Refusing to embarrass myself, I slow down my machine to a jog then squeak a moment later when I’m lifted off my feet then set on solid ground. I lift my eyes off Braxton’s bare chest and meet his gaze with the song “Bad Guy” roaring in my ears. The song fits him and the dark possessive look in his eyes. My chest rises and falls as he lifts his hand to my cheek and smooths his fingers back, tugging my ear bud from my ear. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I say, telling myself the breathy tone in my voice is because I just ran a mile, not because Braxton is standing so close, looking like he wants to devour me.
“Since you’re done with your workout, wanna have breakfast with me?” His fingers brush mine, but my attention is pulled from him when I hear a loud noise behind me. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh as the redhead attempts to get her feet back under her and slow down. “You’re so bad,” Braxton whispers close to my ear, and I shiver, turning my head and coming face-to-face with him.
I drop my eyes to his mouth and lick my lips. “Breakfast sounds good.”
“Come on.” He takes my hand, but I stop him before he can pull me away. I turn off my machine, and then—because I’m petty—I shrug at the redhead and smirk, a silent sorry not sorry, he’s mine.
“What?” I ask Braxton when he chuckles, but he just shakes his head.
We stop at the lockers, and I grab my sweatshirt and bottle of water as he grabs a large black duffle bag before taking my hand once more. I let him lead me to the elevator, and he releases my hand to turn his back to me and wave his wrist across the screen. I put on my hoodie, leaving it unzipped, and lean against the wall as the doors close, holding my breath because I’m unsure what to expect as he turns to face me.
“Where is the watch I gave you?”
“I gave it to my brother,” I reply, and his eyes narrow slightly. “What? I might have agreed to keep it, but I didn’t tell you what I would do with it, and I wanted Jamie to be able to get into my place.”
“Hmm.” He skims his finger along the top edge of my sports bra, and I automatically grab onto the rail to keep myself standing. “Do you always work out dressed like this?”
“Why?”
“Curious.” He slides his finger between my breasts and up my throat to my chin, taking it between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Braxton?”
He lowers his head toward mine. “Yeah?”
“Are you going to kiss me?”
“Is that what you want?” He tugs on my chin, forcing my lips to part.
“Maybe,” I say as the doors behind him open.
“You let me know when you’re sure.” He steps back, leaving me disappointed as he takes my hand from the railing.
As soon as I step out of the elevator with him, I’m confronted with exactly how much money he has. His place is ginormous with two full walls of window that overlook the rest of the buildings in the area and the sound, which I never realized is only blocks away. After releasing me, he walks across the open floor and tosses his bag on a sleek black couch that could seat the entire Brady bunch along with a few dozen more kids.
“Are scrambled eggs okay?” he asks as I slowly walk behind him toward the open kitchen with black cabinets, pure white countertops, and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances.
“Sounds good.” I keep walking toward the windows and look out. “I could never live up here. I’d feel like I lived in a fish tank and people were watching me all the time.”
“That’s why the windows can do this,” he says and suddenly the windows seem to fill with smoke, blocking out the view.
“That’s very fancy.” I look at him over my shoulder so I can watch him laugh.
“A little too fancy. It took me a month to figure out how to use them,” he replies as I walk to the large dining table and run my hand over the wood surface that looks like someone split a tree in half then glazed it, with the natural pits and grooves filled with some kind of gold flecks. Even the outer edge of bark is glazed over. “You like it?”
“It’s very pretty. Where did you get it?” It looks custom made for the space and is big enough to sit at least twelve people or more if you added a few more chairs.
“I made it.”
I lift my eyes off the table and meet his gaze. “You made this?”
He shrugs. “It’s a hobby of mine.”
Isn’t he just full of surprises?
Then again, he’s been surprising me since the moment we met. “Where did you get the wood?”
“I have a piece of land and a small cabin just outside the city,” he explains, moving around in the kitchen while I walk around the table, inspecting it more closely. “I like to spend time there when I need to disconnect. There’s no Internet and barely cell service, so I hike and look for fallen trees.”
“Where did you learn to do woodworking?”
“My dad is a carpenter. I used to spend my summers helping him make custom pieces for people’s homes. I hated it, but I guess it’s still in my blood.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I guess. I bet people would pay lots of money for a table like this.”
“Maybe,” he agrees as I take a seat on one of the barstools surrounding the outer edge of the kitchen island. “I don’t sell the stuff I’ve made, and it takes me a while to finish anything, since I don’t get away as much as I’d like. That table took me a little over a year to create.”
“Is it the only thing you’ve made?”
“No. I made a coffee table for my mom, which she took the legs off of and hung on the wall.” He grins, and I can’t help but grin back. “Besides that, I’ve made a couple other things, but like I said, I don’t have a lot of free time.” He fills two cups with coffee out of a pot, handing one to me before going to the fridge and coming back with creamer.
“It must be tiring being the owner of a company, with so many people depending on you.”
“It is, but I built IMG from the ground up and want it to be successful. It’s like my baby, and I know if I put in the time now, later on down the road, it will take care of me.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” I say as he pulls a plate out of a drawer under the stove and piles it with fluffy-looking scrambled eggs.
