Chapter 3
3
COLE
I stand at the window and stare over the city spread out below me. My hands are in my suit pockets, and a strange feeling is burning a hole in my stomach.
Layla Bancroft.
Beautiful, smart, and proud.
No matter how many times I’ve tried to wipe her out of my mind over the last four days since our meeting, I can’t.
The way she looked, the way she smelled, the curve of her breasts through her silk blouse.
The fire in her eyes.
She is the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a very long time. Even before she washed her hair—in baggy sweats—she was un-fucking-forgettable. I don’t do unforgettable. I fuck and I move on. If I hadn’t had Christa and Darlene with me on Saturday night, I would have made more of an effort. Maybe then I wouldn’t still be thinking about her.
Imagine my surprise when I walked into my boardroom two days later to find the woman who had taken up residence in my fucking brain looking even better than I remembered. The recognition between us was instantaneous, as was the electricity that crackled in the air when our eyes met. I’ve no doubt she felt it when our palms touched, even though neither of us acknowledged any of it.
She was relentless as she fought for her client’s rights. I had to give up a lot more than I was happy with. I was also hard as fucking steel the entire time. I’m used to getting my way both inside and outside the boardroom. Ms. Bancroft has proven to be a strong adversary in both areas. I’m intrigued, and it’s goddamned confounding.
I take a seat at my desk and roll a pen beneath my fingers as I mentally go over what I need to say. I have a few points I want to clarify with her before Hendrix Equity and her client sign off on the deal we’ve agreed to. I could let John handle this. I should let John handle this. It is what I’m paying him for, after all, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to talk to her. I need her out of my goddamn head. Fucking is usually the fastest way for that to happen, but I have a feeling Ms. Bancroft wouldn’t agree, even if I asked nicely.
I exhale heavily and dial her number.
“Carmichael Law, this is Devon. How may I help you?”
“Hello, Devon. This is Cole Hendrix.”
“Hello, Mr. Hendrix,” he replies cheerfully.
“Is Layla available?”
“She is. Please hold while I put you through.”
“Thank you.”
I wait, and then she answers. “Hello, Layla speaking.”
I close my eyes at the sound of her voice…sexy…husky…enticing.
“Hello, Layla. This is Cole Hendrix.”
“Oh.” She falls silent momentarily before continuing. “What can I do for you, Mr. Hendrix?”
Fuck… Devon didn’t tell her it was me. I’ve caught her off guard, and she doesn’t sound happy to hear from me.
An unfamiliar feeling begins to seep into my bones. “I—uh—wanted to go over a few small but important details with you before we finalize the contract between Hendrix Equity and your client.”
“You should have John call me to discuss those small but important details, Mr. Hendrix.”
“Cole,” I correct her. “I thought I would cut out the middleman. Save some time.” I swear I hear her growl on the other end.
“How can I help you?” she snaps impatiently. Irritation hangs heavy on each word.
My mind goes blank… What the ever-loving fuck?
“Cole?” she prompts me.
“Have dinner with me?” My eyes close in horror… What the fuck am I doing? Dinner? Seriously?
She stays silent for a moment and then replies, sounding slightly shocked and even more pissed off than she did a moment ago. “Excuse me. Did you just ask me out on a date?”
I screw up my face, disgusted with myself. “What? No, of course not. It’s getting late. I need to eat. I’m sure you do too. I thought we could discuss those details over dinner. You know, kill two birds with one stone.” I don’t even sound convincing to myself.
She chuckles in a condescending tone, and for some godforsaken reason it turns me on. “You have got to be kidding me. I wouldn’t eat dinner with you if you were the last man on earth.” Then her voice takes on an icy quality, the fire is gone. “Money and good looks don’t impress me, Mr. Hendrix.”
I smirk at the sting from her words. “This is strictly business, Layla. I assure you,” I say calmly as I reach down and adjust my aching cock. Why the fuck does this woman’s sass turn me to steel?
“Go find a bimbo to wine and dine, Mr. Hendrix. If there’s nothing else, I have work to do. Have John call me to discuss those so-called small but important details.” The phone clicks as she hangs up.
I stare at the phone in my hand. Adrenaline is pumping through my system at her fighting words.
I don’t know whether I’m shocked or impressed.
