Inner Core: (Stark, #2) (8 page)
“You blow my mind, Hales.” And he hugs me so tight I fear broken bones for a frozen moment.
When he eventually releases his hold on me, I ask, “Do we have to go back to anatomy 101? I’m quite positive it wasn’t exactly your mind I just blew.” He snickers and kisses my lips through a grin. As he shakes his head the grin turns into a full-blown smug smirk.
Given the situation I initially found him in I break our connection, telling Daniel I should leave and that he should get back to whatever I’ve interrupted by coming here. Reluctantly he inches up and tucks his shirt back into his jeans, buckling his belt. I step over to grab my sweater, shrugging it on and firmly securing the tie around my waist. “Too bad I can’t go back home with you,” he says sincerely. “Let’s go, I’ll see you out.” He takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth for a warm kiss on my palm. He shakes his head with the widest, pleased grin.
“Oh goodness,” I mumble before we step out of the room, the aftermath finally reaching the sensible part of my mind.
“What’s up?” Daniel asks.
“It’s, um, I can just imagine what everyone here will be thinking.” My teeth dig into my lip.
Daniel releases the tugging with his thumb and moves to hold my chin between his fingers, tipping my head toward him. “Giving a damn is not something I dance to, baby.” He winks and plants a lavish kiss on my mouth.
Yes my beloved, severe nut-job, I knew quite early on in our relationship that concern, shame, obedience, social graces and etc. are not exactly your best assets.
He links his fingers with mine, steering us both out of his office toward the bank of elevators. In the privacy of the elevator he looks at me with the most affectionate stare. “It was supposed to be you and my mouth,” he mumbles, bringing up his noon tease.
I shrug. “It was purely my pleasure, though. Rain check?” I return his stare provocatively; he grants me one of his transgressive grins, so full of promise.
D, keep this smile on, and I will make you return the favor right here in this small compartment.
Just before reaching the first floor I tell Daniel about the security guy incident. His reaction is a carefree deep stomach laugh. When we pass by reception, Daniel stops for a moment. Checking the security guy’s badge, resting his hand on the high rail, he says, “Nathan.”
“Yes, Mr. Stark.” Nathan jumps up from his lolling position behind the round reception area, sending a flustered, flinty glance my way.
Yes Sir…
“This is Miss Grace,” Daniel says stonily, planting a kiss on my temple. “She is my girlfriend.
Girlfriend
. Not my sister, or my anything else.”
I notice little humor wrinkles forming at Daniel’s eyes, but he doesn’t waver, keeping his narrow, menacing gaze fixed on the blushing, bulky guy who all of a sudden seems to shrink. “Next time, just let her in. She doesn’t need to be announced or have any other sort of clearance. We clear?” Daniel’s nod ends with a hint of a pull on his lips. The guard eases a fraction, though remains relatively rigid.
Sending him a scowl over my shoulder, I follow Daniel, who’s holding my hand as he leads us to the car. When he leaves, he kisses me again, taking his time, as if he didn't have a group of people waiting for him. His affectionate and satiated stare follows me til I drive away.
On my way back, an incoming call dissolves “Little Talks” by Monsters and the Men to a soft hum in the background.
“Yes,” I answer, bothered by the disturbance.
“I heard you pulled a Hayley shenanigan earlier…” Ian blurts out. His words disintegrate into uncontrollable laughter.
Oh my god, do these two have an open gossip WLAN between them
?
“Pulled a Hayley? Ian, are you for real?”
“Gorgeous, seriously, are
you
for real? Playing top-notch slutty escort lady with all his employees around? God, how did I miss that one?”
I burst into laughter at Ian’s contagious chuckles.
“Next time take the initiative and bring a camera or something. Now I'll have to live my life with the hugest, bitterest sense of loss that I didn’t get to witness you in action.”
“You are such a dork. And here I thought you were on my side,” I say through giggles, my own mouth betraying me as I try to sound even remotely upset.
“Hold on gorgeous,” Ian says, and a few seconds later I hear another voice joining us.
Really? Couple of immature morons.
