Chapter Ten

 

JAMES

“So you finally did the deed with Myra, huh?”

My head snaps around. “W-what?”

Garrett chuckles and slaps his hands onto his thighs. “Can’t say I blame you, although she never did anything for me, personally. I mean, I remember thinking she was hot when I first met her, but she wasn’t really my type.”

“That’s got to be a first for you. Until you met Erin, I was under the impression that if she had breasts and a hole, you were interested.”

“Shows what you know. Myra’s the staying kind, and back then, I shied away from that type.”

The staying kind? Yeah, well, she’s not anymore, apparently. I’m going to lose her in a week and a half. Which I should be grateful for, given the fact we apparently can’t keep our paws off each other. Except I’m pretty sure when she leaves the company, she’ll leave me too.

“So, how was it?” Garrett asks, breaking across my thoughts.

“Even if anything happened, I wouldn’t tell you about it.” I lift my chin and try to pull my dignity around myself like a cloak that will protect me against my brother’s prodding. My sex life—or whatever the hell is going on between Myra and me—is none of his business. And even if I were inclined to share personal information with my brother, I wouldn’t know what to say.

Because I have no freaking idea what happened. I mean, I do, don’t get me wrong. Myra’s glorious, pink, wet pussy hovering over my face has got to be the greatest image I’ve ever seen. The most delicious delicacy I’ve ever tasted. Her orgasm the greatest accomplishment I’ve ever achieved.

But what does it mean?

What are we supposed to say to each other when she returns to the house? How do we talk about this, when I don’t even know what this is?

Did we just become fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? An office romance? Fling, more likely. God knows she wouldn’t be interested in anything more than that, not with me. Garrett’s right. She expects to date a perfect guy, to fall in love with him, to marry him and have perfect babies with him, and I am fully aware of how unfailingly imperfect I am.

I wouldn’t make the short list, if she even has one. I doubt I’d be on any list, no matter how long it was. So whatever the hell happened between us—this sensual, oral relationship we’ve developed—it’s only temporary. Will last only as long as she’s still in my employ. The moment her two weeks is up, she will move on, leaving my personal and professional life.

Which is the way it should be, and exactly what I don’t want.

Garrett peers at the window where Simon is perched, watching us, her tail swishing back and forth against the wall below. “When did you adopt a cat? I thought you hated pets.”

“I do. I didn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Shaking my head, I say, “It snuck into the house the other day while Myra was grilling, and I haven’t been able to convince it to leave.”

Garrett stands and stalks to the cat, lifting it into his arms and heading for the door. “All you do is toss it out on the—”

“Stop!”

He freezes and turns to arch his brows. I let out a huff. “Don’t throw it out the front door, for God’s sake. It might get hit by a car.”

With the cat curled into the crook of his elbow, he returns to the living room and drops into the recliner. “Probably easier to get rid of it if you actually set it free. In fact, I strongly encourage you to work on keeping her instead.”

“The cat?”

He shakes his head and strokes the feline’s head. “Not talking about the cat.”

Then what the hell is he talking about?

“I take it you didn’t bang her. I could’ve sworn I smelled the musk of a woman’s arousal.”

Gritting my teeth, I say, “No, I didn’t, if you must know.”

“And it hasn’t occurred to you that maybe if you do, she won’t leave?”

“You think if I seduce my admin, she’ll decide to stay on? You must have a thing for women’s romance novels. Because I live in the real world, and I can tell you that isn’t how things are supposed to work.” I’m her boss. We shouldn’t carry on any sort of relationship except a professional one. And while Myra may very well be willing to sleep with me—if the intensity of that orgasm I just gave her is any indication—I am not stupid enough to believe for one second that sex is what it will take to convince her to stay. And I shouldn’t want it to be.

“Never read a romance book, but I know plenty about women in general. Whatever is or is not going on between you two has the potential to be a gigantic train wreck unless you finally get your head out of the sand and pay attention to something other than your company.”

“As if I’d listen to advice from you.” I curl my lip into a sneer. Garrett and I have never, ever seen eye to eye when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. Even if his suggestion is exactly what every woman I’ve ever dated has told me.

He stands and claps a hand onto my shoulder. “Anyway, I need a favor. And trust me, if I could ask anyone else, I would.”

“Why can’t you?” If he said it like that, I probably don’t want to do it.

He lifts his hand and starts flipping up his fingers, one by one. “Our nanny had to go to Indianapolis to visit her grandmother, who’s in the hospital. Chloe and Paynt are in Paris. Dad’s come down with a cold or something, and I don’t want to expose Abby. I even asked Erin’s annoying best friend, but he has plans tonight. Of course he does. How the fuck that guy manages to hook up with women, I’ll never understand. It’s even more baffling than you possibly getting laid. At least you can afford to pay for dinner first. Danny doesn’t have two pennies—”

“Can we get to the favor now?”

“Erin’s favorite band is Imagine Dragons. They’re in town tonight, and I scored front row tickets. But we don’t have a babysitter for Abby.”

