Last Call

by Bella Michaels

  That’s easy.

  “I can’t.”

  “Exactly. So no, I don’t think this is like you at all. But I do think you’re flying close to the danger zone. It will impact you way more than it does me if your dad comes on board.”

  Per the agreement, if we default on the loan terms, Enzo will retain a fifty percent share in Angel, Inc., but I’ll give up twenty-five percent of mine to my father. I couldn’t give a shit about the money. I have no doubt this company will bring in more than either of my parents have seen in their lifetimes. But working with my dad on a daily basis?

  No can do.

  “It wouldn’t be ideal for either of us.”

  Enzo puts down his fork. “So you just have to manage to go two days without laying a hand on Doctor Flemming.” Enzo smirks. “Or Ada.”

  I don’t deserve him.

  After everything I’ve laid on him, he’s making jokes.

  “Listen. I trust you. Would I prefer for Angel, Inc. to be just the two of us? Of course. But we knew all along there was a strong possibility we couldn’t get this done within the time frame. Your dad is a smart guy.” He holds up a hand. “I know you don’t see eye to eye. But it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for the business. Just for your sanity.” He shrugs. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have sold the patent years ago. I don’t have a fraction of your business sense. I didn’t negotiate contracts with distributors all across the country or coordinate our finances. So whatever happens, with Ada Flemming, with our business structure . . . do whatever you think is right. I’m behind you all the way.”

  I’m at a loss for words, but I finally manage to form a coherent sentence.

  “Thanks, Enz. And sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I say, sincere.

  “Sorry you had the bad fortune to fall for the wrong woman.”

  Enzo takes another bite, his face scrunching up in pleasure. I dig into my food too but can hardly taste what’s on my plate. The type of pleasure that’s preoccupying me, for better or worse, has nothing to do with food.

  And it definitely can’t be as easily sated.

  19

  Ada

  “Good morning.”

  When we get to the plant, a man by the name of Paul Woodbridge introduces himself to me and my team. There are six of us, typical for a site visit. Not so typical was the nerve-wracking four-hour drive up here. At least I was alone. Although I could have carpooled with the others, I’m still planning on taking my one night in the Skaneateles. God knows I’ll need some rest and relaxation after spending so much time with Hayden.

  I spent the whole ride thinking about seeing him again, but lo and behold, we got here before him. To be fair, we’re early. But it doesn’t help soothe my nerves. Nor does the fact that I have a solid team with me. It would have been great to have Karlene along for the ride, but at least Qasim is here representing the chemistry division.

  “Good morning.” I step forward. “Sorry we’re early, Mr. Woodbridge. It can be hard to judge the traffic coming out of the city.”

  “No problem, we’re just about ready for you. And please, call me Paul.”

  I shake Paul’s hand. “Ada Flemming. And this is Qasim”—I use first names to break the ice a bit—“from CBM.” Catching myself, I rephrase. “Chemistry, Biology, and Microbiology.”

  I turn to gesture to the others.

  “Carolina from Biopharmaceutics, Randy from Stats, Jayel is our Chief Medical Officer and Francine is our PTS . . .”

  “The Pharmacology and Toxicology Specialist.”

  Awareness floods my entire body at the sound of his voice. Heat flushes to my cheeks as I turn, doing my best to play it cool.

  “Very good, Mr. Tanner. And good morning.”

  “Hayden,” he corrects me, daring me to say no now that I’ve used first names for everyone else. I didn’t even hear him walk up.

  He’s dressed to the nines. The look reminds me of the first time we met—rolled-up shirtsleeves that only draw more attention to his perfect arms, a smart, sexy vest, and a confidence that radiates from him. Standing tall, shoulders back, he seems even bigger now than he did the other day in his apartment. I can’t help but remember the shock of his lips on mine. The way the first touch of his tongue immediately buckled my knees.

  “Hayden,” I repeat.

  “Good morning, Doctor Flemming.”

