First Glance (A Steamy Series-Starter Anthology), page 41
After an afternoon of hammering out our most specific approach yet, making a few phone calls, and beginning to flesh out the presentation, I’m surprised when I look up to find dusk fast approaching.
I glance at my phone. I’ve tried to call Keeley a few times today. She hasn’t answered. I’ve left texts. She hasn’t replied. In a voice mail, I even gave groveling my best shot. Nothing.
No doubt, she’s pissed.
On the one hand, it’s good. She must feel something for me or she wouldn’t care that I might want to use her to divert my brother’s brain from work. On the other hand, she was pretty clear that she feels used. I hate that. Not only is she smokin’-hot and sex with her is beyond phenomenal, she’s like…a friend. I’ve told her some of my darkest secrets, and she listened, just squeezing my hand. No judgment, no platitudes, no bullshit. She gets me. That’s rare.
So why is she having trouble understanding that what I want and what I need are diametrically opposed? If she’ll try to understand me just a bit more, she’ll get that wanting her and wanting to screw my brother over don’t have to be mutually exclusive. After all, I’m not plotting to hurt her.
Damn it, why won’t she call me back?
After Britta flies out the door to try to reach the daycare in the next fifteen minutes before they close, Rob grabs his stuff and heads for the exit. “So…hey. What about your little side plan with Keeley? I didn’t ask in front of Britta, but how’s that going?”
Subtext: You’re not wussing out, are you? I don’t know what to say. The logical, success-ladder-climbing side of me knows that if I don’t give every angle my all, I might as well concede to Griff now. But everything from shoulder to shoulder, between my neck and my navel, seizes up. That part of me is already doing a million-emotion march against the concept of letting Keeley anywhere near my brother.
“I’m rethinking.”
“Why? You know your brother will go mental when he meets her. She can charm him right out of his sanity. Is she backing out? You found the leverage to bend her into this agreement, right? If so, you need to remind her—”
“No. That’s not the problem.” I’d rather not tell Rob my personal situation. He’ll only roll his eyes anyway.
“Then what is it? Do not tell me your conscience has decided to get uptight.”
Okay, that’s annoying. “Don’t you think it’s a shitty thing to do to a woman? Imagine how she feels.”
“Who cares? She’ll be gone in two weeks.” He curses. “Christ, when did you grow morals?”
Rob’s tone makes it clear he thinks I’m a fidiot. Maybe I am. I just… Last night, after I kissed her with a wholly new passion that stemmed from somewhere other than my dick, then all but blurted that I’d give her up to beat my brother, the devastation on Keeley’s soft features nearly took me out at the knees.
“Don’t be an asshole,” I snap at Rob. “I have to think about this. She means something to me.”
“Since when? Have you even fucked this girl again?”
I remember all the times Rob and I swapped morning-after stories. At one point, I knew every sexual partner he had in the last three years. I also knew whether they were a screamer or if they liked their sex kinky. I was pretty good about reciprocating, even with Tiffanii. But Rob’s question now infuriates me.
“That’s none of your business.”
“In other words, no. Grow up and get laid. I mean this as a friend and a business associate. Don’t fuck this up. You asked Stowe for a shot.”
“And we’re going to pitch to him.”
“Yeah, blindfolded with one hand tied behind your back. Why would you do this halfway?”
“Why throw Keeley under the bus for ambition?”
“For fuck’s sake. Your feelings are going to cost us a lot of money, like six figures each. I need that money. Britta does, too. Why don’t you tell Keeley you like her and give her a cut of the payoff to play along?”
“I tried.” More or less. “She won’t.”
Rob rakes a hand through his hair like he can’t believe what I’ve said. “Persuade her. You fucking sell things for a living. You have this whole plan in place. You’ve been working it for two weeks. Now five feet short of the goal line, you’re going to pack up your gear and quit? Who are you?”
