CHAPTER THREE
Duck Number Twenty-Seven
Adelaide
New Orleans, Louisiana
Pushing my glasses from the tip of my nose back on my face, I glared at my sister from across the office. “Savannah, I’ve been pretty nice up until now, but enough is enough. Anymore online shopping on company time, and I’m putting a block on your internet access.”
It had been week since Zep cornered me in the kitchenette, and all I’d gotten from him was radio silence and slammed filing cabinets. We’d barely spoken a handful of words to each other as he breezed in and out of the office in between meetings with clients, outings on the boat—oh yes, and dates with her.
Josie Gereaux. Bayou real estate guru to the stars. Plastic Princess.
Bitch.
I had no right to judge him or be mad at him for moving on with his life. I’d treated him like sorority girl’s drunken conquest and skipped out while he slept. My head knew that. My stubborn Dubois pride, however, refused to see it that way and maintained he should’ve given us a cooling off period before he manwhored all over the place again.
Savannah threw her pencil at me, clearing impressive distance between our desks. “I have to find the perfect outfit to wear to this barbeque.”
“It’s just a cookout, Savannah. Not a cotillion.”
I recognized the look on her face immediately. When my sister focused on something, a freight train could drive through the office and pulverize everything while she sat oblivious to it all. When Savannah managed to do actual work, she was a machine. Unstoppable. If only she put as much effort into business activities as she did diabolical ones.
Resigned to the fact that any real progress wouldn’t get done until Savannah’s crazy got taken down a couple of notches, I sighed and walked over to the shit-hole that passed as her desk.
“That one,” I said pointing at a picture of a paisley monstrosity that was exactly the kind of nightmare my sister would wear. “Now can we get back to work?”
“What if his friends don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? Oh God, what if they’re republican?”
I closed my eyes and silently counted backwards from ten. Savannah’s superpower had always been relationship sabotage. Maybe it was ingrained in her psyche, but maybe it intentional, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Whenever life became too coated in hearts and flowers for Savvy, she immediately went into defensive mode, preparing for the bottom to drop out from under her.
Refusing to feed her crazy, I slammed the laptop closed, clipping her finger before she had a chance to pull it back. “I love you, but your crazy is showing, tuck that shit back in, yeah?”
“What the fuck, Ads?” Savannah stuck her uninjured middle finger up at me, then stuck it in her mouth and sucked.
She looked like a child, and the outfit she’d dressed herself in didn’t help dispel the image. From the feet up, she screamed executive. Black pumps melted into tailored black dress pants. That’s where the polished professional ended, and my ‘gypsy tramps and thieves’ sister began. Tucked into her black pants was a red graphic t-shirt that boasted the phrase, “ride or die.” She was a walking contradiction and drew stares wherever she deemed worthy of her presence.
“Man, you’re bitchy. You need to get laid. Oh wait,” she said, grinning smugly. “You did.”
I quickly redirected her before she could continue. “Focus!”
She gave a disdainful laugh and eyed me curiously. “When did you get so sanctimonious, Snorkel Queen? How is Jim LeChair?”
Ouch.
Tightening my lips, I stared at her without blinking. “This isn’t about me.”
“Oh, it most certainly is, big sister. You don’t get to stand there and judge my lunatic girlfriend ways when you insist on sticking to that ridiculous story.”
As I bristled at her accusation, alarm twisted in my stomach. “It’s not a—”
She stuck her chin out defiantly. “Do you honestly think no one has noticed you two eyeing each other up like you’re both on the buffet at Sizzler?”
Brushing past her, I grabbed a pile of purchase orders and stomped to the copier, pushing random buttons like I was launching a nuclear launch code. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Knowing she’d hit a nerve, and she was no longer the focus of conversation, my loving baby sister tore out of her chair, draped herself across the copier, and went in for the kill. “Bitch, please. If the sexual tension were any thicker when you two are in the room, I could stick a straw in it and slurp it like a milkshake.”
Slowly rolling my eyes to the side, I tilted my chin and snorted. “Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does shit just randomly pop in your head and fly out of your mouth?”
She grinned. “Don’t deflect. We’re discussing you.”
“I could say the same thing to you.”
For all our differences, Savannah and I were the same at our basest female instincts. When threatened, my sister avoided confrontation, relying instead on covert operations to confirm that the good in her life was a lie.
Me? Protective force shields prevented me from ever getting to the point of confrontation. The good in my life had proven to be a lie and had been ripped away from me twice already.