Perhaps a bit of both.
I’ve never been rejected before, and I’ve definitely never been spoken to like that. Christ, now I’m even more intrigued than I was before I made the call. I bite down on my bottom lip and smile. I didn’t get where I am today by backing down from a challenge.
I turn to my computer and type into Google: Who is Layla Bancroft.
Her picture pops up several times, but most of what I find is stock shit that doesn’t tell me much more than I already know, and none of it is personal. She sits on various boards. She is thirty-one years old. Graduated from Columbia on a scholarship ride. She is a partner at Carmichael Law along with three other women. She practices corporate law. Blah, blah, blah, on and on it goes. I already know she is fucking smart. So far, the only personal thing I know about her is where she lives…on the fourteenth floor of the same fucking building I live in.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” Connor asks as he barges into my office without knocking and sees the scowl on my face.
I keep typing. “Not what…who. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m busy.”
He screws up his face. “This I gotta hear.” He sits his ass down across from me and grins like an idiot. “Who is she and how the hell did she penetrate the impervious Cole Hendrix shield?”
“Fuck off.”
Of course, he doesn’t. We sit in silence for a while as I continue to type. I switch tactics and move on to stalking her social media sites.
Bingo.
Things just got a lot more interesting. Now I’m getting somewhere. My eyes are glued to the screen as I scroll down. Her Instagram account is loaded with pictures, and each one of them tells a different story.
Layla doesn’t appear to have any siblings. She has a very attractive youngish mother who looks like she could be Latina, which accounts for Layla’s dark hair, dark eyes and golden complexion. It might also explain the fiery temper I’ve been subjected to. There is no mention anywhere of a father, which could be the reason for her surly attitude towards men—because it sure as fuck can’t just be me she hates.
There are dozens of pictures of her and her three partners. Given the number of pictures posted of the four of them in non-work-related scenarios, it looks like they’re also her best friends. She has a fluffy black rescue cat named Luna. She is a Big Sister and volunteers at youth and animal shelters in her spare time. She also appears to love cooking.
I click out of her site and sit back, stunned. I close my eyes and bring my steepled fingers to my lips as I process everything I’ve just seen and read. At a glance, there isn’t anything that explains this sick infatuation I seem to have developed for Layla Bancroft, aside from her looks. She’s practically Mother fucking Teresa, with all her do-gooding behavior. She’s obviously loyal, dedicated, driven and caring, given what I’ve just seen. She not only fights for floundering companies and all those who work for them, but she also works with troubled kids and rescues animals.
Not. My. Fucking. Type.
I’m not a saint, far from it, in fact. And no one would ever mistake me for a do-gooder. The only things I’m good at are making money and fucking. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a kid, and I don’t have time for animals. We are totally fucking incompatible.
Forget about her.
“Fuck,” I growl. When I open my eyes, my brother is still sitting across from me with the same stupid grin on his face. He’s a patient fucker. I guess he picked up that particular skill from being the middle child.
“Who is she?” he asks again.
I drop my hands and shake my head. “No one that matters. Let’s get out of here. It’s Friday night. I need a drink and a distraction.”
I stand near the bar with my drink in hand. My brothers are both here somewhere. Probably off trying to score some pussy for later tonight, which is exactly what I’m trying to do.
“We are just in town for a couple of days,” the brunette next to me says as she steps a little closer, her ample breasts now pressing against my arm. “Maybe we could all have a little fun. You aren’t married, are you, Cole?”
I’m standing with three beautiful women, but I’m bored as hell. What the actual fuck?
My eyes scan the room, still seeking that distraction I was looking for when I walked in here.
“Never mind. It doesn’t really matter to us. We’re all just here for a good time. Right?” the friend on her left coos as she brushes her hand against my arm.
My eyes snap back to the blonde in front of me. She’s gorgeous. They’re all gorgeous and only looking for a little fun. Exactly my type. But what she is suggesting pisses me off. I may be a player, but I’m not a cheater, and I don’t like the implication that I might be.
“No.” I sip my drink. “Very single.”
“Really?” the brunette whose name I can’t remember says in a sexy voice. “Me too. Talk about great timing.”
I fake a smile. “It’s always a great time to be single, isn’t it?”