That’s a good question. I’m not even sure I know the answer anymore. I don’t feel happy without Keeley nearby teasing or scolding me. I don’t run right when I don’t know where she is, if she’s happy, or whether she’ll be home when I get there.
I’m so fucked.
“Get off my back.”
“Give me a reason to. I came to work for you because you never failed to go for the kill. I would have sworn you’d stab your own mother to get ahead. And now you’re giving up your chance to catch the biggest deal of your career for some fucking broad you met in a bar two weeks ago.” He shakes his head at me. “When did you become the guy willing to fuck me out of a paycheck so you can get laid? Get your shit together, or I don’t think I can work for you anymore.”
Before I can say anything else, Rob is gone.
I honestly don’t know if he’ll be back. He’s an essential part of my team. He knows how to make sales faster…and he knows where all the bodies are buried, so to speak. This sucks.
I curse and grab my gear. Rob’s tirade aside, I know I have a hard decision to make. I have to talk to Keeley—somehow. We need to work this out. No matter what happens with Griff, in my head she’s mine and she’s going to stay that way.
I can’t say I’m in a great mood when I climb into the car and tear out of the parking lot for home. Yes, I’ve known for a long time that Rob is a complete bastard. Frankly, it’s one of the reasons I hired him and why we worked well together. Birds of a feather and all. Sometimes I have to be charming for clients, but I could always count on my marketing manager to be ruthless.
His shit tonight was way over the line.
I get that my indecision has thrown him for a loop. Since he gets paid when I get paid, I realize that if I don’t reel in the Stowe estate, I’m costing him a lot of money. He should also know I’m going to do my best to succeed and make things right for him. If he’s calmed down tomorrow, we can try to work it out. If he continues to be an asswipe, I may be hiring a new staff member.
My phone rings, butting into my thoughts. There’s just enough glare left in this sunset that stabs my eyes through the windshield, I can’t see the display on my Range Rover. But my insides torque up at the hope that Keeley is finally not pissed enough to talk to me.
I grope for the button on the dash and stab it. “Hello? Keeley?”
“Sorry. It’s Harlow.”
“Hey, sis.” I try not to sound disappointed.
She laughs at me. “Tell me how you really feel?”
“Give it a rest.”
“You got it bad for this woman, don’t you?”
Yeah. I’m not sure what that means yet or how it’s going to play out in the future. The not knowing is making me antsy. “Did you want something?”
“Well, I called to tell you a few things, but since you’re so ribbable now, I think I’ll keep the good stuff to myself until I’ve had my fun.”
I sigh. “Why aren’t you taking your frustrations out on your fiancé? Is he still in London?”
“No. He’s flown on to Athens. He’s very important,” Harlow says in a voice that makes me worry she’s questioning her own importance to him.
“You okay?”
“Are you?” she counters. “How is it going with Keeley?”
I’m a smart guy…usually. I am definitely intelligent enough to realize that I will never understand the female mind. Harlow isn’t much like Keeley—but she’s closer than I’ll ever be.
“I’m not even sure. Good one minute, not so good the next.” I fill her in on last night’s un-hilarious comedy of errors.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
“You have never once asked my advice with a woman. By the way, if you had, I could have told you Tiffanii was a selfish whore.”
“Thanks for the FYI. I figured that out.”
“Finally. Look, you’re obviously tied up in knots over this girl. Are you in love with her?”
I’ve never been in love. How the hell should I know? “Maybe.”
Harlow laughs without humor. “You sound so clueless. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.”
Gritting my teeth in frustration, I bite back a curse. “Are you going to make fun of me or help?”
She hesitates, and I wonder how much she’s enjoying my torment. She’s not usually cutthroat like the males in our family, but she’s also no slouch. My little sister learned from some of the most ruthless assholes ever and she can keep up. I’m actually worried about her answer.
“Neither,” she says finally. “Look, there’s no redeeming Dad, so I gave up on him a long time ago. You and Griff… It’s been a toss-up which side of the fence you two would fall on. But I’m starting to have hope for you. You seem like a better man with Keeley.”
