Freedom (3 page)

“Hey!” I shove him aside so his chair slams into part of the desk.

“What the eff was that for?” he growls in a deep, booming voice.

“For touching me. Hello?” I snap. “You could have asked me to flip the switch.”

“Fine. Go ahead.” He glares at me, and I swear the guy’s lips barely move when he talks, like he’s one of those weird ventriloquists.

I bend down to the floor and scramble on my hands, pulling the chair forward so I can reach the damn switch. I must look like a silly crab with my ass in the air, which I’m sure is what Jackass is looking at.

“There. Got it.” I swing my body back up and whack my head on the bottom of the desk. “Fuck!” I grab the back of my head and cover my mouth at the same time. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jerkoff smirking.

“And all because you couldn’t stand me touching your leg. Was it worth it?” His tone is dripping with sarcasm as his mouth curves into a slight smile of satisfaction.

“Don’t be a smug bastard. We have to work together. Now show me the accounts. And move over. Seriously, you take up so much space that your leg is on my chair.”

As I talk, I rub my head. It gives me a good excuse to avoid seeing his goddamn handsome face. I hate good-looking pricks. I like when an ass looks like an ass. It makes the work environment easier. This guy is buckets full of testosterone along with all those attractive, badass hormones that I don’t need anywhere in my vicinity. Give him a shoulder holster and a pair of black Ray Bans and he could go work for my father as an intimidating bodyguard.

“I need to get to the mouse, so I can either reach in front of you or reach behind your back,” he says. “It depends on which body parts you’re afraid I may accidentally touch.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Not really. I just want to get this over with.”

“I can handle the mouse. You can direct from there,” I reply and push him back hard in his chair so his arm isn’t touching mine.

He laughs, and the transformation in his face is remarkable. It is a real laugh, not a smirk or scoff. His cheeks turn into rosy, little apples and his eyes sparkle. It’s fleeting, however his smile is quite a thing of beauty, and I can’t stop staring at him. When his laughter subsides, he looks at me for an extra beat, and a blush heats my face.

I turn back to the computer, and for the next couple of hours, we both manage to talk without actually looking at one another. The computer screen and all the charts and spreadsheets make the perfect buffer, so I don’t have to face him even though the warmth from his presence and the mild scent of his soap and deodorant is a little too exhilarating.

Three

Dylan

I really could leave her on her own with the accounts. All of these spreadsheets are familiar to her, and she doesn’t need me to read the vendor files since the sales numbers speak for themselves. I don’t move away, though. I keep myself jammed in behind her desk with my right arm across the back of her chair as she scrolls down the computer monitor, so I can take in her shiny, wavy dark mane of hair against her creamy skin.

Processing these absurd thoughts makes me want to laugh. Then again, I really wouldn’t mind catching another close-up of her big, brown eyes, either. However, she seems pretty determined to keep them averted from me and on the task at hand.

Great, she has me thinking about sex again. If I’ve thought my senses were numb and dull before, they sure as hell aren’t now. From the minute I saw her standing behind the reception counter, a brick of lead surged from my stomach to my throat, leaving me mute. I meet a lot of ambitious, smart, attractive women in this business, but I wasn’t prepared for Emma. I could barely say hello to her when we were introduced. I’m certain that I came off like an oaf.

Daisy was right, we did talk about filling this position at the last company meeting, and while I was in California on business, Carson mentioned that he was interviewing one of Lauren’s friends. It was a brief conversation in which Carson explained the need for this woman to get out from under her father’s business. Fair enough. I knew a bit about the interview, but I didn’t know she’s already been hired, and I didn’t know she looked like… this.

The last woman I was with was from the catering staff at Carson’s holiday party before I went off to my “special” therapy program as Lauren puts it, like I am some kind of wayward boy. Although I agreed to see Dr. Wang and prepare in advance for moving to the treatment center, I had other priorities on my agenda. Getting laid seemed critical at the time, it didn’t matter who the woman was—it felt like it would be my last feast. The woman I was with, well, we were on the same page about that, and I can’t even recall her name.

