Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
LINC
“Can I have a word please, Carmichael?” I ask her. And I’m trying to keep my voice even because I can’t quite believe what I just heard. That her team is planning to sabotage the presentation. I need to nip this in the bud before it gets out of hand.
She looks up at me through those thick eyelashes of hers. If she wasn’t so annoying she’d be deadly attractive, with her soft skin and her pink rosebud lips. My gaze dips to take in the way the top button of her blouse has come undone. I don’t think she knows it has, but my eyes do. I can just about see the top of her cleavage and my body reacts even though I don’t want it to.
“Sorry, I don’t have time,” she says, shrugging as though this isn’t the most important thing right now. “I have to pick up my daughter.”
“Well, can you make time, please?” I say, my voice tight. And yeah, I’m more than a little pissed. I’m doing her a damn favor. I didn’t ask for this project, I didn’t want it. Either I fly to Exuma on her behalf or she loses the whole damn thing.
She stops walking and stares at me, those pretty eyes flashing. “Seriously, I’m in a rush. I’m sorry. Can we do this tomorrow?”
“Not really. I have exactly two weeks to prepare for a presentation that most people would take months over.”
“I have taken months over it,” she says, her voice thick. She’s started walking again and I follow her because she’s really annoying me. “And when I hand it to you it’ll be perfect.”
“That’s funny, because I heard you might sabotage it.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes flashing. “What? Where did you hear that?” She shifts her feet.
“A little bird told me.” I catch her eye.
“Of course she did.” Tessa rolls hers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
She looks at her watch. “Nothing. I have to go.”
I let out a long breath, because I have no idea how to deal with her. From the moment I started working at Hampshire PR, she’s disliked me. I’m grateful that I don’t spend much time in the office where I have to deal with it. Roman brought me in to deal with our overseas clients, which requires a lot of travel. Roman used to do it, but after his second heart attack his doctor advised him to slow down.
So now he plays golf in the mornings – badly – and works in the afternoons. And I fly to Paris or Exuma or wherever he needs me to in order to smooth out problems with his best paying clients.
I like this job. I like the travel. I feel better when I’m not stuck in one city for too long. Carmichael is the one sexy fly in the ointment.
For a minute neither of us say anything. We both stare at each other, and I feel that pull again. Why am I attracted to her when she’s being a bitch ?
Because you want to tame her. You want to win whatever game this is she’s playing.
She pushes the door to the parking lot open and grabs her keys from her bag. “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow,” she says. “Call my assistant and set up a time.”
“I have meetings all day tomorrow. Jesus, will you slow down?”
I lightly touch her shoulder and she swings around to look at me, a neutral expression on her face. But I’m almost certain that underneath her calm exterior she’s fuming.
I don’t like the way we always clash, I really don’t. Keeping everybody happy is my superpower.
In every aspect of my life, I’m the peace maker.
I keep clients happy by day, and friends and family happy by night.
But I can’t make this woman smile no matter what I do.
My fingers are still touching her shoulder, and beneath her blouse I can feel the heat radiating from her. Like she’s so full of energy it doesn’t know where to go.
She’s so damn closed up not even a nuclear missile could penetrate her.
And now I’m thinking about penetration. With her. Great . I push that thought right out of my mind.
But it keeps trying to climb back up with an image of her face all soft and full of pleasure.
“I’ll get Gina to liaise with you,” she mutters. “You’ll be fully briefed. You don’t need to worry about that.”
Here’s the thing about Carmichael. She’s the best that Hampshire PR has. She knows it. I know it. Everybody in the damn building knows it.
But her people skills leave something to be desired, which is why she’ll never climb up the greasy pole. It annoys me, because if she tried, she could do so much better. With her looks and the way she holds herself she could be dynamite if she wanted to be .
She clicks her keys and her car beeps. “I have to go.”
“I really didn’t know Roman hadn’t told you about the project,” I say as she reaches for the car door.
She takes a long breath, her chest lifting. Then she touches her dark hair, as though she’s worried a strand is out of place.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, in a voice that tells me it does matter, a lot. “It’s done. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“If you can travel to Exuma, I’ll back out,” I say magnanimously. Okay, not so magnanimous. I don’t want to be the asshole that stole her project. Truth be told, I want nothing to do with it.