As kids, my mom forced Savannah and me into ballet classes. We weren’t good, and both hated it. For the first few months I plie'ed when I should’ve pirouetted, stepping on everyone’s feet and messing up the combinations. However, being a perfectionist, I practiced hours on end until I knew the steps in my sleep. By the end of the year, I’d become the best in our class. Prize student. Committed and faithful. Convinced my hard work would pay off, I’d tried out for the solo in our end-of-the-year recital.
It was time to shine. I’d finally be the beautiful swan.
And where did it get me? Back of the line as ugly duck number twenty-seven while Wendy Jarvis pranced to the front of the stage with the grace of a pregnant rhino.
Wendy Jarvis, Roland Christopher Bordeaux III, and Zep LeBlanc all taught me that no matter how hard I worked, in the end, the deck was always stacked against me. It was better not to risk being stuck in the back of the line as duck number twenty-seven again than to put myself out there and have my heart crushed for the third time.
“Enough,” Savannah said, passing a finger back and forth between us. “This stops right now. I’ve got enough upheaval in my life without adding a stupid fight with my sister. Truce?”
A genuine smile played on my lips. “Truce. Just promise me you won’t self sabotage, okay?”
“Deal,” she agreed, giving me a curt nod. Staring at me in silence, she tilted her chin and grinned. “When you give Jim the same fair shot.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Mine,” she said, grabbing her keys and heading toward the door. “If you and Jim don’t make up and start fucking the mad out of each other, I’m quitting and working at Sizzler.”
***
Taking an extended lunch, Savannah returned with takeout for the entire office and a shopping bag from Victoria’s Secret. When I just raised an eyebrow at her, she raised an eyebrow and dug in with gusto, flinging at least fifteen pairs of underwear in the air.
As it rained lacey thongs, I leaned back in my chair and flipped my pen between my fingers. “Hitting the sales?”
A rare pause of silence passed in Savannah’s presence as she twirled a red G-string around her index finger. “Staking my claim,” she replied.
I waited for her to say more, my lips pressed into a tight line.
This ought to be good.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled the crotch back on the thong and flung it like a sling-shot between my eyes. “It’s simple, Ads. Men can’t resist a thong.”
“Sav…” Groaning, I scrubbed my hands down my face. “You know using sex to get what you want is the wrong thing to do, right?”
She looked at me like I’d asked her to skin a baby with a spoon. “I’ve already gotten what I want.”
“Bad idea.” Turning his pen upside down, Zep, pushed a zebra striped boy shorts off his desk.
“Excuse me?” Jerking her head around, Savannah glared at him.
“I said it’s a bad idea,” he repeated, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “Men don’t like to be played like that, Sav. That’ll backfire, trust me.”
Our gazes bounced back and forth between heat and distrust. I flinched at Zep’s double meaning, swearing that a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. Shaking his head, he kicked the boy shorts across the room and returned his attention to the proposal he’d been working on for the last hour.
Watching the corded muscles in his neck tighten as he ran his hand through his disheveled inky mess of hair, I fought the urge to hurdle over my desk, knock him backward. His damn throat was going to be the death of me.
Not long after Savannah had left for lunch, the door opened with unusual force, bouncing hard against the door stop. Meeting Zep’s pale, ice blue eyes, we’d stared at each other for a moment in silence, neither of us sure what to say. Holding my eye, he raised the water bottle he’d been holding and pressed it against his mouth. With a smirk, he turned it up and drank half of it, making a huge production out of it. Fire shot through every crevice of my body as I watched his muscles work the liquid down his throat.
Water had never been sexier.
In fact, ever since we’d slept together, Zep had never been sexier. His hair, his walk, fuck, even his clothes were sexy. Stealing another glance at him, I memorized his army green t-shirt plastered with the yellow DuBlanc logo and dark colored jeans. His beard seemed heavier than before, and he’d foregone his usual haircut. The sides were cut short, but the front of his inky hair fell well below his nose.
And he was all Josie Gereaux’s.
Fuck.
As if summoned by some unholy telepathy, Zep’s phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, his brows drew together and he seemed to count the rings as he held the phone in his hand.
Five and it went to voice mail. I’d been avoiding Roland’s calls for two weeks now.
On the fourth ring, he answered with a half-smile that tilted the corner of his mouth. “Hey, what’s up? I’m at work, and”—stealing a quick glance my way, he lowered his voice—“I can’t talk right now.”
Maybe I stopped breathing. I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I counted ten full seconds where I held my breath, waiting for him to start talking again.
