Always Will: A Bad Boy Romance Page 6

  “No, thanks.” I hold up my glass. “I’m good with wine for now.”

  He smiles as he stirs something on the stove. “Great. Make yourself at home.”

  I wander out to his living room. He has music playing in the background—some sort of soft jazz that sounds like elevator music. He doesn’t have any personal photos displayed, just a few pieces of art on the walls. Landscapes. Boring ones.

  God, Selene, quit judging him.

  I take a seat on his dark gray couch and set my purse next to me.

  “How are things at work?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I say. “Just busy, mostly.”

  “Is everyone adjusting to the new boss?”

  I think about Ronan and my heart skips a little. “Yeah, everyone seems to be.”

  “That’s good,” he says. “Any luck on the job search?”

  I take a sip of wine. When I heard the company had been sold, my first thought was to get my resume out there. But I haven’t even updated it yet. “Not really. I haven’t been looking that hard.”

  “You should, don’t you think?” he asks. “At least see what opportunities are out there.”

  His comment shouldn’t irk me. I’m the one who said I was going to look for a new job. But I find myself biting back a sharp reply.

  “Yeah, I will. I’ve just been busy.” I take another drink.

  A timer dings.

  “I think everything is just about ready,” he says. “Go ahead and have a seat at the table and I’ll bring it out.”

  I sit at the round glass table, and he brings out two plates of chicken Parmesan. It does smell good. He sits down and offers me more wine, but I decline. My glass is still partially full, and I don’t want to drink much tonight.

  We chat while we eat. He tells me a little about his day. He always talks about work. I wonder if he has any actual hobbies. There’s nothing in his condo that would indicate he does anything other than go to work and take me out to eat once in a while. No photos on the wall, or coffee table books that might show his interests. He has a thing for bad music, I know that much. At least he can cook, I suppose.

  “Thank you,” I say when I finish. “This was really good. You’re a great cook.”

  He smiles. “Thanks. I don’t do enough of it, to be honest.” He picks up his wine and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.

  He wants to have sex. I can see it. He’s looking at me differently. His posture is relaxed, one elbow resting on the table, but there’s tension in his face. He’s thinking about it right now, wondering how he’s going to bring it up. I see confidence in his eyes. He’s sure I’m going to say yes.

  I sip my wine, and look down at my plate. I don’t want to sleep with him. For so long, I’ve been telling myself that I need to give Aidan a chance, that maybe if we take our relationship up a notch or three physically, I’ll feel more of a connection to him. But sitting here with him now, I know I won’t. I’ve tried to give Aidan a fair shot—he’s supposed to be the nice guy I need—but this relationship isn’t going anywhere.

  I don’t want to think about the fact that this means Ronan was right.

  “Dessert?” he asks.

  I never have dessert with him. It isn’t that I don’t like dessert. I love sweet things. But by the time we finish dinner, I’m always ready to go. I feel the same way now—like I need an excuse to leave.

  I open my mouth to reply, when my phone dings.

  “I’m sorry.” My purse is still next to the couch, so I get up. “I thought I turned the sound off. Let me just check my messages really quick.”

  “Of course,” he says.

  I sit down on the edge of the couch and pull out my phone. I have a text from Ronan. Need an excuse to get out of your date yet?

  I have to stop myself from smiling. I should be annoyed, but fuck if his timing isn’t perfect.

  “Sorry, Aidan,” I say. “I just need to answer this really quick.”

  My date is going fine, thank you very much. We had a lovely dinner.

  “No problem,” Aidan says. “I’ll just clean this up.” He takes our plates to the kitchen and turns on the sink.

  Bullshit. You’re a caged animal, trying to find a way to open the locked door.

  Just as I start to type, he sends another text.

  I have the key.

  I stifle a laugh and glance up at Aidan. He’s doing the dishes.

  Hardly. I can leave anytime I want.

  His response is quick. Good. Meet me at that wine bar by the office in fifteen minutes.

  No dating, Ronan.

  Not a date. Same as two colleagues sharing a meal, but it’s wine.

  I sigh. We need to add a no drinking together rule.

  Sorry, terms have been set. Should have brought that to the original negotiation.

  I decide to fuck with Ronan a little. Regardless, the terms of our agreement permit my date, including any other activities I choose to engage in with said date. I’ll see you Monday.

  I look over at Aidan again. He smiles at me from the sink. I do need to leave, and I need to be honest with Aidan about why. But I’m not meeting Ronan tonight.

  I put my phone away and walk into the kitchen. My stomach does another tumble, like it did on the drive over. There’s no easy way to do this, but I need to get it over with.

  He turns off the water and raises his eyebrows, his face pleasant.

  “Aidan, this dinner was really nice,” I say, “and you’re a very nice guy.”

  His smile fades. “But?”

  “But, I don’t think this is right for me,” I say. “Honestly, I wish it was. You have so much going for you, and when you meet the right woman I know you’re going to make her very happy.”

  “Oh,” he says. “I guess I thought we were really hitting it off.”

  “It’s not that you aren’t a nice guy.”

