Forbidden Fruit: Volume 1 (35 page)

Chapter Two

It was almost seven o’clock when I arrived at
my empty dorm with Chinese takeout. My friends would’ve been in Cabo San Lucas for over forty-eight hours now and drunk more than half that time. I sighed, stripping off the bland, button-down blouse and tossing it on the floor. I’d barely changed into my pajamas when my cell phone rang, displaying my dad’s smiling picture.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Sunshine. How’d it go today?”

I shrugged. “Fine.
It was pretty boring thanks to some mindless projects. I never realized Dean was so uptight, though.”

He chuckled lightly through the phone
. “He takes his business seriously. I doubt he’s too keen about employing an eighteen-year-old for the week. If I were anyone else, he wouldn’t have considered it.”

“Why not?” I bristled.

“That position is for a woman whose career is being a secretary. Not a kid trying to save a few bucks between classes.”

I
sat at my desk, which doubled as a dining table, and picked at something invisible on its surface. “What could possibly be so hard about a secretarial job?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Alex.”

I pursed my lips.

“I’ll give him a call,”
he continued. “See if I can’t get him to ease up.”

“No,” I blurted. “
It’s fine. I just didn’t know he was like that. I thought he was, like, cooler.”

“Before his divorce, he was more devoted to that job than his own wife. After, he took it to an inhuman level. Everything he does is for that company. He makes time for me when I drive into L.A., but it’s because I’m one of his only friends and I don’t do it often.”

I pulled at my bottom lip, thinking. He’d still been at the office when he’d dismissed me for the night, and I’d only seen him leave long enough for a meeting partway through the day.

“
But you’re just a temp, Alex. I don’t mind telling him to lighten up on you.”

“No,” I said, my mind made up. If Dean Brittany thought that job was too much for an eighteen-year-old, I’d show him—
I’d be the best damn secretary that office had ever seen “It’s just a few days. I can take it.”

“
All right, then. Your call. Your mother says hello.”

“Ask her why she sent me to Ann Taylor for work stuff. I’m the youngest
one in the office by probably ten years, but I look the frumpiest.”

“
We’ve talked about this,” Dad said in his attempt at a stern tone. “You need to cut back on the shopping. It’s enough that we’re paying all your expenses on top of your tuition. Don’t you have a little money saved from your birthday? Maybe you can get a few outfits with that.”

I glanced at the blouse on the floor, wondering why I cared
when everyone I knew was gone the whole week. “Never mind,” I said. “I’m there to save money, not spend it. I’ll make it work.”

“And, um—how are you, you know,
feeling
?”

I sighed. “Fine, I guess. Work is actually a good distraction. I only thought about Trey about a million times, which is an improvement.”

“It’ll get easier,” he said. “I know sometimes a breakup can seem like the end of the world, but trust me, you’ll get over it quicker than you think.”

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Once Trey saw me in
the dress
, everything would change.

When I hung up the phone, I checked my texts, e-mails, and missed calls. Even though Trey was out of the country, I was tempted to
send him a message. I’d hoped he’d have realized his mistake by now and called. I sniffled back the tears trying to break through, checking one last time to make sure I hadn’t overlooked anything.

Fight it as I did, I couldn’t help picturing him
sprawled out under the Mexican sun with all our friends—tan, laughing, and chugging ice-cold Pacifico from the bottle. I should’ve been there too, but when he dumped me the week before we were supposed to leave, one of us had to stay behind.

The answer to getting him back was the dress.
A few days earlier, during a well-deserved session of retail therapy, I’d locked myself in an oversized, white dressing room and stepped into gold. The answer to my despair became clear. The gilded sequins illuminated my tan, and my illuminated tan made me look thinner, fitter. It hugged in all the right places but wasn’t too revealing or short—just enough to get attention. It was a miracle dress. Against the sparkling metallic shine, my blonde hair was silky, smooth, and bright.

The night after I’d tried it on
and been denied the money by my parents, Dad had mentioned Dean’s temporary position. I knew then—the universe wanted me to have that dress. It wanted me to knock Trey Richards off his feet so I could be there to help him back up.

Chapter Three

Tuesday morning, with my vow to impress my new boss fresh in my mind, I arrived at Brittany Industries twenty minutes early. Dean’s closed door told me he was not to be disturbed—I knew this from a highlighted note left by Grace. I took my place at my desk sheepishly, annoyed that I somehow felt late.

My computer dinged with a message almost immediately.

Mr. Brittany

Welcome back, Ms. James.

I stared at the blinking box on Grace’s computer. Did he think I wouldn’t return?

