Life as We Know It (Love Not Included) (Volume 4) Page 8

  “Jesus, you are so beautiful when you’re all worked up. Tell me, Penny, tell me it’s all for me.”

  I will tell him anything he wants to hear right now if he keeps this up. I’m about to tell him that two fingers are always better than one, because of course my dirty side has come out, but just then, his intercom begins to blare with the voice of his one and only bitch-faced secretary.

  “Mr. Dresden, Mrs. Dresden is on line one for you…”

  Say what?

  Let’s all create a mental picture of a bucket full of cold water being poured all over this hot, steamy scene, because what just came out of that intercom has definitely killed the mood.

  Married!?

  “Ouch!”

  I don’t realize it but I’ve started squeezing Sam’s hair in a death grip. I take my legs and lift them up to catapult him off me. My feet hit his chest and he goes stumbling backward.

  “Jesus Penny, what did you do that for?” He grumbles brushing his now sore scalp.

  “You’re married!?” I belt.

  “Mr. Dresden. Are you there? She says it’s urgent.”

  “I can’t believe this! You are a piece of work.” I jump off the table and pull my skirt down. I’m about to flip my shit. I cannot believe this guy just tried to seduce me, TWICE! And he’s married. I am sick to my stomach. I turn to gather all my paper work and get the hell out of there.

  “What are you doing?” He asks, now sounding frustrated.

  “Um what does it look like, I’m leaving! You should hurry up and get that. Your wife said it was urgent.” I give him my back again and shove papers in to my briefcase.

  He turns to walk over to the intercom and flicks on the receiver. “Thank you, Bethany…”

  Turning back toward me, he says, “I have to admit you are one feisty woman when you’re angry, but I’m afraid to break it to you that you have the wrong idea here.”

  “The wrong idea? The Wrong idea? Last I checked I was NOT deaf! And even before that, wife still meant the same. Wife, as in spouse. Married. Taken!”

  “Oh sit down!” he barks at me.

  Oh hell no! He has some nerve.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  I turn to leave. As I do, he picks up his phone to take his call. I make it to the door just in time for him to spit out, “Hello, Mother, now is not a good time. Can I call you back?”

  If I wasn’t so mortified at what I just heard, I might have stuck around and apologized. But I’m me. And I don’t do awkward, so before he can let his mother go, I open the door and take the hell off.

  “You have GOT to be kidding me!” That’s Patti. And she is yelling.

  “Nope. True facts. It happened. Now I can die in peace knowing the last sexual interaction I had killed me of embarrassment.”

  “Girl, I wish I could tell you something to make you feel better, but shit. That is really embarrassing. Explain to me again why you ran?” She laughs.

  “Um because it was that or turn around and look at the man who I just accused of being married and had told to fuck off. No way. Couldn’t do it.”

  “Has he tried to reach you?”

  “That’s the strange part, no.” And strange is an understatement. After bolting out of his office like the place was on fire, I went back to my office. Mr. Wellington was not all that pleased to see me return and wanted to know how our meeting went. Well, Mr. Wellington, it was going great and I was just about to ask him to stick another finger in it, until he got a call from the Mrs., who wasn’t really the Mrs., but the older Mrs. Then I decided to go off the handle and tell our very important client to fuck himself and took off. Do you want me to clear out my desk now or later?

  I expected him to call and yell at me. At least call Mr. Wellington and cut ties. I sat at my desk all day waiting for the ball to drop, but the scary thing is, it never did. Five o’clock hit and no bomb. Nothing. I called Patti on my way home and she doesn’t even have an answer for me.

  “Well. You got me girl. The rich are tricky people I guess.”

  Ugh yeah, the rich. The word that spoils the mood. Because for a second in that room today I actually decided that I was going to just let things happen with us. He truly was a sweet guy and even though we met on not so conventional terms, he is right: there is something really hot between us. And I want hot. I don’t think I’ve ever had hot. With Henry, it was barely lukewarm. As in I got myself off better than he ever did. With Sam, he can just look at me and I start to clench.