Unfortunately, the catering server and other women have come back to haunt me. As I went through my various group sessions in the treatment center, I started to conclude that women were a bad vice for me. I listened to the other guys in group talk about their depression and mood swings, and how it coincided with extreme promiscuity, alcohol abuse, or drug use. Some of them had multiple addictions, and it made me wonder if I had the same problem with women and alcohol. My doctors at Willow Haven said I never fit the profile of a sex addict or alcoholic, however I was so unsure at the time that I decided to give everything up; women, booze, and anything that resembled fun. Whatever it would take to show Carson that I could beat the destructive alter ego I have had living inside me for years.

But,
fuck
. I’ve known
this
woman for only a few hours, and all I can think about is what her soft, plump lips would feel like if I ran my tongue against them and then down her neck to her spectacular cleavage. Yeah, I’ve got a perfect view of Emma’s tits since I am more than a head taller. She has no idea that I keep glancing down at the top of her loosely buttoned shirt. I can see all the way down her bra and estimate the size and feel of those mounds of flesh.
Shit.
This isn’t the time for a hard-on—at work with a new employee. It is going to be impossible to share an office with her.

I lift my right leg and cross my steel-toed work boot over my left leg to hide the bulge growing in my crotch. The space is too confining, but I’m not ready to leave her desk. My right leg brushes against her thigh as I try to get more comfortable. Her hands smooth her skirt down to keep it in place while her eyes stay locked on the computer monitor.

She is all business. That’s good because I have managed to stay away from all sexually appealing women for months, yet if she gives me any indication that she would jump into bed with me today or let me screw her on this desk, I don’t think I’d be able to resist her. Any part of her. I have to get out of this situation.

I probably should call Dr. Wang for an emergency consultation about this. I’ve thought I had everything under control. Work has always been a safe zone for me. It’s feeling pretty iffy at this moment, though.

“Okay, I think you can handle this on your own.” I stand up abruptly.

I have a lump in my throat, and it worsens when she looks up at me with those sultry, dark eyes and slightly parted lips.

“I’ll fill you in on clients as we go along.” I kick my chair back to my desk. “No need to cram everything into one day.”

“Fine by me. I’ll take the laptop home, too, and catch up on accounts over the next few nights.”

This is good. I can handle this awkward feeling. I just need to get out of the room
now
.

“I’m going to the studio to talk to Noelle about an issue she’s having with one of the new table designs. If you need me, text me. It’s easier than using the PA system. No one can hear over the machinery. I’ll put my number in your cell phone.” I hold out my hand to her.

“Oh, sure.” When she pulls her phone out of her bag, unlocks it, and hands it over to me, her fingers graze my palm and I flinch. I am nervous as hell. This is a first; I’ve never been anxious over any woman. Pushing those thoughts aside, I tap in my cell number and return it.

As I am about to leave the room and escape the unbearable arousal I get from being around her, Cooper fills the doorway. Carson hired him the day he interviewed when I was out of town last week.

Cooper is very vocal about his single status and the women love him. I’m not sure if I like him, though. He’s got that overdone biker look going on with thick, shoulder-length blond hair, beard stubble, leather vest; the whole Harley package that women fall for. He’s cocky, and sometimes I want to punch him for being the witty office charmer, a character I used to play well.

I want him to leave
now
.

“Hey, Emma, we’re going to go grab some food. Can I treat you to a first-day-on-the-job lunch?” Cooper gives her a big I-love-screwing-pretty-new-girls grin. I would know.

He makes Emma smile.

Fuck, no.

“Oh!” she exclaims as if no guy has ever asked her to lunch.

“She can’t,” I snap, surprising myself. “She’s having lunch with me. We still have some business to discuss.”

Emma turns to me, and her smile for Cooper is replaced with a furrow between her arched, dark eyebrows and a tilt of her head. There is something very feline about her, and I wonder if my brain is screwing with me, envisioning a sexy Catwoman.

“Okay, well, a few of us are heading over to the diner now, so we’ll probably see you there,” Cooper responds before leaving.