“No, no plans that I know of.”
Damn.
“That sounds good, listen, why don’t I just give you a call when I leave here? Yeah, that’ll work. Huh? Oh, sure. Yeah, you too. Bye, Jo.”
Bingo.
As he hung up the phone, he turned his chin over his shoulder. “Did you get all that, Addie, or would you like me to send you a detailed report?”
Mortified at getting busted, I quickly became engrossed in my computer screen.
My dark computer screen.
Shit.
Reaching forward, Zep latched onto the edge and dragged his chair from his desk to mine. I stayed quiet, pressing my lips together and praying that he had some other purpose in rolling his happy ass over to me than ridiculing me for eavesdropping. Undeterred by my brush-off, he leaned closer, and the wheels on his chair pushed him into me, wedging his knees in between mine. We both glanced down at the same time, taking in the very suggestive pose of his hips shoved in between my splayed and open thighs.
If I weren’t so turned on, I would’ve laughed.
“Is there something you—”
“Why don’t you just ask me, Addie?”
I quickly shook off my lusty haze. “Ask you what?”
“You want to know if that was a girl on the phone and if I have a date. Admit it,” he said, craning his neck and caressing his dark beard.
Turning my attention back to the reports on my desk, I shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, Zep. It’s none of my business. You can do whatever or whoever you want.”
In the last few months, I’d gained a lot of ground in my new-found independence. My one night with Zep continued to haunt me for the past week and threatened the very foundation of what my ex-husband tried to destroy. I swore the night Roland served me with divorce papers that Zep and I would stay amicable but platonic friends. Too much vodka and feeling sorry for myself blew that all to hell.
And then I blew other things.
Zep and I would never have the friendship we promised each other that night, but I’d be damned if meaningless sex would ruin the business that Pappy spent his life building.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t so meaningless.
“Right,” he said with a wicked grin. “So, you’re perfectly fine, if I borrow this stapler?” Stretching across me, he all but straddled my leg to drag my shitty stapler that jammed every fourth staple off my desk when he had a brand-new one on his.
I swallowed hard. “Yes, perfectly fine.”
Standing, he moved behind my chair and chuckled low in his chest. “Oops. I forgot staples. You don’t mind, do you, Addie?”
Asshole. I’d been played by the best. He wouldn’t break me. “No, of course not.”
Reaching over my left shoulder, he lightly trailed his fingers over my open nape, letting the pads of his thumb and index finger trace my collarbone and hover above my breast before sliding down the front of my shirt and disappearing inside my desk drawer. Biting my lip, I tried to stifle the groan that managed to slip out. Although he was behind me, I felt his victorious grin.
Damn it.
As he pulled his hand out of my desk, he gripped the box of staples and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I need it.”
Flinching, I spin my head around, my mouth dropping open in the process. “Excuse me?”
“The staples, Snow White.” He winked, a smirk plastered across his face. “Why? What were you talking about?”
“I’m still here, in case you two were wondering.”
Within five seconds, my lusty trance shattered as I stared into the smug eyes of my sister as she dangled her fingers in a half-hearted wave.
Zep just laughed as he wheeled himself back over to his desk. “Thanks for the update, Sav.”
“No problem, Jim.”
Waking my computer from its perpetual sleep mode, shot her a ‘go to hell’ look. “If you two are done, how about we get some work done today for a change? Won’t that be nice?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Zep said, giving me a salute.
***
“Mother of fuck!”
Ten minutes until five o’clock and I’d managed to cause a paper jam in eight different compartments of the copier. In the three hours since Zep had set my temperature into the stratosphere, I’d managed to destroy a total of four major electronic devices in the office.
A new personal best.
My heartbeat quickened as I remembered the way my skin flushed under his touch and the disappointment that sank low in my belly when his hand stopped at the top of my shirt. Logically I knew that’s as far as it could go. I mean, we were in a place of business, and besides, nothing could happen between us.
Right?
What was I saying? Of course, it couldn’t. These were my rules, and I had to live with them until I died alone as a cold, frigid old hag.
Until then, I’d take out my sexual frustrations on this fucking copier.
Jerking open every drawer that I could, I ripped out tiny pieces of paper and screamed as ink smeared up and down my arms. “Argh! Worthless piece of shit! You work fine for everyone else, but for me? No! For me, you’re a fucking dick!”
As I kicked the copier with my four-inch heel, the scent of sea salt and spice filled my nose, stopping me mid-kick. Off-balance and disoriented, my ankle rolled propelling me into a hard chest and tattooed arms. Inhaling deeply, I groaned, closing my eyes and letting my head fall against him.
