Beg for It (21 page)

“I didn’t forget this, ever,” she said. “I dreamed about it for years.”

Reese swallowed hard. “Let me change my lunch plans. Let’s go somewhere…”

“No,” she told him with a small, determined shake of her head. “What did I tell you already?”

“This is about dating. Getting to know each other again.”

“Yes. Which means we don’t fuck in the office.”

He smiled. “That’s why I said we should go somewhere.”

“You’re making this very hard for me, Reese,” she told him, and wagged a finger before he could reply with an innuendo. “Do
not
even say it. Get back to work.”

He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it, and nodded with a glance back at his desk. “Yeah. I have a bunch of things in motion. Tony’s bringing updates on some new distribution resources. It means we’ll be getting the product into some of the bigger markets. Not just Philly, also out toward Pittsburgh.”

“Yeah? That’s fantastic. You’re really good, Reese.”

He cocked his head to give her a look. “Did you think I couldn’t turn this around?”

She had, in fact, wondered if his reasons for buying Stein and Sons might’ve clouded his actual ability to save the company from totally swirling down the drain. “Not because I didn’t think you were good at what you do. But let’s face it. Artisanal yogurts and ice cream…you’d have been better off just selling off all the pieces.”

“I didn’t want to do that. I made the commitment, so I want to make this company work.” He backed up a few steps and pivoted to head for his desk, saying over his shoulder, “Not just to impress you, either. I don’t usually hang on to companies I don’t think I can fix.”

She watched him settle into his chair. “I believe you.”

He looked up. Smiled. How was it, she thought as she let herself out of his office and headed for her own, that in all this time, she had never stopped loving him?

She must have, she scolded herself as she forced herself to face her computer. Whatever love they’d had back then had been young, fluid, immature. It hadn’t been meant to last. She was fooling herself to think that what she was feeling now was more than rekindled lust—it
might
become more than that. But it was not yet love.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tony had already snagged the back corner booth by the time Reese made it to the diner. The meeting with the realtor had run a little longer than he’d expected. The woman had been full of opinions about what he needed to do in order to make the house even close to salable, and while money certainly wasn’t a problem, he did wonder how much effort would be worth the payoff. As he slid into the booth, Tony craned his neck to look past him.

Reese looked around too, already guessing what his assistant wanted to see. “She’s not here today?”

“Damn it,” Tony said. “I don’t think so.”

“She heard you were coming in and called in sick.” Reese grinned at Tony’s scowl.

Tony shrugged, looking at the menu and not at Reese. “You text a woman a few dirty pictures and then suddenly she ignores you.”

“Dude. You did not.” Reese held back laughter, but barely.

“Hey, she sent hers first,” Tony said, indignant.

“Did you tell her you’d be here today?”

“No.” Tony frowned. “I wanted to surprise her.”

“How long has this been going on?” Reese scanned the menu, already knowing he was going to order breakfast, but not sure if he wanted a veggie omelet with tots or his standard eggs over medium.

Tony’s sigh trailed into a groan. “A week. But I was going to try to take her out while I’m here. I booked a room at the Arts Hotel, by the way. You’re covering the cost.”

Reese raised his eyebrows.

“Hey, it’s a business expense,” Tony said with a grin. “I figured you didn’t really want me cramping your style by staying in your parents’ house, anyway.”

“You don’t want to stay there. The hot water is for shit and the heating isn’t much better.” Reese twisted in the seat to check for the waitress. When she came over, he asked, “Hi. Is Gretchen working today?”

“No, she’s off. What can I get you?”

“Will she be in tomorrow?” Reese asked.

Looking faintly annoyed, the waitress shrugged, then looked a little wary. “I’m not sure…are you a friend of hers?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony put in quickly. “I’ll just text her.”

While they waited for their food, Reese pulled out his phone to check for a message from Corinne, but there was nothing. Disappointed, he put the phone on the table, ready in case she answered. Tony gave the phone a significant look.

“You waiting for something important?”

Reese gave his assistant a bland smile but didn’t answer. Tony snorted laughter and shook his head. He pulled his own phone from his pocket and held it up, then set it on the table.

“Me too,” he said.

An hour later, they’d finished their lunch and discussed all the new information Tony had gathered about the new possible markets. They’d gone over Reese’s calendar and planned his travel—if there was a single thing that made Tony worth every penny Reese paid him, it was the man’s ability to organize Reese’s schedule. Just as Tony was ordering a slice of lemon meringue pie, so he could eat his feelings, as he said, Reese’s phone buzzed with a text from Corinne.

Picture of your lunch.

It took him two seconds to snap a photo of the plate, empty but for a few tots he couldn’t bring himself to finish. He sent it back to her without an accompanying message. He looked up to see Tony looking at him with a small, quirking smile. “What?”

“You Instaflixing your lunches now, or what? You’re not into that sort of thing.”

Reese shrugged. “How do you know what I’m into?”

“Umm, well, I’ve been setting up your email accounts for you for the past three years, so I’m pretty sure I have a handle on what sort of social media presence you’ve maintained. In other words, zilch.”

“I know way too much about how those sites operate. I bought and sold more than one, remember? I’m a private guy.” Reese’s phone buzzed again.

Good boy.

Shit, now he had to shift in the diner booth to keep his cock from rising, and she’d know that too. When he looked up to see Tony staring, looking stunned, Reese had to fight to keep himself from covering his phone screen with his hand. His fingers twitched.

Tony’s smile spread slowly as he leaned back in the booth. “Wow.”

