Simon Warren is about men’s fashion.

Everyone in this company has their role. Cam is trying to refine those roles while at the same time trying to grow his company.

My role is to see the big picture for Simon Warren.

Before I can do that, I have to understand the very core of this company’s existence—fashion.

Which is why I’m back home so fucking soon after hightailing it out of here. Not because I want to be here, either. This city holds way too many memories I’d rather forget. My job, all the women, a restlessness I could never quite understand, and then my father’s sudden death. Nothing I want to be reminded of.

Good thing I’ve been on the move all day with no time to think about any of that shit.

As soon as the plane landed in New York City, I spent the entire afternoon being shuffled from one fashion show to another. Simon Warren’s show was first on the agenda, Jordan having flown out yesterday to be here for the preparation of presenting the fall line. After that he took Maggie and me to three other shows.

The final show of the day has just finished. It was Austin Mars—the company Cam is in the process of buying—and I arranged to have a drink with Austin to get a feel for him and his business style.

You see, I’m not sure I agree with Cam’s business model. He wants to grow the company by adding fashion brands that complement Simon Warren. I think he might be better off considering taking over companies that have a decent share in markets Simon Warren is not in, and turning them into Simon Warren locations. It will be the fastest way to grow the brand.

Talking with Austin Mars will help me better assess his company and its disposition before knowing for certain if my idea is viable with his brand.

Maggie and I are down at Pier 59 Studios and have to meet her mother for dinner at seven, which is just over an hour from now.

Leaning against the wall outside the large room where the show was just held, I can tell Maggie’s feet are killing her. She wore sky-high heeled boots all day and slid on the ice at least twice that I’m aware of.

I glance at my watch again. Shit, we’re going to be cutting it close.

The minutes tick by as we wait for Austin to finish his meet-and-greet. With each passing tick of the clock, I begin to worry about cutting the meeting times too close.

Maggie looks down at her watch, and I can tell time is becoming a concern to her as well.

The buffer zone now clearly beyond both our comfort levels, I turn to her. “Hey, why don’t you go and have dinner with your mother, and then I’ll meet you both for drinks at the hotel at nine.”

As expected, she can’t just agree with me. Sometimes she infuriates me with her willpower. Which she is doing right now as she shakes her head no. “No, it’s fine. I can just let my mother know we might be late. She’ll understand.”

Although I have to say that keeping things professional with Maggie has been easier than I thought, sometimes I have to take a deep breath. Sure, she has her job, and I have mine, and when we’re not vying for control like right now, we actually work well together, but the bottom line is I’m in charge.

That holds true both in and out of the bedroom.

However, I’m not a fucking idiot. I know playing that card is a huge risk, and believe it or not, I’m willing to take it.

Approaching the situation with finesse, I lean toward her. When I catch a whiff of her delicious scent, I feel my excitement right in my dick.

Fuck.

Breathing her in, it becomes glaringly evident that it has been more than twelve hours since I have been inside her.

Fuck.

Drawing in a deep breath, I force myself to insist she go. I know her feet are killing her, I can tell by the way she’s standing, and also, I really hate to keep her mother waiting. “Maggie, you should go,” I tell her.

She worries her lip with her teeth. “No, I shouldn’t. I should stay with you to facilitate the meeting with Austin.”

I want to nip at that lip, but resist the urge. “Mag…gie.” I draw out her name in insistence.

She grabs hold of my tie and pretends to be straightening it when she’s really tugging on it as if to strangle me. “I heard he likes good-looking men in suits.”

A quick glance around tells me everyone else from Simon Warren is gone, so I put my mouth on her ear and lick around it. “Jealous?”

She tugs on my tie harder. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

I laugh and plant a quick kiss on her lips. “I’m a big boy and can handle him. Promise. Now call the car service, and I’ll grab a cab.”

She releases her hold on me and visibly sags against the wall. I can tell she’s beyond exhausted. I am too. We hardly slept last night and have been on the go all day. “I left my phone in my purse, which is in the lockers at the back entrance,” she sighs.

I move a little closer. “We could trade services.”

Her brows pull together. “What are you thinking? Maybe I could blow you right here and in exchange you’ll get my bag for me?”

I make a show of looking around. “Would you mind? I don’t think people will notice, do you?”

