Choosing Happy (Madison Square #2) (10 page)

Steve shifted his weight and crossed his arms across his chest. “I asked how the Maggie Clifton cover was coming.”

“Oh. Great. Way ahead of schedule. You’ll have it by the end of the week.”

Steve stood up straighter, his face brightening. Steve was a stickler for deadlines. Nothing pleased him more than being ahead of schedule.

Appeased, Steve moved on and I went back to my phone.

Madison: Can’t discuss it right now. I’m on a conference call with my boss.

Sean: And I’m in a staff meeting with a hard on cause I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.

Madison: Will you stop? I’m beet red. My assistant will think I’m having a heart attack.

Sean: I told you, I like making you blush.

After a few minutes she still hadn’t responded, so I changed my approach.

Sean: When can I see you again?

I smiled when the dots appeared, signaling her response.

Madison: Tonight?

Shit. It was poker night. We’re supposed to be throwing around ideas for Drew’s bachelor party.

Sean: I wish I could, but its poker night and I have to be there.

Sean: Free tomorrow?

Madison: Sure. What did you have in mind?

Sean: I have a few ideas.

I had nothing.

Steve dismissed the meeting and everyone quickly gathered their stuff and headed out of the conference room. I looked at Drew, who just shook his head.

“What?” I asked. I’m sure he’d been reading every text over my shoulder, the nosy bastard.

He laughed. “You are so fucked,” he said, dropping a hand to my shoulder before heading out the door.

Chapter 11

Madison

After work, I met Margot for drinks at The Lounge, one of those super trendy bars that called their bartenders mixologists and served vodka infused with jasmine and honeysuckle. It was a little pretentious for me, but Margot was all about the hip new places. Margot believed that to stay young you must stay current. When someone dared to ask her age, she would smile and simply say that she, like Tiffany’s, was timeless.

Margot was nowhere to be seen, so I took a seat at the bar and flagged down a bartender—excuse me, the mixologist. You know what? If it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, it’s probably a duck, so as far as I’m concerned he was a bartender.

I ordered a vodka martini and took a look around the bar. The place was pretty empty, but it was still early. Places like this don’t usually pick up until after nine.

Margot made her way toward me. She dropped her clutch on the bar and snapped her fingers to get the bartender’s attention. When he looked up, she pointed to my drink and he nodded.

The bartender set a martini down on the bar and Margot took one sip then jumped right into round one of twenty questions.

“So, tell me about the fantastic cougar sex with that tall glass of sexy,” she said, wiggling a little on her barstool.

“It was not cougar sex. He’s only thirteen years younger than me. That does
not
make me a cougar,” I said in protest.

“Oh, so now it’s
only
thirteen years! Last week you were old enough to be his mother,” she said, that smug tone creeping into her voice.

I smacked her arm as she laughed. She had a point, and I hated the fact that she was right. There’s nothing worse than when Margot was right. You will never live it down. The cougar thing did bother me, though.

“You don’t think people will call me a cougar, do you?” I asked her, suddenly very freaked out about the whole situation.

“Maybe, but who cares. The ones who do are just jealous of the delicious piece of man candy on your arm anyway. Screw em’. Then go home and screw him,” she said with a wink.

My cheeks instantly flamed. Margot had no problem speaking her mind, but I was brought up in a house where you did not talk about such things. My mother’s advice about sex was pretty close to, ‘Close your eyes and think of England.’

“Spill,” Margot said, downing the rest of her drink. “I want every delicious detail.”

I hesitated, but Margot raised her perfectly plucked eyebrow, letting me know she was not backing down.

“Well,” I started. “We didn’t actually have sex.”

“What? You said…”

“No, I didn’t. I never said we had sex.”

“But you did spend the night?” she asked, snapping her fingers at the bartender again, who was already way past annoyed with her snapping at him. I would have to leave him a large tip later.

“There were other things that happened,” I said quietly, looking down in my drink.

Margot’s eyes lit up, and she signaled for me to continue. I wasn’t really sure how much I should tell her, but I did want her opinion on something.

“Well, he focused a lot on me,” I said, hoping that she would pick up on the implication so I didn’t have to go too much into detail.

“Really?” Her approval was clear in her voice.

“It was amazing. I didn’t know it could feel like that, but one thing that was kind of weird. He didn’t expect me to reciprocate.”

“They always say that,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No. I mean, he wouldn’t let me,” I said. “I tried twice and both times he stopped me and said that he wanted it to be about me.”

Margot almost spit her drink out. “You mean to tell me that he got you off with just foreplay and didn’t want you to return the favor?”

I nodded.

“How many times?”

“I told you, I tried twice.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “How many times did you come?”

I glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to our conversation then held up three fingers.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Margot said, her voice catching the attention of most of the people in the bar. I was mortified, and I tried to shush her, but she was not having it. “Three? Seriously?”

“Yes. Margot, please lower your voice,” I hissed through my clenched teeth, nervously looking around the bar to see if people were still looking at us.

“And he got nothing out of it? Not a hand job or even a little over the clothes dry humping?”

“Jesus, Margot.” I covered my face with my hands, trying to hide the deep shade of red.

She was quiet for a minute, and I lowered my hands. She seemed lost in thought, twirling a finger along the outside of her glass.

“What?” I asked.

“I should have given him my number instead,” she said, and I smacked her knee.

“So I shouldn’t be worried that he didn’t want me to…you know?”

“Are you kidding? You found like the holy grail of men. Gorgeous, sweet, successful, and he gives you multiple orgasms without asking for anything in return. Screw girl code. When you’re done with him, I want a turn.”

“Margot!”