Admin

Thank you. Can I get you coffee or anything?

Mr. Brittany

Got it already.

I read the message twice, chastising myself for not arriving in time to get him his coffee. When he didn’t continue, I picked up on Grace’s list where I’d left off the night before.

Mr. Brittany

Which color is Ann Taylor today?

I blinked at the screen and t
hen to my blouse, flushing red. I touched a button near my neck before responding.

Admin

Green.

Mr. Brittany

I suppose Grace failed to note that I’m extremely detail oriented.

Admin

She didn’t. I’m sorry. It’s light green. Not forest. It’s almost gold-ish.

Mr. Brittany

Sounds like pea green.

I smiled to myself.

Admin

Yes. It’s pretty horrendous.

He
laughed from behind the closed door.

Mr. Brittany

I’ll have
the roast beef sandwich today.

Nothing came after that, so I opened Excel and began the tedious task of data entry. When I sensed June hovering over my desk, I looked up. Her pink blouse was far more fitted than mine, the button between her large breasts clinging for dear life.

“I need his lunch order,” she said.

I glanced at the clock, surprised by the time. “A sandwich from around the corner.”

“Cool. Some of us are going to O’Brady’s
in an hour. Want to come with?”

“
I have plans,” I said.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Just before noon, I knocked and entered Dean’s office, unpacking food onto his desk and trying not to listen in on his conference call. Before I could leave the room, he called after me, covering the mouthpiece. “You’re a communications major, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“I need you to write me a press release before you leave tonight. My PR company is backed up, and it’s too small to bother them with. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I said immediately even though
I’d never written one before.

“You sure?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

I straightened my shoulders. “I can handle it.”

“Then I’ll e-mail the details. That’s all.”

I left the office shortly after, but it wasn’t to eat. I drove to the closest mall, suddenly self-conscious about my wardrobe. I quickly picked some inexpensive things that were more similar to what the other girls wore. I hoped, as I looked at myself in the dressing room mirror, that Dean would like them.

~*~*~*~

It took me almost two hours to complete the press release. Each time Dean passed my desk, I shielded my computer screen with my body so he wouldn’t see the several open windows explaining how to write one. He never looked, though. I waited until he was out of his office to place the finished product on his desk.

When he returned around four in the afternoon,
I sat up and smiled, but he blew by me on his cell phone without even a nod. It was an hour before my computer pinged, drawing me from my work.

Mr. Brittany

Sheridan file

I left the desk and f
ound June in the break room with a small group of girls from around the office.

“Um, June?
” I started. “Mr. Brittany sent me a message that just said ‘Sheridan file.’”

“I guess you figured out he’s not a man of many words,” June said.

I smiled. “He seems to speak a lot in commands.”

The girls laughed
in unison.

“What?” I asked.

“We have a running joke about what he’d be like in bed.” She lengthened her spine in her chair and lowered her voice. “Touch my cock. Not like that. Lower. No. Higher.”

Everyone gi
ggled, but my throat felt thick.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” June teased
me. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I just—h
e’s like fifty.”

“So?” she said. “He might be a little rigid but fifty or not, I’d fuck him.”

I furrowed my brow as someone snickered. “What?”

“Don’t you think he’s sexy?” asked a dark-haired girl.

“He’s handsome, but . . . he’s, like, my dad’s friend. Do people his age even have sex anymore?”

The room was silent until they
simultaneously burst into raucous laughter.

“How old are you?” someone asked.

“Eighteen.”

“Oh, sweetie. You have a lot to learn still.”

I cringed. “But my dad uses Viagra.”

June snickered as she said,
“So then obviously your dad still
does
it
.”

“Gross.”
I shook my head. “I can’t think about that. Do you know what that Sheridan message meant?”

She nodded and
stood to lead me to the filing room. I located the one marked “Sheridan” quickly since they were alphabetized and hurried back to his office. I knocked once and entered. “I have the file, Mr. Brittany,” I said.

“Great,” he muttered without looking up.

I set it down and furtively scanned his desk for the press release.

“Was there something else?” he asked
and glanced up. His eyes stopped on my new pencil skirt only long enough for me to notice. It sat high on my waist, hugging every slight curve on the way down. This time it was my size, maybe even a little small. I’d paired it with a fitted, heather grey “V” neck sweater that stopped at the very top of my cleavage.

“Did you change?” he asked.

“I spilled coffee on my
green
blouse, so I ran out at lunch.”

His eyes flickered over my face until the silence became uncomfortable.

