DEFIANT (A WESTERN BAD BOY ROMANCE) (5 page)

F
ake Cowboy is
the first to blink. "Why did you sneak out this morning?"

The random I just slept with, the one whose bed I was snoring in a couple hours ago, is sitting right in front of me. His name is Clif Jackson. Supposedly he's Vince Cullen’s cousin. And now he's my boss.

Calm down, Katie. Be professional. Everything will be fine.

Ugh, if only he could act professional, too. I hate the way he's ogling me as he leans back in his chair. Totally shameless, like everything about him. Obviously he thinks he has the reins on me. Boy does he have another thing coming. Jesus, is he really going to grill me about this? Now?

How could I have made such a huge, huge, huge mistake?

"Vince called me,” I begin. “I had to come here. If we could please just act like adults and not let last night interfere with our professional relationship, that would be great."

He doesn't look like he's buying it; he’s still staring at me like he's obsessed. A jolt of fear runs down my spine. I can’t lose this job. Oh God why did this have to happen to me? Of the one stupid time in my life I have a one-night stand, why did it have to happen on the razor’s edge, when so much hangs in the balance? This goddamn asshole seems way too attached, especially after that whole one-and-done spiel he gave me at the bar last night.

Dirty lying son-of-a-bitch!

Now I'm working for this crazy playboy Susan told me about on the plane. No wonder he’s famous! But the last thing I need is for him to like me. I've got enough shit to deal with as it is. I need this job. I need it for my father. I need it for myself.

He presses, "You could have at least said goodbye."

Is he for real? Just my luck to end up working for a total egotist. It figures. There's no way a man as gorgeous and used to getting his way as Clif Jackson is could turn out to be a person with an inch of depth or humility. What terrible luck that I have to work with him.

"Can we please move on?"

"Uh huh," he nods.

He’s not even listening! By the look in his eyes I think he’s daydreaming or something. Unfortunately that doesn't stop him from staring at my chest. I just wish he'd quit, and that we could talk about something else, like work. I'm supposed to improve his company's online visibility and presence before we head to Colorado to work on their project there.

"Since you're paying me an astronomical amount per hour, perhaps you would like to talk about work instead of imagining what I look like naked." It comes out even sharper than I intended, but I have to set boundaries. I don't like being a bitch, but I will if I’m pressed. “I don’t think Vince would be too thrilled if he saw how we were using our time.”

"I guess I am picturing what you look like naked," he candidly admits. "You're sexy as hell, and I've been wondering why you, of all people, haven’t noticed it yet.”

Certainly
not
the answer I expected.

I really really really must be dreaming!

I feel my cheeks flush, then my whole body. And then I'm looking away, flustered and more than just a little angry. "Since you don't want to discuss the work at hand, may I please go to my office? Vince has a list of things for me to do a mile long, and I have no problem getting a start on it without your input; it appears that even though you're my boss, you'd rather hit on me than give me
any
sort of direction."

"Sure. No problem."

I shoot him a glare and march out, knowing full well he's staring at my ass as I leave. I practically collapse in my chair when I reach my new workspace.

Clif is the polar opposite of Noah.

No, he's the absolute polar opposite of every guy in my techie, creative social circle. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I close my eyes and draw in a couple of deep breaths, then take a sip of coffee. Just move on, Katie. Move on. Several minutes later and I’m absorbed in designing a proper website for the Seven Group.

The Seven Group's online presence is pathetic. Maybe in a small town like this everything can somehow function through word-of-mouth, I don't know. But I'm from San Francisco, the technology capitol of the world, and social media is my area of expertise: it's up to me to haul this little company into the 21st Century.

How did they survive this long without a proper website?! It looks like someone hacked it together one evening while drunk—all they managed to accomplish was ‘Seven Group’ spelled out on a dark green background; there isn’t so much as an ‘About’ tab.

A couple hours later there is a light tapping at my door.

"Come in."

"Oh, hello." A skinny girl with long dark hair peers around the doorframe.

She's really pretty, even though she’s dressed like a wacko. She's wearing a shiny, bright blue down coat that hugs her tiny body. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and silver earrings shaped like feathers dangle from her ears. It's sort of a hippy look, but polished. Blue cowboy boots. Must be some kind of rich mountain girl, I conclude.

"Is Clif in? I didn't see him in his office. I wanted to talk to him."

Girlfriend? Wife? Probably. Clif is such a sleazy ass.