  But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. And mine did before it really even ever started. I’m going to have to tell Mr. Wellington that I lost the client. I know I won’t be able to pull it off any longer than I was able to today.

  I finally make it to my front step and I see a package on my doormat.

  “—so then, I was like, no way Jeff, I will not stand in for the weather guy and do his news cast just because I am wearing a low-cut shirt. I mean, can you believe that!?” I forgot in my deep thoughts I was still on the phone with Patti, completely tuning her out.

  “Hey, you still with me?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m home. There’s a box at my door.”

  “Oh goodie. What is it? Did you order another blow-up date?” That was a drunken night purchase and also a one-time deal.

  “No, shut it. Hold on.” I pick it up and notice the elegant wrapping and silk bow. There is no card, but a “SD” emblem on the bottom. Sam Dresden.

  “Patti, I gotta call you back.” I don’t hear what she says and just click end. Not paying attention, I open my door, drop my bag without care, and walk over to the kitchen. Setting the box on the counter, I untie the perfectly designed bow and unwrap the gift, pulling off the top of the box. As I stare at the item that is inside, I gasp.

  Inside, nicely wrapped, is my missing Jimmy Choo shoe.

  “Oh my good God,” I touch the shoe to make sure it’s real. I pull it out, and yep…mine.

  I see a note tucked in the side of the tissue. Picking it up, I open the flap and stare at the perfect penmanship covering the small piece of paper.

  I forgive you.

  Meet me at 3264 West Main Street Floor 57. At 9 am.

  Don’t be late.

  -S.

  Holy bonkers.

  A few things flow out my brain at the same time. First, apparently I still might have a job.

  Second, he forgives me.

  Third, he kept my shoe.

  I HAVE COME TO terms with the fact that I will never be on time for anything. Like ever. I can probably just not sleep, sit on the couch waiting for my alarm to go off, jump straight out the door and still be late. It’s just not in my cards to ever Be. On. Time.

  I was going to skip the shower this morning because I took one last night. If you thought that I wasn’t going to do everything possible to get rid of that aching in between my legs then you’re way wrong. Blue balls for women do exist, scouts honor. I couldn’t stop thinking about his box. He kept my shoe. He didn’t just leave it. He kept it. Why? He couldn’t have known then that he would ever see me again. I was so touched, and then turned on because it kept bringing me back to him touching me, that I had to relieve some tension. I hate showering at night because sleeping with wet hair sucks, but I also needed to schedule an impromptu date with my shower head.

  This also allowed me an extra twenty minutes in the morning. Don’t be late, rang in my ears while I carefully picked out my black pencil skirt and complimented it with a red blouse. If anything, this outfit will for sure shut up any comments about yesterday. Since I’m not a fan of surprises I googled the address Sam gave me last night. It turns out it’s the new development that Dresden Architects is way deep in.

  I go to grab my pair of Jimmy’s. I feel like it’s only fair to wear the reunited pair. I bend down to grab my shoes when I hear it. The barking. No no no…

  I look up and of course my window is open. And there goes my cat. “No NO NO! Not today!” I panic. I jump into a
ction and out my window I go. Let me tell you how not easy it is to hurdle out a window and down a fire escape in a skirt. I make it all the way down and spot my cat, then my neighbor’s dog, just as they turn the corner. I take off down the alley and turn into the complex. Chelsea is smart and always heads toward the pool. She knows she can squeeze under all the stacked chairs and take cover so Mr. Wilson’s dog doesn’t eat her for breakfast. Smart kitty.

  I make a sharp left, turn and gasp. The chairs are not stacked where they should be and poor Chelsea’s shelter has been eliminated. My panic level rises because in about two seconds I’m going to witness the brutal death of my poor beloved cat. I start screaming at the dog hoping to get his attention. Thankfully I see Mr. Wilson running down the walkway from the corner of my eye.