I want to be a better man. I even feel like a better man. I don’t want to let that—or her—go. But I don’t want to give up the Stowe estate, either. It’s not just a property or a payday. It cements my future.
“What are you saying?”
“That you need to figure it out. I could tell you how to play this, but if I do, whatever move you make won’t be authentic. Keeley sounds like a smart cookie. I’m guessing she’ll see right through any choice that doesn’t come from your heart.”
Most likely. “I don’t know how to choose with my heart. I have three chromosomes—X, Y, and asshole. How do I change that?”
“Stop making excuses and decide what you want most. I only called to drop a little knowledge on you. First, tonight Griff is going to someplace called Lelani’s Beachside Grotto. He should be there about…now. So if you want to proceed with your original plan to introduce Keeley to him, here’s your chance.”
My breath seizes up. My heart pounds so hard I swear it’s going to bruise my rib cage. I have to decide now? Right this minute?
There’s still a little part of my brain screaming that I’m an idiot if I don’t follow through, but all the function in my body seems to be coming from my chest these days. It’s telling me that my head needs a fucking vacation.
“Thanks,” I manage to mutter. “And he’s still not seeing anyone?”
“Nope. But something is going on. I talked to him today. He sounds really wound up.”
“He’s probably on edge about the Stowe estate.” The end of the week is going to creep up on both of us.
“Maybe.”
“What’s the other reason you called? I mean, besides the chance to talk to your amazing elder brother,” I try to joke.
It falls flat.
Harlow gets quiet, sober. My gut starts screaming.
“Mom picked up and left yesterday.”
“What? What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. Dad called me in a huff this morning. Mom didn’t come home last night. She didn’t call. She didn’t say she was going anywhere, she just…left. She also took her Mercedes, a suitcase…and half their checking account.”
“Damn it. That move sounds as if Griff, that fucker, has been giving her pointers. You think she’s gearing up for a divorce?”
“Apparently, she called a lawyer.”
“She’s done that before,” I rationalize aloud. “She usually backs down.”
“True.” Harlow lets out a troubled breath. “But something tells me this time will be different.”
As soon as I hang up with my sister, I call Keeley again. Still no answer. I leave her another voice mail with some assorted groveling and a casual question about the bar Harlow mentioned. Has she heard of it? Damn it, why won’t Keeley even talk to me? I can’t seem to go on without this woman.
How can I soothe her anger so we can have a… What do shrinks call it? Yeah, a dialogue. I start racking my brain for ideas. I’m pretty sure she would find flowers lame. In the larger scope of things, they’re easy and cheap. But if I try to buy her something expensive or substantial, she’ll tell me she can’t be bought.
Where does that leave me?
I reach my condo and dash through my door, hoping that Keeley will be here, waiting. Maybe she’s just too pissed at me to answer the phone. Maybe she wants to yell at me before we talk. I’m okay with that. I’d probably feel like I wasn’t important if someone tried to persuade me to flash a little leg or whatever to make them a buck.
My hands tremble as I shove the key in the lock and push the door open. “Keeley?”
Nothing. The place is painfully quiet.
As I glance inside, the kitchen looks completely spotless, so I have no idea whether she even stayed for breakfast. Nor has she set anything out for dinner. That worries me.
I toss my keys on the bar and scan the family room. Nothing of Keeley’s is lying around. No book. No glass of half-imbibed water. No rumpled pillows on the sofa.
My guts starts to clench with dread.
“Keeley?” I call again.
I can’t stand that she’s not here, not responding to me. I swallow as I dash to her bedroom.
Please tell me she’s not gone for good.
The minute I hit the threshold, her absence is palpable. But the bedroom smells so much like her it nearly drops me to my knees. A pang for her obliterates my composure. I imagine her skin. I see her smile. I can almost feel her heart.
Keeley Kent would never use or sell me. She would never put her job first. If she loved someone, she would never betray them, hurt them, or leave them.
