Chandler: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (6 page)

She squints at me. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I haven’t gotten that far. We should talk about it over dinner.” I wink, which is maybe a little much.

“Not happening.”

Yeah, definitely should have foregone the wink.

I grab the edge of her jacket and pull her to me. Clasping my arms around her waist, I kiss her forehead. “Come on. Imagine it. Us, exploring this thing further. Pushing boundaries. Discovering what it is that we really want out of a sexual encounter. Together. Are you imagining it?”

“Maybe.”

I bend to study her features. “You are. I see it in your eyes.”

“Imagining doesn’t mean considering.”

Damn, I love her creamy European complexion—it’s the best tell, her every emotion showing up scarlet on her skin.

She knows it too. She twists out of my embrace, trying to hide her face, but I catch her from behind and wrap my arms around the bottom of her breasts.

“You are so considering it,” I say, pressing my mouth to her ear. “Let me help you with your decision by giving you this little bit of information—the things I want to do to you? The ways I want to fuck you? The nasty things I want to whisper to you? We haven’t even scratched the surface.”

“Chandler…” she says with a shiver.

“See me again, Genny.” Without letting her go, I twist my torso around so I can watch her face. I have her physically gridlocked, and when she tries to push my arms off, I only tighten my grip.

She struggles, and Jesus, does it make my boxer briefs feel tight, and it also makes me wonder once again if I’m doing the wrong thing, crossing a line. Mixing up my desires with her consent.

She lets out a frustrated sigh. “You need to let me go. Please.”

“First, say you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“No.” She isn’t budging.

Neither am I. “Tonight, then.”

“I have plans.”

It could be just an excuse, but I’m suddenly jealous wondering who her plans are with. “Are you playing hard to get?”

“I don’t need to play—I
am
hard to get. Now let me go.”

But I don’t want to. Which is fucked. I mean, who the hell am I, and what the hell happened to my standard protocol?

It’s gone out the window, obviously, because I’m holding her tight. “Say you’ll go out with me first. You know you want to.”

“No. I really don’t.” She pushes against my arms, and I don’t let her go, but I twirl her around so I can face her. And then I really look into her eyes, and I see that she’s serious. Dead serious.

Fuck. Did I just read her totally wrong?

I let her go. Reluctantly.

“Thank you.” Her lips purse, and she won’t meet my eyes again. She nods toward the door leading to the hall elevator. “I don’t suppose I should leave the way I came. Will that get me out of here?”

“It will.” I try once more to woo her. “If you’re sure you really want to go.” Yes, I give her my charm-your-panties-off grin.

She rolls her eyes and moves toward the door.

I follow, confused. Because I have no idea where I went wrong in the last few minutes. Didn’t we just have amazing sex? Didn’t we both say we liked it? And then, did she just turn me down for another repeat?

I really don’t understand.

So I ask. “Before you go, can you tell me what just happened?”

She stops to look in the mirror by the door, straightening her tousled hair while she answers me. “What do you mean? We fooled around. It was better than the first time. And now I’m leaving. Does that about sum it up for you?”

“Well…” No, it doesn’t. Because there has to be something between the “better than the first time” and the “now I’m leaving”. It just doesn’t make sense.

She seems to guess what’s going through my mind. “What? Did you think this made us a couple or something? You can’t be a stranger to the term sex-without-strings.”

Ouch. Is this what it feels like to be on the other side of that line? ‘Cause it kind of sucks.

I play it cool though. Or I try to. “No. I’m not expecting that we’re a couple now. Of course not. Sheesh.” Okay, maybe the thought crossed my mind.

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

“Right.” Except I have no idea what that page is. Is it a page where we still get to see each other and bang? I don’t want to be on any other page than that.

Somehow it seems that’s exactly
not
the page we’re on, because next thing I know, I’m holding the door open for her as she leaves.

The air crackles around us as she passes me, and I swear she feels it because she narrows her eyes and glares at me. As if the electricity between us is
my
fault. “Nobody calls me Genny,” she says, her voice terse, before bustling off to the elevator.