  There’s a definite sparkle in his eye. Is he thinking of that first meeting too? Or something else? The kiss?

  Oh God, this is going to be a long day.

  “Ada,” I insist, trying to ignore the absolute firecracker tension between us.

  I reach out a hand, and he grasps it, hard. And yep, that’s his thumb rubbing into my palm. And then he pulls away just as quickly as he reached for me.

  “How was your drive?” he asks the group.

  Qasim answers, knowing full well there’s something between Hayden and me. He doesn’t know the extent of it, but he knows enough. “Quicker than we expected. You?”

  Hayden’s smile is so charming that no one, including Qasim, is immune. “Same here. I was surprised to make such good time.”

  He and Qasim seem to have a moment. It’s like Hayden, despite the fact that I’ve never mentioned Qasim to him, somehow knows he’s in on the secret.

  And the bastards both seem to be reveling in my discomfort.

  “So should we get started?” I ask, anxious to get this over with.

  “Sure,” Hayden says, “we’ll follow your lead.”

  It’s obvious he’s not just talking about the tour. Now I know I’m not imagining things. I can tell by the look on his face he’s almost enjoying this.

  “Let’s start out with a tour of the facility,” I say. “This afternoon we’ll share some of the checklists that will drive tomorrow’s more detailed inspection.”

  “We took the liberty of ordering lunch to be delivered by a local restaurant,” he says. “I just have to give them a time.”

  I glance down at the phone in my hand.

  “Shall we say noon? We’ll take a look at the brewery now and the plant after lunch?”

  Hayden glances at Paul, who nods.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” the older man says. He leaves, presumably to call the restaurant.

  “I hope everyone is okay with sandwiches?” Hayden says. “We got a variety.” And then to me, he adds, “I was sure to toss in fresh mozzarella with tomato and basil.”

  Oh, he’s going to get it. The rest of my team must think he’s some rich eccentric. But I know better.

  That’s the exact thing I ate at his deli.

  When I shoot him a look, Hayden simply smiles. A devastating, white-toothed, Mr. Sexy Eyes smile.

  That bastard.

  It feels like I’ve spent the whole day walking on eggshells—no, more like daggers—and we still have a whole day ahead of us. With his stolen glances and not-so-subtle innuendos, Hayden is not making this easy.

  “Do you think we’re in good shape for the day, then?” I ask my team, struggling to keep a straight face.

  “I could use a few minutes with the numbers from the cross-contamination study,” Randy says. This facility is a unique one. Although Angel, Inc. uses a third party manufacturer for their pill antidote, the proprietary nature of the product requires on-site manufacturing. Essentially, this is both a brewery and chemical plant in one facility, though the operations are housed in separate buildings. There are other buildings on the campus too, including one they planned to use to make wine fairly soon, although that process is still waiting on the final formula from the lab located in Jersey.

  The one Hayden was at the night I . . . the night of the storm.

  “I don’t want to hold everyone up,” says Randy. About fifty years old with long grey hair, he looks more like a band member than an FDA statistician. Probably because, when he isn’t working, Randy’s actually a drummer for an Elton John tribute band.

  “We have two cars,” Carolina sa
ys. “The rest of us can squeeze into one of them if you need to stay for a while.”

  Within a couple of minutes, we’ve worked out a plan. The rest of us will check into the hotel, and we’ll meet Randy in the lobby in an hour to head out for dinner and drinks.

  We’ve been alone in our makeshift war room, papers and empty coffee cups everywhere, for about an hour. I was starting to think I might not see Hayden again for the rest of the night, but apparently I’m not so lucky, because he suddenly appears at the door with Paul.

  Admit it, you’ve been watching that door for the better part of an hour, looking for him.

  While Paul greets the team, Hayden barely tries to hide the fact that he’s trying to catch my eye. When he does, his look is almost predatory, and I’m undoubtedly the prey.