  I did not need this today. I’ve already broken a sweat and probably have lines in my blouse. I am seriously going to have a talk with Mr. Wilson about his dog because I’ve had it.

  As we both make it to the pool at the same time, I see Mr. Wilson pull out his whistle. Thank god for that damn dog whistle because it works every time. I want to jam it in this throat, or blow for him, to get it done faster because my cat is seriously about to go down. Luckily, it does the trick and the second he blows, his dog stops and turns. Mr. Wilson blows again and the mutt wags his tail. Taking his eyes off his owner he turns to me. I have to say that I do not like the way that dog is looking me over right now. Before I can really define what sort of look that is, he starts barreling towards us. I wouldn’t feel so sketchy about this situation if that dog would take his drooling eyes off me and move them onto this owner. The closer he gets the more unsure I am about what is about to happen.

  “Whoa! Whoa doggie. Mr. Wilson, I think you should blow that whistle again.” I’m tugging at Mr. Wilson to blow that damn whistle because now that dog is galloping toward us at full speed. And when I say us, I mean me. Kujo looks like he has one thing on his hungry mind. And it’s most likely to bite my face off.

  “Oh god, oh boy, Holy shit!—” Not that a little water is better than getting my face chewed off by a drooling killer dog, but in that moment just as Kujo is about to leap at me, I side jump. Underestimating my closeness to the water, I fall into the pool.

  Today is definitely not going to be the day I show up on time.

  I make it to the fifty-seventh floor seventeen minutes late. My hair is in a wet bun, and my eyes are still burning from the over-chlorinated pool water. I had to retire my “don’t bring up yesterday” outfit for a simpler black knee-length skirt with a light green top.

  As the elevator doors finally open, I am greeted by an empty floor in despair. Beams and construction work have the entire level open and in shambles. I watch where I step, because only I would step on a beam having it fly up sticking a rusty nail into my forehead. And not because I have bad luck, but it would be another way to make me later to this meeting.

  Just as I step over a pile of floorboards, I notice a dark figure appear from the corner of the abandoned floor. Sam steps from the shadows of the room. Dressed perfectly, as always, in a gray suit, he just screams power. From his expensive clothes, to his perfectly chiseled cheeks, down to that perfect body. I’m almost jealous of his suit right now. I seriously want to be that suit.

  “Hello there. You’re late.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m really sorry. There was a chicken coop turned over on Fulton Street. No traffic was moving so I had to get out of my cab and practically run the rest of the way.”

  There it is. The look of complete confusion. I get those a lot. “I see. Well, I’m glad you’ve decided to give this another chance.” He looks at me, appearing to want to say more. I sense the sarcasm in his tone. He reaches me, and without invitation, leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. Damn my weak self, but I may have leaned in to his mouth as he did so. As he pulls away I try and correct my balance.

  “Is that chlorine I smell?” he asks, breaking my lust fog. Shit.

  “Oh yeah, um, morning swims. I teach a class for the elderly in the mornings. It’s what I do to give back.” Don’t ask. I have no idea where that one came from either. Possibly the same place as the chicken coop.

  “So, why am I here?” I ask breaking the tension.

  “Yes, of course.” He turns and offers his hand to me. I hesitate at first. Any time our bodies touch, it’s like an explosion. Even a simple hand connection has me wanting to wrestle him to the ground, rusty nail in my ass be damned.

  “It’s just a hand, so you don’t fall. The place is not up to code yet, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  Feeling silly, I nod and take his hand. Slipping my small palm into his, he squeezes and I gasp as he pulls me closer to him. “So this is Dresden Architect’s newest venture.” He begins.

  “I know that but why am I here?”

  He looks at me impressed. “Doing your research I see?”

  “Well I do like to know everything I can about the clients I work with.” His eyes glimmer with mischievousness. “So are you going to answer me or stare me down all morning?”