“
I
do,” I call after her triumphantly, like that somehow makes me victorious over this situation that I’m pretty sure I actually lost. I don’t even know why I started calling her that. It just came out in the heat of the moment, but it rankles her and that makes me like it. A lot.

Right now I feel like it’s my only weapon against her. My tiny little squirt gun against her death ray. I’m so obviously out of my league with this woman. That hasn’t happened since…well, since Gwen. I didn’t even know it was still possible.

For some reason that just makes me want her more.

G
enevieve leaves me at a loss
. I want more of her—
need
more of her—but with no idea how to go about
getting
more of her, I decide to try to put her out of my mind for the rest of the day. Besides, I really should be working. There’s a pile on my desk and a phone call with the finance department that I’ve been avoiding.

First, I head back to Hudson’s office to return the key. I should take the hall elevator and enter through the front doors like a polite person, but what would be the fun in that? I definitely go down the way I came.

He’s sitting at his desk when I arrive. His jaw tenses and his eye twitches, telling me he’s irritated but not really surprised. Which isn’t remarkable—I wouldn’t be shocked to find out he’d known I was there the whole time. That man misses almost nothing.

We don’t say anything, but I whistle as I head to the closet, because I’m an asshole like that.

“I’m going to find a new hiding place, you realize,” he says behind me.

“Or you could just leave it there and trust that I will only use it when absolutely necessary.” I continue with my task, opening the closet and hanging the key back on its peg. I’m not sure whether it will still be here the next time I look. It could go either way. Hudson isn’t very predictable.

Like, I don’t predict when he asks, “Do you want to tell me what you were doing holed up in my closet with Genevieve Fasbender?”

I close the door again and turn to face him. “Not particularly.” Though a part of me is gleeful that he knows. Getting caught with a woman is like getting to brag without being a bastard. It’s a definite win-win. “Do you want to tell me about Pierce Industries’ controlling interest in Werner Media?”

He pauses for a beat. “Not particularly.”

It feels like it might be a dismissal, but shit, I don’t need invitations. I saunter over to the chair facing his desk—the one that Genny sat in earlier when she told me our sexcapade was like bad pizza.

I’m still shaking my head. Though, after the amazingness that happened between us today, even I’d say the previous banging was only mediocre.

Whoops. Need to stop thinking about her before this conversation with my brother gets awkward.

“It’s not the same,” I tell him. “Me not telling you about Genny is because the matter is personal. You not telling me about our holdings is…well, I don’t know what it is. It’s just uncool. I’m just as much of an owner of this company as you are.”

He raises a brow because he actually holds more stock in the business than I do.

I correct myself. “Not
just as much
in terms of percentages owned, but
just as much
as…you know what I mean. Stop being a dickwad and give me some answers, will you?”

I prop my legs up on his desk and cross my ankles just so I can be rewarded with another typical Hudson scowl—and I am. God, this could be a drinking game. What fun.

“You’re in charge of our Midwest holdings, and this is a subsidiary holding.” Standing, he reaches over and knocks my feet to the ground. “But I suppose there’s no reason to keep it a secret now.”

“But there once was?”

“There was.” He loosens his tie as he crosses the room to his liquor cabinet. “I purchased the shares through another company that we own so that it wouldn’t be easily connected back to me. I wanted Warren Werner to believe he still had the majority shares.”

I swivel in my chair to look at him. “Why would you want that?”

“So I could blackmail his daughter.”

Well, damn. Definitely didn’t predict that. “I think I’m going to need a drink.”

“Already ahead of you.” He holds a tumbler of scotch out in my direction. I move to retrieve it and take a solid swallow before plopping down on his couch.

Hudson pours another glass for himself and sips it in a much more gentlemanly fashion. “I’m sure you remember that Celia Werner and I used to be close.”

