Chapter 8
Logan
I’m buzzing with energy when I sit at my desk Monday morning, eager for a day filled with haughty remarks and looks sharp enough to kill.
So Penelope wants to leave the past in the past? Fine. Truth is, when it comes to that woman, I’m a selfish bastard, and if she chooses to work for the money I’d willingly give to ease her troubles, then all the better for me.
I’m casually sipping the last of my coffee when my office door flings open.
“Good morning,” she mutters after adjusting the bag hanging from her shoulder.
I make a show of checking my watch. “I believe I addressed tardiness in our agreement.”
“Two minutes is considered late?”
“Page one states you’re to arrive ten minutes prior to your shift so we can discuss the agenda for the day.”
She scoffs, gathering her long, dark hair before draping it down her back. “Fine. It won’t happen again, sir.”
My pulse quickens as I grip the mug in my hand, struck by how stunning she is with the barest hint of makeup on her pretty face. “You’re correct. It won’t happen again because starting tomorrow morning, you’ll be traveling to work from your new apartment, courtesy of my driver, Javier.”
“You have a chauffeur?”
“Yes.” I suppose that is his official title. However, since the day my father hired him for me, he’s simply been Javier.
“Spoiled much?” That scathing glare conveys she wants to argue further, but what’s left for her to say? She needs somewhere to stay, and therefore, needs me.
“I’ll have a crew collect your belongings as soon as you provide their location.”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll have my things moved once I get my own place.”
Stubborn woman.
“Suit yourself. I’ll email you the entry information for the complex this evening, as well as my number, in case you happen to need anything.”
“How generous of you,” she clips, fidgeting when I let my stare linger.
She yanks at the bottom of her tight gray skirt while I whet my appetite with the sight of it clinging to her flared hips and cinching at her waist. And paired with a red silk blouse that accentuates her perky breasts…
I grind my molars, suppressing a growl.
Temptation incarnate.
“Nice outfit,” I comment coolly, despite my rising desire.
“You’re lucky I even bothered with your dumb dress code.” Pen’s hands find her hips, tightening my groin with a feisty eye roll. “Pencil skirts, Logan? How cliché.”
Maybe, but I thought I’d dole out a little punishment for all the years she left me guessing where she ran off to.
Then again—my eyes drift down her smooth, tan legs to a pair of ruby-red high heels—who’s punishing who?
“Wow, I must have missed how bor-ing it is in here the first time.” Her brown eyes flick around the room, shadowed by a scowl while purposely avoiding me. “Everything’s so white and sterile, like a padded room in an asylum.”
Taking the jab silently, I count down the seconds until she spots the desk in the opposite corner of my office, and the wooden name plate sitting innocently in the center.
I grin, delighted when her gaze finally snaps to mine. “Oh, you’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m working in here with you.”
“What? You don’t want to be office partners? I’m wounded.”
She moves to kick her shoes off. “This isn’t funny, Logan.”
“That’s Mr. Anderson to you. And the heels stay on.” I hike a brow in challenge, amused by the fury reddening her freckled cheeks.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll find somewhere more suitable for you to sit than at your desk.” Her eyes flare at my suggestive tone, but I meet her stare with equal ferocity. “Your choice.”
With an aggravated huff, she wiggles her toes back inside her shoes.
My god, it’s utterly pathetic how much I’ve missed her. She’s got beauty in spades, but this newfound bite only adds to the never-ending layers of what makes her so damn attractive.
“I still don’t see what’s wrong with sticking me in a cubicle on the main floor.”
Aside from every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a swinging cock having eyes on her… “I want to make sure your training goes as smoothly as possible.”
“You’re training me? I figured you had someone for that.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed, sunshine.” I stretch my arms behind my head and lace my fingers, if only to keep from revealing how much she’s rattling me. How badly I want to touch her. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
She snorts at that. “Very well, then. Where should I start?”
On your knees, perhaps?
Fucking hell. It’s going to be a long day.
I shake indecent thoughts of Penelope crawling toward me from my mind and raise my empty mug. “I’m awfully parched.”
Penelope turns, digging her fingers into the back of her desk chair, and exhales loudly. “This is temporary. He’s just being an asshole. Think about the money.”
My lip quirks. “I can hear you, you know.”
Her stare is scathing when she straightens, heels snicking across the floor. “And where would I find the coffee pot in this lovely establishment?”
I fight like hell, jaw clenching to hold my composure, when she snatches the cup and the tips of her fingers brush mine. I’ve never yearned for someone’s touch as intensely as Penelope’s.
“Down the hall, to the right.”
She meets my too polite grin with a facetious smile. “Great.”
But before she exits my office, I add, “In the break room. The brown door behind the cubicles. Not the white one, that’s the supply room.”
“Will that be all, Mr. Anderson?” she asks through gritted teeth.
“For now.” I click my pen, pausing for several torturous seconds. “Oh, and if you happen to see Gerald, make sure you ask how his mother’s doing.”
Declan appears in the doorframe, leaning one shoulder against it. “Morning, Penelope.”
“Hi,” she snips.
“Is that any way to speak to one of your superiors?” I ask. “You’re all about manners, aren’t you?”
Dec’s brows jump when she flips me off and coos sarcastically, “Good morning, Mr. Murphy.”
He steps inside my office as she clicks her way down the hall. “What was that all about?”
