NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (7 page)

Apparently he needed to have an uncomfortable discussion regarding the company’s sexual harassment policy with Grady again, who seemed to enjoy skirting the fine line between friendly conversation between co-workers and all out flirting. And speaking of skirts, his latest receptionist, sent by the temporary agency he and Ash had been forced to hire three months ago, was currently wearing one that was on the north side of too short. Sam couldn’t remember her name even though she had told him several times—Buffy or Heidi or Misty, maybe—but she’d been here for the last few weeks and had shown up each day wearing what could only be described as inappropriate office attire. A direct violation of the temp agency’s dress code, he was sure, but Sam wasn’t broaching that topic with a ten foot pole. And since Asher chose the chicken shit way out, which was to keep his eyes upward and stare only at her forehead as he rattled off what needed to be done like a seasoned Drill Sergeant, Sam was left to solve the problem. Making a mental note to call the agency later today and have them discuss halter tops in the workplace with Misty directly, he was beyond grateful that Caroline would be back next week, taking charge of the office again and maintaining the tight ship he preferred. And goddamn, it couldn’t come soon enough.

Caroline Mendoza’s job title was receptionist slash office manager, but she preferred to think of herself as the boss around here. Sam didn’t disagree because she kept everyone and everything running smoothly, including him and especially Ash, which was why he’d been so pissed when she’d come waltzing into his office one day, a look of irritation on her face.

“Well, he’s gone and done it again,” she’d said, as she handed him the flash drive containing the blueprints for the Bayside Beach Resort. The Governor’s daughter was getting married at the swanky hotel the following month and Scorpio had the security detail. “He got me knocked up again, Sam. Can you believe it? I think he’s cracking under the pressure of his Catholic mother. That’s who they should send when they need answers from terrorists. The torturous sound of that woman’s voice would make you beg to be waterboarded.” Before he could fully digest the implications of having her out of the office for several weeks in a row, she added, “I told Mike that this baby better be a girl or I’m gonna cut his balls off.”

A fate much worse than waterboarding.

Sam had said the appropriate words then, congratulating both her and Mike Mendoza, his long time friend and employee, when what he really wanted to do was bitch and moan about the fact that she wouldn’t be in the office for three months, and instead at home tending to her latest offspring. Not one to waste time, she had immediately marched across the hall to Asher’s office and told him nearly word for word the very same thing. All Sam heard Ash say was, “Christ, doesn’t that guy have any fucking self-control?”

In the end, they had all managed to make it through the majority of Caroline’s maternity leave without a major incident, although he couldn’t speak for Mike, who should probably be walking around with his hands in front of his lap. Their latest addition was the same as the previous two. Another boy.

Sam was just sitting down and firing up his laptop when Grady knocked on his open door, a large can of the latest energy drink in his hand as he walked in and plopped down in one of the chairs facing Sam’s desk, his expression curious. “Seriously. You’re smiling. What’s with the good mood?”

“That stuff will kill you, you know.” Sam ignored the question, nodding toward the can. “That much caffeine at once will make your heart explode.”

“Speaking of hearts, I’m thinking of asking that cute little heartbreaker out there,” Grady motioned toward the lobby, “to dinner one night.”

“Not a good idea, Foster. Technically she’s your co-worker and you looked like you were about a wink and an ass slap away from a lawsuit when I walked in. Watch yourself.”

“So, I probably shouldn’t ask her if she enjoys eating meat?” At Sam’s incredulous look, he added, “Hey, I can’t take a vegetarian to a steakhouse, now can I? I won’t get into the specific categories of meat if that’ll make you feel better. You know, chicken breasts and pork cutlets versus, umm, let’s say beef sausage?”

Unable to hide his grin, Sam shook his head. “Glad you’re stuck back in the sixth grade, man. So how did it go with Dwayne last night? Is he the reason for that gut bomb you’re drinking this morning?”

“Yeah, he is.” Reaching his hands up straight in the air, Grady stretched his muscled arms and yawned. “And by the way, I’m waiting until Caroline comes back next week before I ask Misty out. Happy, boss man?” At Sam’s quick nod, he continued, “And that punk Dwayne is a shithead. He may be a thousand yard receiver, but I wanted to kick his skinny ass all the way to the Mexican border last night.”

