my store card.”
“Yep, sounds good,” I say, hastily trying to wrap this conversation up. “Hey, something’s come up, I gotta go. Call you later, okay?”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she coos.
I hang up quickly and drop my phone on the desk.
I turn to face Jaxon, though I’d honestly rather curl up and die.
“Ever heard of knocking?” Asshole.
“Apologies,” he replies. “The door was open so I thought that was office etiquette for no knocking required.”
Doesn’t he just have a smart answer for everything?
I glare at him. “Isn’t it your day off?” I accuse.
“No, that’s Sunday, I’ve been busy with Leon this morning, working out security for some of the big events coming up, these things take quite a bit of planning and coordination,” he says it like he’s talking to someone of simple understanding, like you would an errant child.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Great, thanks for sharing, now if you don’t mind, is there something I can help you with? I’m very busy.”
I’m so humiliated by my comment that he overheard, I want to just smack myself in the face.
“I came to ask how you’re getting along with Ryan.”
I narrow my eyes. “He’s been downstairs most of the morning manning the desk and keeping out of everyone’s way, unlike some people, so everything’s going super well with Ryan, thank you for asking.”
“Great to hear,” he grunts, ignoring all of my sarcasm.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, as it happens, you have a three-thirty meeting across town, thought you might like some company.”
Has he fallen and hit his head on the pavement?
“I think I’m quite capable of making it across town,” I say, glancing at the clock behind him. Shit, he’s right, my meeting with Elliott went on for longer than planned and I was too busy gossiping to Dixie to notice the time. Just then, the intercom buzzes and Jolie’s voice reminds me about my three-thirty meeting. Maybe I should hire Jaxon to be my second assistant.
I curse under my breath.
“You work a lot,” he tells me as I rummage around, shoving things in my purse and trying my best to pretend he’s not there. He just watches me with complete calm, it’s obvious he’s in no hurry to go anywhere.
“Yeah, so?”
“Jolie says you often have meetings on weekends, even on a Sunday, maybe it’s time to set some boundaries with your clients.”
I look up from my rummaging and narrow my eyes some more. “Now you’re giving me advice on how to run my business?”
“No.” He shrugs. “But I’ve worked in my own businesses and unless you set boundaries, you’ll just burn out and it won’t be enjoyable anymore, people will walk all over you if you let them.”
“Well, thanks for the advice I didn’t ask for,” I reply, shoving my ph
one into my oversized Gucci. I don’t know why I’m so snarky whenever he’s around, he just seems to bring out the very worst in my personality. “Is that pep talk free or do I have to pay extra for that?”
“Any time, and pep talks are totally on the house.” He smiles condescendingly, holding the door open for me as I charge past him.
Jolie hands me a file without even standing as I fly past her desk. “Why are you running in heels?” she asks but I don’t have time to answer. If I’m going to make it across town, I have to pick up the pace.
Jaxon follows me to the elevator, keeping up infuriatingly well, and we ride down in silence. I’ve had security amped up over the years during different stages of my life, but this is kind of getting to be a nuisance. Does he think we’re going to get carjacked or something?
“Don’t Gucci make trainers?” he asks me, looking down at my feet as we both face the shiny metal doors, giving me a view of our reflections.
He loves to point out all the designer gear I own like it’s a bad thing, I do have K-mart sneakers if he must know but that too is none of his business unless he’d like to go snooping through my wardrobe.
“Your point being?”
“Jogging in heels can be hazardous, lots of perilous things to be aware of in the workplace, plus you’ve fallen twice in the time I’ve been here.” Yes, he is on this planet only to annoy me.
Okay, so I’m very uncoordinated, nice of him to notice. Another hazard might be me wrapping my scarf around his neck and choking him.
“Right,” I retort. “So can working too much and not having any boundaries, right? So, who really cares?”
“Just looking out for your welfare,” he replies, I can see him looking up to the numbers slowly creeping down one by one as we descend, he’s probably hoping the thing plummets to the basement as quickly as possible but no such luck. “Since you don’t have much time on your hands for extra-curricular activities.”
I turn to look up at him, a snide half-smile on his lips. Son of a bitch.
“I definitely have time; I was meaning some people don’t, that’s if you’re referring to my private conversation which I might point out is not open for discussion, so please keep all commentary to yourself.”
He shrugs as I look back to the front. “Just saying, all work and no play makes Morgan a dull girl.”
“What are we like five?”
“Sex is a very important part of connecting with another person,” he tells me, dead-pan. My mouth literally hangs open as I turn to him. “Without any, it can mean irritability, a sense of foreboding, and a rise in stress levels.” He gives me a pointed look and I’ve never wanted to slap someone silly in my life up until this point. “Just sayin’.”
What is he my freaking therapist now? I literally don’t know how to respond. We’re discussing sex? Oh boy, this is not really happening.
“What the hell, Jaxon?” I almost screech at him, feeling my face burn with embarrassment.
“Calm down, you don’t have to bite my head off.” He keeps looking up at the numbers, avoiding looking at me, but I know he’s enjoying this, riding the wave of my humiliation. “I’m just stating the obvious.”
“This isn’t an appropriate conversation,” I say in a quiet voice, hoping the floor will open and swallow me whole, like now please.
“Probably not, but it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than psychoanalyzing web design software and witnessing Elliott Nelson checking himself out in every reflective surface available.”
I glance at him and he’s now staring right ahead. It occurs to me then and there he probably enjoys getting a rise out of me on a full-time basis; the best thing to do is ignore him. I am not discussing my private life—non-existent or otherwise—with him. Not now, not ever.