“Training.” I stand, retrieving a stack of papers, four-inches thick, from the filing cabinet beside me. “And maybe a bit of hazing.”
“That’s going well, I see.”
I set the papers on her desk before snatching up a pen and notepad from the supplies I’ve provided her. I scrawl a reminder that Declan and I have a meeting to attend and instruct her to make two separate copies of the stack.
I smile slyly. “I sent her to talk with Gerald.”
Declan’s laughter trails after me when we reach the hall. “Oh, come on. That’s just cruel.”
* * *
I receive a message from Dad on the way back to my office after a project delegation meeting that really could’ve been an email.
Have you secured a sponsor yet?
I type a quick reply with the hope that he’ll be happy to hear I finally got a call back.
Meeting with the owner of Adventure Park within the hour
Great. I’m sending you an email regarding the structural details for the Butterfly Cove project. You and Declan take a look at it this evening.
The design needs to reflect Elite Properties appropriately.
Read as: don’t screw this up again.
With a frown, I hover my thumb over the keys. Just once, I’d like to spend an evening alone that doesn’t involve a late night up here.
But reluctantly, I say,
Will do.
The door is shut when I approach my office, adorned with a crinkled piece of paper taped to the glass. I glare at the tiny purple hearts encircling the thick black words, “Bossy jerk faces keep out.”
Rattling noises from within have me crumpling Penelope’s note before twisting the doorknob. Inside, I find her darting around the copier, frantically trying to catch the sheets of paper spewing all over the floor.
The machine rattles and beeps as her panicked gaze snaps to mine. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to read.”
I drop my phone and the paper ball on her desk, then roll up my sleeves. Her dark hair falls wildly around the pencil, half holding it in place, and her naked feet and hands are covered in splotches of black ink.
“This ‘bossy jerk face’ is keeping you from destroying company property.” I press the blinking red emergency stop button, and the copier ceases its grumbling. “And what did I say about keeping your shoes on?”
Her lips thin with exasperation. “Well, I could have done that.”
The air is saturated with the scent of toner, while a chaotic collection of cartridge tubes decorate the floor. “I requested copies, not a wrestling match with the copier, Penelope.”
“This machine is the devil, and you’re no better for sending me on a wild goose chase this morning.” She moves to poke my chest, but jerks her hand back when she sees the ink marring her skin. “You knew the break room was behind the white door, not the brown one.”
I kick the leaky cartridges out of the way, crowding her space until she’s backed against the copier, with no choice but to tilt her chin up. “Maybe.”
“Do you know how many doors are painted brown in that room, Logan?”
“I assume a lot.” I place my hands on either side of her, testing how far she’ll let me push.
Fuck,she smells so damn good. Different than before, but delicious, nonetheless. The scent wafts from her, warmed by her body, and reminds me of the baked honeysuckles Mrs. Haldé used to make us for helping her around her house in Augustine.
My eyes fall to the hollow point of her neck, traveling down to her collarbones. I want to bury my face beneath her ear and breathe in the aroma until I’m intoxicated.
“Yes, a lot of them,” she says, yanking me from my fantasy. “And I bet you knew Gerald would talk my ear off about his mother’s hemorrhoid surgery, too, didn’t you?”
My laughter startles her into snapping her mouth shut. “Now, that, I couldn’t have predicted.”
“Laugh it up, buddy.” I don’t miss the barest hint of a smile threatening the corner of her lips. “I told you I’d be terrible at this.”
I swallow tightly as a set of deep brown eyes sear a hole through my soul, so familiar, I physically ache. Red, heart-shaped lips, just as plump as they’ve always been, part slightly, and if I wasn’t sure she’d slap me for it, I’d dive in for a taste.
The freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks are more abundant now, and I wonder if while I’m studying the face of the woman she’s become, she sees how long I’ve hurt for the loss of her. My friend. My lover. My future.
But she doesn’t trust me, and for as much as I yearn for her, I’m not sure I can trust her, either.
I slide one hand through my hair to ground myself and take a healthy step away. “We have a meeting with the owner of Adventure Park soon.”
She perks up, practically bouncing when her spine goes straight. “You’re taking me to a meeting?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“Okay, wow. Cool, cool, cool. No pressure, Pen. We can do this. We’re a fierce, meeting conquering machine.”
I lean my ass against the edge of my desk, listening to her goofy rambles. “When you and your other personalities decide you’re ready, let me know.”
Her shoulders roll back and determination sets her jaw tight. “I’m all good. Pinky swear.”
She juts her little finger out at me, knocking the dust off an old memory of the two of us in a field, talking after a recent argument with my father.
Before our first kiss.
Before I fell madly, unbearably in love with her.
A stinging sensation rises beneath my scars, souring my mood significantly when I brush past her. “We’re not kids anymore, Pen.”
I don’t wait to see the disappointment on her face before grabbing my portfolio and walking toward the door.
“Let’s get you washed up. I don’t like to be late.” I gesture at her discarded high heels and say, “Shoes.”
She gawks at my strict command before slipping them back on. “Who are you?”
Funny, I thought she didn’t want to talk about the past. But then again, all I can see is that freckle-faced girl who wore a smile that rivaled the sun, and suddenly, I can’t hold her gaze.
Twisting the handle, I open the door to the hall. “After you.”