6. Chloe
Chapter 6
Chloe
“ N o, Mr. Rigglen, I’m sorry. Mr. Brewer is unavailable next week,” I say, glancing at Jason’s calendar again. “The only dates available are the ones I included in my email.”
“None of those work for me. I suggest Monday the thirteenth or the following Thursday. Pick one.”
Excuse freaking me? “Your suggestions have been noted,” I say, looking up as Jason waltzes through the door. I press a finger to my lips and then point at the glowing speakerphone light on my phone. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but the thirteenth and the following Thursday don’t work with Mr. Brewer’s schedule. I know this meeting is very important to you, and I’m doing my best to squeeze you in as soon as possible.”
Mr. Rigglen sighs roughly, making his displeasure clear. I want to worsen his displeasure by shoving his suggestions where the sun doesn’t shine. Instead, I paint a smile on my lips because it’s harder to be mean when you’re smiling, and I take a long, deep breath.
Jason leans against the corner of my desk and watches me with bright, assessing eyes. He sets an iced vanilla latte next to my cell phone.
“Thank you,” I mouth to him. He winks at me in return.
“Listen, Miss Goodman, I understand your boss is a busy man,” Mr. Rigglen says. “We all are. But he rejected our proposal, and I’m entitled to an explanation.”
Jason’s brows lift. Something about his reaction—how he steels himself in place—makes me fidget.
“Again, I apologize for the inconvenience?—”
“It’s not a fucking inconvenience, and you better?—”
His words are cut off by my office phone scraping against the desk as Jason drags it to him.
“Do you want to say that again?” Jason’s jaw flexes as he stares daggers into the poor handset.
“Mr. Brewer?” Rigglen’s voice is full of surprise. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Listen to me,” Jason says, his words pulsing. “Don’t ever call my office and talk to my assistant like that again.”
“I … I’m sorry. My emotions got the best of me.”
Jason’s fingers flex against the desktop. “I was going to call you this afternoon and offer you an alternative contract that doubled the scope.”
If a pin dropped, it would sound like an explosion.
I lean back, my heart pounding.
“But now?” Jason’s hand hovers over the phone. “You can go fuck yourself.”
“Mr. Brewer, I?—”
He punches the button to end the call and slowly moves the handset back to its original position.
“Well, okay then,” I say, unsure how to break the tension. “Bad morning?”
“Great morning, actually. You?”
I giggle, thrown by the sharp change in direction. “The word great is a bit much, but I could say good and feel solid about it.”
He stands, gives me a killer smile, and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. The sight of his thick and muscled forearms makes my mouth water.
Something is inherently sexy about a man’s arms. That’s especially true when they’re strong enough to throw you over their shoulder and carry you to bed but gentle enough to cradle a baby in the middle of the night. I’m not sure I’ll ever be in my baby era, but his arms make my ovaries ache.
And, for some reason, I think he knows that.
“It’s been a very productive day so far,” I say, focusing on his schedule and not his arm porn. “Your travel arrangements are set for Vegas this weekend. Renn’s penthouse was available, so I arranged for you to stay there. The aviation maintenance reports came in. I organized them and put them in a folder on your desk. I don’t know why they can’t start filing those electronically.” I make a face in exasperation but keep moving. “Tate was here. I tried not to let him enter your office, but he’s stronger than me. He started talking about all sorts of things to distract me, and it worked. So Godspeed on that.”
Jason shakes his head.
“The safety manuals are ordered,” I continue. “Landry Security sent updates to your family’s security plan. I gave it a quick once-over, and you’ll want to take a closer look at Ripley’s detail before your call with Ford tomorrow morning. They have Calvin assigned to Ripley for the next ten-day stretch, and that always ends … spectacularly.”
“Good catch. Thank you.”
I laugh. “Also, your schedule for next week has been confirmed, and I got you in for a haircut next Thursday.”
A slow smile slips across his lips. It tugs at the corners of mine.
I would never admit it, but doing these small, personal things for Jason is the favorite part of my job. He never asks me to do any of them—massages, haircuts, or having groceries delivered when he’s been working late all week. But his appreciation when I spot a need and work to meet it makes it worth it. Those things matter more to my boss than the safety manuals, even though I don’t think he would admit that either.
It surprises me how well I fit in at Brewer Air and, quite frankly, how well I do my job. I was nervous when I accepted the promotion to executive assistant. But Jason’s belief in me—his assurance that I could do this job and would excel at it—made me believe it, too.