I take it when he hands it over to me. “Ketchup or salsa?”
“Ketchup.” I set the plate down, my stomach growling at the smell. A moment later, he comes back with the ketchup and a fork, handing me both. I add a large glob to the side of my plate then wait for him to bring his around. Once he’s seated, I dig in, dipping the eggs in ketchup before I take a bite, almost moaning. I didn’t notice him putting in cheese or spices, but it’s delicious.
“Good?”
I turn and nod. “So good, thank you.”
He grabs my knee, squeezing it, the small gesture giving me comfort and turning me on all at the same time. Honestly, there isn’t much about him that doesn’t turn me on, and the more I learn about him, the more I like. He might have more money than one person could spend in a lifetime, but he’s not your typical rich asshole. Or maybe he is and he just hasn’t shown that side of himself to me. “So tell me about your family. Do they live in Washington?”
Darn, I should have been prepared for that question. The normal question you ask someone when you’re getting to know them. The kind of question I dread, because I don’t like people to feel sorry for me, and no matter how much I sugarcoat my past, that’s exactly what happens. “As you know my brother lives here.” I go with being evasive, hoping he’ll read between the lines and let it go.
“And your parents?”
“They aren’t around.” I take another bite, feeling his eyes on me as I chew.
His hand lands back on my knee, and he holds it there, not saying anything, just waiting for me to look at him. When I do, his voice is soft as he asks, “Not around, as in they don’t live here, or not around at all?”
“My dad passed when I was fifteen. My mom passed away two years later.”
“Dakota—”
>
“Please don’t,” I say quietly, covering his hand with mine. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Dakota. I just want to understand.”
“My mom survived the car accident that killed my dad then she got addicted to pain medication and killed herself.”
“So, you and Jamie…?”
“So me and Jamie wound up living in foster care. Thankfully, we found a family who took us both in, so things weren’t as bad for us as they could have been if we’d been separated.”
“Jesus.”
“It could have been worse.” I shrug, turning away from him, and begin moving my food from one side of my plate to the other.
“Don’t do that.” He squeezes my leg.
“Do what?” I turn to lock eyes with him.
“Try to play it off like that shit didn’t mark you. Like you’re hard as stone and nothing can hurt you.” I rub my lips together while staring into his eyes. “It’s okay to let your guard down and be vulnerable around me.”
Is it? I mean, our relationship so far has been built on lies and a hefty amount of lust. It’s not exactly the solid foundation you need in order to trust someone.
“Maybe one day I’ll get to a place with you where I feel comfortable letting you see all the ugly parts of me,” I say, wanting to be honest. “But right now, I’m not there.”
“I get that.” He lifts his hand and his fingers softly touch my cheek. “I just want you to know I’m here if you want to talk.”
“I’ve dealt with my past, Braxton. I don’t need a counselor or a therapist.”
“I’m sure you don’t but I would like to be your friend.”
“None of my friends have seen me naked.”
His lips twitch. “A different kind of friend then.”
“Right.” My own lips quirk into a smile then his wrist starts to flash, gaining his attention.
“Shit, I gotta take this call.”
“That’s okay,” I say, catching a glimpse of the time. “I should go down to my place and get ready for work.”
“I’m gonna assume there is no way I can convince you to hang out here in my bed all day.”
I laugh, tossing my head back, and when my hilarity dies down, I find him watching me closely. “What?”
“Nothing, I just like hearing you laugh,” he says softly, leaning in to touch his lips to my forehead. “Send me a message when you get down to your place.”
“I’m just going downstairs. I doubt anyone is going to kidnap me.”
“Just send me a text,” he insists.
I give in with a sigh that makes him smile and stand. He takes my hand and walks me to the elevator, even though it’s only across the room. When the doors open, I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Have a good day at work.”
“You too.” He squeezes my waist then lets me go.
I step into the elevator and lean against the wall as the doors close, expecting him to come in and ravish me. But then I have to tell myself I’m not disappointed when that doesn’t happen. I watch the numbers drop as I head to my place and wonder if it’s too late to go back and tell him I’d like nothing more than to spend the day in his bed. But as much as I want that, I want my job. I want independence and a life I’ve built for myself.
________________
I LOOK UP from my computer when someone clears their throat and smiles. “Hey, Mat.”
“Mike.” He points his thumb at his chest. “I’m Mike.” Darn, I should be able to tell the two men I work with apart, but honestly, they look almost identical, both with brown wavy hair that’s messily styled, both tan, and both attractive in that wholesome kind of way.
“Sorry.” I smile sheepishly.
“It’s okay. It happens.” He shrugs, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his slacks. “I just wanted to come over and tell you that I really liked your show today. We all did.” He looks around then leans into me. “Kathy is cool, but she’s not really open to new ideas.”
“I kind of got that.” I laugh softly. During my entire show this afternoon she was watching me with a scowl and a whole lot of headshakes because I wasn’t following her notes completely. Instead I was doing what I felt would draw in customers, and I think it worked since I sold out of the product I was presenting.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he clears his throat before meeting my gaze once more. “A few of us are getting together after work tonight for a drink across the street at the Gull. It would be cool if you’d join us.”
