TWO
The apartment I'd set up in Alexandria had all the necessities so all I had to do when I left Jersey was throw my laptop in a bag and I was on my way.
I spent more hours than I’d like on Amtrak, but it wasn’t too bad. First Class on the Acela Express was extremely civilized. Far more civilized than flying or driving. No weather delays. No traffic. I could definitely envision the days of old when society’s elite—men like my great grandfather—traveled the country by rail.
Good old William Randolph would be proud I was keeping up the Hearst tradition, both in publishing and in travel.
There were none of my staff around to interrupt me while I was on board so I was able to get more work done than if I’d been at the office.
Today, I’d put my cell on silent after taking my seat and had handled the bulk of my To Do list by the time we crossed into Virginia. Happy, I closed down the laptop, stowed it in my bag and pulled out my phone.
I’d checked my cell sporadically during the trip to make sure there were no emergencies at either office that needed my immediate attention so when I looked now I only had one text. The name on the display had me shaking my head.
Zane Alexander.
Ever impatient, he was obviously checking up on me. The text told me not to forget to call him when I got into town.
I hadn’t needed his reminder. I was planning on calling once I was off the train, but I hit to call him back now rather than wait.
“You here?” he asked, without the formality of a hello.
“I am indeed. Just about to get off the train and head over to you.”
“Great. What’s your ETA?” he asked.
Ignoring that he’d gotten even more demanding since this morning I glanced at the time on my watch and did a quick calculation.
Zane’s office was walking distance from the Dupont Circle Metro Station. Since I was already at Alexandria Station, I could easily walk to King Street and hop on the Metro there.
“Give me twenty minutes, give or take,” I said.
“Perfect. I’ll be here waiting.”
Zane, the man in perpetual motion, was waiting? For little old me? Interesting. This must be important. My curiosity was piqued, to say the least.
Figuring I’d know soon enough what this meeting was about I let it go for now and said, “All right. See you then.”
I disconnected and stood as the train came to a stop. Pocketing the cell, I grabbed the strap of my bag and joined the queue of passengers waiting to disembark.
Outside, it had turned out to be a nice day. Warm but not too hot. Sunny here in Virginia after the slightly overcast start to my day in Jersey.
The walk from the Metro felt good after sitting for so many hours. Kicking my annoying friend’s ass on the running trail as soon as I could pin Zane down to go would feel even better. I smiled at the thought.
The GAPS office on N Street was small. Just two rooms on the ground floor but it was conveniently located and all that Zane needed for now, I assumed.
And speaking of needs—I was barely in the door when I got an eyeful of Zane’s hottie receptionist.
Damn.
Seeing her provided a visceral reminder that I’d been too busy lately to handle some of my own more personal needs.
Gorgeous and blonde with mile-long legs more suited for a runway than sitting behind Zane’s reception desk, she could fulfill all of a man’s fantasies, plus some.
Not a surprise, really. Zane always did have an eye for pretty ladies. He apparently hadn’t changed even though he was now a married man. His taste for hot blondes obviously extended to employees as well as wives.
For obvious reasons I would never date any of my own staff—but there was nothing stopping me from dating Zane’s employee as far as I could see.
As I walked in she glanced up and smiled. “Good afternoon.”
I closed the door behind me and returned her smile.
“Good afternoon, yourself. I’m Brent. Brent Hearst.” Hand extended, I strode toward her. “We had the pleasure of bumping into each other here a couple of months ago, but we were never formally introduced.”
She stood and walked around the desk and I got a better look at those oh-so-long legs. At a couple of inches over six feet tall, it was rare for me to be eye-to-eye with a woman as I was now with her.
Although closer inspection revealed she wasn’t just tall, but also navigating four-inch heels—and doing it as easily as if they were an extension of her own feet.
Walking in fuck-me pumps was a female talent for which I had vast appreciation.
“Hi, I’m Chelsea Bridges. Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Hearst.” She shook my hand in a strong grasp.
That was another thing I liked on a woman—a nice firm grip. It could be useful for more than just shaking hands.
I knocked that thought from my head as I held on to her hand.
“Call me Brent.” When I finally released my hold, I pulled a card out of my breast pocket and handed it to her. “And I do mean that. Call me. Maybe we could go out. For a meal or a drink . . . or whatever else you’d like.”
Her blonde brows rose as she took the card. She opened her mouth but didn’t have a chance to speak before Zane appeared in the doorway of his office.
She turned her head to glance at her boss, her blonde hair swinging as she did. “Um, Brent Hearst is here to see you.”
“Yes, so I see. And please ignore my friend’s poor judgment. He obviously doesn’t understand what hands-off my office manager means.” Zane crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame while shooting me a glare.
“Hello, Zane.” Shoving my hands in my pockets, I leaned close to Chelsea. “Ignore him. Call me.”
Zane was shaking his head as I strode past him and entered his office.
I sprawled in a chair as he closed the door between us and the lovely Chelsea and navigated around his big wooden desk.
“Nice desk.” I raised my gaze to meet his.
A desk that large had to be overcompensating for some shortcoming in the man seated behind it. I’d made sure my tone said just that.
He cocked a brow high as he settled in the big leather chair behind his oversized desk and leveled a stare on me. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Not true. I do know. And I know that time hasn’t come yet.” I grinned.
He scowled and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t date you anyway.”
I rose quickly to his challenge. “How do you know that?”
“Because she’s too smart and independent to fall for your dubious charm.”
“Would you like to make a little wager on that?” There was nothing I liked better than a good bet.
“No, I would not.”
“Why not? Afraid you’d lose?” I asked.
“No. Because betting on your ability to bed my office manager is just plain wrong.”
I huffed out a breath, wondering when Zane had developed morals when it came to betting on women. He’d never had issues with it before. It must be marriage. It had changed him and not for the better.
“You do realize she’s way too hot to be hidden away in your office all day. She should be modeling or something.
“She’s actually a model as well as an actress. And yet she chose to be hidden away here in my office instead.”
It was interesting news, but I wasn’t going to give Zane the satisfaction of admitting that. Instead I lifted a shoulder. “Go figure.”
He let out a huff of breath. “Anyway, the reason I called,” he continued.
“Yes, why did you call?” I asked.
It certainly seemed it wasn’t so we could go out and have a good time together. And since he wasn’t going to let me have any fun with his receptionist I was really wondering why I’d taken the time to come over here.
“I need your help.” There was no more joking in his tone.
Gone was my cocky, smart-ass friend and here instead was Zane the businessman.
Or, more accurately, Zane the deadly serious SEAL.