“Tash, we’ve got the star of the evening on the line.” I roll my eyes but can’t help the grin on my lips. How could I not see this one coming? Throwing such a delicacy at these two vultures... of course they’ll make a goddamn king’s feast out of it.
“Oh, none other than
the
questionable Madam Fleiss. Oh my, the smooth operator you are, Hales.” Tasha says, barely containing her outburst of laughter. “Ian, seriously. This one rockets directly to first
freaking
place on biggest moments in Hayley history.”
“With friends like you guys... maybe cut a rug on my disgraced corpse while you’re at it?” Their response comes back as malicious fits of laughter. The vision of Cinderella’s evil sisters spring to mind. “Hey, not only a call girl but also a thief. Drama queen is my thing,” Ian sulks, a tad too cheerfully.
“Missy, you know how it works: when you serve so good, we can't resist the pitch…” The three of us fall into hysterics for some long moments before Tasha adds her two cents. “And your boyfriend couldn’t be more obvious. He walks around with a satisfied, satiated, just-got-utterly-done grin on his face, and to top it all off he's not being sarcastic or behaving in that trademark intimating psycho way of his...” I sigh, though content.
Mission successfully accomplished
.
“Okay now, we all had our share of laughter, ha ha kids, now let me get back to my music.” I dismiss them both, still highly amused.
“We love ya,” they both scream in stereo. I shake my head and snort.
Biggest moments in Hayley history…
Chapter 8: State of National Emergency
I'm in my own bubble, utterly sunk into my work, Josh’s curt cough behind me makes me nearly jump out of my skin. I look back to face him, disturbed, my heart thudding in a volatile rhythm.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”
I shake my head dismissively. Absently laying my hand on my chest, I ask, “Yes?”
“You okay?” he asks before getting to the point.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. I was just deep into this.” I point at the graphs on my screen. He nods, thinking for a moment.
“I’ve just called Ian,” he says and I don’t need him to continue, as the look on his face tells me what I wanted to hear. “He’s going to join us on our trip to the Maldives.” He smiles at my excited, radiant grin.
“Great news,” I reply, stopping myself from doing a little dance. “Do we have a date yet?”
“That was my next point.”
This time I wait patiently for him to continue.
“July 23
rd
til the 26
th.”
“Oh.” My tone doesn’t begin to mask my surprise.
“Is there a problem?” he questions, his Colgate grin morphing into a straighter line.
“Well, umm, I don’t believe so. Nothing that important... it’s only that my birthday is on the 26
th
.”
Boss, Maldives or not, Ian or not, I would have preferred to celebrate with Daniel.
“I see. Well, we’ll just have to celebrate there,” he says quickly, and I counter with a forced smile.
“Great, then. Just make sure to mark your calendar,” he says, then bends a fraction, pointing at the graph’s legend. “I’d change this from weeks to months. That’ll show a clearer picture.” He gives my screen another cursory scan, taps the back of my chair, says, “Okay then,” and turns on his heels.
Ian knows and didn’t call me yet? How can that be?
I check my phone and there are three new messages.
Leave it on silent, maybe it’ll send you telepathic notifications…
Ian: Holy—f—shit! Gorgeous, sandy beaches, a whole lot of “exotic” drinks and…us!
Yes, he definitely got the news.
I smile to myself and check the next unread message.
Daniel: H, my place tonight. Dinner at 8.
And here we are, Mr. I-don’t-ask-but-tell. You failed to add an exclamation point this time. You're losing your edge
.
And there’s another message from Ian, from about half an hour later. Expecting yet another excited Maldives message, I’m surprised to read the following:
Ian to Natasha and Hayley: Ladies, emergency meeting six sharp your place.
I return to my work, knowing Ian and his drama-queen ways, blowing every situation beyond proportion when there's never really an issue at stake. I'm not the least bit worked up about his dramatic message.
The next message makes me break into laughter.
Tasha: Did he miss a period?
I see Tash is just as highly concerned about Ian’s dramatic message as I am.
They closed the designer outlet downtown?
Tasha: Ricky Martin retired?
Starbucks run out of nonfat milk?
A few hours later, driving home to find out which new havoc threatens humanity, I call Daniel.