“What?” Reese said, annoyed. Not embarrassed, not exactly, because Tony had seen more than his share of Reese’s life.

“How long has this been going on?” Tony said in a deadpan and perfect imitation of Reese.

“Almost twenty years.”

Tony paused with a fork of pie halfway to his mouth. “Wha?”

Reese grinned.

Another text buzzed in.
Show me your face.

Shit, now she wanted a selfie? Without a word, Reese handed his phone to Tony, who looked at the message and laughed, then held up the phone to snap a picture for him. Reese took the phone back.

“You look mad,” Tony said.

“She won’t care about how I look. It’s about giving her what she asked for.” Reese sent the photo to her and put the phone back down.

“It’s like that, huh?”

“Yes,” Reese said. “It’s like that.”

Tony sat back in the booth and licked the tines of his fork. “She makes you feel like you’d do anything for her.”

“Yep.”

“I hear that.” Tony shook his head and looked at his own phone with an exaggerated sigh. “Should I text her again?”

“How much do you want to see her?”

“A lot,” Tony said. “But I don’t want to be a creep about it.”

The two of them sat in silent contemplation of this for a moment or so. Tony finished his pie. Then he ate the rest of Reese’s tots.

Finally, unable to stand watching the misery, Reese pushed Tony’s phone toward him. “Text her, man. You want to. Not a picture of your junk, though.”

“That was once,” Tony protested, already picking up the phone to type a message. “And I told you, she did it first!”

He put the phone back on the table. They both stared at it. When it buzzed with a reply, Tony scooped it up with a grin as Reese pulled out a few bills and tossed them on the table.

“Have fun,” he said as he left. “Try not to break the Arts Hotel.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It had been hectic after school, though when was it anything less? Not for the first time since her sister had shown up to crash in the guest room, Corinne found herself more than grateful for Caitlyn’s extra set of hands and wondered how on earth she’d been managing by herself for the past two years since the divorce. Her sister had even followed Corinne’s hastily scribbled instructions on how to put together the meatloaf and baked potatoes, since Tyler’s trumpet lesson was running late.

They walked in the door to the smell of good food and soft laughter and conversation. Corinne caught the higher pitch of Peyton’s voice, and a lower, deeper rumble she immediately recognized. Reese was early. Or she was late. Either way, she bustled into the kitchen with her arms full of all the accoutrements of motherhood—trying to tell herself it didn’t matter if he saw her this way.

She’d invited him here, after all. To meet her kids, to see her life, as brilliantly mundane as it was on a daily basis. She’d wanted to show him who she was now, in this life, even if the memory of who she’d been seemed ever so much sexier.
Chin up, shoulders square
, she thought.
You own him—

She stopped herself abruptly.

She might’ve owned Reese Ebersole once upon a time, but she did not now. She remembered how it had been, though. At the sight of him leaning against the counter with a glass of red wine in his hand, one he was not drinking because he was holding it out to her as she entered the kitchen…at the sight of this man who’d left such a space, unfillable by anyone else, all Corinne could think about was owning him again.

“Hey,” she said as he crossed to her. She offered her cheek for a kiss, aware that her kids were there with them, even if they didn’t seem to be paying much attention. She took the glass of wine and sipped. “Mmm. When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes ago. Peyton was telling me about her school project.”

Corinne hid her surprise. Of the two kids, Peyton was far more reticent than Tyler, who was already slinging off his coat and chattering at Caitlyn about the television program the two of them were currently binge watching. “She was?”

Peyton looked up from her ever-present cell phone. “Yeah, Reese said he could get me some contacts for job shadowing. I need to do three different careers.”

“I can take her to Philly with me one day, get her shadowing in the promotions department for this small kosher grocery store chain I own. If that’s okay with you,” he added, meeting Corinne’s gaze.

“Isn’t seventh grade a little too early for job shadowing?” she asked Peyton, who rolled her eyes.

“Mom, I’m in advanced careers class, remember?

“Ah. Right. In that case, that sounds great. Hey, dinner smells awesome. Thanks, Caitlyn.” Corinne let herself relax against Reese for a moment as her sister pulled the pan of meatloaf from the oven with a flourish.

Everything about this felt comfortable. Easy and natural, she thought as the kids finished setting the table with a minimum of arguing and Reese poured the adults all another glass of wine and the five of them settled around Corinne’s kitchen table to eat. She’d never seen Reese interacting with kids, and in their time together they’d both been so focused on themselves the subject of marriage and kids had never come up. He was good with them, though. Friendly without being overbearing or trying too hard. He made them laugh. Caitlyn too.

He fit in this family.

When he caught her gaze across the table, both of them smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dinner finished and cleared, the kids had been supervised with evening chores and homework and then bed. Corinne had refused a third glass of wine with a laugh and taken Reese into the den to watch a movie while her sister courteously disappeared upstairs. Now Corinne sat with her feet on Reese’s lap while she scrolled through the Interflix list. His fingers curled around her instep, kneading away aches and pains she hadn’t noticed until he was making them better.

“This,” she said quietly and let the remote settle into her lap. “This is so nice.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Very domestic.”

“It’s where most people end up,” she told him.

Reese smiled a little, working his fingers up a bit higher on her calf, massaging tight muscles. “I never really thought I would, to be honest.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “No. I worked too hard. Didn’t ever put in the time with anyone, really.”

“You didn’t ever even come close to getting married?” Corinne shifted so he could get to her other calf.