Chapter Three
“Avery,” Gregory called from his open door. Her shudder was instant and uncontrolled. “Can you come in here, please?”
Did he sound angry? Disappointed? Disgusted? Anything?
No. Not really.
She grabbed her pen and a notebook out of habit. Her stomach did yet another flip and clench. It hadn’t stopped since last night, and no amount of antacids had calmed it. Was this when he fired her?
Over what, though? Her losing the confidential data or walking in on a sexcapade?
Sleep had been nonexistent last night. Her mind had run on a constant loop between the lost folder and the sex scene she’d been caught watching. She’d processed every possible outcome and scenario during that time, and none of them had ended with her job and dignity in place.
Yes, she could go to HR, but Carson was an executive. He held the power. He’d likely deny everything, and what was she going to complain about? The sex? How hot it’d made her feel? How envious she’d been? Or that she’d been caught clearly ogling the show?
Nope. Not going to happen. She nodded to reaffirm her already set decision. She wouldn’t say a word. Let it go—that was what her mother was always telling her to do. In this instance, it fit.
Her smile was slight when she entered Gregory’s office, her chest so tight she could barely force air through her lungs. “What do you need?” Did her voice sound strained to him?
He looked up, his rugged features showing no sign of annoyance. The wrinkles weren’t stacked up on his brow, and that was clearly a smile. “Thanks for printing these out for me.” He pointed to the quarterly reports before he flipped the folder shut. “I looked through them at home last night.”
He had the reports. He’d had them all along.
Avery’s blood boiled, hot, steaming. It ran up her chest and tingled in her hands. She contracted her abdomen to trap it inside and took one slow breath. “It would’ve been nice if you’d left me a note or text saying you’d taken the folder,” she said through a strained grin, not bothering to contain the iciness that covered her temper.
“Sorry,” Gregory mumbled. “I was in a rush last night. Tam had a meeting, and I needed to pick the twins up from day care.”
And Avery had nothing better to do with her evening than to stress over the missing reports, sending her on a wild-goose chase that’d landed her in Carson’s sex den. Okay, that almost made her smile for real. Or was that a bubble of hysterical laughter threatening to burst free?
“I’ve made notes,” Gregory went on, completely oblivious or willing to ignore her annoyance. He handed the folder to her over his cluttered desk. “Can you manipulate the reports before four?” His brows rose with the question, but he clearly expected her to say yes.
She took the folder, cursing it silently. “Which is more important? These reports or the payroll updates?” A small measure of satisfaction curled through her at his wince. Yup, both were equally important.
“Payroll and then the reports.” His eyes narrowed, his heavy brows dipping low.
Avery met his gaze. She had nothing to back down over. He’d made her life a brief hell and he should be aware of it.
“Is something wrong?” he finally asked. The heavy timbre of his voice matched his stockier frame. In his midforties, Gregory had what would be labeled as a “dad body.” Not out of shape, but not gym-fit either.
She debated her answer before giving him the truth. “I looked everywhere for this folder last night.” She held it up as evidence. “I even returned to the office when I realized I didn’t know where it was.” An unnecessary trip that’d landed her in the middle of...Carson’s sex den. Her lips quirked.
Those thick brows of his rose a notch. He sat back, head tilted slightly, contemplation chasing away his initial show of surprise. “Again, I’m sorry.” The careful articulation of his words screamed of a man tiptoeing around an unstable female. It both irked and placated her. “Your dedication is appreciated.”
Her shoulders lowered as her irritation eased. “Thank you.” He’d listened and apologized. That was more than some bosses had done in her past. Her smile was genuine this time. “I’ll get you the payroll info before lunch.” She took a step back, halting when he continued to stare at her. “Is there something else?”
Another kink dug into her stomach the longer the silence grew. She had zero idea how she’d respond if he asked about the sex den. Because he’d only ask if he knew, and if he knew then Carson had told him. Then she’d stress over who else knew and what they were thinking of her. And if they knew how much watching had excited her. How the images kept running through her mind on an erotic loop.
“No,” he finally said, sitting forward to move some papers around on his desk. “That’s all.”
She hightailed it out of his office, closing the door behind her without him asking. The privacy was for her this time. Her skin was heated again, her blouse clinging to her back when she hadn’t realized she’d been sweating. Her desk chair gave its familiar squeak as she sat down. A quick look around assured her no one was watching. She ducked down, opened the bottom drawer on her desk and made a quick check of her armpits. Sweat rings were not acceptable at any time, especially in the office.