“You know, Mac was a lot more professional,” I say, my head held high. “I can’t imagine him ever saying anything like that or talking about inappropriate subjects.”
He snorts. “The guy is almost sixty years old, be weird if he did.”
The elevator finally makes it to the ground floor and I don’t wait for him to go first this time. One thing he’d better learn is that I don’t need Gucci sneakers or any sneakers to get a head start on leaving him for dust. I’m relieved when I see Marcy parked right out the front so I don’t have to banter or chit-chat any more. I hope he sits in the front seat next to her and stops being super annoying and disgustingly rude.
I go to get in the door and slide across when I see Ryan sitting on the back seat as I climb in.
I turn to look at the open door as Jaxon fills the space as he bends down.
“You’re not coming?” I state like it’s not already obvious.
He gives me a smirk. “No, thought Ryan might like a day trip, see the sights, he’s from Brooklyn, you see, and he doesn’t get out much. Besides, I’ve got a whole lot of research to do back upstairs with the office staff.” He gives me a wink, and before I can say anything, he shuts the door in my face and taps the hood as Marcy takes off into the late afternoon traffic.
Son of a bitch.
I curse the day he was born.
Jaxon Westbrook is the biggest asshole under the sun.
That I know for sure.
9
Jaxon
If modern-day torture was put into simple terms, it would be shopping for women’s clothing. For some reason, I’m trawling through Macy’s department store while Morgan clickety clacks her heels all the way through it like she owns the place.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind fashion, I like my designer suits and crisp shirts, but this madness, unless trapped inside a Victoria’s Secret store with hot babes, is the worst job in the world.
When she meets her friend, Dixie, who sizes me up like I’m half a pound of rump steak, we’re introduced briefly, it’s obvious she’s heard all about me just by the recognition in her eyes.
“We meet at last,” she says, surprising me, I was expecting Morgan’s friends to be as snidey and sarcastic as her. “Lovely to meet you, Jaxon, I’m Dixie, the eyes and ears of this place and, more importantly, Morgan’s bestie.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” I say as I shake her hand in greeting. She’s attractive, has dark hair with hazel eyes; she has a little bit of a Southern twang and a whole lot of sass. They seem like unlikely friends.
“How are you enjoying things Downtown?” she asks me as I try not to baulk at the question, it’s almost like it has a double meaning.
“It’s just peachy.” I smile, giving Morgan the side-eye. “I’ve never been surrounded by so many beautiful and successful women before, how can any of that be bad?”
She laughs and slaps me on the arm playfully. “You are cute, Jax… is it alright if I call you Jax?”
“Of course you can, I’ve answered to a lot worse,” I add, giving her a wink. “So, this will be a refreshing change.”
She laughs again and then unfathomably links her arm through mine as we begin walking, or rather, she steers me towards the ladies department.
“Dixie, do you mind not man-handling my security?” Morgan complains from behind us.
I refrain from grinning.
“Don’t mind her,” Dixie whispers. “She’s just a little uptight, if you get my drift.”
I look down at her and she gives me a sure nod. I think I like this girl a lot, she seems fun. Unlike Morgan.
“How long have you two known each other?” I ask. I’ve got no idea what else to say to this man-grabbing woman who proudly parades me through the torture chamber of hell towards apparel.
“We met after Morgan graduated college, we both worked after hours doing awful scuzz bucket jobs and getting told off for talking too much, spending our tips on junk food and tequila, the rest is history.”
“You forgot the part where I saved your ass from being fired more times than I can remember,” Morgan pipes up.
“Oh, trust you to bring up the negative.” Dixie rolls her eyes quite deliberately. �
��Don’t worry about her,” she pats my arm companionably. “I got your back, baby.”
I smirk because she’s funny and instantly likeable and everything Morgan isn’t, maybe I should have just come to Macy’s to get all the intel from her best friend here, she seems very compliant and willing to talk.
“I’m sorry if this is going to be really boring for you,” she says as we go up an escalator. “You must hate parts of your job.”
I don’t know if that’s an insinuation for my current job but I go with the flow.
“Some more than others,” I reply with a raise of my eyebrows. “But I love to hang out in ladies wear, best thing I’ve done all week, beats listening to website design meetings and editorial reviews over cold coffee.”
We laugh companionably.
“I heard that,” Morgan grumbles but we both ignore her.
“I think I like you, Jax,” she whispers. “Besides, someone’s got to keep her on her toes, may as well be you.”
“Thanks, maybe say that a little louder,” I encourage.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, Morgs,” Dixie hollers over her shoulder conspiratorially. “He’s totally not Satan.”
I hear Morgan gasp in shock as my shoulders shake from laughter.
“I so did not say that,” Morgan argues, mortified.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been likened to the devil,” I whisper back to Dixie.
She laughs again and I can only imagine how annoyed Morgan is right now, I’ve not only tamed her wild kitty cat at home who hates humans, her P.A. wants to marry me, her staff think I’m Superman, and I’m now suddenly long-lost chums with her best friend.
Life couldn’t be sweeter but that is also short-lived as soon as we get to the evening dress section and all sense of logic goes out the window.
For the next hour, I stand outside the ladies change rooms while the clerk sizes me up and I give her a wink because she’s cute and it’s now been almost ten days since I’ve had sex, not that I’m counting. Two more days to go and I’ll get some reprieve other than five minutes in the shower with my bar of soap. I’m a sexual man, sue me, and I love women, so why I’m purposely abstaining from doing what’s natural to me is anyone’s guess. Truth is, I’m worn out and it’s only my first real week on the job, it’s not like I’ve had five minutes to myself or even a night where I’m not working.