"I didn’t even know he was gone. You can wait here if you’d like.” Might as well be cordial to my boss’s significant other.

"Oh no, no. That’s ok. Thank you."

"Would you like to leave a message? I can at least tell him you stopped by.”

"No thanks." She's about to flit out just as quickly as she appeared, when she stops and flashes a delicate smile. She's sizing me. "I'm Coralie."

"Nice to meet you, Coralie. I’m Katie. I’m a temp consultant for Vince and Clif. They just hired me on for the next month and a half. Are you Clif's girlfriend? Or wife?" I hold out my hand.

She doesn't answer or shake; she just keeps staring at me.

Ookaay.

"So, you don't want me to take a message?"

"He probably made a pass at you, too." She sounds like she's talking to herself more than to me.

"What?"

"He did, didn't he?
Did you sleep with him?
" Her eyes flash.

“What?! No! I just got into town. I haven’t been here a week. Today is my first day,” I defend myself.

Coralie's obviously a nut. Probably not Clif's girlfriend at all, come to think of it. Doesn’t really seem his type (not that he probably has a type).

She silently turns and leaves without so much as a goodbye, and I actually take a second to reflect on what an asshole Clif is
.
What a prick. He probably slept with her the night before me.

And what a weirdo this Coralie is...she's obviously living in her own version of reality, as out of touch as they come.

I shake my head in disgust. Small town mountain fruitcakes.

"Only twenty-eight days left, Katie. Only twenty-eight," I say to myself under my breath.

Where is Clif, anyway? Is he even working? I don't know why Vince would put up with a flake like that, even if they are related.

Needing a break, I go to lunch. I cringe when I run smack-dab into Coralie, in line at the bistro three doors down from the office.

"Oh hey. I'm sorry I flipped out on you back there," she apologizes, smiling wanly and touching my arm. She sighs. "I just wanted to talk to Clif. I'm a sensitive spirit. You have to understand."

Oh lord. Anyone who calls him or herself a
sensitive spirit
is obviously a world-class narcissist. Still, I resolve to be kind to her because that’s the sort of person I was raised to be.

"It’s o.k.,” I nod, feeling awkward and looking at the menu high on the wall to avoid her gaze.

"I could feel his aura when we had sex. It was beautiful. We were aligned. It's wrong that he uses women, but deep down, I know he's got a crystal spirit, just like mine."

Oh geez—and I thought my yoga instructor was weird. Ok, whatever. I don't want to hurt Coralie, but someone's got to try and talk some sense into her. But that someone isn’t going to be me.

I don’t know what else to say other than, "Oh. It’s…nice you feel that way.”

"Yeah." Coralie sniffs and turns sadly away like a child. The girl at the counter is staring at us. I flash her a smile and buy the first thing on the menu before rushing back to my desk.

What's up with all the screwballs out here? Seriously.

I chow down at my desk, thankful that Clif isn't here and that I have a shit ton of work to do.

At least work is something I can understand.

I
check
my watch as I arrive outside the luxurious Silverado Queen Hotel, one of Donny's properties. Right on time.

Damn. I’ve got to get that girl off my mind. This deal is about as high-stakes as they come. And I thought I had it in the bag a couple weeks ago—Donny said as much. The board just had to vote, but there was an objection.

Why?

I push aside my doubts, clear my throat, and make sure my tie is on straight. Everything needs to be impeccable today, from my attitude to the shine on my shoes, because the future of our company is in my hands, and failure is not an option.

Here goes nothing.

When I arrive in the conference room, Donny and Jim are already there. There's another man with them, balding and potbellied. They could be executives in any company. Big, dark tailored suits, bags of fat hanging from their necks, and small sharp eyes. When you care about money above all else, it does something to you. Something that makes me uneasy about my own future.

But not uneasy enough. I like this life, and its pleasures.

"Clif," good to see you. Donny's eyes light up as he shakes my hand warmly. He chuckles, "Just saw your latest Facebook post. You're a man after my own heart."

I shake hands with Jim, then Donny introduces me to their associate. "Clif, this is Bill, Vice President of Operations."

"My pleasure, Bill."

I set my briefcase down on the table. "Shall we begin? I'd like to explain the details of what Donny and I went over on the chairlift, yesterday."

Jim chuckles, “When are you not on the chairlift, Clif?” he says good-naturedly. “And no, we can’t start yet. Donny’s son, Jeff, isn’t here yet. He’s parking the car. It’ll be another couple of minutes.”

