“WHAT DO YOU mean we’re waiting for approval on the final design?”
Irritation tightened the muscles in my jaw as I clenched down on my back teeth. We had a deadline approaching, a manuscript ready for print, and a goddamn design that had yet to be approved. What the hell was going on in this place? And why did it seem as if I was suddenly surrounded by a sea of idiots?
“Just bring me the mock-ups, Lawson. I’ll approve them my damn self.”
Slamming the phone down on the receiver, I dropped my head in my hands. Today was going to be a long day. I knew it. My skull pounded profusely, and I closed my eyes, blindly reaching into my desk drawer and fishing out the prescribed cocktail of drugs that offered little relief as far as my migraines were concerned. Over the last two months, they had increased in terms of their length and intensity. Bearable to debilitating was what they had become.
As I fumbled to get the safety caps removed from the orange bottles, the sound of my door creaked open, and not having an ounce of patience to deal with whatever or whomever was bringing their problems to my office, I swung my head in their direction, ready to tell them to get the hell out. I didn’t want to deal with it. “What now?”
My chin lifted.
My heart flipped over in my chest.
Elle stood with her fingers wrapped around a cardboard drink carrier and a nervous smile on her pink lips, and all my thoughts disintegrated.
“Morning.” She pushed the door closed with her strappy black heel and lifted her arms, nodding down at the two styrofoam cups in her hands. Steam billowed from their lids, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee grew stronger as she walked in my direction. “I stopped to get coffee on the way. The stuff in the cafeteria is…well, it kind of sucks. I’m not sure how you make it through the day drinking that crap.” A soft, feminine chuckle erupted from her throat sounding like a soothing melody to my ears, and as she came to a stop in front of me, she twisted one of the cups free and placed it on my desk. “Three creams and two sugars, right?”
Confusion pulled at my brows. I glanced at the coffee and then at her face. How the hell did she know that? Yesterday when she had filled my mug during the meeting, it remained black, unmixed and untouched. I supposed Millie could have told her...
I opened my mouth but no words came out, and I tried to figure out if it was a result of her kind offering or her impossible beauty.
Perhaps it was a mixture of both.
Taking ahold of the cup, I brought it to my lips and sipped slowly. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” As the hot liquid coated my throat, I briefly wondered if she had an ulterior motive. For all I knew, she could’ve slipped me some laxative and I’d be spending my afternoon getting comfortable on the porcelain throne. God, I hoped not. Can’t say I’d fully blame her if she did, though. I’d been a downright dickhead to her, and I probably more than deserved it.
“You’re welcome.” She gifted me another smile, this one entirely genuine and breathtakingly beautiful, and then pivoted on her three-inch heels, making her way over to her desk. How the hell women wore those things was beyond me. I couldn't imagine they were easy to walk in, much less comfortable, but damn, if they didn’t make her stand a little taller. Not only physically, but in terms of her confidence, and that alone made my blood pump faster.
Setting my drink down, I swallowed hard as I watched the way her skirt hugged her hips and brushed against her slender thighs with her gait. “I thought you weren’t here to fetch coffee.”
Those baby blues caught my gaze as she glanced over her shoulder, and the glimmer dancing along their surface caused my breath to hitch.
“I’m not.”
As quickly as she looked at me, she looked away, yet I continued to stare at her, marveled by the way she carried herself. The way she'd reach up and tuck a blonde tendril behind her ear or the way her nose would scrunch and her mouth would twist to one side when she was deep in concentration. She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Yesterday had been a challenge in terms of keeping my eyes off her, and so far, today proved to be much the same.
Reaching for the stack of open-submission query letters Millie delivered that morning, I grabbed half the pile and walked over to where Elle was sitting. I set them down in front of her. “Same as yesterday. Notes in the margins. Your thoughts and opinions.”
Her lips lifted at my words, a look of excitement soaring across her face. “Okay.”
I went to turn around and then stopped. My hand rested on my hip, while the other stroked a path up my jaw and through my hair. “The Bower manuscript.”
“Yes. What about it?”
“I was shocked to see you think we should take a chance on it.”
“Oh. You were?” She frowned, staring at me with curiosity. “Why is that?”
“It's completely different from anything we’ve published before. I'm not even sure we have an appropriate demographic to begin marketing it. It's a risk. A huge risk.”
“I see.” Disappointment creased her features, and I felt the effects of it deep in my chest.
Her notes and remarks scribbled all over the pages of that particular manuscript spoke volumes on how strongly she felt about the story. She believed in it. And I wanted to believe in it too…for her. But I’d been a player in this game for a long time, and I knew the market’s strengths and weaknesses, even if they were forever changing. I knew failure when it stared me in the eye.
