Check out all the chapters by clicking HER(fix)E
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SNOOPING
It was driving him crazy.
Max was driving him crazy.
He held his phone close to his ear and sighed, listening to the sound of her voice while she discussed the various plans she’d made on Hallie’s behalf. He knew he ought to be paying attention—Max wasn’t one for idle conversation. When she spoke, it was wise to listen.
But, whenever he saw her or heard her speak or simply let his mind drift to her, the feel of her hand on his cock surfaced in his mind. The sight of her naked, her body stripped bare before him. The sound of her moans as he made her come. The taste of her. Her scent.
Fuck!
He shifted awkwardly in his office chair, hard as a goddamned stone.
But she was all business. Had been for days. Ever since Hallie’s show, it was as if a fire had been lit under her. She was so dedicated to helping the cause.
“I’ve got a list of contractors willing to do some work on Hallie’s shop at a discounted rate,” he heard her say on the phone, her voice cool and confident. “But my top choice—while not the most cost-effective—is a place called Building Dream Houses.”
He imagined her seated in her own cushioned office chair. One hand clicking intensely through the files and lists and figures and estimates on her computer while the other held her phone—his voice—so close to her ear. All that passion, all that fire inside of her given direction and focus.
“It’s run by a pair of cousins just striking it out in their own business because ownership of the family construction business skipped them and was left to the men in the family.”
He wondered what she was wearing. Probably one of her suits. Boxy, shapeless things. Max had curves. Amazing curves. But she hid them.
But not from him.
“It makes for a better story; wronged businesswomen helping another wronged businesswoman.”
What was she wearing underneath, he wondered. Blue lace? Black silk? Soft, sweet cotton? Nothing at all.
“Both sides coming out the better for it.”
He bit back a groan. It was driving him crazy. Acting on reflex, he unzipped his pants and began to stroke himself, holding on to the image of her naked and wanting, needing some kind of release.
“I love it, don’t you?”
He made an assenting hum through thin, pursed lips and gripped himself harder, satisfaction so far away.
He had to do something about this. He couldn’t continue like this. Couldn’t be expected to function.
He ended the conversation with Max, promising to contact her again later about the various charity campaigns they had in the works.
He stabbed at the office intercom. “Elin,” he barked, “I need to speak to Pip Jones. Now.”
He needed something. He was going out of his mind. Max was just so prim and professional—the star of the class with all the right answers. So capable and precise. While he was going crazy with lust.
Whenever he was near her—hell, even when he wasn’t—all he wanted to do was bend her over and take her. Fuck her. Tease and torture and watch her writhe. Watch her try to maintain her corporate cool then.
He should.
He would.
But not like this. Not crazed and uncontrolled like this.
He needed something. Something to take the edge off before he started his own campaign. And Pip—savvy, sassy, brilliant, beautiful Pip—could be exactly the right answer.
———
Max stood in the middle of the organized chaos filling the street in front of Bits ‘n’ Pieces, satisfied at the sight of the crowd of volunteers gathered with waiting brooms and tools in hand for further instructions.
They’d already cleared the area of all the furniture and swept up most of the broken glass and water-damaged muck so the real work could begin.
She turned to Elin, who looked so different in her street clothes. Max had thought that the proficient admin would look more relaxed ponytailed in dark denim jeans and a white t-shirt but, instead, the casual dress only highlighted her primly professional persona. The keen and clever Korean woman stood spine-straight and always at the ready; the perfect admin. “The contractors will be here in fifteen,” the woman told Max while making necessary notes on her phone.
Good. Max looked about. “What we really need are people to move the salvageable racks and mirrors and things from the street and into the trucks.” As Hallie couldn’t afford her own storage site until the renovations were done, Donovan’s had generously offered her space in their basement.
Ever-efficient, Elin nodded, and armed with her orders, she decisively bustled away, ready to direct and organize.
“Thank you so much.” Hallie came up to her, looking out at the crowd. “How did you ever get so many people on such short notice?”