She jammed her emergency bar of deodorant into her purse and made a quick trip to the restroom. A polite greeting was spared for the woman at the sink before she ducked into the stall.
The starched firmness washed from her shoulders and spine in one big swoop the second the latch clicked its sound of safety. She slumped forward, her hand providing a brace before her forehead hit the door. The coolness of the metal soaked into her palm, and she longed to press her heated cheek to it, the ick-factor be damned.
How would she survive this day?
A slow breath in. Out. Repeated. The bleached latrine smell penetrated her senses and finally motivated her to move.
She’d survive by not thinking of Carson Haggert and his sex den. She smiled, the whimsical humor dampening her stress. It was easier to make fun of what she’d seen than address the longings it’d unlocked within her.
Her movements were mechanical and quick as she applied another coat of deodorant. Hopefully, her lustful hot flashes were done. No—they were done. Period.
She was at work and that was what she’d do—work.
The rest of the morning progressed like usual. She took calls, scheduled meetings for Gregory, did her own work. Her lunch break was blessedly normal too. A quick salad from the café down the street with two other admin assistants. She laughed at their jokes and commiserated over their job complaints.
See? Normal.
The sun was out that day, unhindered by fog or clouds, and she sat back to soak up the rays while appreciating the warmth. It sank into her bones to leave a languid flow behind. This was why she’d moved to the Bay Area. Or at least one of the reasons. The Ohio winters were long, cold and claustrophobic at times with a spring that was often slow to emerge.
“I’m going to have to work late tonight to get it done,” her friend was saying.
Avery tensed, her attention sailing back to her lunch dates. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes, which had gone wide. “Oh yeah?” she offered, thoughts launching to the boardroom. Did Carson consider that working late? Was that a code to participate in Carson’s sex den?
Oh. My. God. Avery suppressed a shudder and bleached the thought from her mind before it took hold. She would not walk around the office wondering who was “working late.” That was just...gross.
Her friend sighed, picking at the last of her salad. “Hopefully, not too late.” She glanced at her phone. “Not if I get back and focus on work.”
The afternoon was winding down when Avery pushed Save on the last of the quarterly report changes. Pride danced a little jig through her at making the four-o’clock request with a few minutes to spare. She pressed Print on the series, the buzzing whirl of her private printer kicking in moments later.
She could do this. Carson and his sex den hadn’t crossed her mind once that afternoon. She’d smirked when she’d passed the boardroom, though, the doors closed for a meeting. Did they sanitize the table afterward? Would she ever be able to set anything on it again without wondering if it was clean?
Fortunately, she didn’t attend many meetings in there. The one yesterday had been a rarity.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Fast.”
Avery whipped around, the reports clutched in her hands. Her heart somehow stalled and raced at once, causing her chest to constrict and her brain to go blank. Carson Haggert stared down at her from the other side of her desk. His smile teasing—right? That little curve matched the glint in his eyes—right?
Was he thinking of last night? Was this when the taunting started? The harassment? Would he do that? How should she respond?
He cleared his throat, the deep rumble caressing her skin. “Is Gregory in his office?” He nodded to the closed door, his brow lifting slightly.
Gregory. Her boss. Of course, he was here to see him. Not her.
She wet her lips, kicking herself for her floundering stupidity. He didn’t need more evidence of exactly how much of a dork she was. “Yes,” she managed to say, her voice croaking on the single word. Wonderful. She swallowed, set the reports down and stood. “Let me check if he’s free.”
She kept her back straight, her steps precise as she made the short walk to Gregory’s door. She knocked, waited for his call to enter, acutely aware of Carson watching her. A shiver of tingles fluttered down her spine. His presence alone seemed to suck the air from the room, and she struggled to keep her breathing even.
“Yes?”
Gregory’s muffled call allowed her to open the door. She popped her head in, a glance confirming he wasn’t on the phone. “Dr. Haggert is here to see you.” Her voice was clear and even that time. Professional—thankfully.
Gregory stretched back, arms raised over his head before he let them drop. “Send him in.”
She turned to Carson, a polite smile hiding the wave of nerves chattering through her stomach. “You can go in.” She stepped aside to let him pass.
He nodded, his smile stretching higher on one side. “Thank you.”
Damn his voice for being so low and rumbly. He’d always sounded like that, from the first time they’d been introduced. Only now it came across as seductive, with a dark and naughty edge.
She swallowed again to both hide her sigh and to dislodge the lump that’d formed. He passed her on a slow wave of masculine cologne and dominance. She inhaled, the woody musk invading her. Sultry, like his voice. Yet teasing, like his smile.