“Right.” There’s eleven years between Hudson and me, so I’m a bit in the dark to what happened with him in his college days, but I know the highlights. “You were practically engaged. She was pregnant with your baby, wasn’t she?” I ask the question before I realize that bringing up her miscarriage might not be the nicest thing.

But I’m immediately glad I did when Hudson says, “I
claimed
it was mine. It wasn’t.”

This is news. “Whose was it then?”

He shakes his head. “Now that is not my secret to divulge. Nor has it any bearing on this story except to illustrate that Celia and I have had a very layered relationship. A lot of water that’s passed under the bridge. A lot of betrayals. There were reasons I did what I did and reasons she did what she did, but ultimately, I was to blame for a great deal of…of the
issues
that existed between us. Nevertheless, she took it too far when I started seeing Alayna. She harassed us. Threatened us. Bullied Alayna.”

Though he hasn’t divulged specifics, his speech is uncharacteristically revealing. I’d suspected Hudson was at the center of the rift between our families, but I’d never expected him to outright claim responsibility.

I’m intrigued.

But I know my brother well enough to know he’ll only tell me what he wants to, no matter how much I poke. So I tread carefully, asking the question I think he’s most likely to answer. “She bullied your wife? Like, what did she do, exactly?”

He moves to sit in the armchair across from me. “The details are irrelevant now. All that matters is that Celia got out of control, and I became convinced that the only way I could ensure she wouldn’t continue to wreak havoc in our lives was to have something over her head. So I purchased majority shares in Werner Media, but allowed Warren to remain the figurehead—”

“And told Celia you’d take away his control if she acted up again,” I finish for him. “That’s actually pretty slick.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He should, because I’m impressed. But as I keep thinking about it, I see the current dilemma. “Except now Warren’s retiring and you don’t have anything to hold over Celia’s head, do you?”

“No. I don’t.” He raises his glass toward his lips and takes a sip. “But that is most definitely a personal concern and not a business concern.”

I beg to differ. “What happens with Werner Media seems to be a concern for both of us. For our business.”

“And I’m taking care of it. Hence the reason I’ve been interested in Accelecom. Warren is still unaware that I hold controlling interest, and I’d prefer to let him designate his replacement without ever finding out. But he wants it to be Edward Fasbender. Obviously, I’m opposed.”

“Right.” I’m actually not sure what’s obvious about his opposition, but I decide to play along. I’ve learned that sometimes the only way to get Hudson to divulge information is to pretend I’m in the know. It’s got a fifty-fifty success rate, but it’s better than any other odds with the man. “It’s a shame, though. Accelecom could bring a great deal to Werner Media.”

“I know this. It’s why I met with him today. I’m looking for an ideal compromise.”

I’m suddenly annoyed. Annoyed that I’ve been kept in the dark, but even more annoyed that my brother obviously doesn’t trust me to help him get through this sticky situation.

With one giant gulp, I finish my whisky and set the glass down on the table beside me. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my thighs. “That sucks, Hudson. You have a lot on your plate right now. You should be at home with your wife and children. You know what would be awesome? If you had someone you could rely on to take your place in these negotiations.” Sitting up, I give him a dramatic wide-eyed expression. “Oh, wait! You do!”

He hesitates. “Chandler…I appreciate the offer, but this is not a situation that you need to worry yourself with.”

“Because you want to be Mr. Micromanager and make sure it all works out the way you see best. I can handle more than just managing a couple of corporations based in Iowa. Has it ever crossed your mind that, although you might not agree with my methods, I might be perfectly capable of attaining the same outcome?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

Jesus, sometimes I could just choke him. “Well, consider it. Asshat.”

“I’m not going—”

He’s interrupted by Trish’s voice over the intercom. “Mr. Pierce, your wife is on the line for you.”

Hudson stands and crosses to the desk where he pushes the button on his phone to respond to his secretary. “Thank you, Patricia.” He glances at his watch, which makes me glance at
my
watch—it’s just after five. “Go ahead and head on out. I’ll lock up.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Pierce.”