Elle didn't say anything else as I returned to my desk and sat down in my chair, nor as I logged onto my computer and pulled up my hundreds of unread emails. It wasn't until I was in the middle of responding to one of somewhat importance that she decided to speak.
“Owen?”
“Hmm?” I didn't look at her. My eyes remained glued to my monitor as my fingers continued to tap along the keys.
“What’s life without taking risks? I mean, how do we know if something is worth it if we don't at least give it a try? Sure, we might lose our initial investment, but what we don't gain in revenue, we gain in knowledge and experience, right?”
Her words gave me pause. Perhaps I had underestimated how much of an influence she had over me because the passion in her voice alone could have swayed my decision. Present me with her logic, and I was a goner. I chanced a glance at her and how big of a mistake that was. A jolt of something I couldn’t define ricocheted through me. It lasted all but a moment as the sound of Lawson barging into my office unannounced drew our attention to him.
“Just as you asked. I have all four mock-ups…” His voice trailed as his eyes homed in on Elle, assessing her as if she was his next meal and he wasn’t sure which part of her to devour first.
She flashed him a tight smile, and a pang that felt much like jealousy stabbed at my chest.
Jesus. Pull your shit together, Owen.
I reached up with my hand to rub the ache away and cleared my throat. “Thank you. Set them on my desk. I’ll have a decision for you within the hour.”
“Well, seeing as I can’t do anything else until this baby is uploaded and sent off to the printers, I think I’ll hang out for a while.” Slapping the designs down, he dropped himself on one of my leather chairs and proceeded to stretch his legs out, slinging an arm behind his head. His gaze remained on Elle, briefly flicking to mine as he cast me a brazen smirk. “Just until you’ve made your decision.”
The fuck he was.
I glared at him. “Get out of my office, Lawson. I have a phone call in ten minutes.”
“It’s cool. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
The muscle along my jaw ticked, and I gritted my teeth.
Now he was pissing me off.
Gathering up the designs, I shot up from my chair and strode over to my office door, my hand gripping the knob and the skin on my knuckles turning ghostly white as I held it open. “What part of “Get out of my office, I have a phone call in ten minutes” did you not understand?”
“Woah. Relax, Caldwell.” Straightening himself and pushing to his feet, he strolled lazily toward me, a smug grin on his face. “Why don’t you join us tonight at McGrady’s? A beer or two might loosen you up a bit.” As his foot hit the threshold of the door, he stopped, turning back to look at Elle. “You, too, Elle. A bunch of us are going out. Would be nice to get better acquainted.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh that earned me a side-eye from Lawson and a curious glance from Elle. Better acquainted, my ass. He should’ve just told her he wanted in her pants, at least then he’d have one redeeming quality: integrity.
Elbows resting on the desk, Elle cradled her face in her hands and smiled. “Thank you, Kyle. I’ll think about it.”
Kyle? Since when were they on a first-name basis? Another pang of unwarranted jealousy stung my chest, and I inhaled deeply, my patience wearing thin as Lawson continued to stand there, fixated.
I cleared my throat. “Phone call. Eight minutes.”
His large hand came up to smack my breast bone, and with a chuckle, he disappeared out the door. I pushed it shut behind him and then walked back to my desk, laying the mock-ups out so they could be easily seen.
“Elle.” I cocked my head to the side, gesturing her to come over to me. “I want you to take a look at these.”
She rose without hesitation, and rather than walking to the front of my desk, she sidled right up beside me. The left side of her body pressed against mine, her softness and the sweet smell of her skin reminding me how long it had been since I was close to a woman—since I’d felt one beneath me—and a twinge of lust flickered in my groin.
Sex, relationships, emotions—they had no place in my life.
Not now. Not anymore.
As Elle leaned in closer to inspect the images, her blonde hair fell like a curtain around her. Her chest brushed against my arm, and my dick twitched in response, causing me to pull in a sharp and sudden inhale.
I closed my eyes.
Desire spiked, and I balled my hands into fists, trying to fight against the sensation. It was no use. Drawn by an invincible force, I continued to stare at her, the delicate curve of her jaw, the soft fullness of her lips, and the red tip of her tongue as it darted out of her mouth in a leisurely roll that drove my mind fucking wild.
“Okay. I'm looking at them.”
Her voice broke through the heat of tension, and my attention snapped back to the designs. I swallowed, attempting to regain my bearings. “What do you think? As a reader, which would you choose?”
“Well, it depends. What's the genre?”
“Romantic suspense.”
She leaned down again, inspecting the designs one more time and giving them a quick once-over before reaching to pick the second one up. Another waft of her perfume hit my nose.
Goddamn, she smells incredible.
“This one.” Turning around, she rested against my desk, hugging her one arm over her stomach while handing me the mock-up.
I took it from her, the corners of my eyes crinkling. “Why?”