“I’d like that.”
“Awesome, I’ll see you there.”
“Yeah, see you there,” I agree, and he smiles before he turns and walks away. I glance down at my phone, wondering if I should send Braxton a message, then get annoyed with myself for even thinking about checking in with him. He’s not my boyfriend; I don’t need to let him know what I’m doing. Besides, I’m just going out for one drink. I can still meet him for dinner afterward. With that last thought, I get back to work, trying to incorporate Kathy’s ideas with some of my own for the next time I’m scheduled to be on air which isn’t easy to do, but I’m determined.
I yawn for the second time and glance at the clock on my computer, realizing then that I’ve been working for almost four hours straight. I rub my eyes then pick up my can of Coke to take a sip, finding it empty. Since it’s about time for me to leave for the day, I shut down my computer then sigh when my desk phone rings. “Dakota Newton’s desk,” I answer after putting it to my ear.
“Dakota, please come to my office,” Kathy’s voice greets me, and then before I can even say “sure,” the line goes dead. I inwardly groan and slip back on my black heels I kicked off under my desk and stand. I rub my hands down the front of my gray slacks and straighten my top before I head across the office, catching a few curious looks as I go.
When I reach Kathy’s door, I knock twice, waiting for her to call for me to come in before I push the door open. I find her sitting behind her desk with a beautiful woman maybe a couple years older than me, sitting across from her. Both of them smile, but I can’t tell if their smiles are genuine or not.
“Dakota, I’d like you to meet my niece Hanna. Hanna, this is Dakota.”
Hanna, the Hanna Braxton dated, the Hanna he still works with. My stomach drops.
“Hi, Dakota.” Hanna stands, and I instinctively hold out my hand toward her. She takes it, giving it a squeeze, then tips her head to the side. “You’re even prettier in real life than you are on TV.”
“Thank you.” I say softly thinking she’s pretty too, actually gorgeous with long blonde hair that is perfectly styled with the top pulled away from her face, making her bright blue eyes and pixie like features stand out. She’s the kind of woman who would look perfect on the arm of a man like Braxton. Jealousy curls in the pit of my stomach on that thought, and I despise the emotion immediately.
“Hanna came down here today to talk to me about moving you upstairs,” Kathy says, and my attention goes to her as Hanna releases the hold she has on me. “Apparently Braxton is insistent.”
The feeling of jealousy in the pit of my stomach is replaced with annoyance at Braxton. We talked about this last night, and I thought I got through to him and that he was respecting me and my choice. I guess not. “I don’t want to move.”
“Braxton mentioned that,” Hanna replies, and I focus on her. “But he showed Chris who is the head of marketing some of your show ideas, and Chris agreed with him. Your style is edgy, modern, and he thinks you could add a lot to our marketing team.” She smiles, and I look over at Kathy, noting she looks anything but happy. “Chris would really like the chance to talk to you.”
“That’s very nice, and I don’t want to seem unappreciative, but I really want to stay where I am,” I say, praying Kathy doesn’t think I’ve gone behind her back.
“I totally get it,” Hanna tells me, taking a seat once more. “Let me know if and when you change your mind an
d I’ll pass it along.”
“Okay,” I agree, feeling stuck—something I loathe. I don’t want to make anyone mad, especially the person who took a chance on me in offering me a job in the first place. I also have no desire to work in marketing, this job is my dream job, I just hope I can prove to Kathy that I can bring something new and fresh while blending the old with the new.
“Now that you’ve officially tried to steal one of my employees, I think this meeting can be over,” Kathy says, and Hanna laughs.
I force a grin in Kathy’s direction. “I won’t be that easy to get rid of.”
“I’m thinking it might not be your choice.”
Her words send a chill down my spine. A part of me knows she’s right. It might not be my choice. I’ve danced with the devil, and now he’s playing with my life. I want to resent him for stepping in and taking over even after I told him not to, but I’m not even sure he would understand. He’s used to always getting his way, and I’m sure he thinks I’ll eventually give in. I just don’t understand why he’s so insistent on me moving.
“It was so nice to meet you, Dakota. We should get a drink sometime,” Hanna says, catching me off guard with the sincerity in her tone.
I really don’t want to like her. But I can’t help it. There is something about her that seems sweet. I just wonder if she would be so nice if she knew about Braxton and my current relationship.
I drag in a breath and smile at her putting the jealousy I feel aside. “I’d like that.” I need friends here, and Braxton says their relationship is nothing but professional, maybe that’s the truth and they are just friends. I guess only time will tell.
“I’ll get your number from my aunt,” she says, and I nod once then look at Kathy, catching her lift her chin ever so slightly toward the door, signaling me to leave.
“I look forward to that,” I tell her then turn back to Kathy. “I’m going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good evening, Dakota.”
“You too.” I turn on my heel and head out the door, back to being seriously annoyed with Braxton once again for his highhandedness.
Chapter 8
The Wrong/Right Man Page 8