  “Well that would be a tough call. Staring at you would be my first choice. But I will start by explaining,” he begins walking, escorting me through the unfinished layout. “The level that we are on will be called the Greenroom. Real original name, I know. It will be built strictly to hold all of the structural green materials and generators. Once complete, this hotel will be the first all green, environmentally friendly hotel in the city. First ever.”

  He looks at me while I take in the information. I’ll admit, I’m pretty impressed. After studying the building and then trying to do some research on Sam’s personal life—I know, stalker—I ended up learning a lot about his company and work motto. He is heavily involved in a lot of save the world organizations and go green functions.

  “It’s impressive.” I look around. “But I still don’t understand why I’m here.”

  “Because I need your expertise.”

  I stop and face him. “Well you’ve got the wrong person because I don’t know anything about going green, except for a diet Patti made me try once and let me tell ya, it didn’t end well.” Thinking about that horrible experience makes me cringe. You will lose tons of weight she said. Just drink the green drink three times a day she said. The only reason I even lost any weight was because I was stuck in the bathroom, unable to leave unless I wanted to wear a damn diaper to work.

  Never again. Cleanse, my ass. Like literally.

  “You impressed me yesterday. Your knowledge and research blew me away. And I need you. As you know I am highly invested in a lot of groups and contractors. I want to make sure they are all legit contracts. What I need you to do is research. Help me make sure that my investments are authentic. Crunch some numbers for me and make sure the numbers match up.”

  He must have me confused with someone else. “Sam, I’m not sure that’s me. I’m sure there are way more qualified people at my firm to help you with—”

  “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

  We continue to stare at one another. “Why?”

  “Because you are smart, and resilient. And I trust you.”

  Whoa! Now that throws me. Trust? That’s a biggie in any relationship. We haven’t known each other long enough for him to trust me. Yeah sure, maybe to tell him if he has food in his teeth, but to work alongside him and crunch numbers and give the green light or ax to his investments? He might be sniffing too much of the chlorine from my hair.

  “Sam, I think it’s great that you trust me, but I’m not sure I’m the best pick for this.”

  “Well, I say you are. And it’s my company. So will you take the job?”

  I really don’t know what to say. My brain-gina says yes, obviously. Working next to Sam is a no brainer. Getting to smell his manly cologne on my skin at the end of each day, while I rub one off in the shower? Oh wait, possibly having him rub one out for me? Okay. Stay on track.

  “Say yes
to me, Penny.”

  “I don’t know. What about my job? What about the investment contracts for Mr. Wellington?” I should probably think about my real job first, the one I need to show up to day after day, before I sign on to any playdates with Sam.

  “I will handle it all. If you agree, I will let Charles know your assistance is needed longer with Dresden Architects. I promise that no matter what, I will sign over those contracts to West and Mills. And I will also match your salary.”

  Now that makes this sound more like a business transaction, rather than an orgy for two. I guess I needed something to put my brain back in its head and get it out of my—

  “So what do you say?”

  “You’re willing to match my salary? Just to research investments which you can probably have your friendly secretary do?”

  “I would pay double. If it got you to say yes.”

  Wow. I mean, to be willing to pay me double is super crazy…and kind of romantic. That or he obviously knows what I make and realizes he could probably triple pay me and not even see a dent in his finances.

  Humph.

  “Well?” he asks, breaking into my inner battle.

  “Well, if it’s okay with Mr. Wellington, then I don’t see a problem with working a little bit longer with you.”

  His smile is like feeling the warm sun for the first time after a long winter. His beautiful face lights up at my agreeance and even causes my face to brighten with excitement.

  “Thank you.” His response is simple. Genuine.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You’ll probably be disappointed with my lack of skills very quickly and dump me back on Mr. Wellington’s steps sooner than expected.” I chuckle. I’m trying to ease the moment, and I miss him as he turns and steps into my personal space. He brings his hands to lie alongside my shoulders and bends forward to place his luscious lips to my ear. “I don’t think it is possible to ever be disappointed in your skills, Penny,” he whispers into my ear.