I stretch out on the couch, my hands laced behind my head and propped up on the arm so I can watch as Hudson clicks off the intercom and picks up the receiver.

“Alayna,” he says, sinking into his chair. “I’m sorry. I meant to be home before now. I got caught up. Have you gotten any sleep?” He pauses for her response, and I can imagine that as a mother of two newborns and a preschooler, the answer is no. “Can Roxie take Mina to the park while Jenn takes the twins for a little while so you can get a nap?”

Another pause, and I realize that my sister-in-law isn’t the only one who isn’t sleeping—Hudson looks terrible.

“Yes. I know, precious,” he says now. “It’s not easy. But I have to go to that awards dinner I told you about. Maybe I could send Chandler home to entertain Mina.”

“Or you could send Chandler to the dinner in your place,” I prod, unconcerned that he’ll now realize I’ve been listening to his conversation. Also unconcerned with that stack of work I’d meant to get to. It can wait another day.

“Right. It’s not the same. I understand.” He glares up at me, and based on the tightness in his jaw, I think I might actually have won. It almost makes up for my previous loss with Genevieve.

Okay, not almost. Not even close. But it’s something.

I sit up, my brows raised.

“Tell you what,” he says to his wife. “Give me a few minutes to shift things around. Then I’ll be yours for the evening.”

Uh, wow. Not sure how that happened, but right on.

He hangs up, and I cross back to the desk.

“So what is this dinner thing I’m going to, anyway? Please don’t tell me it’s black tie.”

“It’s black tie.” Ignoring my groan, he digs in his desk and retrieves an invitation that he hands over to me. “It’s the Annual Award Banquet for Advances in the Media. While I don’t want it made known that I’m talking to anyone else in the industry, I’ve arranged to be seated next to Nathan Murphy tonight. He’s a key player at Mirage. I’d like you to take my place at the dinner and use the opportunity to feel out what Murphy could bring to Werner Media.”

It’s hilarious how quickly he’s changed my idea into his own. But whatever. It’s something.

He stands and why do I have the feeling it’s because he wants to take a power stance? “It’s critical that you keep this on the down-low. Do you think you can manage that?”

I want to roll my eyes. Instead, I study the paper in my hand. “The invite has a plus one.”

“Do
not
bring a plus one.” There’s that scowl again. I’d be drunk if I’d been taking shots. “I need you at your best tonight. No distractions.”

“Stop worrying, bro. I got this.” Before he can change his mind, I pocket the invitation and head out the door, calling over my shoulder, “You won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” he mutters behind me.

I’m facing away, but want to bet he’s scowling? Life is good.

* * *

T
he Broad Street Ballroom
is in the Financial District, and by the time I’m dressed and get down to that part of town, the dinner is just about to get started. It’s perfect timing though, because I walk in behind a familiar gorgeous, leggy brunette.

Man, my luck just got a whole fuck-lot better.

I follow Genevieve without making my presence known. So this was what her plans were for tonight. It totally makes sense that she’d be at the media awards.

I distract myself from the idea that she might have a date with how hot she looks, even from behind. Her hair is pulled into a thick knot at the base of her neck. Teardrop jewels dangle on silver chains from her ears, a nice contrast to the dark brown of her tresses. Her shoes are strappy, high-heeled, mixed metallic sandals that lace up her toned calves.

The best is her outfit, though. She’s wearing a black trapeze dress that falls unevenly along her mid-thigh, and all I can think about is how easily that style lifts up, how little work it takes to get underneath.

(Yes, I know what a trapeze style is. I wasn’t kidding about learning fashion basics from my sister. Did I mention she used to use me as her model to practice her design skills? I picked up a lot along the way. I mean
a lot
.)

Genevieve pauses, and I duck back as she looks around. She’s definitely waiting for someone. Imagine my relief when I see her father walking toward her.

Though, there’s also a younger man at his side. A tall, broody looking gentleman. Exactly the kind of guy who gets the eyes of the prettiest girls in a room.

I immediately hate him. Obviously.