“Wait,” he said as I turned to leave. “Alexandra?”

I looked back. “Yes?”

His fingers rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. Finally, he held up the one I recognized as the release. “What is this?” he asked.

“Um, the press release you asked for
earlier. Was something wrong?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Three somethings.”

I bit my bottom lip and cursed myself. I’d checked it over and over for any possible mistakes. “I’m sorry.”

“In the future, don’t bring me anything that’s not perfect.” He showed me the paper again before
placing it on the desk. He nodded once, beckoning me. I walked to the desk, stopping at the lip.

“See this?” he asked. With a red pen, he
made a circle on the page.

I
leaned in. “Um.”

“Come closer.”

I bent forward, twisting my head to see where he was pointing.

“Closer
.”

I glanced up. For the first time since he’d
shifted into boss mode, his deep blue eyes sparked. He nodded me on with an expectant look, so I folded myself over the desk. He held up his palm, stopping me at a ninety-degree angle.

“C
omfortable?” he asked.

“Not really
,” I said tentatively.

“Then
rest your elbows.”

My eyes widened
marginally, but I held his gaze as I placed my forearms on the desk’s surface. He looked at my hands, balled into fists. When he didn’t speak, I uncurled all my fingers and flattened them so they framed the release.

“Here,” he said, indicating
a sentence, “the verbiage is entirely wrong.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m not that familiar with your industry.”

“Is that an excuse?”

“No,” I said immediately. “I’ll fix it.”

“The whole release is too long. I need you to cut it down but keep the same amount on information.”

My breasts rose and fell faster with the increase of my heart rate. They were directly in his line of vision, my cleavage bared to him, but he didn’t look once. His eyes only jumped between
my face and the press release.

“Yes, sir.”

“And here,” he said, tapping the end of the pen, “you forgot a comma.”

“I’ll fix that
too.”

He handed me the paper. “Get it to me before you leave. You’re dismissed.”

I had the acute sensation I’d done something wrong—not just my errors on the press release, but something that materialized as a pit in my stomach. My breasts were so in his face that it seemed inappropriate. Yet he hadn’t even looked.

It took me over an hour to correct my mistakes because the release
was as concise as I thought possible. This time, I e-mailed it to avoid disturbing him.

He stayed locked in his office until well after
six, and I stayed too, having never heard anything else about the press release. There was plenty to do after all, since I’d barely made it past the second page of Grace’s list. A few minutes before seven o’clock, a message from Dean popped up on my screen.

Mr. Brittany

Open the door.

I
brushed an invisible wrinkle from my skirt and rose slowly. I opened his office door behind me. Reclined in his leather chair with the phone to his ear, he didn’t look up. His tone was deep with authority as he spoke into the receiver. Unsure of what he wanted, I returned to my desk. The back of my neck tingled as I imagined him watching me from his seat. That feeling remained until I received another message.

Mr. Brittany

You forgot the comma.

It took me a
couple seconds before I gasped silently. My fingers curled into fists. He was right. I’d been so nervous about shortening the release, I’d forgotten to add the comma. A string of curses sounded in my head as I tried to formulate a response. I could still hear him on the phone, his words calm while my heart raced.

Mr. Brittany

Come in here so I can show you.

I
sighed and stood up. He’d shown me earlier. I didn’t need to see it again. But I entered the office anyway. When I passed through the doorway, he glanced up and met my gaze. His eyes were heavy, staring at me as though he’d never stop. Like there was nothing else in the world to look at. Something about that look slowed my steps so it was a few stretched moments until I reached him. I stood in that spot, waiting. He pulled out the press release from his pile.

“Give it until tomorrow
,” he said into the phone with his eyes still on me. “If it’s the same, place the order.” He nodded at the paper. I looked between it and his face. Finally, I bent over, resuming my earlier position.

“And if it drops
lower, buy double.” He hung up the phone without another word and looked at me. “Remember what I said earlier, Alexandra?”

“Don’t bring it to you until it’s perfect.”

“Is this perfect?”

“No,” I
said softly.

“How do you suggest I handle this?”

He stood suddenly, and my heart jumped up against my ribcage.

“Fire me?” I
suggested, my voice small.

He chuckled and came around to my side of the desk. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“I guess?”

“And I don’t thin
k your dad would appreciate it. What are some other ways we can ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

I made to straighten up and face him, but his hand touched my shoulder, keeping me there. With another step, his hips were within inches of mine.

“Um . . .” I breathed heavier, my mind searching for a response. “Some kind of punishment,” I suggested. “Take away my lunch break?”