One Bossy Offer (49)

I don’t want to be here, but I’m almost back in my element during the Winthrope days when I’d power walk into the office bright and early.

This, I can manage, especially if it’s Miles free.

With any luck, I’ll get the creatives on the right track and be back at Bee Harbor before Miles comes back to Seattle.

As I walk into the lobby, though, my phone vibrates in my purse.

Are you settled in?

Guess who.

One minute on the floor and I’m already scowling.

I don’t bother responding. He knows I’m from Seattle and shouldn’t have any problem getting “settled in.”

I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish, but I’m a hundred percent through with his mind games.

If only my dreams agreed.





10





No One’s Fool (Miles)





The minute I told her to come over for a meeting, I knew she’d say no.

It gave me the perfect excuse to banish her instead.

Still, I shouldn’t have shipped her off to Seattle on such short notice. It fucking eats at me, along with the glaring fact that lately everything I do with this girl is wrong.

But I needed distance.

So did she.

Space is the only cure before my lips pounce on hers again—let alone something worse. I’m goddamned lucky Jenn’s instincts are better than mine.

If she’d actually shown up at my place when I asked, I know what would’ve happened.

I can see it so clearly my blood becomes magma.

The sweetest forbidden fuckery of my life.

It would’ve happened like lightning splitting the sky, intense and unstoppable.

Multiple times.

Against the wall.

On my desk.

In my bed.

Hell, anywhere I could flatten her and enter her. Anywhere I could redefine our relationship with hard, deep strokes and bruising kisses.

Jennifer Landers is a sex kitten wrapped in a fearless, man-eating smile.

Everything I thought I was immune to.

Just the type of woman who could strike me blind, encouraging my dick to ruin me again.

That’s not even touching the fact that she’s forbidden by Cromwell-Narada company rules older than I am.

A fling with an employee—contractor or not—is almost as disastrous as the last time I let my cock do the thinking, and that destroyed me.

Benson comes in with a shot glass and a worried glance. He knows better than to play my shrink, and he’s been around long enough to give me the only medicine I’ll take for my waking mindfuck.

“Your scotch, sir.” He sets the thick glass neatly on my desk, one large ice cube rattling inside.

“Thanks. How was her trip? You arranged for someone to show her around the office, yes?”

“Sarah Valencia was happy to oblige, and so is Louise. From what I’ve gathered, there was some trouble getting the dogs on the plane. They’ve never flown private either. Once that was settled, the rest was smooth sailing. No need to worry. This is just a trip home for her. She’s settling in just fine.”

Are you? The unspoken question hangs in the air.

“I’m not worried, Benson. I’m being mindful of a difficult time in her life.”

“Of course.” I can tell by his tone he’s just agreeing with me to be polite.

Taking a long sip of my drink, I glance at him over the edge of the glass.

“You made sure she has everything she needs?”

Benson chuckles. “Miss Landers is fine, Mr. Cromwell. A town car took her to her parents’ from the airport and picked her up this morning.”

I’m relieved she’s staying with her folks rather than some impersonal hotel, even if she has Winthrope connections and could’ve surely landed a spot in one of Seattle’s finest properties—minus the dogs.

Fuck, I miss them already.

Without the usual commotion of the dogs running, occasionally creating mayhem along our border when they escape Lottie’s old wooden fence and dig under my wrought iron, life is extra lonely.

“May I ask if you’re any closer to securing the property next door?” Benson asks.

His question plunges me back into reality like an ice bath.

“No,” I throw back.

Fuck no.

After the smoking kiss I stole from her, I’m sure she’s invented new ways to despise my dumb ass.

Benson definitely doesn’t need to find out about that.

It’s just between us—and yeah, the clown wrapped in flannel who was there to witness me stealing his girl.

I only wish like hell I’d stolen her for good.

Just like I wish I had a different answer.

I wish the land was her only good asset.

“Your father’s nurse called requesting espresso,” Benson says, smiling as I raise an eyebrow. “It seems he remembered a trip to Rome with your mother, and suddenly his mint breakfast tea wasn’t good enough.”

“Do it. Fly the shit in from Italy overnight if you have to,” I clip.

My grip is too tight on the glass. Benson notices as the ice rattles.

“I assumed as much. It’s already done,” he says affably, taking that as his cue to exit.

Thank God.

I’ll pay through the nose for anything that helps Dad remember, to keep that love for my mother he lived for alive just a little while longer.