“You can’t force it in, Addie. You have to line it up and make sure it’s going to fit before you shove it and get it stuck.”
Popping my eyes open, I stared at the wall in front of me without blinking. The innuendo circled my head, burrowed into my brain, and detonated like a tripped land mine.
“Um, what?”
“When you put it in,” he repeated with a low growl, somehow making it so much worse yet hotter. “You have to prep it first. You know, warm it up and make sure it’s good and ready before you copy the shit out of that report.”
Denying to myself that I wanted him to bend me over the copier would be pointless. Denying it to him was imperative. Nodding, I stepped toward the machine and away from him. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”
But Zep was having none of my shit. “Can you?” Grasping my hips, he pulled me backward against his own, pressing a very prominent and impressive erection against my behind.
If I could’ve wept, I would have. Not because I didn’t want his body there, but because I did and knew it shouldn’t be. Because I wanted more and knew I couldn’t have it. Because karma was a cruel bitch named Josie Gereaux, who had a date with what was currently nestled between my ass cheeks.
“Zep, please…”
He groaned hotly in my ear. “Just admit it, Addie.”
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to admit it.
“No.”
“Admit what?”
Startled out of our own little world, we both looked up to see Bam-Bam standing in the doorway of the kitchenette, his dingy yellow DuBlanc overalls muddied and soiled as he inhaled a double cheeseburger.
Savannah spoke up. “Addie and Zep are—”
“Nothing, Bam. It’s fine. Just a paper jam.” Focusing on pushing myself off Zep, I wiped a line of beaded sweat off my brow.
“Oh, cool.” He laughed and wiped mustard from his mouth with the back of his hand, effectively smearing it across his chin.
Turning over my shoulder, I glared at my sister and pursed my mouth, slightly shaking my head to let her know she needed to shut the fuck up.
“Because from what it looked like when I walked in, you two were gettin’ it on in the office.”
I froze.
Savannah snorted.
Zep chuckled.
You could’ve heard a pin drop as we all waited for Bam-Bam to put two and two together. However, Bam-Bam was Bam-Bam, and in my cousin’s world, two and two equaled seven.
Math wasn’t Bam’s strong suit.
“So, it’s five o’clock, y’all!” Bam-Bam grinned, showing off his missing canine and clapped his hands together. Don’t know about you guys but it’s been a long ass day on the boat, and I’m ready for drinks. Who’s buyin’?”
Savannah shoved her chair under her desk and swung her huge purse over her shoulder. “No can do. I’m meeting Pope at his family’s barbecue tonight. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I finally get to meet his family.”
Pulling out of Zep’s hold, I walked passed her and jerked her aside. Circling in front of her and threw my arms out. “You’re taking the truck? What the hell am I supposed to do, Sav? Hitchhike?”
A devious grin tugged at her mouth. “I’m sure Bam can take you home.”
Bam’s face fell as if Savannah told him she’d just kicked a litter of puppies. “Aw, man, Sav, I was gonna head downtown and hit up some ladies.”
“Oh, well. I guess that just leaves Zep.” Seemingly satisfied with herself, she shifted around me, the words rolling off her tongue as if plotting world domination were on her every day to-do list. “Zep, you don’t have plans, right? You can take Ads home, can’t you?”
Zep’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, actually—”
“Great,” she said, swinging the door open and throwing a hand over her shoulder. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
“I’m out too,” Bam-Bam announced, following Savannah to the still wide-opened door. Waving, he called out to Zep as he closed it behind him. “Sucks to be you, dude. You need to call ‘not it” sooner next time. If you and that hottie Josie want to meet up later, text me.”
And then there were two.
Or one.
Flinging the door open, I tore out of the front door like my ass was on fire. Stomping across the parking lot, I paced next to the back of his Silverado like a caged animal.
Zep made his way toward me at a leisurely pace, twirling his keyring on his index finger and nodding toward his truck. “Are you getting inside or do you plan on riding in the bed. Either way is fine with me.”
I had no idea what possessed me to ask the question. It wasn’t any of my business. It wasn’t my place to ask. However, once my mouth opened, the words fell out like verbal vomit. “Do you really have a date with Josie Gereaux tonight?”
His eyes locked with mine. “Did you really hook-up with a guy named Jim?”
Dipping my chin, I walked around to the back of the truck and swung my leg over the lift gate. “I’ll get in the back.”