Max shrugged. “A couple of internet ads, an article in a local online magazine, and a couple of calls to local radio stations and podcasts.” It really wasn’t hard. The minute she finished telling people Hallie’s story, they were already clamoring to help.
Max knew that the well-connected counselor had also made more calls, reaching out to his various communities who were only too happy to reach back. She’d been working with him all week, exchanging contacts and trading favors. Putting her magazine connections in touch with his advertisers. Linking her ads on his sites. And, of course, his assistant, Elin, had offered her services, keeping in touch with the contractors Max had hired with Hallie’s donations.
This never would have happened without him.
But, no matter where she looked, she couldn’t find him.
She knew he was here; she’d seen him around. The only one who’d shown up to a work site in a designer suit.
Max shook her head with a smile and waved to Hallie to tell her that she was going to head inside, thinking that perhaps he’d gone in for some reason. Max entered the store only to stop in the doorway.
There was a man she didn’t recognize hovering over the cashier counter.
“Can I help you?” she asked, suspicion creeping up on her. “Does Hallie know you’re here?”
The man jumped in shock, leaping away from the counter and turning toward her. Only to stop and stare at her. “Miss Wells.”
She cocked her head and studied him. Tallish and on the thin side, the man looked proper and slick. And though his dark hair was silvering and there were wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, he was still handsome and well-groomed. He looked familiar, but she just couldn’t place him. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“I know you.” He stepped forward. His dark gaze sized her up from head to toe, assessing her. “I know you.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Not that I expect a woman like you to understand,” he said while he walked around the space, flicking the few remaining items of clothing that were salvageable, “but this is a good neighborhood and we want to keep it that way.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “And this store is an eyesore. A blight on our community. It shouldn’t be here.” He turned to glare into her eyes. “And neither should you.”
“Mr. Wayne,” she presumed. He tipped his head slightly in acknowledgment. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her fists forming. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be here. You’re trespassing and you need to leave now before I call the cops.”
“I was hoping to talk to Miss Hannings,” he said.
“She’s busy,” Max snapped. “As you can see,” she said, gesturing to the vandalized room, “we have a lot of work to do.”
“Then perhaps her pit bull of a lawyer.”
Max smiled at that apt enough description. “He’s not here,” she said. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Probably off with one of his women,” Wayne mused, “am I right?” He grinned at Max’s balked expression. “He is,” the man conceded, “rather insatiable.”
Max’s foot slid back into a fighting stance and she put her hands on her hips. “Was there a message I could give him?”
“Yes.” Wayne smirked. “Tell him that, if he wants to play this game, we will, but even men who think they have nothing to lose,” he said, staring pointedly at her, “have weaknesses. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Wells?”
Max stepped back, her gaze narrowing, and stared into his dark eyes. There was a knowledge in them, an intimate knowing, as if he knew her. Really knew her. Not just knew of her, but knew the whole of her, even the parts she hid.
She gasped.
“The pictures,” she breathed, shock almost blinding her to the deeply controlled satisfaction plain on his face. “You sent them.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” His voice crackled with false innocence.
Max pursed her lips and frowned at him. “How did you get them?”
“Don’t you know, Miss Wells?” He sneered, doing his best movie villain impression. Badly. “There’s always someone watching.” His smile widened and she felt her entire body stiffen. “Tell Miss Hannings that I will see her soon,” he tossed over his shoulder nonchalantly before he moved to leave.
Gritting her teeth and balling her fists, Max watched him go, the sound of the door chimes mocking her as he stepped out of Hallie’s shop. The instant he left, she turned on her heel and checked the cashier’s counter, drawers, and cabinets for tampering, grateful to find them all locked up tight.
“Max?”
Max’s head popped up. Speak of the devil. The lawyer was there in the doorway. His arm curled comfortably around the slim waist of a tall, pretty woman. Max’s eyes narrowed. Not just any woman. The statuesque model from Hallie’s show. The beautiful black woman who’d worn the white slip. Her white slip.
Max’s lips thinned at the intimate image; the beautiful couple framed perfectly by the shop’s door.