Sam sat back in his leather office chair, sighing as he dug his fingers into his eye sockets. This was exactly the kind of shit he didn’t need this morning, because despite the potential human resources nightmare with Misty—and who the hell named their daughter that, anyway?—he was in a good mood. A great one, really. And it had everything to do with a girl named Ali.

The sky had just started to lighten when she’d mumbled a lazy good morning against his scratchy neck, her lush and warm body crawling over top of his, providing him with the most amazing view as she slowly and thoroughly rode him. Without realizing it, she had ensured the sight of her beautiful bare breasts bouncing in tandem with her flared hips would be etched into his brain all day, distracting him from getting any real work done. He’d finally had to drag himself out of her bed just as the sun filtered brightly through the sheer curtains, untangling mile long legs from around his waist. With an unprecedented amount of reluctance, he’d left her house and walked to his own, needing a quick shower before heading to the office.

When your day started in such spectacular fashion, a guy knew it could only go downhill from there. And Dwayne Jackson was Sam’s latest and greatest pain in the ass. A professional football player for the local San Diego team, Dwayne was talented, wealthy, and used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. Whether that meant going to San Francisco for caviar and Cristal at midnight or going to Las Vegas for high stakes blackjack at noon, if Dwayne had a hankering to do it, then he did it, entourage in tow. These hankerings of his usually ended with him bellied up to the stage at a local strip joint, classy or otherwise, where he would spend an appalling amount of money on girls named Cinnamon or Bubbles. If these trips meant he missed out on attending his son’s little league game or his daughter’s dance recital—or his wife’s birthday party, for fuck’s sake—then so be it. Living large defined what Dwayne Jackson’s lifestyle was like and it was the job of Scorpio Securities to babysit him. To make sure he didn’t piss the wrong people off when a camera was nearby to record his bad behavior.

Of course, Sam hadn’t taken Dwayne on as a client with the intention of being his babysitter. Ray Berg, Dwayne’s long time agent, had hired Scorpio to help rehabilitate the pro athlete’s image by providing the seemingly easy service of escorting him when he attended a function at a location that didn’t already provide a buffer from the media. Add in a few outings to a different venue here and there, when Dwayne felt like a night out, and that was all there was to it. Clean and simple. It was a single man security detail that paid a shitload of money and one Sam couldn’t refuse. And it had quickly gone from the occasional and straightforward duty of walking Dwayne in and out of whatever establishment he was visiting, making sure he played nice with the public and didn’t throw a punch when a disgruntled fan heckled him, to covering for him when he booked the penthouse suite for his latest piece of trashy side tail.

Sam and Asher had both known when Ray Berg hired them that he was holding out, not mentioning the more salacious details on why a grown ass man being paid millions of dollars to keep his nose clean needed someone to tell him right from wrong. The money this job paid had done its fair share of talking, but what Sam really wanted was the referrals that could come as a result of having such a high profile client. It was the only thing that had kept him from telling both Dwayne and Ray to go fuck themselves.

“Christ, Grady, what went wrong? I thought he was taking his family to see some cartoon show on ice. How the hell did he get himself into trouble doing that?”

“Well, you see... he had to use the bathroom.”

“Okay. And isn’t there a private bathroom located right in the luxury box?” No way did Dwayne Jackson sit in general admission.

“Good question, Sam, and one I asked him myself.” Grady’s brow was raised, as if he couldn’t wait to enlighten Sam on the answer. “According to Dwayne, the one located right there in the box wasn’t working for him. It seems he needed to stretch his legs and take a walk. Just so happened that he came upon a lovely young lady working the front counter in the gift shop and she needed to use the bathroom, as well.”

“You’re fucking shitting me, right?” Sam sat forward in his chair, not bothering to hide his disgust. At Grady’s silent, serious look, he continued, “You mean he screwed a vendor employee, in a public bathroom, with his wife sitting in the same building, while his kids watched Shrek?”

Grady dipped his head, confirming what Sam had just summarized. “In his defense, the bathroom wasn’t public because she had special keycard access to the private employee facilities. At least that’s what he told me when I asked him just who the fuck he thought he was.”

