Sinful Suspense Box Set (76 page)

Chapter
2

My cell phone still had the Jingle Bells ringtone I’d downloaded last Christmas. I squinted into the thin stream of light peeking through my blinds, picked up my phone, and looked at the screen.

“Hey, Rita.”

“God, you sound awful.”

“I feel awful. Is it possible to get a hangover from orange soda?”

“It might be a first. How much did you drink?”

“I don’t know— a case maybe.”

“Holy shit. Listen, Jayden, I think if you made an appointment with Compton and explained what that jerk did to you, she would give you your job back. You were the company’s number one salesperson.”

I laughed weakly. “I can just hear the conversation now. I’m sorry I lost my mind during the meeting, but your new manager, Darren, screwed me twice, once in bed and once in the boardroom.”

“Well, that might not be the best way to go about it.”

“So did the pig get over the loss of his phone?” I moaned as I sat up. “Shit, I sound like my grandfather when he’s pushing off the couch.” I glanced across the room to my mirrored closet door and was horrified by the person staring back at me. “Crap, I look like him too.”

“Darren is walking around the office like a rooster on steroids. They are going to regret handing that blowhard a position of power.”

I stood and walked to the blinds. For a moment I considered opening them, but then decided I’d grown rather fond of the cave-like atmosphere. “To tell you the truth, Rita, I don’t think I even want my old job back.” The coffee table in the living room was lined with orange soda cans and cheese puffs. “Boy, I really went on an orange food bender last night.”

“Huh?”

“Oh nothing.” I picked up a cheese puff and pushed it into my mouth. It had lost some of its crunch. “I think it’s time to try something new.”

“Like what?” Rita asked.

“I don’t know.” I picked up another cheese puff and noticed the half empty jar of marshmallow crème. The evening was coming back to me in small pieces. I’d overdosed on junk food and soda as I watched the entire series of
The Lord of the Rings
. Although that was not entirely true because I’d fast forwarded to the parts with Viggo Mortenson and had skipped the rest. I dipped the cheese puff into the marshmallow and ate it. “Maybe I’ll start a cooking blog. Ten thousand ways to cook with cheese puffs.”

Rita huffed through the phone. “Look, I have a lunch break in two hours. Why don’t I stop by and pick you up—”

“Thanks, Rita, you’re a good friend, but I’m not really in the mood.” I looked down at my pajama pants. I’d been wearing them for two straight days. After dropping the f-bomb in front of the very prim and proper owner and then following up that little folly with the elevator slash phone incident, I’d gone home for the day. By that evening, Mrs. Compton called me to let me know that they were letting me go.

“I’ve got to go, Jay. My break’s over. You sure about lunch?”

“Yeah, another time, huh?”

“All right. Take care and lay off the orange soda.”

I fell asleep on the couch watching soap operas and woke to my mom standing over me with a scowl of disgust.

I sat up groggily. “Mom, I didn’t hear you come in.” Why I had given my mother her own key was beyond me. She’d convinced me that it was for my safety and now it was too late to ask for it back.

She picked up the remote and turned the television off. “It’s comforting to know that any stranger could walk in here and find you in this state of undress on the couch.”

I glanced down at my pajamas. I’d changed out of the ones with cartoon sheep and had opted for the more sophisticated pair with fuzzy kittens. “I’m not undressed and strangers don’t have keys.”

It was obvious Mom had been to the salon and manicurist. She was wearing her two hundred dollar jeans and cashmere sweater. All she needed was the thousand dollar purse stuffed with a Chihuahua to complete the look. Instead there was a newspaper under her arm. She dropped it on the coffee table and cheese puffs flew in every direction. “I brought you a paper.” She sat on the couch next to me.

I combed my hair back with my fingers. “Mom, I’m not really interested in world events or coupons. Kind of have other things on my mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is what we used back in the
old days
to find a job. Classifieds are at the back. You need to start looking for another job. The longer you stay on this couch, the harder it will be.”

“This coming from a woman who spends her mornings at the day spa and comes home to a maid and chef. You are so lucky you found Michael. He’s such a cool guy.”

Mom shrugged smugly. “Third time’s a charm, I guess.” My real dad had left my mom when I was eight and my sister was ten. He was never much of a kid person so I hadn’t ever missed him too much, and I’d hardly spoken to him since. The second husband was a nice guy, but he was dull and Mom bored of him after two years of marriage. She’d had to work two jobs to keep us under a roof. Then she caught the eye of Michael Benson, a real estate mogul. He is ten years older than her but he treats her like royalty. And I had to admit she deserved it.