“It's darker than the rest. Sort of mysterious. The man’s face is turned which gives little away about him. It's almost as if he's hiding something, and this design makes me want to pick up the book and discover what that might be.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
Elle held my gaze, a curiousness behind her own, and for a moment, I had almost forgotten what we were talking about. I suddenly felt like the man in the stock photo: bare and exposed, on show for her scrutiny. She stared at me as if I were another mysterious book she was determined to read, but that wasn’t what made it unnerving. It was the fact that I wanted her to. I selfishly wanted her to open my book’s cover and read through the pages of my life—help me figure out where I’d gone so terribly wrong and what I could possibly do to make the most out of the life I had left.
How ridiculous was that?
Blinking, Elle dragged me from my daze, those thick, full lashes of hers sweeping up and bringing me back to the moment. I gave her an appreciative nod and reached for my phone. “Thank you. I'll call Lawson and let him know that's the one.”
A look of surprise danced across her face, and her voice now lacked the confidence it had delivered. “Wait. Are you sure? You're not going to run it by anyone else?”
“No. I trust your opinion. Why? Do you not trust your own?”
“No, it's just—”
I picked up the phone and pressed number four, the direct dial for Lawson’s office, my eyes remaining on hers the entire time. “Design LK623. Let me know once everything is submitted on your end.”
An “okay” later and the line disconnected.
Elle resisted a smile, and I resisted the urge to reach out and pull her to my lap.
“This call you have in five minutes. I can leave—”
“No. Stay. There's no call. I just wanted him out of my office.”
“Oh.” Pushing away from my desk, she walked back to her own and immediately returned to her work.
I forced my gaze from her, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything but the way she made me feel. And it was then I realized she was here for a reason.
Elle Callihan was going to give my life meaning. Fate, or whoever it was that controlled the universe, deliberately put her in my path, teasing me with temptation and something more I could never have.
“Owen?”
The soft voice and warm touch of a gentle hand on my shoulder slowly pulled me out of my sleep.
Shit. I had fallen asleep?
Blinking away the haze of slumber, I sat up, exhaustion thick and heavy in every one of my muscles. I glanced around my quiet office, squinting as the late afternoon sunshine poured in through the wall of windows, and then over to my monitor, which had fallen into standby mode. “What time is it? How long have I been out?” I rubbed at my eyes, still blurry from sleep.
Elle stood with her briefcase in her hand and her cardigan draped over her forearm. “Um…well, you were asleep when I returned from lunch, and it's now five o'clock. I didn't know whether or not to wake you. I had asked Millie, but she told me to leave you be.”
“Of course, she did.” Sighing in frustration, I dropped my forehead to my palm and shook my head. Another day wasted. Another five hours of my life I'd never get back. My tired gaze drifted over the stacks of papers sitting neatly on the corner of my desk. “Did you get the rest of the query letters done?”
“They’re all finished.”
“Great. Thank you.”
She nodded as a yawn forced itself out of my mouth, and a yawn of her own followed. Guess they were contagious. I dropped my head back against my chair, scrubbing my hands down my face, embarrassed that I’d been asleep in her presence and irritated that I’d allowed the entire afternoon to slip away from me. “It's getting late. You should get out of here.”
“I'm going. Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, and every day this week if you feel like sticking around.”
She flashed me a small but teasing smile. “Guess I'll see how I'm feeling in the morning then.”
Her answer almost caused me to laugh, but the sight of her turning and walking away instantly dampened my mood. What was it about this woman that had me craving her company? She was like a breath of fresh air in a room filled with smoke—a room I’d been locked in for the last two months, slowly suffocating, with no means of escaping.
Walking quietly to the door, she reached for the handle, and I called out to her.
“Elle.”
She twisted on her heels. “Yes.”
“At the very least, there are a quarter of a million words in the English language. I want one of them from you. I don’t want you to think about your answer. I just want the first word that enters your mind. Okay?”
Brief confusion floated across her face, yet she stood anyway, ready to take part in my little game for the second time. “Okay.”
“How do you think I feel right now?”
A moment of hesitation ensued, but I didn't take it as her contemplating her answer. No. This was her questioning whether to give it a voice.
Come on, Elle. You've never held back before, don't hold back on me now.
“Lonely.”
Lonely?
The word soared through the air, hitting my chest like a ton of bricks and knocking the wind right out of me. I sat up a little straighter, the way one would when preparing to defend their dignity. Incredulousness furrowed my brow, and my eyes remained on hers. My rules didn’t demand an explanation, but instead of turning away and disappearing out the door like I fully anticipated her to, she stayed.
She faced me, her tense body language a sure indication of the nervousness now flowing through her. “You seem tired, that's all. And if you’re tired, then it must mean you’re having trouble sleeping at night.”