She turned away.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, the model still snug against his side.
“What am I doing here?” she asked. “I was chasing Wayne out from around the cashier’s counter.” Glaring at him and his date, she countered, “What are you doing here?” With some other woman? A repeat performance? Was this what he did with all his women? Was she just one more in a long line of faceless, gullible females?
“Max Wells,” he said, introductions heavy in his voice, “this is Pip Jones, host of The Deviant Nerd, the podcast that interviewed Hallie two days ago.” With a hand to the small of the woman’s back, he led her forward. “Pip, this is Max Wells.”
“Pleasure to meet you in person,” Pip said, her sultry voice smooth and seductive. “I can’t believe all the work you’ve done. It’s quite remarkable.”
“Thank you,” Max replied primly, at an unusual loss for words.
“Hallie said I could take a look around.” Pip peeked around the space. “She showed me the pictures, but I wanted to see it for myself. So I could tell my listeners about it in my next show. Maybe take some photos of my own and post them on my blog.” She turned back to him, leaned in, and kissed him on the lips. A smacking kiss, not lingering by any means, but not exactly brief. It had an air of intimacy that set Max’s teeth on edge.
Max whipped away, fighting back a wave of bitter anger.
What did she care?
So he was probably fucking the model.
Who could blame him?
She was gorgeous and available, and obviously they were close.
Hell, why wouldn’t he sleep with her?
Max’s breath caught and her heart pounded, her chest feeling tight.
She was being ridiculous.
Sex was just sex.
A physical exertion.
A release.
He was an adult and unattached. He’d never made her promises or led her to believe.
That she was special.
That he wasn’t interested in anyone else.
“I left Pip at the bar,” he’d said that first night they met.
He’d been with that woman that night. From the beginning. Before even that, undoubtedly.
“I’ll just show myself around,” she distantly heard Pip say. “Don’t mind me.”
Max fussed about the counter area with a lot of motion and intent, but no real clear purpose, searching for something. But what? It’s not as if she were some crime scene investigator. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to be looking for.
“I had Hallie move all the money and business information,” he told her, suddenly just behind her, making her jump. “Those are just empty drawers and shelves. Even the register has nothing of worth in it.”
She nodded. A good idea with how many people would be roaming around and coming in and out of this place in the next who-knew-how-long.
She still didn’t like the idea of Wayne snooping around the area. She shivered.
He was the one who’d sent her those photos, she just knew it. Blackmail. Both for her and for him. Because Wayne thought Max was important to him. Thought they had some kind of connection.
She shook her head.
“You knew that Wayne had sent the photos, didn’t you?” she asked, still staring at the untouched counter space. She just needed something to do. Something to occupy her. So she didn’t have to think. About how helpless that made her feel. About how very little she could actually do.
She did not want to think about the man looming just behind her. She didn’t want to think about the model traipsing around the shop. She definitely didn’t want to think about them together. About him touching her. About him making love to her.
No, Max did not want to, would not think about that artificial, dye-job lawyer. Not anymore. At the moment, she didn’t even want to look at him.
“I had my suspicions,” he answered, letting her fruitlessly search as if he sensed her restless need. “I’ll find proof.”
There was that confidence again. That unquestionable assumption that everything would go exactly as he wanted. Because that was how it should and would be.
“You’re angry again,” he commented so matter-of-factly. “And only partly at Wayne.”
She scoffed. He thought he knew everything.
Never mind that he was right.
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head before straightening. “I should go back outside.”
“Max.” He tried to grab her elbow. But she twisted away from him.
“I really need to go help,” she said. “The contractors should be here soon.” She needed to get away. Away from him. Away from the woman. And the hell away from whatever they planned to do. “Make sure you’re both finished up in here before they come.”
“We never said we were exclusive,” he said, reading her mind.
“I never said we were anything,” she countered. “Because we aren’t.” She knew that. They were barely acquaintances. They had no commitment or attachment to each other. “It’s fine,” she told him. “No apologies—”
“I’m not apologizing.”