The girls all laugh on cue, and I look around the room. Where the fuck are Con and Chris?
“I actually just broke up with my boyfriend,” the third woman replies.
I look her over. She’s also blonde and has a banging body. I could take all three of them home…
“He was such a douche. Just like my ex,” one of her friends chimes in. Doesn’t matter which one, I’ve already lost interest. Then they all start trashing the men who have wronged them.
Fuck’s sake…get me the hell out of here.
I wave at no one in particular. “I see someone I need to speak to.” I turn and start to walk off.
“Cole,” the brunette calls.
I turn back to her.
“It could be just the two of us.” She smiles sexily. Hopefully.
“Ahh…” I look between the women.
“I mean…” She shrugs. “Or all three of us if you want.” She twists a lock of her hair. “It wouldn’t be a first for us. Could make for a great night.” The girls all smile sexily.
“I have no doubt.” I smirk as I look from one to the other. “Let me just chat with my friend and I’ll get back to you.”
I turn and walk through the crowd as I hear them giggle behind me. Where the fuck are my brothers?
“Let me guess; three isn’t enough of a distraction.” Christopher’s deep voice rumbles in my ear. I look to my left as my youngest brother steps next to me, emerging from the crowd like a mirage.
Where the fuck did he come from?
“Connor told me all about your mystery girl.”
I sip my drink as I turn. He’s doing me a solid here but he’s pissing me off at the same time. “Fuck off. There is no mystery girl. Con doesn’t know shit.”
“Right. Or maybe you could use a little help with those three. You are the oldest, after all.” He grins wryly as he looks back at the three women who are watching us excitedly. Chris, Con and I, are only three years apart in age. We could pass for triplets. Needless to say, we attract a lot of attention when we are together.
I snort and shake my head. “That would be a first. Go for it. They’re all yours. I’m not interested. I look across the room, and that’s when I see Layla Bancroft standing in the corner, talking with her three friends.
She’s here.
I watch her as she talks.
Her waist-length dark hair is sleek and straight tonight, and she’s wearing a black lace cocktail dress. It hugs her curves like a lover. Lets me get a good look at what was hiding behind the baggy sweats she was wearing the first time I encountered her and the conservative business suit she was wearing the second time I met her at my office. My eyes roam up and down her body. Toned, with the perfect amount of softness.
A grin spreads across my lips as the predator in me comes to life.
Christopher is still talking but my eyes stay fixed on Layla Bancroft across the room. The dress is cut low in the front, showcasing high, perky breasts that are on the smaller side. I like breasts but I’m much more of an ass man, and that is where my eyes wander to next. She turns at that exact moment, giving me the full view of her magnificent derriere. Much like her breasts, her ass is high, firm and round, it’s a glorious site to behold. Unlike her breasts, it’s on the larger side. Fuck, what I could do with that. My cock immediately comes to life and pushes against my zipper, totally on board with whatever I decide to do. I stifle a groan as I discretely try to alleviate my discomfort. Just having her near has me hard as fuck.
As if she can sense me watching her, Layla turns. When our eyes meet, it feels the same as it did the first two times. As if I’ve been plugged into a fucking socket. I raise my glass and smile when she sends me a blistering scowl. If looks could kill, I’d already be dead. My smile grows wider.
“That’s the mystery girl, isn’t it?” Christopher has forgotten all about the threesome waiting for him behind us. He is now one hundred percent focused on the fiery vixen on the other side of the room who is currently shooting daggers my way. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s glorious.
He knows. I won’t even try to deny it. “Yep. That’s her. She hates me, and I’ve never wanted anyone so bad in my entire fucking life.”
Christopher’s lips curl up slowly as he checks Layla out. “Now I get it. She’s stunning.” Her eyes dart from me to him and back again. She’s probably even more pissed off because now there are two of us. I can’t wait to see her reaction when she sees Connor.
“So, you going to let the fact that she hates you stop you, or are you going to go over there and change her mind?” It’s a challenge. One I’m happy to accept.
I take another sip of my drink. “I haven’t decided yet. I happen to like my balls where they are. I need to gauge the situation. She’s a bit of a hellcat. I haven’t seen a violent side to her yet, but she has a mouth on her. I need to proceed with caution.”