“Hales.” As always, Daniel sounds busier than the leader of the free world himself.
“Hey, busy? Call you later?”
“Not for you.” He sighs and I smile. “What’s up?” he says wearily.
“About tonight,” and before I even manage to squeeze in the next syllable he cuts me off.
“Don’t start…”
“Daniel.” My voice is firmer, quickly turning annoyed. “I was just about to say that I might be a bit late, that’s all.”
God
. My eyes fly to the ceiling. He grunts something between a sigh and a dismissal. I take a deep breath, hoping to defuse my threatening irritation.
“Apparently there is some sort of an Ian situation.” I add an excuse, not sure exactly why I even bother.
The snide doesn’t take too long in coming. “Someone broke a fingernail?”
“I guess something along that line.” We snicker in unison, tension dissolving.
“But Hales, don’t bail out on me tonight, okay?”
It sounds nearly pleading.
He doesn’t do pleading.
I can’t help but wonder why that might be.
“Sure.” And before we manage to say goodbye, hearing the muffled voices at the other end, I realize someone else has already caught his attention.
“What ever happened to silent til spoken to?”
Seriously? Salaries at the prominent Stark Software should be paid in buckets of gold.
“Good bye to you too…” I say to myself, and scowl at the phone. A new habit of mine that I’ve been nurturing since getting together with my man, scowling at phones. Item number 95 in my “soon to be discussed with a professional” list, which seems to be getting longer recently.
I realize it’s time to go home when the excited buzz of quitting time fills the office.
~~~
“Honeybun, I’m home,” I call out as soon as I close the door behind me, throwing my keys into the bowl. I take in the smell of home and a small smile forms on my lips at the comfort our shack immediately induces within me.
“In here, Hales,” Tasha responds from the direction of our living room.
Stepping over, I find both Ian and Tasha reclining leisurely on opposite sides of our sofa, feet on the table, wine glasses in hands, in casual jeans, barefoot. I glance at them fondly and join in, lounging on the white, faux sheepskin pouf.
“Wine?” Tasha asks.
“Maybe one glass. I’m driving later.”
“Coming up.” Tasha side-smiles judgmentally but doesn’t comment.
Yet
…
Taking my glass of chilled white I ask, “Have you guys started?” Really meaning: is the “big revelation” out of the bag yet?
“Mr. here insisted on waiting for you,” Tasha explains, patting Ian’s hand. I smile warmly at him, and he returns my affectionate gesture with a small smile, not his typical radiant one.
“So…” He takes a dramatic deep breath; instantly Tasha and I both hide our smiles in our glasses. Ian looks at me then at Tasha and back, then turns to take a sip from his sweating glass, somewhat thoughtful, and finally utters, “I’m kinda homeless.”
My eyes shoot Tasha’s way, meeting her clear green ones that dart back. We both turn to look at Ian, perplexed.
“And by that you mean?” I prompt him to elaborate, shifting to sink deeper into the cushy pouf, casually positioning one leg over the other.
“Let me start from the beginning,” he says. Tasha, with her brows still knitted, pours herself another glass and sits back Indian style, looking attentive.
“Last night I had some friends over to hang out.
At about midnight my landlady came to check out what was going on. Apparently a few concerned neighbors had called her. Not fully coherent, never realizing it would be her on the other side, I opened the door.” I sigh silently. I've known Ian for such a long time now that I kind of sense where this is going. Some sort of debauchery is almost a sure bet.
Tasha flashes a concerned gaze my way that tells me that, as always, we are of the same mind.
Ian takes another sip of his glass and switches his crossed ankles at the table. “When I opened the door in my boxers, with a bunch of not exactly decent friends scattered on the rug in my living room behind me, she looked as if she'd turned into a pillar of salt with her eyes boring right into the bacchanal events at Sodom.”
We both snicker uncontrollably, and I try to shake off the image slowly materializing in my mind.
“Right after getting back to her senses she calmly requested that I put something on and step outside to talk to her.”
I twist my mouth and bite my tongue.
He doesn’t need a lecture right now, he seems stressed enough.
“And?” Tasha probes, her voice a note higher–authoritative, slightly peeved.