8. BODI
8
I ’m obsessed and it’s gonna cost me something. No clue what, but it feels like I’m playing poker with fate, and I’ve got no idea if I’m holding a winning hand or just bluffing my way into trouble.
I’m staring at the manuscript in front of me, but the words won’t settle in my brain because I’m too occupied thinking about the brunette with the big curls.
When I found her this morning, sitting on my kitchen island wearing, well, nothing, I swear my dick had a fucking heart attack. Seeing her toned leg bob softly, taunting me with its silky skin. It made me forget whatever reasons I had found last night to not take her right then and there.
And trust me, I had to dig deep, because really, my mind wanted to drag her to my bedroom as soon as I got home, and Jason skedaddled out of my condo. The worst part is that she had no clue. She was just sitting there, eating her breakfast, completely content, not even aware of what she does to me.
Every single part of my body begs me to cross the line with her one last time, and if I didn’t have such a strong mind, I’d be fucked.
I need to put her in the friend corner real quick.
I’m helping out a friend .
There is a friend staying with me.
I helped my friend with a job.
My very hot and sexy friend.
“Dammit!” I slam my hand on the desk at the same time a knock sounds on the door. “Come in,” I grouse like a damn grizzly bear.
Kayla’s chipper head pops in, giving me a smile I can’t be mad at, only pissing me off even more. She’s the literal honey to my grumpy bear attitude.
“Everything alright?”
“Peachy,” I reply with a tight jaw.
She presses her lips together, clearly not buying my shit, then tilts her head in skepticism. “Really? Because you seem stressed.”
You have no idea, babe.
“I’ll be alright.”
She saunters toward me with a list of documents pressed against her chest. Her hips sway, effortlessly bringing out her gorgeous curves. I raise my chin, forcing myself to look at her face in an attempt to stick to my plan.
She’s a friend , McKay. Fucking get it together.
“I just did some research on your foundation.”
I quirk an eyebrow in interest, silently wondering why she didn’t just ask. My connection with the foundation is usually the first thing people ask about when they find out about the cause it supports.
She shrugs, as if she can read my response. “You never really disclosed what the foundation is about, and I wanted to know what cause I’m working for.”
“Understandable,” I hum.
“Your mom was a drug addict?”
“She was,” I muse.
“So, now you created a foundation that builds low-cost rehab facilities with private level care?” I can see the pride in her eyes, and it hits me right in the heart.
I nod.
“That’s amazing, Bodi. It’s really a good cause.”
“Thank you.” Our eyes stay fixed, the tension rising again. Her blue eyes rob me of whatever bullshit friends thought I had just thirty seconds again, and the sparkle that flickers through them tells me she knows it. It’s like we can have a complete conversation without uttering a single word, every small feature in our face telling us exactly what we need to know.
Whatever she and I had, it’s far from over. At some point, one of us is going to break and annoyingly aware of the twitching in my pants, I have a feeling it’s going to be me. Hopefully after she moves into her own apartment, so we can at least keep this somewhat less complicated by becoming roommates/collegues/fuckbuddies.
“Do you need anything?” I ask to break the spell.
She clears her throat, then takes the seat in front of my desk to hand me a piece of paper. Leaning forward, I grab it, letting my eyes roam over the words.
“What is this?”
“I know you asked me to contact all the suppliers to confirm the date and everything.” She pauses. “But I’ve been bold.”
My eyes snap up to her face, and I’m met by that contagious smirk. The one that makes me remember why she annoys me and turns me on at the same time with her unfazed behavior.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” I mutter, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Hear me out. You want to keep the costs as low as possible, right? It’s a charity thing. But at the same time, you want it to look exclusive and luxurious, so you want to hire the best caterer, for example.”
She better have not. “Please tell me you didn’t cancel my caterer?”
“I didn’t. But I threatened to go to the next one on the list because he was charging way too much.”
“You what?” My eyes grow wide at her deadpan expression. “That’s the best caterer in the city! Do you know how much begging it took me to get him to agree on that date?”
“He was charging way too much, Bodi!”
I fucking know that, but there’s a reason he’s the best. If I want to invite the elite of this city — hell, the elite of the East coast — I need to organize an event that will have people jumping on planes and out of their mansions.
I just blink.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She frowns, a little offended.
“Like what?”
“Like I messed it up.” She slogs off in the chair, an assured grin on her pretty lips. “I got him to give us a ten percent discount.”
“You’re kidding.” There is no way in hell the biggest and best caterer in Atlanta gave out a ten percent discount. He’s booked until next year.
“Not even a little bit.” Her expression is serious, but from the way her mouth purses to one side, it shows me she is feeling cocky about this.
Sexy brat.
“How did you pull that off?”
She shrugs. “I very kindly pointed out that this was a charity event and that him charging us the same as the mayor’s wedding was a bit much. I said it was a great advertisement for him, showing his goodwill toward the city that he was willing to contribute. Then I topped it off by lying and saying that their competitor was willing to give us twenty percent off if we went with them. After some tossing and turning, he agreed.”
That’s fucking clever. With one simple, yet bold, phone call, she saved us thousands of dollars that can be used in a better way.
My lips part, my chest burning as I look at the magnificent creature in front of me.
I know the costs for this event are high, but I want to lure the people in with the big bags of money under their arms, and I know they expect certain things. I just went with it, deciding it was worth it, and here is this perky brunette telling my caterer to do it for less. She really is something else. And so damn smart.