“Oh, well that’s just goddamn great, then!” Sam’s raised voice echoed throughout the quiet office. “The fucking bathroom wasn’t public.”

Pete looked up from his favorite spot near the sunny window, his morning nap interrupted.

“I wanted to walk out in the worst fucking way, Sammy. Right after I made sure he’d be pissing blood for the next month. And he knew it. Carla knew it, too. He thinks she has no idea what he’s up to, but she knows. It was written all over her face.”

Disgusted, Sam could only shake his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

Meaning he was calling Ray out on this bullshit and putting an end to it today. Hell, he’d already been pushing the limit with his guys, putting Grady, Mike and Beckett on rotating details so each one got a small serving of the shit job. Even Sam himself had taken a couple of the assignments. The detail was cake if you could choke down the revolting behavior playing out in front of you like a bad reality show. Beck couldn’t. The former Navy SEAL, who had nerves of steel and the unsettling disposition to match, had lost his shit after his latest assignment, stalking into the office the next morning and telling Sam that he wasn’t an expert in counter-terrorism and unconventional warfare so he could watch some arrogant jackass snort coke off a crack whore with dead teeth and crotch rot. It had taken the promise of an extra week’s paid vacation and Sam’s hesitant acknowledgment that the Navy had bigger balls than the Army to calm the man down. Dwayne had one more chance with him and that was it. If he fucked it up, then Scorpio was out. Sam would lose the sweet money, the potential contacts, and possibly his respected reputation with well connected agent if he did so, but this cluster fuck couldn’t go on.

Given the fact that he wanted to puke first and beat the ever loving shit out of Dwayne Jackson second, he had no choice. Sam hated cheaters only slightly less than he hated liars.

“Not gonna tell me the reason for your good mood, are you?” Grady’s voice was sly and Sam scowled in return.

“What good mood? That asshole just ruined my day.”

“Well, I hope whoever put that happy face on you first thing this morning is there to put it back tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go ask Misty to locate some paperwork for me. I think it’s in the very bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. You know, way in the back. She’s gonna have to bend over real low to reach it.” He winked on his way to the door. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll spot her.”

“That’s a prime example of an HR violation, Foster,” Sam said, to the empty doorway. There wasn’t any heat in the words. Grady was all talk, anyway. The kind of guy who enjoyed everything about life and never took a whole hell of a lot too seriously, Grady’s mood rarely strayed from good. Hell, downright chipper, some would say. But, he was a stickler for rules and wasn’t one to break them. The former Green Beret was only twenty-seven, but he’d been around the block during his stellar military career. It was a damn wonder the guy managed to be so carefree and fun loving. Both Sam and Asher had seen firsthand what live combat action did to a person—body and mind—and that was why they recruited from a limited pool of retired veterans only. Just like Grady and Beck, Mendoza and Nolan Ellis had spent years carrying out critical and dangerous missions before seeking a place where their special skill set could be utilized after their commitment to Uncle Sam was done. Scorpio was that place. And as their resident Wanda Wonderful, Grady managed to keep things light around the office.

And damn it, he’d been spot on about Sam’s happy face.

Swearing under his breath at the rapidly growing number of emails in his inbox, he was hoping like hell to get out of there by six tonight, already thinking about how soon he could see Ali again. Last night had been one of the most memorable of his life, taking him completely by surprise. Only planning to have a few drinks with his intriguing new neighbor, Sam had been shocked as hell at how soon they’d ended up in bed. He certainly wasn’t complaining, but usually if he had a chick horizontal an hour after their first beer, then he had what he’d come for and only wanted the hell out of there pronto. Without strings. He wasn’t proud of the fact, but he wasn’t about to sugarcoat it, either. Which told him one very important thing.

Ali was different.

Different and good. Better than anybody else. She was beautiful and sexy, but beyond that, he was drawn to her like no other woman. She had passionately given him open access to her body, but closed the door tightly when it came to what was going on in her mind. Sam had been trained in interrogation tactics and knew without a doubt that Ali was deliberately holding back, rationing what information she fed him. Maybe she was guarding her heart. Maybe not. Years spent looking for things that seemed out of place, no matter how insignificant it might appear, had served him well. And Ali was out of place. As cynical as the world had taught Sam to be, that set off alarm bells in his gut.