"Okay, great. No problem." I sit down and flip through my notes briefly. I’ve never met Donny’s son—it’s about time we become acquainted with each other.

A minute later I hear footsteps fast approach down the hallway. I look up to see a tall, lean, angular man, late thirties, in a sharp black suit with red tie saunter in with a dress coat draped over an arm.

God that big nose! How could I ever forget that gigantic schnoz?

The minute our faces come into view I stop breathing, at exactly the same time his patent leather shoes cease click-clacking on the black marble tile.

"Clif, I'd like you to meet my son, Jeff. He's the CFO of Gambino Holdings."

Uh oh. For a second I’m not sure which of us is more surprised. In a round about sort of way, you could say we've corresponded.

And you could also say that my bad behavior is about to bite me in the ass. Jeff caught me several weeks ago with his girlfriend when I banged her on the rooftop of his penthouse suite. In my defense I had no idea she was his girlfriend. She made eye contact with me earlier in the evening at a bar, and, well, let’s just say things got hot and heavy pretty quick. We were both drunk and I didn’t want to drive to my place, so she offered to go to hers, which in reality turned out to be Jeff’s. How was I supposed to know she was the girlfriend of one of my biggest business associates? Good thing he lives in Las Vegas most of the time. And really, she can’t even be said to be his girlfriend—she’s just his cock warmer when he comes to Jackson. At least, that’s the sense I got from chatting with his girl.

Oh well, one of the many drawbacks of living in a small town.

Long story short, I’ll never forget that big nose when it caught us and threatened to have me arrested if I didn’t leave the premises immediately, which I did.

I freeze a smile on my face and shake Jeff's hand. His grip is cold and firm, like his expression. Right then and there I know that he's the one who objected. Fuck me. This is so much worse than I thought.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeff." I keep smiling, trying not to gape at his nose. "Hope you had a pleasant flight in from Vegas."

"I did. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Jackson." He’s got a killer look in his eye. He’s out for blood. But nothing I can’t handle. I hope.

"Okay," Donny says warmly, "now we can start."

Jeff continues staring me down. Fuck, he knows he's got me. Only question is, how far is he willing to go? Is he really going to bankrupt my whole company over a personal vendetta? Maybe I can reason with him. We are gentlemen, after all.

"Now," Donny resumes. "I know you and your cousin have got a reputation. Good and bad. We lent you money to build those two marijuana dispensaries when the banks wouldn't do it, and it's been a pretty payday for us ever since. So obviously it's been my intention to continue this relationship." Donny clears his throat. "It's my son who has questions. In fact, his opposition to lending you money is why we're here today. Otherwise, our board would have voted in your company’s favor already."

Here's what really happened with Caddis Flats: in exchange for Donny’s investment, I paid off the Coal Butte town council to approve a Gambino-owned contractor to build it, instead of the lowest bidder. Kind of a big deal because the town is picking up part of the bill. Yeah, it's corrupt. And wrong.

But that’s business. And I know Caddis Flats is a good cause, along with being crucial to my company’s plans in Coal Butte. I got used to making compromises a long time ago; it's the way the world works. I don't particularly care if the property taxes of rich second-home owners in Coal Butte go towards a housing project: especially when a business partner like Donny Gambino gets a kickback.

Jeff licks the tip of a finger as he looks through a few papers, scanning over figures—a picture of a viper momentarily pops into my mind, cutting the air with its forked tongue.

"Okay," he sniffs. "This is my major concern: I was looking over these numbers, and based on my calculations, I'm not sure we're being paid what we could be for Caddis Flats. Actually, this is 30% less than what we'd be getting for a similar development in Nevada."

"I could negotiate a bigger down payment from the town council, but that'll raise suspicion. I'm not sure there's anything I can do."

"So you don't mind if we bid openly on the contract, instead of just accepting the deal you're giving us?" Jeff locks eyes with me.

"Sure. I guess,” I shrug. “But I know the market there, and I can guarantee you that you will be underbid. I negotiated the biggest payment I could, without raising suspicions. You know how these deals are: very delicate balancing acts."

Jeff shoots a hard glance my way, clearly irritated. "Fine,” he huffs. “My second concern has to do with the low interest rate we're giving you. As far as I can tell, this is a personal favor from my father. Can you convince me it's good business to basically
give you money?
I don't think it is. We expected--and got--a much bigger return on the pot stores. What we're doing now, on the other hand, makes zero sense, and that's what I'll tell the board unless you convince me otherwise before we leave today."