He stopped before her, the space between them down to inches in the doorway. Her heart raced, palms growing damp to match the clamminess that suddenly coated her nape. She held her smile, though.
With him a good six inches taller than her, she looked past his lips with the distinct dip in the top center, the dark stubble that was starting to frame his mouth, the nose with a defined bump on one side to his blue eyes. Dark blue with a ring of gray on the outer edge. Eyes that seemed to look into her and had witnessed her open display of lust.
“Would it be possible for you to bring me a cup of coffee?”
His request processed at slug-speed in her mind. Coffee? Could she get it? Would he like her to caress his broad chest too? Maybe run her fingers through his hair. Would the blonder strands show brighter in the sunlight? Was it soft? Coarse? Would the shorter sides tickle her palms?
“Ms. Fast?”
She jerked, blinked, heat racing up her neck. “Yes. Of course.” She stepped away, cooler air finally racing over her neck. “Would you like cream or sugar?” Her training saved her now. She brushed her bangs away from her brow, waiting politely.
“Cream, please.”
And she was not going down the euphemism sinkhole with that. She looked past him to her boss. “Gregory?”
“Yes, please.” Her boss came around his desk. “Thank you, Avery.”
She nodded and left for the break room before she made a bigger fool of herself. What was she doing, ogling an executive like a teenager? She knew better than that. She was better than that.
Yet she’d just fantasized about running her fingers through Carson’s hair, which was actually mild compared to her many thoughts last night. And he’d been completely professional. No lewd looks or innuendos. No hint that he even recognized her from last night.
Maybe he didn’t.
And maybe she hadn’t stumbled into his sex den. Ha!
Coffee. Just get coffee. Cream in one. Cream and two sugars in the other. Don’t spill it. Don’t trip or slosh it down her blouse.
Walk slowly. Head up. Smile in place.
Breeze into Gregory’s office, hand over the coffees. Avoid eye contact. Retreat before she got caught in Carson’s web again. That alluring, magnetic thing that tweaked her nipples, frazzled her mind and set her aflame.
She closed the door behind her as she left Gregory’s office, a relieved sigh bursting free when the latch clicked. That couldn’t continue. She wouldn’t let it.
He wasn’t going to chase her out of her job either. She liked it here. Liked her boss and what she did. She’d made a home in San Francisco after taking the risky leap to move out here five years ago. It’d been hard at first, but she’d made friends, figured out the city and fell in love with the area.
She was staying. Both in San Francisco and at Faulkner.
That settled, she focused on her work again, refusing to look up when Gregory’s door opened. She kept typing as Carson strode past her desk, every nerve ending acutely aware of him despite her refusal to acknowledge him or her own reaction.
Her skin buzzed with energy and she had no clue what she was typing, but she held her position. A breath swooped in once he’d rounded the corner, his wonderful sex-and-man scent remaining to tease her. Really?
The desire to bang her head on her keyboard was curbed by the open location of her desk.
She deleted the last two lines of gibberish on her screen before grabbing a bottle of peppermint oil spray. She misted the air around her desk and rubbed some on her nape. Another inhalation found only sweetness and candy canes. Nice.
Perfect.
All was good until Gregory walked out of his office, a manila folder in his hand. “Can you run this down to Carson?”
Avery stared at him for a long moment, silently damning the universe before responding. “Of course.” What else was she going to say? She extended her hand, smile painted on once again.
“Thank you.” He handed the folder over and turned away. “Oh.” He looked back. “Thanks for getting the reports adjusted. I’ll look at them tonight. At my home.”
Heat spread over her cheeks at his over-obvious clarification. “Thank you.” She refused to be embarrassed for standing up for herself, no matter how her body responded. He should’ve told her last night too.
She stared at the damning folder in her hand, hateful curses silently flung at it. I am not affected by Carson Haggert. Nope. Just like her embarrassment, she refused to let him befuddle her, despite her physical reaction.
Maybe she could leave it with Jean. It wasn’t like Avery could avoid him for the rest of her career at Faulkner. The office wasn’t that big. But there was no requirement for her to hand-deliver the folder either.
She took the main stairwell down to the lower level where the IT department was located. As she understood it, their office handled the software and networking for the entire corporation. With multiple international and US offices, the complexities were far beyond her understanding.
Her heart sank when she saw that Jean’s desk was empty. Maybe Carson was gone too. Then she could leave the folder with a note and be gone.