  “Any recommendations for a good place to grab dinner and drinks?” Jayel asks. He’s the oldest member of our team, with just a few years on Randy. Also brilliant. He was actually on the team that interviewed me when I first came to the FDA. This is the second time I’ve been the RPM on a case with him, and as I told him the first time, it feels really strange to be managing someone who ranks well above me. I mean, the guy went to Harvard Medical School and was the chief resident at Columbia University. Among other things.

  But that’s how people on my level get the experience we need to move up, and since RPMs rotate, I could find myself answering to him on another case in a few months. Still, it always feels a bit odd to lead a team of people who are older and more experienced. I was an absolute nervous wreck the first time I acted as RPM. I called my dad almost every single day.

  These days I only need his opinion every other week.

  I look up.

  Hayden is still watching me as the conversation continues around us.

  “Sounds perfect. Is that good with y’all?” Carolina has lived in New York for ten years, but her Louisiana accent is still as strong as ever.

  “You should come with us,” Randy says to Paul, who gave him the suggestion.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Tanner and I were planning to grab something. I don’t get to talk his ear off too often in person.”

  “Both of you, then,” Jayel says. “Maybe we can mix business with pleasure and shave off a bit of time from tomorrow’s schedule.”

  Everyone seems to love the idea.

  Everyone but me.

  Please no, I silently plead with him.

  No, no, no.

  “I’m up for it if you are, Paul,” Hayden says, a smile in his voice.

  And then he looks straight at me.

  “I’m all for mixing business with pleasure. That is, if you don’t mind that we join you?”

  My core clenches at his words.

  I want to kill him. I want to kiss him. I want him inside me.

  Pull it together, Ada. There’ll be a whole team of people there to babysit. How much trouble can you possibly get in surrounded by your colleagues?

  I guess I’m about to find out.

  20

  Hayden

  I’ve spent the past two hours trying to ignore Ada, who changed into a very sweet, very wholesome, and very fuckable low-cut sundress with mini-friggin’ flowers all over it. We’re sitting on opposite ends of two pushed-together high tops, which isn’t enough to stop me from going over there to talk to her. I need to keep reminding myself of all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen. Even if Enzo gave me the green light to handle the situation (or not) as I see fit.

  One day, when I was eleven or so, I was up past my bedtime, kept awake by a thunderstorm. I crept out of my bedroom, and I overheard my nanny talking on the phone to a friend.

  That was the night I learned why I had no siblings. My mother had apparently had her tubes tied when I was three, having decided that a toddler was way more work than she’d bargained for.

  I mean, it’s not like I ever was misguided enough to think my parents loved and adored the ground I walked on. They cared about me, sure, but they were always more than a little aloof. I chalked it up to my mother’s upbringing. It’s just what she knew. But to basically hear it confirmed that they’d regretted having me . . . it was a turning point. One I probably should have sought therapy for long ago. Instead, I covered up the hurt by doing everything, and anything, to get their attention. To test my theory that if they didn’t want another one of me, they didn’t want me either.

  And then I met Enzo.

  We clicked immediately, even though there was no good reason for us to get along.

  One night, at the end of our freshman year, I came back to the dorm at three in the morning, my chin bleeding, drunk as a skunk. To this day I have no idea how I cut myself. Enzo was taking a piss in the dorm bathroom and found me sitting next to the toilet, door wide open.

  He cleaned me up. Put me to bed. And even though we only had a casual acquaintance from that one class we had together, Enzo took it upon himself to chew me out the next day. He told me about his struggles with dyslexia even though hardly anyone else knew about them. Explained how hard he’d worked to get into Cornell and what a shame it was that I was wasting what was, to him, the opportunity of a lifetime.

  Years later he told me that he hadn’t set out to save me or anything. It had genuinely pissed him off that someone he saw as a decent enough guy was well on his way to earning the title of biggest fuckup in our dorm.