“I can’t do that.” Her lips press together.
I wrack my brain about what to say. Right now all I can see is a red flashing light, warning me of danger.
“Why not?” I frown at her. If it was me, I’d jump at this opportunity.
“Because I can’t exactly leave my child to fend for herself.”
“Can’t your husband look after your kid for a week?”
She looks at me coolly. “My ex -husband is probably busy.” She slides into the car seat. I try not to notice as her skirt rides up, revealing perfectly toned thighs.
I’d forgotten that she was divorced. And now my mouth feels dry because I’m the asshole that stole a project from a single mom.
“Maybe we can work together,” I suggest, my hand on the car roof. I’m leaning down and talking to her through her open car door. “I’ll do the client facing stuff. You can be the backseat driver.”
Her brows knit. “What?”
“We can split the bonus,” I offer.
Her rosebud lips form a little ‘o’ as she exhales heavily. “I’m not a charity case. It’s fine. Roman’s made his decision. I’ll work on something else.” She waves her hand, as though to dismiss me .
My phone buzzes. I look down at the screen and sigh, because it’s rare that I go an hour without a call from a client. The one that demands most of my attention – Celine – is the CEO of a makeup company in London. She’s as needy as my inner child. But I have to take this call, because that’s my job. If she calls Roman, he’ll be pissed that I didn’t pick up first.
Plus, I know we’re hemorrhaging clients, thanks to them all believing that they no longer need a PR firm when AI should take up the reins very nicely, thank you very much.
“Sorry. I have to take this.”
“Sure.”
She slams her car door shut, and as I accept the call and put the phone to my ear, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to make her smile. To make her laugh. She’s been married, she has a kid. Her ex-husband must have made her smile at least once.
“Celine,” I say, my eyes still on Carmichael as she starts her engine and the car pulls away. “How are you today?”
TESSA
I end up taking Zoe out for dinner – because there’s still no sign of Jared or Melissa and I don’t want to drop her off at their apartment until at least one of them is there. Not because I don’t trust her alone, but because I don’t trust them to actually come home. And if she’s home alone all night I’ll have to drive back over and pick her up. So, we’re at a diner near their apartment.
Zoe has a manga on the table in front of her, using one hand to turn the pages while she eats her burger with the other. She’s obsessed with anime, has been for the last two years. She laughs at something on the page and I smile .
Damn, I love this girl.
Her phone rings. She licks some ketchup from her hand before answering. “Hey Dad,” she says. “Where are you?” Her eyes catch mine and she rolls them.
I try not to listen in to their conversation. I’m not even mad that he was late picking her up anymore. I got to spend more time with her which is fine by me.
“Actually, I just ate a burger,” she says.
And then his voice becomes louder that I can hear it from across the booth.
“I was hungry. And I didn’t know when you were coming home,” Zoe replies. She looks at me and I shoot her a smile but say nothing. She’s a strong kid and can handle her dad for the most part. I only step in if I’m needed. “Okay,” she says to him. “Bye.”
“Why can’t I come home with you?” she asks when she hangs up the call. “I want to help choose the colors.”
The paint samples for the living room walls have arrived. I need to choose the color before we refinish the floor, which will happen after the electrics are rewired. Trying to juggle everything at the house is a full-time job.
“Because it’s your dad’s week,” I remind her.
“He’s never home. I have to sit with Melissa and we have nothing to talk about.” Zoe frowns at me. “Did you know she’s only eleven years older than me?”
“Yes,” I say patiently.
“She’s almost twenty years younger than Dad,” Zoe continues. “Isn’t that weird? That she’s much closer to my age than his?”
“Very weird,” I agree, motioning to the waitress to get the check.
Ten minutes later we’re at Jared’s apartment. It’s a four-bed condo with a view over the river. Zoe hits the buzzer at the entrance and the door opens and we head toward the elevator, pressing the eleventh floor .
Jared is waiting for us as soon as we get there. He pulls the door open and motions Zoe inside. Then he looks at me.
“Go on then,” he says. “Tell me what a terrible father I am.”
I let out a low breath. So today he’s playing the martyr.