I have fucked up so badly. Every cell in my body aches with that truth.
The worst part is, I don’t know if the damage I’ve done is reparable.
Taking four giant steps across the room, I rip open the closet door. And I breathe an audible sigh of relief. Her clothes are still hanging. Her shoes are still lined up along the bottom of the closet.
I work a lot of long hours, so I don’t always think about the fact that my condo could be tidier. But Keeley not only tucks everything away, she has this knack for arranging items around the room so they’re both clever and functional. I’ve noticed recently that she’s completely turned my kitchen upside down—in a good way. Same is true of this bedroom. It used to be a spare space for guests to crash. Now she’s brought in pictures, throw pillows, and knickknacks. The space actually looks homey.
What the hell do I do if she decides not to come back? Will she send me a Dear John letter asking me to return her stuff while telling me to fuck off?
Those thoughts pelt my brain over and over as I change into pajama pants and head for the sofa. Absently, I turn on the TV to wait. I text her to say I’m home. No reply.
With a sigh, I tune out the news. Politics—don’t care now. Economic data—whatever. I usually listen to the housing info, but I can’t even pretend to give a damn tonight. The program drones through the local news and special interest stories.
Still no Keeley.
I call once more—just in case. She ignores me utterly.
My stomach goes from tight to nauseous. The clock tells me it’s past time to eat dinner. For maybe the first time in my life, I’m way more worried about someone else and how they feel than what the fuck is going on in my life. Food will come later. Once I know what’s up with Keeley.
Eight o’clock rolls past. Stupid sitcoms with bad laugh tracks can’t hold my interest. Nine o’clock comes and goes. I don’t even know what Keeley is doing, where she’s gone. If she’s trying to teach me a lesson, I think I’ve learned.
Finally, my phone rings. I pounce on it, fumbling with the answer button. But the display tells me it isn’t Keeley.
“Britta?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to check on you. I finally got Jamie in bed and thought I’d call. As I backed out of the parking lot at the office, I thought I saw through the window that you and Rob were arguing. Everything all right?”
I need to get control of myself. Stop this man-period I’m having. I have to not freak out.
Deep breaths.
It doesn’t help.
“I’m good.”
“You don’t sound like it,” Britta chides gently.
She’s not stupid, and I shouldn’t treat her that way. “He threatened to quit.”
“He what?” I hear the shock in her voice and grimace. “That man has devoted years to you. What the… Everything seemed all right when I left.”
It was. And now that I’ve opened my big mouth and started talking, I don’t have any other way to explain our fight except the truth. “Keeley isn’t just the woman I’m hooked up with right now. I was grooming her to distract Griff so we would get the Stowe listing.”
I explain everything, including the fact that I have no idea at all what to do next.
When I’m done, Britta says nothing for an unnervingly long time.
“You still there?” I ask. My voice croaks with nerves.
“How dare you.”
My assistant doesn’t yell or scream. I wish she would. Then we could get into a knock-down-drag-out and purge her anger. But no. She says the words so softly I have to strain to hear them. I know Britta’s temper well. Silence is bad.
“Um…because I’m stupid?” I’m hoping that’s the right answer. When I explained my scheme aloud again, that’s how it sounded.
“Maxon, you are thirty-three years old. You need to learn that you don’t always get your way.”
Actually, I feel as if I’m figuring that out damn fast. “Yeah.”
“I’m only going to admit this once, and if you ever tell anyone, I will deny it until my dying day.” She pauses. I hear her swallow. “I love Griff. I will always love him. I think about your brother every single day. I see him every time I look at our son. I think you know that.”
“I do.”
“So how could you betray me like this? It’s one thing for Griff to troll bars and pick up tourists and bimbos. I can tell myself they don’t matter to him. But Keeley is different. You’re teaching her to be everything Griff could ever want and shoving her in his face. You’re giving him a woman to fixate on. You’re guaranteeing he never looks at me again. I thought we were family and that you would never hurt me.”