“No explanations necessary then.” Because she was done. She was a fool for even having considered it. This—whatever the fuck this even was—was too complicated. There was so very little about this that was simple.
For a week now, ever since Hallie’s show and their night in the parking ramp, they’d kept in close contact. Phone calls. Emails. Texts. Even the occasional lunch and dinner. Though they both kept everything achingly professional, each meeting and message had held an electric current running hot beneath it, an awareness that crackled when they neared. She’d felt it—had thought he’d felt it too. She’d felt it grow.
Thought she had anyway.
Now she didn’t know what to feel.
Didn’t want to feel anything at all.
Max gave herself a mental shake. This had to stop. She couldn’t afford this. The scandal. The complications. Him. It was all just too much.
She’d work with him to help Hallie, but that was all. She was done with him. She had to be. To protect her career. To protect her heart. It was the only answer.
She shook her head and moved away from him. Reaching for the door, she stepped out in the sunshine and shrugged. “I have to go.”
———
Standing outside the shop, looking in through the huge window display, he watched Max supervise and direct the chaotic operation of putting Hallie’s shop to rights. The biggest mess was the back office that needed new carpet and some water damage work. Max had Building Dream Houses tearing up the space, clearing out the old to make room for the new. She had volunteers in the main shop area, stripping the floors and painting the walls.
She, Elin, and Hallie were gathered in the middle of the room, studying plans and discussing estimates. Max was in her element. A queen or a general lording over the situation. He couldn’t stop staring at her. She was attractive beyond beauty. The way satisfaction for all they’d accomplished flushed her freckled, peach pearl skin a delicate rose. And the way her determination to keep their progress moving fired clear on her face, lighting her eyes. He could see purpose sharpen her stance and movement to a succinct grace. Success looked damned good on her.
“She’s done an amazing job.” Pip walked up behind him on the sidewalk, her video camera still in her hand.
“Yes,” he said, still watching Max. He expected nothing less from her.
“She’s jealous too.”
Yes. “The kiss didn’t help,” he commented blandly.
She let out a low chuckle. “No,” she said, “I don’t imagine it did.” She shrugged. “I didn’t realize it would cause such a reaction.”
Max had looked somewhere between livid and ill. She’d looked ready to skin him alive.
Which he’d have preferred to the avoidance act she was pulling now. No matter what he did, it was as if she just looked through him. As if she didn’t care. As if he didn’t matter.
He was tired of it. And it would stop.
“And not just hers.” Pip laughed.
He turned to shoot a look at the woman. “Meaning?”
“You didn’t tell her about us,” she said, her beautiful face kept deliberately straight, only the slightest, sad smile betraying anything. “Or about the others, I’m guessing.” She made a small musing sound. “Telling.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“You always let all the women you’re involved with know about the other women you’re involved with,” Pip stated with a observational tilt of her head. “Before they get involved with you.”
His eye twitched. He had a hard rule about that. Honesty—brutal and unvarnished—at all times. Because he never hid who he was and they deserved to know.
“But you didn’t this time,” Pip said thoughtfully. “Like I said, telling.” She cleared her throat. “I should get in there and interview a few of the volunteers.”
Pip was right. He should have said something. Should have told her upfront. It was the responsible, ethical thing to do. Not doing it hadn’t been right.
But Max was so different than the women he usually saw. So rigid and stubborn, stuck in a single way of thought. He had a hard enough time convincing Max to give him anything. Her time. Her consideration. Anything. If he’d told her that he was also seeing other women—submissives, play partners, lovers, casual hook-ups—she’d have written him off outright. He’d never have gotten close to her.
It wasn’t a good reason. Wasn’t a good excuse. He knew that. And to have it sprung on her like that, he may have already lost her.
No.
He didn’t accept that. Wouldn’t.
He knew Max. Was coming to know her, at least. He’d talk to her. Make her understand.
She could accept this. He knew she could.
He needed to think. Needed to prepare.
READ CHAPTER SIXTEE(fix)N
WANT MORE?
No comments:
Post a Comment