Joshua

Getting trapped in the elevator had never been so enjoyable. A pretty woman named Ella. Five four, one hundred and twenty pounds, long auburn hair and a light spray of freckles over her nose, big green eyes that I could imagine closing in the throes of passion while I made her orgasm for the third time...

Yeah.

Even with the troll pencil and Iron Man notebook – hell, because of them – she was someone I would definitely do.

I should have told her the truth about who I was, but for some reason, it tickled my fancy for her to think I was a bike courier. I was used to the women I met knowing I was one of the richest men in Manhattan, and it did something to them. They saw dollar signs.

I didn't blame them – I would, too. But it meant I could never just meet a woman as myself – plain old Josh. Not the Joshua Macintyre Jr. – son of MBC's Joshua Macintyre. If she had known who I really was, she would have probably acted differently. She was, after all, just a bright-eyed young woman in Manhattan for the first time, working at her first real job. Sure, it was an unpaid internship, but it showed she was more interested in getting skills and making connections than money. At least, long enough to make an impression.

A lot of people started off by volunteering or doing unpaid internships, impressing their superiors, then getting in with the companies as paid employees. I respected that kind of initiative.

I also felt bad for her – robbed of all her money, ID, and electronics on her third day in Manhattan. She said she was from New Hampshire, which wasn't anything like Manhattan, either in population or the pace at which life took place. She was inexperienced in the ways of the city and its dangers. She didn't know that you had to watch for bike couriers – and cyclists and skateboarders – threading through the narrow channels between cars in the heavy traffic. She didn't know not to leave her backpack unattended, even if only for a few moments while she examined a map to help an innocent-looking old woman in the subway station. Now she was facing the prospect of starting over, getting all her ID re-issued, and getting access to her bank accounts so she could pay for her apartment.

It was daunting.

I felt sympathy for her plight and was happy I could help. In fact, helping her made me feel useful. Handing her a couple of hundred bucks was nothing – pocket change for me. Fronting her the money for her rent was also nothing. It was a rounding error in my account books. I wouldn't miss it if she didn't pay it back – but I was sure she would. She had that air of conscientiousness about her. She'd probably get the money right away and the five grand would be back in my bank account in no time flat.

Unless I was totally wrong and she was just a really smart grifter.

But she didn't strike me that way.

While I should have been honest and told her who I was, I enjoyed the anonymity the cover story of being a bike courier gave me.

I was trying to be helpful when I suggested that I could front her money, but at the same time, I was thinking how much I'd like her in my bed. Even when I offered to let her stay in my apartment, I could tell that, homeless or not, she wasn't the type to have wild sex with some guy she had just met in an elevator.

I usually didn't give up easily when I saw something I wanted, whether it was a new vehicle, a new bike, or a new woman – at least, not without a fight. As down as I was on love, I was totally up for sex. I was already busy thinking of how I'd seduce her.

If she took me up on the offer of using the spare bedroom in my apartment, which I honestly hoped she would, I'd be a perfect gentleman. I would do nothing more than offer myself as someone who could help her get back onto her feet again – after I graciously offered to take her off her feet in my bed.

I wasn't going to be controlled by a woman ever again, no matter how sweet and sexy she seemed. I'd learned my lesson well and would make sure to find a wife who truly loved me and wanted my children. But until then, I sure would enjoy the pretty women I met along the way.

I had a shower in my penthouse apartment and then went back to Macintyre Publishing's temporary office, thinking about Ella and her very bad first day of work. When I arrived in my office, Keith came in right behind me.

"Look at you," he said, slapping me on the back. "Grinning like you're right in the mind for a change. Who is she?"

I frowned and gave him a dirty look. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You're smiling in a way that suggests you just met your next girlfriend. Don't tell me it was the pretty woman in the elevator..."

"You're nuts."

Irritated that he could read me so well, I went over to my desk and pulled out a file from the drawer, a little more roughly than was needed. Keith's words got under my skin, even though I knew he was right. I was smiling while I thought about pretty little Ella. Specifically, smiling at the thought of her shudders of pleasure while I fucked her senseless.

"Come on, man, spill," he insisted, standing in front of the picture window. "Tell me about her. Kaitlyn said you were caught in the elevator with her for about twenty minutes."