“Oh, come on. I’m kidding, mostly. Don’t worry about this too much, okay. Just enjoy your little boy toy,” she said. “When are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well, be sure to hydrate and stretch before you go over there. If foreplay was that intense, then you may not survive the sex.”

***

Friday morning at the office was insane. I was buried in contracts and projection charts in preparation for my meeting with the developer. This deal could make or break my career. Not to mention help thousands of families be able to afford almost completely self-sustaining homes.

After lunch, Jeremy came in and dropped something heavy on my desk, but I was so focused on my screen that I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound.

“Jesus,” I said, looking up to face him. He was partly hidden behind a large vase of sunflowers. I love sunflowers. They’re what I imagine happiness to look like.

“These were just delivered for you,” Jeremy said with a grin.

I got to my feet to inspect the beautiful bouquet. I was pretty sure who they were from, and my heart warmed as I reached for the card. I opened the envelope and pulled out the little card. My excitement died instantly as the smile wiped from my face.

Thanks again for agreeing to dinner

-Michael

I looked at the flowers, sadly running my fingers gently over the bright yellow petals, but they felt tainted.

“Put them in reception,” I told Jeremy as I returned to my chair.

“You sure? They’re your favorite,” he said, his brows drawing together in confusion.

I sighed, taking another look at the happy burst of color with a pout before handing Jeremy the card.

I watched as his eyes scanned over the message. “Reception it is,” Jeremy said and hurried out of my office toward the lobby.

It was a surprisingly thoughtful gesture from Michael, or more accurately his secretary. She never forgot my birthday or a single anniversary. I should send her a note.

Just then my phone went off. I groaned and reached for it.

Sean: Did you get it?

Madison: Get what?

Sean: The package.

“Jeremy,” I called.

He stuck his head in the door. “You bellowed.”

“Did a package come for me?”

“I only saw the flowers. I’ll check with the mail room,” he said, disappearing down the hall.

I sat back in my chair, tapping my fingers on the desk as I tried to figure out what he could have sent. Excitement bubbled up in my chest.

Sean: Just a little hint of my plans for us tonight.

That sent my imagination into a tailspin.

Jeremy came back carrying a small gold gift box. He set it on my desk and stood there, practically dancing as he waited for me to open it. “It must have just gotten here,” he said. “Open it, open it.”

I lifted the lid and frowned as I examined the contents. Inside was the strangest collection of items I have ever seen. I pulled each of them out one by one. A pair of black cat ears, a bottle of cheap bourbon, a map of Mississippi, and a card.

Be ready at seven. Cocktail attire

-Sean

What the hell? I really hope he wasn’t into some bizarre role play thing. I sent him a quick text.

Madison: I’m confused.

Sean: All will be clear tonight. See you at 7 beautiful.

Jeremy sifted through the box and looked up at me with a shrug.

“He says it’s a hint of his plans for us tonight.”

“Looks like he’s into some kinky shit,” Jeremy said, putting on the cat ears.

“You think?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Guess you’ll find out tonight.”

I dropped heavily into my chair, suddenly very wary about a date I was so looking forward to earlier.

“By the way,” he said, removing the ears and dropping them back into the box. “You’re all set for the dinner meeting with that developer. I made reservations at Provo, for Tuesday at seven.”

“Great. Thank you. You can get out of here then. Have a good weekend.” Gathering up the couple of files I needed to work on over the weekend, I decided to call it a night.

“You too,” he said with a wink and a nod toward the box. He and Margot really were of one mind.

***

I was putting the finishing touches on my make-up when there was a knock on the door. I took one last look in the mirror and went to answer.

Sean stood in the doorway, looking practically edible in a gorgeous gray slim cut suit, crisp white shirt, no tie, and that heart-stopping smile of his that made my heart nearly pound out of my chest.

“You are breathtaking,” he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. Me? Had he looked in a mirror? “You ready?”

I swallowed and blinked, trying to regain some of my composure. “I just need to grab my coat,” I said, heading to the hall closet.

I opened the hall closet and took a few deep breaths behind the safety of the door. The effect Sean had on me was unnerving. Every time I saw him, the connection between us just became more and more intense. Nothing about that connection felt casual, and that scared the hell out of me.

I shook off the worry, grabbed my coat, and returned back to the hall, where Sean was waiting. His smile widened when he saw me and offered me his arm.

“So, where are we going?” I asked as he got in the car.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

I just shook my head.

He took my hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a sweet kiss to my knuckles. “Then you’re in for a surprise.” His sweet smile and soft gray eyes helped to ease my nerves, and I relaxed into my seat.

It wasn’t very long before we were pulling into a parking garage downtown. So far I was seeing no connection to the items in the box, and the suspicion that it was some sort of weird fetish thing was starting to freak me out.

When we reached the street, we turned right and headed up the block. There were a few restaurants and bars, but we just kept right on walking.

Finally, we turned a corner and I looked up to see a glittering marquee that read Roosevelt Theater. I looked up at Sean, who was grinning at me, waiting for me to make the connection, although I was still drawing a blank. I was starting to feel kind of stupid when I saw the poster for
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
.

I started to laugh. The bourbon, the cat ears, Mississippi, it all made sense now. Now that I was clued in, I was impressed by how much trouble he went to just for a second date.

“Make sense now?”

“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen the play, only the movie.”

“The movie’s great. I love me some Elizabeth Taylor, but seeing it live is a completely different experience. Come on, let’s find our seats,” he said, pulling me toward the doors.

He handed our tickets to the usher, who led us down toward the front of the stage. The usher stopped three rows back from the stage in the center and pointed to two seats in the middle. We squeezed past a couple sitting on the end and took our seats.

The view of the stage was unbelievable. I felt like I was seated right inside the world of Maggie the Cat.