“Anything could have happened,” I tell him. “She’s a kid alone in the city. If you couldn’t make it to her appointment, why didn’t you call me?”
“I thought I had it covered,” he says, looking petulant. “I don’t understand why you keep criticizing me. I’m doing my best here.”
Melissa comes to the door, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She’s not wearing any makeup – her face is glowing and I assume she’s just had a facial. Either way, she looks absolutely gorgeous.
“Hi Tessa,” she says. “Sorry about Zoe.”
I give her a tight smile. “Not your fault,” I say.
“It’s my fault,” Jared tells her, his voice saying the opposite. “The man who can’t do right for doing wrong.”
I’m exhausted. I haven’t even thought about the Exuma project since leaving the office. I need to go home, drown my sorrows in a home that’s full of holes and life-endangering bare wires, then work out what I’m going to do about my career.
“Just call me next time,” I say.
He opens his mouth to say something, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be salty bullshit, but then he closes it, saying nothing. Sensing conflict, Melissa wisely lifts her hand in a goodbye and walks back inside the apartment.
“Whatever.” Jared shrugs.
“I’m going, Zoe,” I call out. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
She runs to the door and hugs me. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear.
“Any time.” I kiss her soft cheek, and revel in the smell of my only child. It’s funny, no matter how old she is, she still smells the same way she did as a baby. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I whisper. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” She walks back into Jared’s apartment and I try not to feel sad. Every time she’s gone I miss her. It’s like my right arm has been cut off.
“Goodnight Jared,” I say.
“Yeah.” His eyes won’t quite catch mine. “See you around.”
Even though it's half falling apart and half put back together, I absolutely adore the condo Zoe and I chose after the divorce was finalized. It’s tiny, set in the lower floor of a larger house with four stories, each with a condo inside it. But it’s mine, or at least it’s mine and the mortgage company’s.
When we heard our offer was accepted, Zoe and I did a happy dance. Her room is the only one that’s fully decorated. Not that you can see much of the pale blue walls beneath all her manga and Kpop posters.
Our next big job is tackling the living room. And right now I’m standing in front of the fireplace wall with Angela, my best friend, who arrived at my door carrying a bottle of wine and three giant size bars of chocolate after I told her about the shit show at work.
“This Salinger guy sounds like an asshole,” Angela says. “I can’t believe he stole your project.”
Like Gina, she’s always on my side. Angela and I have been friends since we collided into each other – literally – on our first day at college. She was carrying an enormous cup of coffee, I was wearing a white blouse. It could have gone either way, but we both found it hysterically funny.
She’s been with me through thick and thin. She was the maid of honor at my wedding, she held me while I sobbed after I found out about my husband’s affair with his boss’ daughter.
“He’s not an asshole,” I say begrudgingly. “He’s just…” I sigh, trailing off. It’s hard to put into words. “I don’t know, he just gets all the breaks you know?”
“That’s because he’s a guy,” Angela says, passing me a glass of wine. “They always have it easy.”
“His dad and Roman are friends,” I say. And I hate this. I feel churlish not liking him. It’s really not like me.
“You think that’s why Roman gave him the project?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But everything just seems so easy for him. He charms everybody.”
“Except you,” Angela points out. “I think that middle one is best.”
“Which middle one?” I look at the chessboard pattern of green squares in front of us.
“That one.” She points to a square that is to the left of the middle.
“Isn’t it too grassy?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means. Can something be too grassy?” She looks at me and we both laugh. “Does anybody look at a field and say ‘that’s beautiful, but it’s a little too… grassy for my tastes .’?”
I love the way she’s more sarcastic than anybody I’ve ever met.
“This is stupid,” I say. “I need to just choose a color.”
“Yes you do,” Angela agrees. “What about the one at the top? It’s more mossy.”
“How’s that different to grass?” I ask her, genuinely confused.
“Moss only grows on north facing areas,” she says, as though that explains it. If you hadn’t guessed, she studied environmental biology in college. But now she works in an investment bank.
“I’m going to buy the grassy one,” I tell her, making the decision because I want a room Zoe and I can relax in after work. Once it’s painted, I’d hoped to fully furnish it, but I may need to divert that budget to the kitchen.