“So I suppose Darwood got the manager position,” Mom said sharply.

I smiled. “You can stop calling him Darwood,
Endora
. He’ll never be your son-in-law. He’s out of my life for good.” I flopped back with a sigh and propped my feet on the coffee table. “If only I were a witch. Then I could just wiggle my nose and create any life I wanted.” I daydreamed about that possibility a moment. “I think I’d just lie around on the couch all day in expensive lingerie and have Ryan Gosling tend to all my needs.”

Mom patted me on the leg and stood. “Well, I have a lunch date with Michael.” She kissed me on the top of my head. “You need to wash your hair.”

I sighed mournfully. “Look at you, Mom. You’re more than halfway to a hundred and you look spectacular.” I looked down at my pajamas. “I’m only twenty-five and I look like something the cat threw up.”

“First of all, thank you for pointing out that I’m half way to a hundred, and second of all, get your little butt off that couch and stop feeling sorry for yourself, Jayden Marie Clark.” She turned to leave then stopped and turned back. “I just remembered the other reason I came besides the paper. Your sister is getting married again.”

“Like you said, third time is a charm.” Tricia had managed to get three proposals in the same amount of time I’d managed to land zero. Not that marriage held any appeal for me. It had always been career first. Of course, now I didn’t have that either.

“The wedding is in two weeks.”

“Jeez, two weeks. Did she get pregnant or something?”

“I wish,” Mom said resignedly. “Maybe someday I’ll be a grandma.” She looked pointedly at me. “Seeing as how I’m so close to the century mark and all.”

“Yes, but you are remarkably well-preserved, Mom.”

She blew me a kiss and shuffled out on her designer high heels.

I stared at the newspaper for ten minutes then shoved it aside with my foot. It would be easier to search for a job on-line . . . eventually. I’d changed my relationship status on Facebook immediately but I hadn’t been on the computer since. I switched through all the channels three times and threw the remote down in disgust. It landed on the newspaper. Moms and their secret powers— they were scary.  I picked up the paper and skimmed the headlines which talked mostly about the rotten economy and ridiculously high unemployment rates. Terrific. I struggled through the endless sheets of newspaper and found the classifieds. By the time I’d found the jobs page my apartment was covered with newspaper. I was either under qualified— strip club dancer, a C cup was not going to cut it, or overqualified— sales clerk at an office store. There was a wide variety of jobs but nothing that caught my fancy. I dropped the paper on the cushion next to me and an ad I hadn’t noticed caught my eye. Wanted: Girl Friday, wide range of duties, requires travel abroad.

Well, I was a girl and I loved Fridays. I could even manage a wide range of duties depending on what they were. And traveling abroad was a bonus. I grabbed my phone and punched in the number.

“Regent Realty,” a deep male voice answered.

“Yes, my name is Jayden Clark, and I’m calling about the Girl Friday job.”

“When can you come for an interview?”

“Oh, uh, anytime. I’m rather free these days.”

“Friday at ten? The address is on the ad. Bring your resume.”

“Great.”

“We’ll see you then.” He hung up.

I had no idea what I’d just done but I figured what the heck. What did I have to lose?

Chapter
3

I’d opted for my black business skirt, button-down white blouse, and black pumps for the interview with Regent Realty. I twirled once in the mirror. The skirt, my favorite, had grown a bit tight in the bottom. So much for my lose ten pounds on the cheese puff diet blog idea. I took my picture and shot it off to Rita. “What do you think?’

She texted right back. “Nice, sophisticated but sort of dowdy. Unbutton the top button.”

I had to be the only woman in history to pull off the sophisticated yet dowdy look.  I did as Rita suggested. She was right. Less dowdy.

“Good luck!” Rita texted.

I picked up my ivory vellum resume and the portfolio I’d carefully assembled with my career highlights and headed out the door. The address was across town and I made sure to give myself plenty of time. I wanted to impress them. It had been two years since my last job interview and I was nervous. I wondered how many people would be on the interview panel and what their vetting process was like. Hopefully the questioning would not be too intense.

One hour later and exactly eight minutes before the interview, I was on my third trip around the city block where I was fairly sure the office was located. But there was no sign and the traffic behind didn’t let me slow enough to read the addresses. I pulled into a parking lot and called Rita.

“Hello,” she spoke quietly into the phone.

“Uh oh, did I call at a bad time?”

“No, but Sergeant Darren has been patrolling the cubicles making sure everyone is working.”

