Chapter Two
“We might have a problem,” Carson stated the second he closed the door to Trevor’s office. “Hopefully not, but...” He shrugged.
Muted sunlight brightened the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined two sides of the corner office. The extended line of the Bay Bridge was on display before it reached the Oakland skyline in the far distance. The view was stunning and just one of the perks of being the founder’s son and president of Faulkner’s West Coast office.
Trevor James jerked his head up, eyes narrowing. “What kind of problem?”
A sexy, quietly gorgeous one. Devastating. Seemingly innocent. Definitely curious.
Carson unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat in one of the visitor chairs placed before the large executive desk. “The private kind.”
Trevor sat back, a brow rising. “Day or evening?”
“Evening.”
“Okay.” A single nod communicated his understanding. “And you’re going to fix it, right?”
A dozen different images sprang into Carson’s mind of exactly how he’d like to “fix” this potential problem. Against the wall or over that boardroom table would work. Or behind her, stroking her as he whispered every naughty command at the couple on the table. But Avery Fast was a company employee. The HR and legal issues associated with that nixed all those solutions.
“Do you want the details?” he asked. The general ones. Not the dirty details running on replay that were causing his dick to stir like a hormone-crazed teen.
Carson propped his ankle on his other knee and studied his friend and boss. They’d become friends at college and had stayed in touch afterward. In this instance, his employment at Faulkner was truly a case of who he knew, but his PhD and years of experience in the tech industry had earned him his position, not his connections.
“Do I need them?” Trevor asked. A few years older than Carson and far worldlier, Trevor was a master at managing at thirty thousand feet. He led decisively and trusted others to do their jobs while somehow controlling the details despite rarely asking for them.
Carson gave another shrug. “Potentially.” If Avery decided to go to HR. He’d debated on coming to Trevor at all. But the fallout—if there was one—would land on Trevor even though he hadn’t been there last night.
Trevor’s low humph was followed with a sardonic smile. “Then keep the details until it’s a ‘yes.’” He stretched his neck, rubbed at the exposed side in a rare show of stress. This was his friend now, the guy he’d gotten drunk with more times than he could remember. “But give me a summary.”
A summary. Of how Avery had bitten her lip to hold in her moan? Or the desire and want that’d blazed in her eyes when she’d discovered him?
“A female employee walked into the boardroom last night.” Carson let that sit for a moment. “One who wasn’t invited.”
“Shit.” Trevor rolled his head on his shoulders before dropping his hand and sitting forward. “You didn’t check the office first?”
“Of course, I did.” Carson scoffed. “It was empty except for the cleaning guy in the lower offices. And I told him to stay downstairs until I left.”
Trevor arched his brow again. He’d had that questioning-doubt look down long before Carson had met him. The gray that now lightened his dark hair along with the dogged maturity slapped on him by time and his position didn’t change the effect at all.
“What?” Carson brushed the silent reprimand off. “That’s a calculated risk and you know it.” The potential of getting caught always heightened the scandalous appeal. He pointed at Trevor. “You taught me that.”
“I did.” The throaty agreement was full of the dark mischief Trevor kept hidden. His smirk spoke to the many encounters they’d shared since he’d introduced Carson to the Boardroom over three years ago.
The illicit group took controlled risks in the form of sexual acts that rode the edge of societal acceptance. For Carson, being a member allowed him to both push and relieve the stress that came with his position. Plus it was fucking hot. Wrong in a world built on right and often his to control. That power got him off better than any one-night stand or relationship ever had.
Trevor dropped his smile and stood, the businessman back in place. “I trust you’ll find a solution that benefits everyone.” He came around the desk, buttoning his suit jacket as he did.
Carson nodded as he rose to meet him. “I’ll see what I can do.” Maybe Avery would stay quiet. And maybe he’d be able to forget the passionate shock that’d flushed her cheeks and peaked her nipples so beautifully beneath her silk blouse.
Sure thing.
“Keep me informed.” Trevor paused. They were about equal in height, but Trevor had an air about him that drew attention, and Carson was happy to let him have it.
“Will do,” Carson agreed. Hopefully there’d be nothing to report.
The long route back to his office took him past Gregory’s office. Avery was at her desk, head down, focused on her computer screen. He’d always found her beautiful, but he’d kept his attraction to a detached admiration appropriate for the work setting and his position. Now, that polite distance was shattered, and his brain wasn’t shifting back.