  I’d love to say I cleaned up my act, but this is no fairy tale. I continued to make stupid, self-destructive decisions. There was one difference: Enzo was on my side, and he called me out every damn time.

  My other “friends” were all too willing to benefit from my parents’ wealth—who doesn’t want to fly to Switzerland for a long weekend on an all-expenses paid trip to their friend’s European house?—but Enzo never did, not in college anyway. He only let me lure him away once, just after we graduated.

  I run through all of this in my mind, reminding myself why I can’t get Ada alone and crush her body up against mine. Why I can’t let her feel every inch of my arousal as I pull open those spaghetti straps and watch in glee as her dress falls to the ground.

  Why I can’t let Ada know how much I fucking want her.

  “Not to keep talking shop, but in all my years at the FDA, this is by far the most interesting product that’s come across my desk.”

  I’ve mostly kept quiet, letting Randy and Paul discuss Angel, Inc., but they’re both looking at me now, and I feel some compulsion to talk. If only to avoid seeming rude.

  “Thanks,” I say finally. “Does your interest and the possibility of it being approved align in any way?”

  Randy laughs even though I’m not kidding. I’d love some insight into what they’re thinking.

  But don’t let that long hair fool you. He’s as locked-down as Ada.

  “The process is what it is,” he says. “Only Ada and our boss can answer that question. They’re the only ones who see the big picture. The rest of us just focus on our own particular roles. I’m looking at the clinical evaluation, control and uncontrolled studies, and the like.”

  I look down the table at the good doctor.

  It would be easier if she were only a pretty face. But she’s not. Not by a long shot. I listened to the questions she asked all day. Watched her interact with her team. She knows her shit, but Ada second-guesses herself at every turn.

  The entire table goes quiet. We’re all waiting for her response.

  “Every drug that comes through our office is handled with the same protocol and attention,” she says. “Some, like yours, might have far-reaching effects. Any first-in-class drug is indeed of high interest to everyone involved. But that doesn’t change the process in any way.”

  She’s talking to me.

  “You guys have all kinds of rules,” I say.

  Why am I pushing her buttons?

  “Yes,” she says flatly, “we do.”

  “Actually,” Jayel jumps in, “most of them are unwritten. You’d be surprised.”


  The team launches into a discussion of the internal politics of the FDA. It couldn’t interest me less, to be honest, particularly since Ada isn’t participating. But then Randy says something that pulls me out of my reverie.

  “I think I’m going to head back soon.”

  One by one, the others concur as they decide who will call for a car back to the hotel, since everyone has at least a few drinks in them. With the size of the group, they agree two will be necessary. So I seize my chance.

  “Instead of getting two cars, Dr. Fleming, let me buy you a drink and take you back myself. I have a few questions about tomorrow.”

  Actually, I have just one question. And it has nothing to do with tomorrow’s site visit.

  Enzo’s words buzz in my ears. Do what you think is right.

  He knows me better than I know myself. Maybe I should do what he suggested and listen to myself.

  I don’t actually have a car, but that’s a minor inconvenience.

  Ada is looking at me like I’m nuts.

  “One drink and I’ll have you back at your hotel before your colleagues even fall asleep. Promise.”

  When the waitress comes by and the others settle the bill, I notice Qasim is giving me a strange look. I had my suspicions earlier, but now I’m sure. He knows something, though I’m not sure how much. He does look surprised, and curiously amused, when Ada agrees.

  “One drink. We have an early start tomorrow.” She addresses the others. “Eight a.m. in the lobby?”

  They agree, say their goodbyes, and they leave the restaurant. So does Paul, who, God bless the man, never actually questions my ability to get Ada back to her hotel without a vehicle. Nor does he question what I might need to talk to her about.

  I’ll come up with something to tell him by morning.

  Once they’re gone, I jump off my stool and order two drinks from the waitress, who noticed we were still here and dropped by to check on us. Then, sitting at the same table as Ada, catty-corner to her, I wait for it.