“What an ass. I can’t find the realty office. I’m using Google maps and I was fine through the part where it said go west on Sapphire St.”

“But Jay, you live on Sapphire St.”

“I know. I managed to find my way off of my own street but everything went to shit after that. And I’m going to be late.”

“Don’t freak out or you’ll perspire. Give me the address.”

I read off the address and Rita called me back. “I’m looking at the office on Google Earth. Can you see a Starbucks?”

“That’s like asking if I can see a palm tree,” I said starting to hear my voice slip towards panic.

“It’s right next to a Starbucks. That’s the best I can do.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Rooster alert, I’ve got to go.”

I pulled back out onto the road, drove several minutes, and slammed my brakes on in front of the coffee shop. The driver behind me had a few kind words and gestures for me as he pulled around me. There was one spot open and I was going to have to parallel park, which I hated. I put my car in reverse and started backing up. The angle was all wrong. I pulled forward again and hoped that none of the other drivers had guns in their cars. I twisted back and reversed just as a motorcycle snaked the spot.

I threw the car in park, hopped out, and marched in heels toward the biker. He was wearing a black helmet with a tinted face shield and black leathers. But I was pissed enough to take him on. “Who says chivalry is dead? I mean clearly there are still some men of honor in the world.”

He turned off the bike and stood, all six-foot-four give or take an inch of him. It could have been the leathers, but I now realized I was facing down a giant with the shoulder span of two normal sized men standing side-by-side. He dragged his long leg over the back of the bike and stood watching me for a minute.

“You leather draped jerk—”

His massive arm lifted and he pointed ahead with a gloved finger. I twisted back to see what he was pointing at. A spot had opened up two cars ahead. I raced to my car, jumped in, and parked. The guy had disappeared into the coffee shop, but I felt satisfied that I’d given him a piece of my mind.

A laminated sheet of paper was the only signage on the Regent Realty office. A broken mini blind hung crookedly over the window. I stepped inside with my paperwork tucked securely beneath my arm. The laminated paper on the door should have clued me into how the place would look on the inside. One yard sale purchased desk sat in the center of the room with a folded piece of cardboard tucked beneath one leg. It held a laptop computer, a desk blotter covered with some rather impressive doodles, and a phone. Fold out chairs like the kind used in the school auditorium sat in front of and behind the desk. Aside from some unused picture nails and a rather unsightly stain, the walls were bare. Maybe it was just a temporary work place until the designers had finished with their posh Beverly Hills office.

The door from a back room opened and a tall, well-built man with cropped blond hair and an earring walked out. His t-shirt and jeans did not exactly jive with the picture I’d held in my mind of a real estate agent. His smile was the kind that could be used in lieu of any well-practiced pick-up line. Rita and I had come up with a system of rating men on how many tequila shots would be required for the guy to be attractive. This guy was a one shot guy. Little alcohol needed.

He stuck out his hand. “You must be Miss Clark. I’m Taylor Paxton. Please call me Taylor.”

His hand was slightly callused. Always a good sign. “Nice to meet you.”

“The boss will be here in just a second. He’s on his way.” He pointed to the fold-up chair. “Sorry about the furniture situation. This is just a temporary office.”

Relief. I sat on the cold metal chair and imagined a plush, rolling chair with cushioned arms in their new office.

The front door opened. “Your ten o’clock is here, Nick,” Taylor said.

A large figure circled around the desk and placed a black helmet and gloves down next to the phone. He combed back his long dark hair with his fingers. Pale green eyes looked at me over the wobbly desk. “We’ve met.”

Taylor looked puzzled.

“You took my spot,” I said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not your spot until you’re actually parked in it.”

Mind debate. Continue to spar with the guy over the friggin’ parking spot or land this job. I leaned forward. “My name is Jayden Clark. Here’s my resume and my portfolio.” I dropped them in front of him.

“Nick Regent.”

“I’ll let you get on with the interview,” Taylor said and returned to the back room.

Mr. Regent looked down at my resume. Why do men always end up with the long, thick eyelashes? Really— how was that fair? Seconds later, he lifted his gaze. It caught me slightly off guard, and I found myself instinctively yanking my tight skirt down farther over my thighs.

“Do you have a passport?” he asked.

“A—a passport? Yes.”

“Can you type and answer phones?”

I stared at him a moment. “There are cats on Youtube who can type and answer phones.” I pointed to my portfolio. “I think if you take the time to peruse my portfolio, you’ll see that I’m highly qualified in sales and marketing.”

“Besides birth control, are you on any medications?”