Her lips lift into a smile. “And you call me crazy.”

Pulling my phone from my suit pocket, I hand it to her. “Make the call. I’ll be right back.”

By the time I return with her purse in my hand, she’s talking to a man with dark brown hair that is combed straight back over his round skull.

When I’m close enough, Maggie outstretches her hand. We exchange her purse for my phone and before I can say a word to her, Austin Mars is right up in my face. He grabs my hand before I even have a chance to lift it. He starts shaking it vigorously. With a huge smile he says, “Ahhh, Keen, Keen—you and I must become fast friends.”

In the whirlwind of him talking on and on about how young and wonderful I am, I find it hard to follow him. To be honest, I’m too busy trying to follow his enormous jowls, which seem to sway back and forth like sails on a rough ocean.

“Now about that drink,” he says, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “I was thinking we could go up to The Deck.”

I nod in agreement as I look around for Maggie.

He rubs his round belly and laughs. “They also just so happen to serve the best clams…”

While he’s discussing his food preferences, my head swings around, still searching for Maggie. She is nowhere to be seen.

What the fuck?

She left without so much as a goodbye?

With my blood boiling, I turn my attention back to Austin, whose own head seems to fit directly upon his chest without the benefit of a neck.

An hour and a half later, I find myself raring to leave despite the enlightening conversation and the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of me that provide one of the best panoramic backdrops of the Hudson River and the Lower Manhattan skyline.

Perhaps because of the three scotches Austin insisted I drink, I break one of my golden rules of business and pull my phone out during our meeting to check and see if Maggie has called or texted.

An apology is what I expect to see.

While Austin’s pudgy fingers dip his cocktail fork into the slimy confines of a clamshell, I swipe my finger across the screen and pull up my phone log. Nothing new. Next I pull up my text messages.

Nothing from Maggie, but there is a text from Sarah.

212-567-0987: Your brother told me you were back in town. I’d like to meet up with you for a drink and catch up like old times. I miss you. Call me. XOXO Sarah

Sarah is the friend I guess I’d call my go-to girl. We went to grad school together, and although I never considered her to be my girlfriend, she was about as close to one as I’ve ever had.

After my father died, though, I found myself so caught up in trying to get ahead, in trying to prove to him that I was the man he knew I could be, that she fell by the wayside. I’m not proud of the way I treated her, and I do owe her a call.

“You sure I can’t interest you in any?” Austin asks, pointing to the bowl of steaming clams.

I hold my palms up. “No, I’m fine, but thank you.”

Squeezing another lemon off the pile, he begins to talk again.

Unable to focus, I return my gaze to my phone. First I type a text to Maggie.

Me: I’ll be at the bar at the W on time. I’d like you bare under that skirt you have on by the time I arrive.

I return my attention to Austin.

“…and so, my friend, this is the long and short of it…”

Tapping my fingers on the table, I wait for a return text. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Nothing.

Austin wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Now Keen, I’ve always prided myself on being a careful man; taking unnecessary risks is not something I find attractive in business…”

Not exactly agreeing with him, I nod anyway and listen to his years of experience. Soon he’s digging into another clam, and that’s when I allow my attention to shift back to my phone.

Nothing.

My fingers hover over the keyboard on my screen as I consider sending another text, but then reconsider. She’s meeting with her mother on Simon Warren business and maybe like me, she doesn’t think it’s appropriate to have her phone out during meetings.

Unlike this meeting.

As the empty bowl in the middle of the table fills with clamshell halves, Austin never stops talking or eating.

With my concentration blown, I use this time to text Sarah back.

Me: Hi Sarah, I don’t think meeting up is a good idea. I know I’ve been a shitty friend and want to apologize for that. Hope you are doing well. Take care.

Dear John letter it is not, but I should have done that long ago. Stringing her along wasn’t exactly stand-up of me.

Before putting my phone back in my pocket, I set the alarm to notify me when it is time for me to leave, and set my attention back on Austin, who I’m not certain even noticed I’d ever taken it out.

Austin continues on about his years in the business and I find my eyes drifting to the clock over the bar.

It’s not like I’m counting down the minutes until I see her.

It’s not like I’m counting down the seconds until I taste her.

It’s not like I’m counting down the moments until I’m inside her.

Really, it’s not.