Too smart to be sitting in front of my desk right now instead of finishing her degree. Why did she get kicked out of Stanford? She doesn’t seem like a girl who has a hard time keeping her grades up. Parties or no parties.
“I’m speechless,” I confess, rubbing the back of my neck.
“That’s alright, because I got more,” she continues, summing up all her achievements from this morning. “The decorator agreed to do the next event for free if they will get a banner at the entrance with their name on it. I didn’t want it to become tacky, so I offered them a mobile balloon stand idea. That way, the guests can all bring their kids animal balloons with their logos on it when they get home and I allowed them to give out flyers at the end of the event. The venue didn’t really budge because they have their expenses, but they agreed to set up the stage and lighting without any additional fees. The band agreed to play for an hour for free to pitch in their part. We need to create a list of all the stuff for the silent auction, and I was wondering if you can give me a list of people I can contact to ask them for anything they’d like to donate. Oh, and finally, I convinced that cupcake shop downtown, you know the one that has their own TV show on Discovery, to give out single boxes of cupcakes as a goody bag.”
She’s beaming at me like a little girl who just walked into the candy shop with a hundred dollars, waiting in anticipation.
The truth is, I don’t know what to say. She caught me off guard when she showed up here yesterday, grabbing a plane before the crack of dawn, and part of me hoped she’d really suck at being a PA.
I know I told Rae I’d give her a shot, but I secretly thought Kayla would fail miserably like she allegedly did at Stanford. I’d tell her this wasn’t going to work out, maybe find her another job that was more suitable, and everything would go back to normal. To us being just friends.
Joke’s on me, huh?
“Are you gonna say anything?” She arches a brow, as if my lack of words has her thinking I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have, who knows?
“You did great,” I finally admit, pushing out a breath.
“Thank you.” She sits up straighter with a content smile, then grabs the piece of paper from my hand as she gets up.
“Where are you going?” I ask, a little stunned by her sudden movement.
“Getting back to work, boss .” She gives me a wink that’s pulling all my blood to my dick, nearly suffocating me, and I can’t prevent the corner of my mouth from curling as I briefly close my eyes to get my shit together again.
“Hold up.” My voice has her freezing on the spot as I pull out a folder from my desk.
“Since you’re doing such a great job. Here are the other three.”
She takes the folder from my hands, her smile slipping to a frown. “The other three?”
“I gave you the event for March. That’s only the first of the year. This is the rest.”
Her light blue eyes glide to the thick folder in her hands before they move back up, greeting me like a ray of sunshine. “You organize fundraisers throughout the year?”
“One every three months.”
“Really?” She cocks her head, a look in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. It’s filled with awe and a hint of pride.
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Because I don’t know a lot of CEOs who even attend more than two charity events a year, let alone organize them.”
“You personally know a lot of CEOs?” I mock, running my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip.
“Only the ones that matter. Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs.”
“Jobs is dead.”
“Oh, so that’s why he’s not returning my calls?” She brings her index finger to her lips, her eyes moving up to the ceiling.
This girl.
“Cute,” I titter.
“Now, be careful, Mr. McKay.” She playfully gives me a reprimanding expression, and I watch her with my lips pressed together in amusement. “Calling an employee ‘cute’ could be interpreted as flirting. We wouldn’t want to give the rest of the office the impression we have a special relationship, now do we? Don’t make me call HR.”
I stay quiet, my nostrils flaring as I hold her daring gaze, my hands folded in front of my chest. She seductively bites her lip like a little minx and there are at least a dozen comments on my tongue that I want to blurt out. All of which are definitely not allowed between office walls, but it’s taking a lot to keep my mouth shut.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” A smile wants to break through, but I’m able to keep a straight face. Barely .
She scoffs, making her brown curls bounce. “You know I’m funny.”
“Do you need anything else?” I ask, before I tell her what I need instead.
Her lashes lower, a lazy look forming in her goddamn cheeky eyes. “Why? Are you here to meet my needs?”
Goddamn.
My dick springs to life, painfully growing in my jeans, my only hope of hiding the effect of her words being the fact that I’m sitting behind my desk.
“Kayla,” I scowl.
“What?” she shrieks, putting on an innocent pout that doesn’t match her expression. “I was talking about lunch. What are you having for lunch?”
“Get out,” I huff as I pinch the bridge of my nose, with my dick sitting between my legs in agony. This girl will kill me with the amount of heart attacks she gives me.
“I’m kidding, Bodi!” Her eyes cast to the ceiling. “You don’t have to be so fucking stiff all the time. You were definitely more fun last summer.”
I move forward with an angry glare, resting my elbows on my desk.
“I wasn’t stiff until you opened your snarky little mouth.” I ferociously hold her gaze, watching how a silent O forms on her lips as it registers what I’m saying. “Now get out, Kayla.”
She giggles, unfazed by my raging energy, before she trots back to the door, disappearing behind it with a short wave. I push out a breath when she closes the door behind her, only for it to open up again.
“So, we’re not having lunch together?” Her taunting smirk is tempting me to yank her back in here and shut her up with my mouth covering hers.
“NO!” I roar, and she lets out a short cry, the door slamming shut this time.
I can hear her laugh behind the closed door while I rest my head in my hands, my own smile now breaking free.
What the hell am I going to do with her?