"You don't know what you're talking about – as usual. I was thinking about our upcoming editorial meeting," I lied, not wanting to give in too soon. "Money makes me happy. Having a sense of purpose in life makes me smile. The idea of renovating this old building makes me happy. That's all."

"Yeah, right. Tell me another one. That smile is reserved for one thing and one thing alone: pussy. And I happen to know that you haven't had enough lately. So, spill. Tell me about her."

I laughed finally, because he was right. As usual. Keith knew people. It was his superpower, as we liked to joke. He had done his undergrad in commerce before joining the Navy. We served together and when we got out, he joined the publishing company as my chief financial officer.

"She..." I said, remembering her. "She is just about the prettiest little thing I've seen in a long time."

"I knew it," he said and practically jumped on me, punching me in the shoulder. "Who is she?"

"Chill out, man," I said. "What are you? A high school freshman?"

"Nah. I've been saying you need to find someone new for a while. Get someone to lick your psychic wounds, and other things."

He grinned at me and I couldn't help but smile back.

"She's not going to be licking any psychic wounds."

"Oh, yeah? What's her name?"

"None of your damn business," I replied, smiling at his eagerness. "And don't you go nosing around her either," I said and pointed at him.

"Hey, you're going to LA next month. While the cat's away..."

He was right, of course. I was planning on going over to our offices in LA and set up the new office there. Stay there for a week to oversee it. Maybe spend some time with David in the hills around the city, getting right with myself. I didn't have to; I could easily catch a flight there and back anytime I wanted. Still, I didn't like the idea that Keith – or any of the guys in the building – would be hitting on her in my absence.

"Seriously, she's off limits. If anyone's going to do her, I got dibs."

"And how are you going to keep me away from her, when you're in LA?"

I knew he was just ribbing me, but it was still rubbing me the wrong way.

"Look, I just met her, and offered her the use of my spare bedroom, because she's currently homeless and I hate to see her being taken advantage of any more than she already has been. She's – well, she's kind of naive."

"Shit, man, you move fast. I was thinking you'd be asking her out for coffee or drinks, not to live with you. Speaking of taking advantage..." He grinned. "Is she going to take you up on the offer?"

"I hope so," I replied, opening a file, hoping he'd get the hint that I had work to do and stop with the ribbing. "You know my weakness for damsels in distress."

"That I do, that I do. She's pretty."

"Very. Long hair. Big green eyes. Nice smile. Perky little body that a man could imagine riding him all night..." I mimed holding her nice curvy torso over my hips and moving her up and down.

"Ha!" Keith said and shook his head. "You're a goner."

I laughed. "You're an idiot."

I opened the file drawer to my desk and took out a file I needed with recent financial data.

"Haven't you got anything better to do than give me a hard time?" I asked, when he seemed unable to take a hint. "Like prepare quarterly financial reports or something?"

"Speaking of which," he said, and leaned on my desk. "We just signed a big contract for that book by former Special Agent James Arthur."

"The tell-all about his time in the FBI? Great," I said, glad to see we were signing more non-fiction book contracts. I motioned to the door. "That should keep you busy and out of my hair."

I gave him a huge shit-eating grin and he laughed.

"Make sure to introduce me to this pretty little filly you're sniffing around."

"Not likely," I replied, and opened my file. I hoped he'd take off and leave me to my work, but he was enjoying ribbing me too much to go quickly or willingly.

"I'm serious, Josh. It's good to see you smiling again. I know this year's been hard."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks, and all that. I'm a big boy. I can look after myself."

Keith winked at me and finally left my office, leaving me alone to try to fill the rest of the afternoon with enough work to keep my mind off Ella. I wasn't sure whether she'd show up at the penthouse and would be coming to live in my apartment temporarily. I also wondered whether anything more would develop between us.

I couldn't deny that I hoped it would – and when I wanted something, I did everything in my power to make it reality.

I mentally kicked myself in the head. I would be busy as hell over the next few weeks before my trip to California, tying up all the loose ends of my work. Once I was caught up, I'd take a flight to LA and set to work getting our new office set up and start working on making contacts in LA.

I loved building things – whether it was a new business or renovating an old building. Escaping Manhattan for a few weeks in LA promised to give me exactly what I wanted – escape and something meaningful.

Keith enjoyed ribbing me about a pretty little thing like Ella tempting me to get tangled up in some new woman's life, but there was no way I was going to make that mistake again.

I might make a mistake once, but not twice.