And how exactly had she come to that conclusion? I wasn't sure how lack of sleep correlated to loneliness. “So what if I am? What does that have to do with being lonely?”
She pressed her lips together and lifted her shoulder in a shrug, looking at me in a way that had my entire body stiffening. “It’s always the lonely who can’t sleep, isn’t it?”
Our eyes held each other's for a beat too long, and as mine narrowed, her hand slipped off the metal knob of the door. Taking ahold of it again, she turned quickly, yanked opened the door, and then stopped.
Her body did a slow pivot. “Owen?”
My pulse quickened, and my voice sounded a hell of a lot weaker than I’d intended. “Yes?”
“Are you coming out tonight? To McGrady’s?”
My immediate response was to ask her if she was going herself, because if she was, I wanted to be there. I wanted to keep her away from the vulture that was Kyle Lawson and I wanted… God. I don't even know what I wanted or expected.
I shook my head. “Nah. It's not really my scene.”
Frowning, she gave me a small, understanding nod. “Yeah. Mine either.”
And then she disappeared.
She walked out the door, and for a split second, I wished she'd walk right out of my life. It's one thing when somebody close to you knows your ins and outs, what makes you tick. It's sort of expected. But when someone you hardly know at all leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed with one simple word, it’s a whole new level of terrifying.
Left alone in the silence of my office, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my desk. At least my headache had subsided. I’d be able to function at normal capacity for a few hours, get some more work done, and then sink into a sleep that was destined to be riddled with frivolous thoughts. Sliding open the top drawer, I pulled out one of the yearly planners I kept tucked safely inside and flipped to today’s date. Every day before it had been crossed off, a reminder that even though I wanted time to stand still, it kept moving. It always kept moving. Grabbing a Sharpie marker from the pen holder, I uncapped it and dragged the felt black tip across the box, creating a large “X” along its center. As the ink bled across the thin white paper, a sadness bled into my veins. It twisted my chest and stole the air from my lungs, clogged my throat, and pricked the corners of my eyes.
“Everything all right?”
I looked up, my gaze traveling across the room and following the sound of the warm, familiar voice. Millie stood in my doorway, and I inhaled a shaky breath through my nose, swallowing any sign of emotion. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
She stared at me, her face contorted with the same sadness I was feeling, and began to walk toward me, her arms folded over her chest. As she sat on one of the leather chairs, she pressed her lips together, hesitating.
“What is it, Mill? Please just spill it. I’m too tired to play mind reader.”
“Your mother called. She wants to speak to you. She misses you. I think you should—”
“No.” Adamant in my response, I shook my head as I recapped the marker and tossed it next to my keyboard. “I can’t do it. I won’t do it. It’s better this way.”
“Don’t you think that’s their choice? For goodness’ sake, they’re your parents, Owen. Don’t shut them out. You have no idea how bad this is hurting them.”
“Well, then they can consider it a favor.” Sliding the desk drawer shut a lot harder than I meant to and watching as Millie physically winced, I rose to my feet and retrieved my jacket from the back of my chair. I shrugged it onto my shoulders, feeling guilty but desperate to remove myself from this broken record of a conversation. My fingers shook as I fumbled to fasten the buttons through their holes, and as my impatience grew, I gave into defeat.
Fuck it.
Leaving them be, I grabbed my keys and strode to the door. My hand was mid-reach for the knob when Millie called out to me.
“Owen.”
I glanced back at her. This conversation was done. It needed to be done because my mind had been made up. There was no use in arguing or making it a discussion. “Trust me. It’ll hurt more if I let them in. I'm doing this for their own good.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but I didn’t remain long enough to offer her comfort. I turned on my heels and disappeared out the door, the sound of her sobs following me as I made my way hastily down the hall. I tightened my grip on my keys, and as the sharp, jagged edges of the metal cut into the skin of my palms, I welcomed the dull pain. It was a distraction. A means to take my mind off the things I couldn’t control. Rather than veering to the right and taking the elevator, I turned left, slipping into the stairwell. The door swung closed behind me, and I stopped.
The heaviness of the last five minutes crashed down. My shoulders sagged, and I collapsed against the adjacent wall, pressing my back to the cool surface for support.
Red-hot anger built fast in my veins, and I couldn't stop the burning behind my eyes or the collection of tears that quickly formed. I couldn't stop the rise of emotion that tightened my fist and had me whirling around, slamming my knuckles into the wall.
Nothing about my life or my situation was fair, and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs to anyone who would listen. There were many nights when I had, but in the lonely emptiness of my condo, and it had proved to be futile.
Tears and pleas don't have the power to erase your regrets; they can't change the outcome of tomorrow. Sadly, I’d learned that far sooner than most people in this world ever would.
And Elle had been right.
Goddamn it, she’d been right.
Only lonely didn’t begin to describe it.