“Also,” I say, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. “Your mother emailed you this morning. I marked it urgent. You’ll probably want to look at that sooner rather than later.”
“Why?”
I grimace and stand. “It seems she wants to cut her security detail in half.”
“ What ?”
“ Yeah . I slowly backed out of that one and left it for you.”
He runs his hands down his handsome face. “I’m convinced my family is trying to kill me this week.”
“I—” My cell phone rings next to the coffee. Greta’s name flashes on the screen, making my stomach drop. She doesn’t call unless something is wrong with Mimi, and with Mimi’s recent falls, I’m scared. “I’m sorry, Jason. But can I take this? It’ll only be a second.”
“Absolutely. Want me to come back?”
“No. Just wait right here,” I say a little too quickly, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey. Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Chloe. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“What’s up?”
“I just checked on your grandmother. We played a little gin rummy, and I took her some banana bread I made for breakfast.”
“That was very nice of you,” I say, lifting my eyes to Jason. His eyes are filled with curiosity and concern.
“She’s a sweetheart, and I’m happy to do it. She still has a pretty big knot, but I think she’s feeling better, and her spirits are better today, too.”
I exhale a hasty breath, saying a quick prayer of thanks that this call was a good report and not a bad one.
“I’m happy to hear this,” I say. “But I’m at work right now, and my boss is here. So I’d really like to finish this conversation tonight when I’m at home.”
My cheeks burn under Jason’s watch as I try to get her off the phone.
Greta has never called me in the middle of the day to chat, and I’ve never accepted a personal call unless I’m on my lunch break. I’m sure Jason doesn’t mind, but I still don’t like looking so unprofessional.
“Oh, of course,” she says. “By the way, before I let you go, Thomas told me you were seeing him this weekend. I’m thrilled, Chloe. Absolutely thrilled. He’s coming in tonight for a conference tomorrow and I can’t wait to see him.”
“I’m excited, too. But I really do need to go.”
Jason’s brows pull together.
“I’m sorry—one more thing now that I think about it. Was that Friday or Saturday night you’re seeing him?” she asks. “I’m supposed to play bingo on Friday night and bridge on Saturday, and I can’t remember which to cancel.”
I wince. “It’s Friday night. But I do need to go. I’ll talk to you tonight. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, sweetheart.”
I look up to find Jason crossing his arms over his chest.
My smile is weak as I set the phone back down. “I don’t normally answer personal calls at work, but my grandmother hasn’t been feeling well. I was afraid it was about her.”
“So how’s Mimi?”
His curiosity piques a certain curiosity in me, too. It’s not until his eyes narrow ever so slightly that I realize what he’s really asking— who was on the phone ? It would be so easy to tell him it was Greta. But his nosiness is too entertaining to simply give in.
“Mimi is fine.” I take a sip of the coffee he brought me and shuffle through a stack of papers. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”
“Do you and Mimi have big plans for Friday night?”
I laugh. “You really need to rein in the eavesdropping habit.”
“You really should rein in the talking about shit you don’t want me to hear.”
“I’m not an attorney, but I think I’m afforded an expectation of privacy in my office.”
He holds my gaze, opening the door between our offices with a flick of the handle. “Pretty sure this is still my office.”
I fire him a playful look.
“Excuse me.” Brandi pops her head around the corner. “Finance just called, and they need you in the conference room, Mr. Brewer.”
Jason and I exchange a grin. Saved by Brandi .
“Come on,” Jason says, motioning for me to follow him.
We follow Brandi down the hallway, and then the two of us step into the elevator. He doesn’t say a word until the doors close.
“Are you going to tell me about Friday night?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Nope.”
He nods, turning his attention back to the front of the elevator. “Is it a secret?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Seems like you do to me,” I say as the bell dings. I step off the elevator first and walk shoulder to shoulder with Jason down the hall. “What does finance want? I didn’t even grab my laptop.”
He swings the conference room door open. “Doesn’t matter.”
Then why in the world are we here ?
When we enter, three men and one woman from finance are rising from their seats. Gannon, Tate, and a handful of staff from Brewer Group, the holding company for all Brewer companies and interests, are on a large screen at the front of the room. All heads turn to Jason as he walks in.
The respect he garners when simply entering a room is a match to my libido every freaking time.
“I tried to catch you,” Gannon says to his brother. “We’re going to have to reschedule this for tomorrow morning. This system keeps freezing and glitching; the tech team doesn’t know what’s happening. Hang on. The connection is flickering again. Fuck …”
The screen goes black.