Relief spread into a smile as she ripped a sticky note from the stack on Jean’s desk. She grabbed a pen and bent over to scratch out a brief message.
“Ms. Fast.”
Avery jerked up, eyes closing. Shit. She plastered on a polite smile before she turned to face Carson. “I didn’t realize you were in your office.” Her racing pulse agreed with the statement. No, she hadn’t checked, but she also hadn’t expected him to sneak up on her. She crumpled the sticky note in her hand and held out the folder. “Gregory asked me to bring this down to you.”
See, she could be completely professional with him. This was work. She was an adult. What he did on his own time wasn’t her business—even if she had intimate knowledge of it.
“Would you mind coming into my office for a moment?” He stepped back, all manners and politeness. There was no hint of insistence or reprimand in his tone or his expression, but that didn’t ease the apprehension crawling through her.
She lowered her arm, folder still in her grasp. “Can I ask why?”
His smile was a slow curve that spread in taunting increments. Not malicious, but humorous when paired with the light in his eyes. He arched a brow, the action slightly condescending, slightly doubtful. “I think you know.”
So it was about that.
She shook her head. “It’s all right.” She glanced behind her to assure their relative privacy. “I swear. I know nothing. I won’t say a word.” To anyone who knew him at least. There was some gossip her best friend had to hear, and this fit clearly within that arena.
His smile disappeared with his quick nod. “That’s good to know. But I still need to speak with you. I think we can both agree that here is not the best place.” He made a pointed look at the cubicle farm that stretched in an open sea behind her.
Heat rose from her stomach over her chest, and no amount of willpower kept it from creeping up her neck. Damn it.
She looked away, lips pursed to hold in the mortification she’d sworn she wouldn’t feel. He couldn’t do this to her. He was the one who should be embarrassed. A quick glance showed that he wasn’t. At least not visibly. If anything, he was amused by her reaction. Maybe by the entire humiliating experience. Dick.
He stepped up, and she barely stopped her flinch. Anger flashed in then, determination backing it up. She glared at him, uncaring who he was or what his position was. He didn’t get to intimidate her.
He dipped and slid the folder from her hand, eyes never leaving hers. They took in everything once again. She was powerless to stop him, so she let every bit of her annoyance show. He clearly wanted to push—or was he testing her?
“You walked in on something very personal,” he said, straightening. He tapped the folder against his palm, eyes narrowing. “I’ll be at Chester’s in North Beach at seven tonight. Meet me there.”
Her brows sprang up. “What?”
“I won’t discuss private business at work.” He made another pointed scan behind her. “Especially here.”
Stubbornness alone kept her from looking over her shoulder. Who was watching? Where was Jean? Was anyone staring at them? She had no reason to be talking to Carson for so long.
“I don’t believe we have anything personal to discuss,” she countered. Pretending was all she had left. Her anger had faded too quickly, and the brief adrenaline hit was leaving its quaking trail behind. She inhaled slowly only to be assaulted by that hypnotizing woody scent of his.
“We do,” he countered, the authority tickling her desire. His gaze landed on her lips, and she bit her tongue to keep from licking them. Was that for real? Was he playing her? Did he think she’d fall into his lap just because he was gorgeous? Or powerful? Or... Yeah, he probably did.
And she just might—if he didn’t have the leverage to get her fired.
Even then...
No!
“I’ll see you tonight...Avery.” Her name tumbled off his lips in that low rumble of his, tempting, sexy, provocative.
Her nipples tightened in a sharp spray of tingles that left her exposed even though she was fully clothed. “And if you don’t?” she asked, her voice intentionally flat.
His chuckle was just as low, a dirty rumble that matched his voice. His smile was real and wide. “I think you want to.” His shrug held a calculated carelessness to it. “But it’s ultimately your choice.” He leaned in an inch. Not enough to be inappropriate, but enough for her to catch his scent. Enough to suck the air from between them.
Enough to make her wonder what would happen if he leaned in more.
“However, we will have a private discussion—soon.” He paused, his point reaffirmed by his hard stare. “I’m offering you a public option.” He took a step into his office, turned back. “Thank you for bringing the file down. Tell Gregory I’ll get back to him tomorrow.”
About what?
Avery stared after him until his door clicked shut, another array of thoughts and doubts frying her mind. Had she just been propositioned or ordered to meet him?
What should she do?
She should tell him to fuck off—over what, though?
He hadn’t threatened her or made an unwanted advance. He’d simply spoken the truth. Whether she wanted to admit it or not—whether she wanted to or not—they really should talk.
And his offer seemed like her best option.