Chapter 2
MACK
Well, shit.
I didn’t realize I was such an asshole.
Layne has been a model employee. She’s efficient, the clients and guards all love her, and she’s organized several things that I’d thought were lost causes. Christine said she was a dream to train before she left and had nothing but great things to say about her.
I had no clue that my bare bones communication style had been bothering her.
Shame on me. Layne doesn’t deserve to be stressed out when she’s been doing such a great job. I should have told her she was doing well.
The poor girl must feel awful. That text was obviously sent by mistake. She must be beside herself trying to figure out how I'm going to react.
Ugh. This is what I get for having no women in my life.
I’m always dealing out information in so many directions that I feel that the bare minimum is always best. No room for error that way. Christine tried to train me to warm up in client emails, and I’ve been working on it, but I always had her skim the important ones before sending them.
It feels weird to say all this to a woman I’ve never met but who practically runs my company, though. How can I explain that I’m extremely smart in some ways, and apparently utterly stupid in others?
My fingers tighten on the wheel as I weave through traffic. There’s only one place in Kingsville that would have “Ray’s famous apple pie”: Ray’s Diner.
Pulling into its parking lot, I notice it’s fairly quiet before the dinner rush. I hurry inside, straightening my jacket while scanning the room. Teenagers in the back with sodas and fries. Two older men chatting about last night’s game. A server in a blue waitress dress. And—
I stop mid-step, nearly tripping over my feet. The only person who could possibly be Layne is…stunning.
The beautiful young woman has a laptop open in front of her, scanning page after page at top speed while taking notes in a spiral notebook a safe distance from a plate with a half-eaten slice of apple pie. There’s a beige puddle on the side. I guess she already ate the ice cream.
Her dark hair is pulled back in a casual braid, accenting her delicate features. Brilliantly clear blue eyes. Soft, pale cheeks. A full bottom lip that triggers a twist of emotion through the center of my chest. And her curves…the swell of her breasts under that dark gray shirt…
She’s wearing loose fitting pants, and sitting down, so I can only imagine her full, round hips and ass. But still. My mouth is practically watering just from staring at her. Which is totally inappropriate.
It kills me that I’ve been making this lovely young woman so stressed out that she needs to dive into the ice cream first. She’s frowning at her laptop, but then her chin snaps up when she notices me hovering.
I nod to the seat across from her. “May I?”
She eyes me warily. “I’m working.”
I take a seat anyway, then extend my hand with what I hope is my warmest smile. “Mack Wentworth. Your ice king boss, who apparently stresses you out.”
Layne’s eyes widen to saucers and her bottom lip wobbles, but she manages to take my hand. “I’m so sorry, sir. I was using voice to text, and—”
I squeeze her hand gently, then hold both of my palms up. “Layne, I’m not angry. I came to apologize."
She blinks rapidly. “Really?”
The waitress catches my eye from across the room. “Coffee?” she calls.
“Decaf, please. Black.”
She grins, coming by with a cup and the orange-handled pot, topping up Layne’s half-empty mug as well. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do, thank you.” I look over to nod at her and catch her mouthing something to Layne that may have ended “super-hot”. When my eyes meet Layne’s, her fair cheeks are flushing slightly, fingers curled tensely around the silver metal edge of the formica table.
“It has recently come to my attention that my communication style might be considered kind of…”
The waitress’ dark ponytail swishes behind her as she walks by, clearing her throat and faintly muttering, “dickish.”
I burst out laughing.
“Yes, exactly. Dickish.”
“I didn’t…” Layne sputters.
“I stress you out. I didn’t mean to.”
Her fingers twitch, still gripping the table.
Shit, now I’ve made it worse. I lift my hands, palms up, while taking a huge, encouraging inhale.
She smiles, inhaling with me. My fingers count down three-two-one, then I lower my palms and we exhale together.
We do that two more times, then I roll my shoulders. She copies me, then finally smiles.
“Let’s start again. I’m Mack. I’m very driven and used to be overly emotive through text-based communication. Everyone thought I was angry half the time. So I changed my communication style to stick to clear facts only.”
I pause to sip my coffee. It’s surprisingly rich for decaf. “I have clearly swung too far the other way and stressed out my amazing new assistant – which is terrible, since you’ve been doing a great job. Everyone is happy with you. I’m lucky to have you on our team.”
Although Layne seems more relaxed now, she frowns. “Sir, thank you, and I hate to interrupt, but we only have half an hour to get back to the Gillis people. They need a response to their request for a couple of security personnel for the weekend by five.”
“Do you have the brief?”
She finds it, then turns her laptop around so I can skim it.
“Apparently there were thefts at the last two family weddings, when handmade cards went missing along with a lot of gift money. Ron Gillis wants to be sure that nothing like that happens this weekend at his daughter’s wedding.
Plus, he wants someone to keep an eye on a few guests who, as he puts it, become a bit rowdy when they drink. ”
“So, a couple to pose as distant relatives? Should be easy enough.”
Layne’s eyes roll. “If we had any staff available, yes, but everyone is booked or on vacation. I was going to ask your permission to reach out to other agencies to borrow someone.”
“I can do it. Will you join me?”
Her mouth falls open, drawing my undivided attention to her velvety lips. “Sir?”
“Mack. You can’t call me sir when we’re on assignment.” I skim the rest of the brief. “Friday night cocktails, Saturday lunch, then the wedding, followed by Sunday family brunch. We’ll be keeping an eye on drunk people, jewelry, purses, and the gift table. Honestly, this gig will be a breeze.”
“You want me to go?”
“Did you have any plans this weekend?”
“Well, no. But…”
“It’s your call, Layne. I think we’ll have fun, and I can show you that your boss is not an ice king.” I grin. “This is the perfect job for you to learn more of what we’re about, too.”
“One problem.” Layne looks down at her clothing, which, to be fair, is quite plain. “I’ve been too busy this month even to get a haircut. How will I fit in at an event like this?”
My gaze locks with hers, partly to prevent my eyes from running over her figure. If she looks that luscious in simple clothing, what will she look like in a form-fitting dress?
“Uncle Mack is going to spoil his wife, Auntie Layne, with a makeover before tomorrow night’s cocktail party.
A couple of fancy dresses, shoes, whatever.
I’ll take care of the wedding rings while you get your hair done.
” My fingers snap as I think of something.
“We’ll make up some story about how we met when you were working for me, so you still treat me like the boss now and then when you’re distracted. That’s perfect.”
She stares down into her coffee mug. “You want me to be your wife for the weekend?”
“Yes. What do you say?”
Layne looks over to the waitress, who is giving her a huge thumbs up, mouthing, “Do it.”
My palm covers her trembling hand. “I’ll pay all your expenses, plus double time for the entire weekend, and give you a few days off next week, or as soon as we can arrange it. And you can keep all the clothes and things. How’s that?”
Her tongue skims across her lower lip. My cock jolts to life at the thought of being close with this beautiful girl all weekend long. Playing the role of her husband, caring for her.
Finally she meets my eyes. “If you really think I can pull it off, okay.”
“I know you can.”