Jason approaches the computer beneath the screen and turns the volume down. He hits mute before minimizing the screen. He answers the goodbyes from the staff leaving the room.
And then we’re alone.
The energy in the room shifts as he faces me again. The air is thick and warm, perfumed with his cologne. It’s a woodsy scent offset by a slight citrusy note.
It smells like possibilities and danger.
He slips his hands into his pockets and saunters around the room. He nibbles on the inside of his cheek, his brows pulled tight as he thinks.
“If you need me to attend tomorrow's meeting in your place, I can,” I say. “I don’t have anything that can’t be moved.”
“Are you sure you don’t have any personal calls about Friday that you might miss?”
I laugh, my face flushing. “Are we still discussing this?”
He stops on the other side of the oversized table and plants both palms against the stone. He levels his sights on me.
Something is brewing behind those gorgeous green eyes. Whatever it is, it’s causing a storm to roll across his features. The intensity in his gaze makes me shiver.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, keeping my attention pinned on him.
“You signed an NDA to work here, Miss Goodman.”
“Yeah.” I make a face at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if you’re dating someone new, I need to be sure you’re not dating a competitor. Could be a conflict of interest.”
My chest shakes as I try to hold back laughter. “He’s not new.”
“Oh, really?”
“And he’s not a competitor, so no worries there.”
“You never know someone’s connections.”
He’s prodding, and it’s obvious. It’s also … interesting. We’ve had discussions before about dating—mostly that neither of us date much. But he’s never been so insistent on getting details.
Even though he’s digging in an area that doesn’t concern him, and I’d be pissed as hell if my former bosses acted this way, I don’t mind. Maybe it’s because our relationship is more personal than professional.
Or maybe it’s because the twinkle in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, placing my hands on the table and mirroring his posture. “Are we going to stand here until I break it all down for you?”
“Depends on how long it takes.”
“Might take all day.”
He drops a shoulder and tilts his head as if I’m deliberately being difficult and he doesn’t understand why.
“Who is he?” he asks.
“Do you really want to know?”
“How do you know this guy? How do you know he’s going to be nice to you? Is he safe?”
I sigh, rolling my eyes in frustration. “He’s my grandmother’s neighbor’s grandson. He’s an EMT if it matters. He has no interest in you or your business.” I can’t help myself. “He’s only interested in saving lives and giving people mouth-to-mouth.”
Jason’s eyes blaze.
I’ve hit a nerve. Unintentionally, I’ve struck a chord—one that I believe will have consequences. And by the heat radiating off him, I’m not sure what those consequences may be.
Or what I want them to be.
“Is that what you want?” he asks carefully.
We’re treading into new territory, and every sentence intensifies the tension in the room. My dress clings to my body, stuck to my skin by a sheen of sweat, and my palms slide along the cool stone of the table. The weight of his gaze makes me feel powerful— beautiful —and it’s heady.
“Well, it has been a while,” I say, leaning forward. “Thomas is the perfect candidate to give me what I need.”
Jason licks his lips. “And what do you need, exactly?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Jason moves slowly around the table, his fingertips dusting along the top of the quartz.
Excitement blooms in my stomach, causing my heart to race, and I wonder if I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew. My brain hurries to keep up with my body—to settle down the hormones that have flooded my system. But there’s no stopping my attraction to Jason. And, by the looks of it, there might be no stopping his attraction to me.
A thought in the back of my brain warns me not to go any further. Jason is my friend and employer—this situation could quickly get out of control. But instincts take over as he stops inches from me and peers at me from nearly a foot above.
We aren’t friends. We aren’t coworkers. We’re a man and a woman.
“Does that bother you?” I ask, my stomach clenching.
My voice is breathier than I’d like—softer and more intimate than it should be. But his vulnerability, the unguarded way he’s looking at me, screws with my head. It sure as hell screws with my libido.
“I’m bothered, all right.” He takes a measured breath. “I’m also your boss.”
“And you’re absolutely not my type.”
“ Oh, whatever .”
I laugh, the moment broken. Relief washes over me as Jason steps back, running a large hand over his head.
“Not being egotistical or anything,” he says, smirking, “but I’m absolutely your type, Chloe.”
“Hate to break the news to you, but you’re not.”
He watches me out of the corner of his eye and pauses as if he’s about to say something. Instead, he fights a smile and heads for the door.
I follow him, knowing he knows I’m a liar. But I also wonder if he realizes that if I had to describe my type, I’d say his name.