  “You said that already,” he says. “I just don’t understand. I’ve been doing everything right, following the list.”

  “What list?” I ask.

  He glances away. “It’s nothing.”

  “You have a list? What does that mean?”

  “I follow a very well-respected author, and he provides a variety of helpful tools on his website.”

  “Author of what?”

  “He’s a self-help guru,” Aidan says. “He writes for a male audience, giving relationship advice.”

  “So this whole time, everything you’ve done has been an item on a checklist? Are you kidding me?”

  “No, I’m not kidding,” he says. “It’s a valid technique.”

  “Valid technique? For what? What is this, some sort of list of steps to get a woman in bed?”

  “Not exactly. Sex is just one part of the overall process.” He shakes his head. “Honestly, I’m baffled. You fit all the criteria from his quiz. I followed the checklist to the letter, and it was working perfectly.”

  No wonder everything has felt so forced and clinical. He wasn’t trying to establish a solid base to build a lasting relationship. He was following a fucking checklist.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it was not working perfectly.” I grab my purse and head for the front door.

  “Selene, wait.”

  “No,” I say. “Some online quiz is not going to magically produce the woman of your dreams. You can take your self-help moron and creepy checklist, and find someone who will fall for that bullshit. I’m sure she’s out there, but she sure as hell isn’t me.”

  He says something else, but I’m out the door too quickly. He better not follow me. A quiz? Is he fucking kidding? Unbelievable.

  I hurry out to my car and drive away. I have to circle around the block to get on a street that will take me home, and just the sight of his building sends a chill down my spine. God, to think I was actually trying to talk myself into sleeping with that guy. Is this what happens when you try to date a nice man? You wind up with a guy who can’t think for himself?

  I get home
and pull into my garage, remembering my phone dinged with another text before I left Aidan’s. It’s from Ronan.

  If your lack of sex tonight leaves you restless, call me. I’ll be happy to provide relief.

  I roll my eyes. I’m sure he would. Our agreement stipulates we don’t sleep together.

  His reply comes as I walk in the door. Consider it a freebie.

  That’s very generous of you. /sarcasm

  I’m a very generous man.

  I set my phone down on the counter. I’d be lying to myself if I say I’m not tempted. But sleeping with Ronan would be an absolute disaster, no matter what he says about it being a “freebie.” There’s no such thing.

  Good night, Ronan.

  Good night, Selene. See you Monday.

  10: Ronan

  Scott leaves my office after a meeting with me and Janine, the HR Director. He’s a good kid, but I talked Sarah into coming up here for at least the next six months. She should arrive any time. Janine and I found another position for Scott, so I didn’t have to let him go. I think he was actually relieved—I’m not an easy guy to work for.

  I swing my chair around to look at the view through the big windows while I return a few calls. The sky is clear, the sun glinting off the glass windows of the buildings across the street. I feel a familiar twitch: the desire to fly. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good hit of adrenaline. I’m starting to get edgy.

  There’s a knock at my door, and I glance over my shoulder. Sarah stands in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue dress with a slim gold belt, a pair of sunglasses on her face. Her blond hair is pulled up and she has a black bag hanging from her shoulder.

  “Great,” I say. “Email it to me, and we’ll talk more next week.” I hang up the phone, look at Sarah. “About time.”

  She pulls the sunglasses off and makes a show of rolling her eyes at me as she takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “You’re giving me a raise.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes,” she says, meeting my eyes. “Or I’m going back to San Francisco.”

  I crack a small smile. I already had her raise processed through HR, but I like fucking with her. “Guess you better go back to the airport, because you’re nuts if you think I’m paying you more than I already do.”

  She pulls her laptop out of her bag and sets it on my desk. “I’m nuts for working for you.”

  “This is the best job you’ve ever had,” I say, leaning back in my seat.

  “Right,” she says, with another eye roll. “You’re still giving me that raise.”

  I look up at the knock on my half-open door, to find Selene looking in. Her hair is down, which is definitely my favorite look on her. She’s wearing a fitted white shirt with a wide collar and a pair of dark slacks that remind me of how long her legs are. Fuck, she’s spectacular.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she says. “Do you have a second?”

  “Absolutely,” I say. “Come on in. Sarah, this is Selene Taylor. Selene, Sarah Reynolds. Sarah works for me at Edge, and she’s transferring here.”

  Selene smiles and shakes hands with Sarah. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” Sarah says.

  “Again, sorry for interrupting, but Marketing wants to move the meeting this afternoon to noon instead of three,” Selene says. “I want to be sure you can still make it before I respond.”

  I look at Sarah.

  “Don’t look at me,” she says. “I just got here and I don’t have your calendar synced yet.”

  “Noon is fine,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “Great, see you then,” Selene says and walks out the door, closing it behind her.

  Sarah looks at me with her eyebrows raised.

  “What?” I ask.

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?” I ask.