Her golden hair was slicked back into a sleek knot at the base of her skull, a wisp of bangs softening the rigid appearance. Her navy blouse rested on the swell of her breasts, the V-neck high but alluring—at least to him. Would her nipples show against the silky material? Would they pucker for him like they had last night?
She didn’t look up, and he didn’t approach. Her brows were drawn, fingers tapping quickly over the keyboard. Her intensity vibrated around her from the slight dip of her brow to her hunched shoulders and the tight pinch of her lips. Lips he now knew could part in lust and want.
Christ. His stomach clenched over nothing more than a benign memory. One that was incredibly innocent compared to all he’d seen and orchestrated since he’d joined the Boardroom.
Avery straightened, back arching in a stretch that pushed her breasts up. Her head dropped back to display the tempting expanse of her throat. Fuck. The soft curse slipped from his lips in adoration and frustration. Did she know he was watching—again?
She flexed her fingers, lowered her chin down and stood. Her gaze lifted, and he stepped around the corner, heading back to his office before she spotted him. His pulse beat a pronounced rhythm on his neck and pumped an inappropriate amount of blood to his dick.
But that was part of the draw, wasn’t it? The fact that he shouldn’t be turned on at work. That she was technically off-limits. Inappropriate and wrong, just like the Boardroom itself.
“Can you bring me a coffee, Jean?” he asked his assistant as he passed by her desk, his suit jacket buttoned to cover any telling displays he failed to control. “Please. And set up a meeting with Gregory—Never mind. I’ll take care of that.” He could imagine Avery’s panic when she saw the meeting request even though it had nothing to do with last night.
“Certainly,” she replied, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Midfifties, whip-smart and able to follow the technical lingo that came with his job, Jean was a treasure he never abused or took for granted. Dealing with just one bad assistant had shown him the value of cherishing the truly good ones.
Her short hair was dyed a dark brown with red highlights woven strategically through the curls. She tugged at the hem of her violet suit jacket as she stood. Maybe it was past habits or simply personal choice, but she always wore a suit despite the office being business-casual. But then again, so did he.
“You have meetings at ten, eleven and two today.”
The reminder was unnecessary but appreciated. “Thank you.” And he’d be grateful for her ten-minute warning before each one. Programming was still his drug of choice, and he often got lost in it even though his position limited the time he could invest in it.
He shut his door and sat at his computer to scan through the portion of Avery’s HR information visible to him. Thirty years old, from the Midwest, a BS degree, employed at Faulkner for eighteen months. He knew the last part, remembering clearly when Gregory had hired her. All fresh-faced and ready to please. That quality was inherent to every competent assistant whether they acknowledged it or not.
And now she’d shoved herself directly into his path when he’d deliberately ignored every enticing thing about her.
He grabbed his personal cell phone after Jean delivered his coffee. This was not a business call. “Gregory,” he said when the line picked up. He spun his chair around to stare at the bay view through his floor-to-ceiling windows. “Where are you?”
“In my office.” Annoyance lined his tone. “Why?”
“Has your assistant spoken to you today?”
“She speaks to me every day.”
Carson rubbed his brow at the sarcasm but managed to bite back his sigh. “About any evening-related activities?”
Gregory’s grunt crossed the distance in a sharp bark. “No. Am I to guess that she might in the near future?”
Carson winced. “If she does, let me know.”
The Boardroom had had instances in the past that’d threatened their exposure. Ones that’d been quietly handled before any names or events were leaked. This call clearly broached that subject without being specific—and that was his intent.
“Should I be concerned?” Gregory finally asked, his tone now serious. He’d been a Boardroom member before Carson. So had his wife, Tam. They were still members, but their participation had subsided after the birth of their twins, which also increased their personal risk if the Boardroom was ever revealed to the public.
“Not yet.” Hopefully not ever. “I’ll take care of it.” He chuckled to himself at the mafia-style sound of his statement. Like he was going to make Avery “disappear.” That’d look good on his résumé.
“Are you the reason she was so flustered this morning?”
She was flustered? Carson laughed aloud this time. “I didn’t do a thing.” Except watch her. She’d stumbled into the room and stayed all on her own. But it’d become his problem to clean up since Avery worked for Faulkner and they’d been in their boardroom last night. The other participants were strangers to her.
Gregory scoffed. “Right.”
Carson didn’t bother to defend himself. Instead, he changed the topic over to actual business. He’d give Avery some space, see what move—if any—she made.
Maybe she’d let it go, but he couldn’t.
There were things he had to ensure, and he couldn’t leave them to chance.