I guess we’ll be sitting on boxes for a while longer.
“Maybe you’re just triggered,” she says. “Because he’s friends with the boss.”
I take a minute to realize we’re back on the subject of Lincoln Salinger again. And for a moment an image of him flashes through my mind. His tall, strong body, clad in a designer charcoal suit. His dark, perfectly styled hair. And that jawline that could launch a thousand crushes.
“Why would I be annoyed because he’s friends with Roman?” I ask her.
“It could be a trigger,” she says. “Jared is also friends with his boss.”
I try not to laugh at the way she spits out my ex-husband’s name. It’s like she can’t bear it to be on her tongue. “It’s his boss’ daughter who was the problem,” I say lightly. Because I’m over it.
“Yeah, well. It’s still hurtful, right? These guys who get over friendly with the boss. Then before you know it they’re tearing families apart.”
I can’t help it. I laugh again. And this is why I love Angela so much. She’s my biggest fan. My biggest protector.
“It’s just a bit of pop psychology.” Angela shrugs. “But I still don’t get why you don’t like him.”
“Maybe I’m a little envious of how much everybody likes him,” I muse.
“Everybody likes you.” Angela looks at me, and from her expression I can tell she’s being completely honest.
“No they don’t.” I shake my head. “I think we both know that.”
“They do. You’re kind. Caring. A nice person. Why wouldn’t they like you?” Angela asks. “And I like you better now that you’ve decided about the wall.” She pauses, tapping something down on her phone.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, hoping she’s on that dating site again. Her dates are legendary. In an awful way. The last guy she met ordered the most expensive items on the menu and then escaped out of the bathroom window.
She’s tried to get me to sign up, and I keep telling her I’m not ready.
“I’m writing the paint name down. I’m going to order you five gallons of it.”
“I’ll order them,” I say.
“No, you won’t. You’ll dither and second guess the choice and it’ll take you at least two weeks to pick up the phone and do something about it.”
“Okay then,” I say, grinning, “I’ll order it in two weeks.”
“You won’t be here in two weeks,” Angela tells me.
“Of course I will.” I shoot her a strange look. “And I’ll order the paint.”
“No, you won’t,” she says, turning to face me. And I know that expression on her face. It’s the same look she gave me when Jared asked for a second chance. The same one she gave me as she held my hand while I was giving birth because Jared had decided to go away on business at the end of my third trimester.
“You’re going to Grand Exuma,” she says.
I laugh. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are. You’re going to ask Jared if he can have Zoe for the week.” She holds her hand up when she sees my mouth open, ready to protest. “And if he can’t do it, I’ll come here and stay with her. I can move some work around. Make sure she goes to school. And don’t look at me like I’m an idiot.”
“I’m not looking at you like that. I was just going to remind you I’m off the project.”
“Then get back on it.” She rolls her eyes .
“How?” I’m genuinely curious because she seems to have all the answers. Not that I’m going to go.
“By telling Roman that you’ve changed your mind and you want to go to Exuma.” She says it like it’s so simple. “You need to go. You’ve already told me it’s a tropical paradise.”
It really is. Blue skies, even bluer seas, lush trees that form a canopy to block the hot rays of the golden sun.
“I don’t know…”
She pouts at me. “Either you go to Exuma or you sign up for this dating site. It’s time for a new beginning.”
I look around the living room, taking in the peeling walls – now complete with green squares – and the holes in the floor. Maybe she’s right.
A few days in paradise – even for work – could take me away from all this.
“And you’ll also be able to get one over on this annoyingly sexy guy,” Angela says, a sly look on her face. “Salinger, was it?”
“Yeah.” I nod, not bothering to correct her. Because he is annoying. And sexy. He exudes appeal if you’re into that kind of thing, which I’m so not. Because there’s one thing I know, men like Salinger are dangerous. I don’t need sexy and annoying, I need nice. There has to be somebody out there like that. “I’m going to do it,” I tell her, because I’m not going to let Salinger win. It’s time to start making a stand and be the woman I want to role model for Zoe.
“Yes!” She fist bumps the air and then hugs me tight. “That’s my girl. Back in action.”