I pause for a second before answering, more for theatrical effect than anything else. This is almost too easy. "If I may, let me point out that you've been afforded a no-bid construction contract above the market rate. That's something. Sure, the money won't be much, but it's a prestigious, showpiece development. Caddis Flats will be
the most
exclusive resort in the entire Rocky Mountain region. That means your contractor will have that on their resume, and it can only mean more and better business in the future. We're opening the door for you in a big way in Colorado. Plus, we'll always be your connection in the Rockies. We're on the up and up, and our network is your network, as long as our interests don't overlap. They might eventually, but we can cross that bridge when the time comes. In short, I certainly wouldn't call this a simple handout from your father—think of it as a gold mine that’s going to be spewing out money for your great-great grandchildren long into the future.”

Donny crosses his arms and looks smugly at his son. "I told you. This boy’s got his bases covered. We got nothing to worry about.”

Jeff sits back, defeated. He must feel like a total tool bag—not only did I win over his girl, but also his father.

Ha!

He doesn't look too happy.

"I'm really excited about this project," Donny declares, leaning his forearms on the table and intertwining his fingers. "I’m going to talk things over with my lawyers, and then the entire board will meet in a couple of days and take a vote. It is going to pass," he assures me.

"Excellent. Then we’re done here," I nod and rise to leave.

Yeah we just got here, but the snow is epic and I’ve been dying to get to the slopes all morning.

We all shake hands before departing. But Jeff lingers close by.

I make my way down the stairs. Turning on a landing to go down another set, I note that Jeff is close on my heels. He quietly follows me out of the building.

Outside, snowflakes are falling once again after a bright, sunny start to the morning. I can’t help but hope tomorrow will be another awesome powder day.

"You
are
going to give us a better deal," Jeff threatens mildly, catching up to me.

I stop and face him. I know exactly what this concerns. "Look, Jeff, is this about your girlfriend? I told you already, I had no idea she was seeing anybody."

"Do you really think I’m going to work with you after what you did to me?"

Yeah, he’s still sore all right—I can see it in the way his nose is twitching nervously.

“I can understand where you’re coming from, Jeff. I really can,” I acquiesce. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. Please don’t harbor a grudge against me. It’s not good for business. It’s not good for you, your father, or me. Let’s try to let bygones be bygones. Please. For your father’s sake if for no one else’s. And just think about our future for a moment: it’s really in our collective best interest to continue working together constructively.”

Jeff sighs and looks away. He’s thinking.

I continue in my most diplomatic tone. "Hey, look, if it makes you feel any better, what we did was purely for fun, that's all it was. No feelings, no depth, nothing negative said about you. I swear upon my grandmother’s grave I had no idea whatsoever that Sheila had a boyfriend.”

“Sally.”

“Oh, sorry. Right. Sally. Uh, anyway, she came onto me. I didn’t come on to her. We had fun. That’s all.” Now it’s time to bring it home: “Jeff, really, it is imperative to me personally that we continue our professional relationship; you are clearly a successful business man. You’re sharp as hell and I know I can learn a lot from you in the future. I really mean it."

He looks like he’s about to cry. Oh God don’t cry. Jesus Christ, really?

He almost sobs, "It just hurt so much to see her fucking another guy!”

“Yeah. I’m sure it did. I-I’m sorry.”

I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m sure as hell not giving the little wanker a hug or something. God what a man will do for a few million dollars.

I just need to make sure I don’t leave him with any doubts concerning my sincerity. Fuck me, this couldn't be any more awkward. Two men standing side by side, seemingly sharing a moment.

Finally, Jeff speaks, “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry. I feel rather pathetic.”

“Oh no no, don’t be. I understand. We’ve all been there,” I lie. I give him a manly pat on the back and say, “Hey, look. Let’s go skiing tomorrow. I’ll take you up on an awesome run called The Great Depression, and then later in the evening, after I’ve gotten some work done, I’ll hook you up with a sweet piece of ass. You’ll totally forget Sheila even existed.”

“Sally.”

“Er, right. Sally. Sorry again,” I smirk sheepishly. Goddamn it I’m bad with names!

We shake hands once more and part ways.

A couple minutes later I'm walking down the sidewalk by myself thinking that was one hell of a close call. Too fucking close. Once again, I’ve managed to escape by the skin of my teeth.

And in the process I just launched the Seven Group into the stratosphere.