“Are you asking me to babysit your daughter? Me?”

“I told you, you were last on my list. But I’m out of options, and I’m not about to leave her with a stranger from some online service.”

“I’m a little annoyed that I’m last on your list.”

“Are you?”

“Christ, I’m not an ogre.”

“Sure you are. But that aside, you aren’t exactly kid-friendly. Other than family functions with Abby, have you ever had any real interaction with children?”

Garrett should talk. Before he learned he had a daughter, he was the same damn way. And look at him now; he’s such a doting dad he refuses to trust his child with anyone but family or close friends. If he can do it, I should be able to. Especially if it’s only for a few hours.

“I can handle it. Plus, Myra will be here to help.”

Garrett’s face lights up like I’ve just given him a Christmas present. If I weren’t so annoyed with him, I’d probably appreciate his obvious desire to please his fiancée.

“Thanks, man. We’ll drop her off around five. And knowing Myra will be here sets my mind at ease. That woman needs kids of her own to coddle. You should do something about that.”

“What the hell—”

The door slams shut, marking my brother’s exit. The cat sits on its haunches next to the couch and stares at me.

“What does he expect me to do?” I ask it. Hey, it wants interaction; talking is the best I’ve got. “Am I supposed to help Myra find her perfect man?”

“Meow.”

***

Myra’s gone most of the day, although she stays in touch via text messages.

Everyone sends their sympathy and hopes you’re back on your feet soon.

Despite your directive, I set Alex up at my desk. He looks good there.

Alex is picking this up amazingly fast. I’m so impressed.

He’s charming. And funny. He’s going to help you land far more clients than I was ever able to do. You’ll really like him.

Nope. I hate him already. Especially when, hours later, Myra finally returns to the house—with him in tow.

“What’s he doing here?” I mutter, glowering at the kid as he ambles into the room behind her. Is he staring at her ass? Glancing up and catching my eye, he winks and shoves his hands into his pockets before shifting his attention back to Myra.

She’s all smiles, practically bouncing around the room as she dances over to pet Simon, who’s made herself comfortable curled up into a ball at my feet.

“Alex has some amazing ideas,” Myra says. “And he said he didn’t mind coming over to share them with you in person.”

I’ll bet he didn’t mind, although I doubt very much I’m the reason he was so eager to accompany her back to my place.

She lifts her arm, from which an oversized bag hangs. “We even stopped at my apartment so I could pick up some of the clothing I forgot.” Her cheeks flush and I grit my teeth to keep from snarling.

Didn’t she tell me earlier that I have nothing to worry about, that there is no reason to be jealous of this guy? Yet she took him to her place to sort through her underwear drawer. Does he already have a favorite? Are they making plans for when she can wear them around him, so he can take them off her?

“Let me put this bag on the stairs, and then I’ll get us all a drink.” On her way to the kitchen, she says, “Oh, James, how did you manage while I was gone? Any issues?”

Lots of them, actually. No, just one. He’s standing behind the couch, like a lion, waiting to pounce on its prey.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m fine. But I could definitely use a drink. Wine.” I’ll be damned if I’m going to share my favorite blended scotch with this kid.

“Alex loves Johnny Walker Blue Label.”

Of course he does.

Myra leaves the room and Alex makes himself comfortable in my lounger. “She’s terrific,” he says, leaning forward, like we’re confidants. Like I want to hear anything this kid has to say. “We’ve become great friends. And I can tell you that you’ve really underutilized her.”

He and Myra are great friends already? How much longer before they become more?

“I’m torn,” he says. “I’m glad she’s leaving because this is a great opportunity for me, but I’d love to work with her.”

You and me both, kid.

Like he’s Odysseus and she’s a siren, Alex’s attention shifts to the entry into the dining room, and we both watch Myra as she returns, carrying a tray upon which rests a bottle of booze, three glasses, a small ice bucket, and a plate of assorted cheeses, slices of summer sausage, and a pile of water crackers. Alex leaps from his seat and insists on taking the tray from her. I stifle a groan because, first, I can’t do that, and second, I didn’t even think to do it.

While Alex pours drinks and thanks me profusely for sharing such a wonderful blended scotch with him, Myra lifts the cat and settles in its place with it in her arms, purring so loudly the neighbors two streets over can probably hear.

“The thing’s been here all day,” I tell her. “I let it out back a couple times, but it hasn’t tried to leave once.”

“Why would it try to leave?” Alex asks while offering me a drink.

“She isn’t James’s,” Myra says, placing the cat on her lap so she can take her glass from him. “We don’t know who she belongs to. But it’s obvious she’s well taken care of, so whoever it is likely misses her.”

Alex settles in the lounger again. “We should make some flyers, pin them up around the area. I think there’s a website you can post found animals on. Call the Humane Society and see if anyone has reported her missing.”

“Myra already did that,” I snap, barely refraining from adding, “Damn it.”

“Well, I didn’t think to call the Humane Society and I had no idea there is a lost-and-found website,” she qualifies.

