5 Years Ago . . .
The phone atop my desk rings and I press the speaker button without thinking.
Immediately, my office is bombarded with the sound of harsh breathing.The kind only someone with an open-mouth breathing habit can make.
In other words, it’s creepy.
That, and there is only one person in this company with this apparent issue.
Squaring my shoulders, I mentally prepare myself for her snide attitude. “Yes, Ms. Thornton? How can I be of assistance?”
At first she stays quiet. I can imagine she dislikes my always pleasant demeanor. Fake or not, I’m always a professional whereas she lacks tact.
“Ms. Reid, come into my office,” my boss yells over the phone’s loudspeaker on my desk and I flinch. The woman is also a stranger to the term indoor voice—seems to go right over her head.
“I’m sorry, Valerie . . .” while everyone else is afraid of her, I welcome the challenge “. . . but you know I’m close to heading out. My medical appointment was cleared through you and H.R. last week.”
“Oh really?” I hear her typing in her computer at top speed, and her sarcastic tone isn’t lost on me at all.
God, I dislike the woman, and the feeling is very mutual.
There’s never a hello, thank you, or please with her.
At least, that’s the vibe she puts off. Like my mere presence disturbs her somehow, and yet, she knows the board won’t allow her to dismiss me.
She might be the manager at this marketing firm, but my family owns part of the company which signs her checks.
“Cancel it.” There is irritation in her tone, but an undercurrent of desperation which catches me off guard. “Need you here within the next ten minutes for a meeting. No excuse. Your presence is expected.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Pulling my cell phone from the top drawer, I shoot off a quick text to my gynecologist office and cancel. Thank God I’m friends with his office secretary and she answers within minutes letting me know it’s taken care of.
“Because, I said so.”
I can almost make out the grinding of her teeth.
“I’ll need more than that,” I reply, my tone sweet, but the undercurrent of my annoyance is palpable. She knows I’m not like everyone else on her staff and resents me for it.
I don’t care.
If I wanted it, I could have her job.
Her luck is that I love what I do. Being creative is my forte. My passion. Management, however, is not.
She takes in an exaggerated breath and lets it out slowly into the receiver. Ewww. “New client. A beauty company based out of England is trying to expand its territories to include the United States and we need our best on board. No one here takes on more fashion advertisements than you, so get in here.” With that she hangs up and I’m left stewing in my anger. Her almost pat on the back—the two-faced reply—rubs me wrong.
“Fucking bitch,” I mumble under my breath a minute or two later and close my laptop. The campaign I’m heading at the moment is private, not even my boss knows about it. If I deliver this account, it has the potential of being a multi-million dollar payout for us.
If I was going to have to cancel my appointment, I would have rathered doing so to stay in and work on that.
Standing from my chair, I realise just how tight my muscles feel and I walk toward the center of the room. Bending at the waist, I keep my legs straight and touch my toes. Hold the position for a few minutes until the tension turns into a satisfying throb.
A knock on my doorframe is followed by an, “Oh fuck,” and then a cough.
They catch me off guard and I pitch forward, landing on my hands and knees. Face down and ass up, I’m embarrassed as all hell.
Why the hell did I leave the door wide open? Because I was too lazy to stand from my desk.
My greatest wish at the moment is for the floor to open wide and swallow me whole.
“Are you okay, Miss?” A hand appears beside my face and it belongs to the richest, most velvety English accent I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. “Didn’t mean to startle you, doll.”
Jesus, it meets my ears and my body clenches. Every muscle locks down while my panties grow damp.
His voice is fucking kryptonite. My kryptonite.
“I’ll be fine, just a bit mortified.” Taking his hand in mine, I gasp. Electricity flows between our fingers and it rushes through my petite frame. Standing on shaky legs, I let go of his hand and look up—
Holy. Mary. Joseph. And Jesus.
His face is gorgeous. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
And those eyes. Dear God, those eyes.
“Breathe, doll.” Even his chuckle is sexy.
Arrogant men turn me off, but his actions only make me curious about him and the butterflies in my womb flutter.
Not giving into his taunt, I widen my eyes and pray he falls for the fake innocent look. “Please ignore what you saw in here.”
“Now why would I do that? Too pleasant a memory to ignore.” His heated gaze rakes me over from head to toes, lingering on my legs for an inappropriate amount of time.
Following his line of sight, I discover the reason why he licks his lips. My skirt has ridden up to above my mid-thigh and I’m exposed to his hungry stare.