Chris throws his head back and laughs. He laughs so long and so hard, that I start to get irritated.
Fuck off, asshole.
Decision made. I hand him my empty glass. My long legs quickly eating up the distance between Layla and me. She has now turned fully toward me; her stance looks like she is bracing for a fight.
Fuck, what’s with this woman? Is she always this surly?
I shoot her one of my best smiles as I approach, hoping to douse the flames. Her eyes narrow and she smirks back at me, but it’s not a nice smirk and it kind of scares the shit out of me. Undeterred, I press on. When I’m within a few feet of her, someone calls my name.
“Cole.”
I turn to see an attractive brunette. She looks familiar, but a name doesn’t immediately come to mind. From the way she is looking at me and swinging her hips as she walks toward me, I know we must have hooked up at some point.
Go the fuck away. “Oh hello…” I reply. It’s not in my nature to be rude even though she’s the last person I want to talk to right now.
“Shannon,” she says with a slight scowl as she runs a manicured finger up my arm. “It’s Shannon.”
“Ahh. Yes, I remember…Shannon.” It’s a lie. I have no fucking recollection of ever meeting this woman. I smile but take a step back, letting her hand drop.
“It’s so great to run into you, Cole. You haven’t called.” Her scowl turns into a pout. “I thought maybe you lost my number.”
What the fuck is she talking about. I never call. I make that clear going in . Out of the corner of my eye I see Layla roll her eyes as she starts to turn away. She can clearly hear us talking.
“What are you doing later? Maybe you can buy me a drink and we can talk about it?” Shannon asks hopefully.
Fuck…
“Sorry, other plans.” I fake a smile and keep walking until I reach Layla.
“Hello.”
She looks up at me deadpan, having heard what was just said.
I hold up my hand because…well, I’m within striking distance and I don’t know what she’s going to do. I try again. “Good evening, Layla. I know dinner is out of the question, but how about a drink? I’m positive we could both use one of those right about now.” I flash her a panty-melting smile.
She holds up what looks like a martini and takes a sip, unimpressed. Then she starts to turn away.
My smile falters. Fuck… She doesn’t have to be so rude. What the hell is her problem?
“Are you going to look at me while I speak to you?” I ask.
She turns back. Her big brown eyes widen as they rise to meet mine, and my stomach unexpectedly dips. “What exactly do you want, Mr. Hendrix? I’ve already spoken to John. We have nothing further to talk about.”
I stare at her as I try to figure out what the fuck is wrong with my stomach all of a sudden. “Cole. I already told you to call me Cole,” I spit out.
“No,” she replies flatly. “Calling you Cole would mean that I want to be on a first-name basis with you.” Her tongue swipes over her bottom lip and my dick thumps against my zipper. “And I don’t.”
“Layla…”
“Call me Ms. Bancroft,” she cuts me off.
“What?” I splutter. This is unbelievable. “Why are you being so fucking rude?”
“I’m not being rude. I don’t even know you.” She purses her pouty lips and glances behind me. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, Sharon would love you to buy her a drink. In fact”—she looks around me again—“she is still waiting right where you left her.” She smiles sweetly and bats her eyelashes at me.
“Shannon,” I correct her with a smirk. “And I don’t want to buy her a drink, I want to buy you a drink, so I can get to know you and you can get to know me. After that, maybe you won’t want to be so rude to me.” I wink. “I really am a likeable guy once you get to know me.”
She crooks her finger in a come here gesture, and I carefully lean in. This is more like it. “We don’t always get what we want in life. Go away, Mr. Hendrix,” she whispers.
I chuckle. Fuck, this is fun. I bet she’d be wild in bed. I get a vision of us together, naked, and I feel another throb of arousal between my legs.
“No.” I try turning the tables on her.
She sighs. “Goodbye, Mr. Hendrix.” She sets her drink down and walks off through the crowd. I stare after her in disbelief.
All right…I’ll admit it.
That woman is insanely fucking hot.
I watch her walk across the room as I try to come up with a plan.
“Doesn’t look like you convinced her, bro. You’re losing your touch,” Chris says as he saunters up.
My eyes are still on Layla as she disappears through the door under the exit sign. “I’m taking it slow. The best things in life are always worth waiting for.” I grin as I take his glass from his hand and down the contents.