I wasn’t going to let some other guy zero in on the woman that has just woken me out of a long winter slumber of nothingness to an electrical firestorm. Even if it is proving impossible for me to tell if this is normal or if I am one sick fuck who is desperate for a female.

“You’re taking me to lunch? I thought you had to talk to Noelle about the tables?”

Emma swivels her chair so she is facing me, crossing her ankles and tucking her legs under her chair.
As if that will prevent me from fantasizing about her bare skin and what I’d like to do with those legs.
I chuckle inwardly, knowing that I am on a fast track up shit creek if I don’t slow myself down. I can’t screw around with my brother’s new employee.

Emma seems like a sincere, hardworking girl trying to make it on her own without Daddy’s money. I can’t drag her into my screwed up world, and it wouldn’t be fair to put Carson in the middle of another one of my epic disasters.

“I’ll talk to Noelle after lunch. Let’s go grab a bite.”

***

She sits across the diner booth from me, nibbling on a grilled cheese sandwich while I scarf down two bloody burgers smothered in guacamole.

“You sure you don’t want something more than that little sandwich?” I ask. She’s eyeing my plate, so I assume she is hungrier than she let on. “Bonnie’s burgers are the best. I’ll get one for you.” I am about to raise my hand to flag down Lauren to order it when Emma shakes her head.

“No, I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh.” I look at what is left of my second rare burger oozing red juice into the fries. “This carnage on my plate must make you ill.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, I’m used to it. My parents live on steak, the kind that’s so rare it’s ready to walk off the plate. I am astounded by your appetite, though.”

My appetite.
Coming from her perfect lips, it sounds sexual to me. “I get a lot of exercise,” I say, suddenly losing interest in my food.

Lauren stops by our table and her bubbly hyperness clues me in to what will follow. “Time to make a wish,” she says while rubbing my buzzed scalp. I am used to it from the women that know me, although it got old months ago, and now it’s an embarrassing display in front of Emma.

Emma smirks at me.

“How is your first day, Em?” Lauren asks. “Is Dylan behaving?”

“I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

Emma looks at me pointedly before resuming the little nibbles she has been taking of her sandwich.

“Uh, gotta go, kids.” Lauren scans the door as more customers come in.

I am relieved. I wonder how much Lauren has told Emma about me before she accepted the job from Carson. Have I been made out to sound like a sad sack of problems or a despicable womanizer? Lauren has been my friend since we were kids; she’s seen almost every heinous thing regarding me. I suspect a good friend like Lauren would warn her girlfriend well in advance, and that’s why I am getting this scrutinizing vibe from Emma.

“So why did you leave your family’s business for Carson’s? What makes this place so special?” I push my uneaten food away.

“Carson’s business isn’t on Route 17 somewhere between Satin Dolls and Crate and Barrel, my personal highway to hell.”

I chuckle. “I know that area. Very lively.”

“Right. Bada Bing,” she says dryly. “Let me guess, you’ve been to Satin Dolls.”

“Never. I’ve only driven past on my way to make deliveries.”

“Sure. Men always drive past it, never to it.” She smirks.

“Honestly, those clubs aren’t my thing. Tell me more about your dad’s company and why you wanted to leave it.”

“Let’s just say my dad’s business won’t be around much longer. He wants to sell, and my parents plan on leaving Jersey and moving to Florida for an early retirement. It can’t happen soon enough, in my opinion. Really, I don’t want to talk about my father’s business, it’s not an exciting topic. Besides, there’s no future there, so what’s the point? It’s tough to find a job in this market. I’m lucky Lauren put my resume in front of your brother. He could have hired anyone—he gave me a huge break.” She says this as if she’s escaped something terrible as she glances down at her unfinished meal and pushes it away.

“Did Carson tell you that I’d be handling the biggest accounts? They’re high maintenance and want direct attention from us instead of going through our sales group, Mercer. I won’t be available to help you much with client issues and on the sales end here. I’ll need you to become very familiar with the Mercer people and make more trips into the city to work with them on distribution.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me, Dylan.” There’s defiance in her tone and a stony expression across her countenance. “You can trust me to work hard and do a good job.”