“Shit!” I try to push down the tight material and wobble in place. Again, he reaches out to me and the same surge pulses in my veins. Our eyes lock, and for a second the world dissolves into nothingness. Nothing registers but the way his clear light blue orbs penetrate me.
A complete and utter violation of my senses.
“Please don’t rush on my account, love.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks and I bite my lip. “For you it’s pleasant, maybe, but not for me.”
Rumbling—a hint of a growl—passes through his lips and this mystery man takes a step forward. “Let me take you out. I’ll help you—”
“There you are, Noah!” Valerie rushes into my office and comes to a stop beside him. Her hand is on his forearm, fingers flexing on the sleeve of his button-down.
“Ms. Thornton, I presume?” Mystery guy—Noah—asks. He takes a step away from her, loosening her grasp while stopping just beside me.
My arm touches his.
Fuck. My fingers flex and I graze the flesh of his wrist. Again, heat blooms deep inside me.
What is wrong with me? How dare I react this way? My boyfriend doesn’t deserve for me to do this to him!
“And I see you’ve met our brightest here at Racy & Reid.” Valerie is watching the closeness, how our bodies seem attune to the other. Her eyes narrow a bit, just enough that the line at the center of her forehead becomes more defined. “She’s our diamond in the rough.”
Her backhanded compliment pisses me off and for once, I’m ready to lay into her. Explain how professionalism works. You don’t put down your peers ever; alone or in the presence of others.
“We haven’t been formally introduced, I just helped her up from a tumble,” Noah spits through his teeth. It’s palpable how much her words bother him. “No need for the hostility.”
“Of course not, sir.” Valerie is taken aback and splutters. “We love her here. I meant no disrespect.”
“It was a joke,” I add, trying to extinguish the tension.
Valerie looks over at me and gives me a nod. “Just some fun between colleagues, I assure you Mr. Barker.”
Now she addresses him by last name. God, she’s annoying and apparently clueless to how social interaction is supposed to work.
Ignoring her, his eyes meet mine. “You sure, doll?”
“Yeah,” I answer, not looking anywhere but him. His term of endearment means nothing. Just something British people use to address other’s of the opposite sex.
I have enough English friends to know this. There’s no reason for my insides to flutter every time he says it.
No matter how attractive I find his chiseled jaw, bright blue eyes, and thick black hair—nothing inappropriate has gone on here.
It never will. I love Robert too much to let it happen.
If you love him, why are you trembling at Mr. Barker’s nearness?
“Well then . . .” Mrs. Thornton claps her hands and our moment is broken “. . . shall we head to my office. We have so much to discuss—”
“Who will be leading my project?” Noah looks at her and I can breathe. My reactions to him are throwing me off my game. “Devilish Beauty products will only accept your best.”
“Ivy, here, will be handling your account from start to finish. It’ll be her sole priority.”
What?!
News to me, and I do a good job of keeping my expression neutral. What choice do I freaking have? It’s not like I can confess to Valerie about my secret project and why I need more time to allocate to that.That grimy, little bitch will try to steal the account from me if she finds out.
But how the hell am I going to work with Mr. Barker when his mere presence is causing my body to disrespect the man that I love?
Gonna have to fucking suck it up.
“It’ll be a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Barker. That’s if—”
“Let me stop you right there, Ivy.” And fuck me if the way he says my name doesn’t cause another round of wetness to rush out of me and saturate my panties. “You have the job. Whatever you want or need from me, it’s done, as long as you head my campaign.”
Swallowing nervously, I have to force myself to look away from the intensity in his eyes. God help me, but this man is looking at me like . . . like . . .
I push it back. Ignore it. This is a client. You have a boyfriend. Find your professionalism, damn it! Someway, somehow, my voice comes out steady when I speak. “If that’s what you both think is best . . .” I nod at Valerie “. . . then I have no problem doing it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Noah Barker’s gorgeous lips curl into a devastating smile. “Doll, either you do it, or I won’t be doing it at all. So do me a favor and help a chap out.”
I’m too afraid to look back at him. Too afraid of this odd reaction I’m having. But more than that, I can’t look away from my “boss.”
Valerie’s dark eyes keep bouncing between us and I can’t decipher what that glint in her eyes means. Expression neutral, she motions toward the door, clearly wanting us to take this to her office instead.
As we all make our way back out into the hall, I hear her mumble behind me, “Yes, Ivy. Help a chap out.”