  Sarah nods toward the door. “That. Is there something going on with her?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Sarah gives me her I know you’re lying through your teeth look. She’s worked for me for about four years, but we’ve been friends since college. I can’t get much past her. “I saw the way you looked at her. Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with an employee.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ronan,” she says, her voice stern, “you realize that’s a terrible idea, right?”

  I rest my hand on my chin. “No, it’s a risk. There’s a difference.”

  “Ah,” she says. “I see what’s happening.”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “No?” she asks. “Let me guess and you can tell me if I’m right.”

  I arch an eyebrow at her. “Fine.”

  “She turned you down, probably because she’s as smart as she is gorgeous and she knows sleeping with her boss has the potential to ruin her career,” Sarah says.

  Ruin her career. I do not like hearing that. I shift in my seat, but don’t say anything.

  “Now, you see her as a challenge,” she continues. “She’s the next jump spot you need to conquer.”

  Ordinarily, Sarah would be right. Most of the women I’ve dated have a similar story. They present a challenge in one way or another, and fuck if I don’t love the chase. It’s a rush.

  I need the rush.

  It would be easy to agree with Sarah, to say that I’m attracted to Selene because she’s hard to get and I want to be the man who gets past her defenses again. It wouldn’t be a lie. But it wouldn’t be the whole truth either, and I don’t think I want to try explaining it to Sarah.

  I can’t explain it to myself.

  “Not quite,” I say.

  “What does that mean?” she asks.

  “It means you don’t quite have it right,” I say.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “What’s going on with you?”

  “We’re done talking about this,” I say, and the casualness is gone from my tone. I’m not kidding. I pick up my phone to glance at the time. “We have some time before the marketing meeting. Your desk is right out there, if you want to get settled first, but I have some things I need to go over with you.”

  “All right, back to business,” Sarah says. “I have some things to review from Edge, but there’s nothing that can’t wait. Where are we with the contract?”

  “I’m close to setting up a meeting,” I say. “But I need to get the team here on board first.”

  “You haven’t told them?” Sarah asks.

  “Not yet,” I say. “Everyone here is still reeling from the sale. That jackass Brad didn’t give them any warning, so they had no idea it was coming. I need to gain their trust before I spring this on them. It represents a pretty big change in direction.”

  “It does, but at the end of the day, we all need to do our jobs,” she says.

  “True,” I say. “But I could also lose half the dev team and then we’d be fucked.”

  “You need an ally,” Sarah says. “Someone who holds a lot of sway here who can champion this for you.”

  My mouth turns up in a smile. “I know the perfect person.”

  Sarah crosses her arms. “Let me guess? The smoking hot brunette you were thinking about shagging on this desk?”

  “How do you know I was thinking about shagging her on my desk?”

  “Because I know you,” she says. “Are you sure she’s the right choice, or are you just looking for an excuse to spend time with her?”

  “Both.”

  “At least you’re honest,” Sarah says. “Just make sure you’re thinking with your head, and not your dick.”

  “Classy.”

  “It’s why you love working with me.”

  “This is still strictly confidential,” I say. “I want to have a few more things solidified before I bring anyone else in on this, even Selene.”

  “That’s fine,” she says and starts gathering up her things. “Just keep me posted. If we’re done here, I have a desk to set up and an apartment to find. I don’t want to live in a hotel
forever.”

  “Fair enough. Marketing meeting is in the conference room at noon.”

  She stands and shoulders her bag. “Sounds good.” She pauses at the door and looks back at me over her shoulder. “Put my raise through, or I swear to God, I’ll quit.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” I say. “And your raise already went through.”

  She gives me a satisfied smile and closes the door behind her.

  11: Selene

  I get into the office early and set my coffee down on my desk. I like the quiet before everyone else starts to arrive. Things are starting to settle down since the disruption that is Ronan. Despite the fact that he’s a more active owner than Brad was, I still have a never-ending list of things to do. I boot up my laptop and answer a few emails while I sip my coffee.

  There’s a report from the sales team, and as I scan the numbers I realize there are a few discrepancies. I should go over this with Ronan. I glance at the time. It’s not quite eight, but he’s usually in the office early. I decide to pop in and see if he’s here.

  Sarah isn’t at her desk yet, so I go straight to his office. His door is open a crack, and I push it open wider.

  “Ronan?”

  He’s standing next to his desk, his hair wet, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He puts his phone down and smiles at me.

  “Oh, shit,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he says. “Come on in.”

  “I can come back later.” I try to stop myself from staring. Holy hell, he’s gorgeous. His broad chest is still a little wet, and his rippling abs glisten. Why does his body have to be so perfect? He turns toward me, and I almost choke. I don’t remember that tattoo on his chest, but fuck it’s hot.

  One corner of his mouth turns up. “Sorry, I went for a run and decided to shower here.”

  “Really, I’ll come back.” Why aren’t my legs moving? My hand feels like it’s glued to the doorknob and I can’t turn around.

  “Should I get dressed, or close the blinds?” he asks.

  I should not be thinking about the fact that we’re probably alone, because the office is essentially empty, and if he did close the blinds… That’s a very good reason for me to turn my ass around and come back when I’m sure he’s dressed.