“How many blocks did you cover?” Alex asks, leaning forward again, watching her with an earnestness that’s a little over the top. Okay, a lot.

Myra glances at me. “Three.”

“Maybe we should print more flyers,” Alex says. “You and I can go a few more blocks out. Cats tend to wander, you know.”

“No,” bursts out of my mouth and everyone, even the cat, turns their focus to me. I take a gulp of scotch to stall for a moment, and then I add, “Abby’s on her way over.” Yes, that’ll work as a reasonable excuse to avoid finding Simon’s owners. Or letting Myra wander the streets alone with Alex.

“Your niece?” Myra asks, wrinkling her brow, like the idea of Abby coming over here is odd. Which I suppose it is. She’s probably been here only three or four times total, and Garrett doesn’t live all that far from me. But I’m never here. I’m usually in the office. Plus, no one seems to think I’m very good with kids.

As if on cue, the door opens and Abby rushes in, with Garrett and Erin following behind. Erin’s wearing this slinky red dress that would look damn good on Myra and my brother’s dressed in—are those leather pants?—and a black, V-neck T-shirt. It’s a far cry from his usual, gaudy garb.

“Uncle James,” Abby calls out, running toward the couch. “Daddy says I get to hang out with you! But he wouldn’t let me bring Ducky because he says I’m not going to believe this but you have a—you do have a kitty!”

She lunges for the cat in Myra’s lap, which is precariously close to my broken ankle. I tense, expecting a painful impact, but Alex swoops in and plucks her out of the air before it happens. She lets out a squeal as he places her on the floor on Myra’s other side, far enough from my foot that I can expel the breath I was holding.

“I gotcha covered, boss,” Alex says, winking at me and then skirting the couch with his arm extended. “Hi there, I’m Alex Darling, James’s new admin. You must be Garrett Frost, his brother, the famous golfer. I’m a huge fan.”

Apparently the muted clothing isn’t going to provide enough of a disguise that Garrett won’t be recognized at the concert.

Alex turns his focus to Erin and offers a blinding smile. “And you must be the new fiancée. I saw the announcement on the Golf Digest website this morning. I have to say, Garrett sure chose well. Really well.”

“Oh, he’s a charmer,” Erin says, laughing up at Garrett, who’s eying the kid like he isn’t quite sure what to make of him.

That makes two of us.

Alex shoves his thumb over his shoulder. “That your daughter?”

“Yeah,” Garrett says.

“I love kids. I’m great with them, too.”

“Takes one to know one,” Garrett mutters, and I want to hug him. Or at least give him a fist bump.

Alex laughs like he wasn’t just insulted and beckons them into the house, offering up my Johnny Walker Blue Label. The amber liquid in that bottle’s dipping awfully low.

“No, we’re good. We have dinner reservations. Hey, James, is it cool if she spends the night? We’ll come grab her as soon as we get up in the morning.”

What the hell am I supposed to do with a toddler overnight? What time does she go to bed? Where will she sleep? Is she potty trained? Am I supposed to read to her before bed?

“I love sleepovers,” Alex enthuses and this time even Myra arches her eyebrows. “When I was a kid, I used to spend the night at my aunt and uncle’s house all the time.”

“Was a kid?” Garrett says. 

“Of course she can stay the night,” Myra responds, standing up and retrieving the small, purple rolling bag from Garrett’s grasp. “She can sleep with me. And we’ll make pancakes in the morning. I wonder if we are savvy enough to make Mickey Mouse pancakes?” She gives Abby an inquiring look.

Abby has her arms around the cat and its back legs are hanging almost to the floor, but the thing doesn’t appear to mind. She butts her head against Abby’s chin and the little girl lets out a delighted giggle.

“I love Mickey Mouse pancakes. Erin makes them all the time. She uses blueberries for the eyes and raspberries for the nose and mouth.”

“I’m not sure we have any berries,” Myra says.

“I’ll run and get some,” Alex offers up.

“We’ll make due,” I snap.

“All right, we’re out of here. Have fun, folks.” Garrett and Erin retreat and I wish Alex would follow.

Instead, he crouches next to Abby and asks, “Have you had dinner yet?”

She nods. “I ate before we came over.”

“Cool. Sounds like it’s time for dessert. I wonder if your uncle has anything sweet in his kitchen?”

Her eyes widen. “Like chocolate chip cookies?”

Nope, not gonna find those in my house. Not that I have anything against chocolate chip cookies. In fact, I love them, but only if they’re homemade. Which means the only time I have them is when I visit my parents or Myra happens to bring them to the office.

“Myra makes amazing chocolate chip cookies,” I spontaneously spout.

“Oh yeah?” Alex says, giving her the side-eye. “So do I. Should we have a contest? Abby can be judge. Winner owes the other a drink one day after work.”

What? No! That’s a guaranteed date, no matter who wins! “I want in on this.”

Myra and Alex give me identical surprised looks, which is a little bit annoying since Alex has no freaking clue if I can bake.

“Yay,” Abby says, clapping enthusiastically. “Let’s make cookies.”

What the hell have I gotten myself into?