Once I’d regained my composure, I found my tongue. “First of all, not that it’s any of your business and— why the hell do you assume that I’m on birth control?”

His brazen gaze drifted from my neck to my breasts and I had the urge to pull my skirt down more.

He looked at my face. “Just a hunch. We’ll be traveling so you can’t have any health problems.”

I reach forward and quickly grabbed up my things. “I can see I’m overqualified for this position. Good day, Mr. Regent. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” I stood and headed to the door.

“We’ll be in Tahiti for a month, accommodations paid,” he said.”

I froze. New mind debate. But it was over in an instant.

I turned back to him. “Do you mean sparkling beaches, azure seas, and tiny drink umbrellas Tahiti?”

“Yeah. We fly out in three days.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Leave the resume. I’ll need your personal info to reserve your plane ticket.”

I guess my professionally crafted resume had come in handy after all. I handed it to him, all the while wondering if I’d gone completely insane. Mom would freak for sure.

He faced his laptop. “I’ll call you tomorrow with the flight information.”

I stood there a moment longer then realized he was done with me. “Well then, I guess I’ll just get out of your way.” I headed to the door again.

“Oh, and lose the librarian uniform,” he said.

Again I spun around.

He didn’t look up from his computer. “It’s going to be hot over there.”

“Good bye then, Mr. Regent.”

I walked back to my car in somewhat of a daze. I had to be crazy to even think about taking this job. I called Rita.

“Hey, I got it!”

“Yay! I’d do a happy dance but there’s no room in my crappy cubicle. So, what are your duties?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” Rita said with a little less enthusiasm than a second before. “Is the salary enough to live on?”

I had not even asked about money. “I’m not sure. But my accommodations are paid.”

“Oh.” Another drop in enthusiasm. “What will your hours be?” Rita asked hesitantly, as if she was fairly certain what my response would be.

“I’m not—”

“What the hell have you done, Jay? You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“We leave for Tahiti on Tuesday.”

Rita fell silent on the other end, highly unusual for her. “Tahiti?” she finally uttered. “You’re leaving for Tahiti?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m a big girl. I can handle this. Besides, after this last week, I really need some adventure.”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve found some. If it’s what you need . . .” Rita, being the true friend she was, tried her best to sound supportive. “I’m just worried about you, Jay.”

“I’ll be fine. But I’ll miss you, Rita.” My throat tightened.

“Tahiti? I doubt you’ll have time to miss me. But I’ll definitely be thinking of you while I’m stuck in this drudge-filled office. How’s your new boss? You mentioned that he had a nice, deep voice.”

I thought about Nick Regent for a moment. “Well, Rita, let me put it this way. He’s a zero.”

“A zero?” A span of silence was followed by a small but audible gasp. “Do you mean a zero as in no alcohol needed?”

“Yeah.” Zero shots needed guys were rare, elusive, and better left untouched, but you definitely knew when you spotted one.

“Oh my God, can I stow away in your luggage?”

I smiled. “I’ll let you get back to work, Rita. Call me later. I’ve got some shopping to do.”

An hour in traffic gave me time to realize that I was nuts and I was convinced I’d just told a serial killer that I would fly with him halfway across the world.  I squirmed out of my skirt, pulled on some sweats, and swore an oath to myself that I would stop my junk food binge or risk having to buy a whole closet of new clothes. Then I sighed in disappointment and picked up the phone to call Regent Realty. I had a tendency to be impulsive, but this was psycho even in my book.

“That took longer than I’d expected,” the deep voice said. Why the heck was I already recognizing his voice?

“Traffic. How did you know I’d be calling?”

“I figured by the time you got home you’d have gone through a number of horror movie scenarios in your head.”

“Well, I’ve given it some thought and—”

“I used the email on your resume to send you a copy of my realtor’s license, a link to our website, and a copy of our listings in Tahiti. We also have offices in Hawaii and Brazil.”

My mind dashed instantly to Hawaii and Brazil. “All right. I’ll look it over and give you my answer today.”

“In an hour or it will be harder to book you on the same plane.”

Another mind dash— a delightful vision of me sitting in first class next to Mr. No Alcohol Needed, but sipping a glass of champagne anyhow, because it’s complimentary in first class.

“So you read my resume?”

“Some of it. Impressive.”

“What detail sealed the deal for me?”

A long pause. “To be honest— that black skirt.”

“Well!” I said attempting to sound outraged. Then I remembered that his biceps and pale eyes had been behind my acceptance of the job, and I had to give him points for honesty. “Fine then. I’ll let you know in an hour.”