Red Hot Obsessions (52 page)

17

There’s a reason people hate Mondays, so when Tate didn’t bother calling that morning, Piper was both confused and relieved.

No messages were left demanding to know where she was, nothing about wanting his usual coffee and donut. The morning was a quiet one and Piper felt her unease creep a little higher in his absence.

Tate wasn’t normally so hands-off. He seemed to enjoy being in control of every situation, no matter how many times she had carried out his orders without a hitch. He was probably still stewing over last night, giving her the cold shoulder, making her guess.

So, he was still mad. It was the only explanation she could come up with. Well, she was angry too, damn it. How dare he come into her home and try to seduce her? What was he thinking? They worked together. The whole thing was wildly inappropriate and there was no way she would allow something like that to happen again.

And he had called her a bitch.

Piper ruminated over that sweet little memory as she moved around her apartment getting ready for work. How dare he? He had the gall to throw what they had done back in her face as if he hadn’t been an active participant. It just proved he was like every other man on the planet, thinking that she was a whore for doing exactly what he had done simply because they were packing different equipment between their legs.

Okay, so he hadn’t called her a whore, but he had called her a bitch and that stung just as bad. Where did he get off acting like that? Did she not have the right to say no? Did he think that giving her an orgasm was somehow going to change their situation and she would leap into his bed without argument? He was dreaming! No orgasm, no matter how good it was or professionally delivered it might be would ever cloud her judgment to that degree. Not only was Tate the last person she needed to get involved with, but Piper just wasn’t interested in complicating her life with another man. She had too much at stake. If Mr. Sinclair found out that they had slept together, she could lose her job, and she would be damned if she let another man walk into her life and ruin everything she had worked so hard to build.

Slipping into her shoes, Piper performed a quick once-over in the mirror. It had been a while, but she had decided to wear one of her favorite dresses today. It fit her like a glove, hugging all her curves. The warm burgundy material made her skin seem warm and radiant. She couldn’t help smiling, because she felt good. Some women had their power suit, something that boosted their confidence and made them feel like they could take on anything and anyone. Well, this was her power dress. It would be her armor when she walked into that office today.

She didn’t know what she would find waiting for her once she got there. It could be an angry boss, or two. It could be business as usual. However things went down, she took comfort in the fact that Tate wouldn’t be there. He rarely went into the office and never on a Monday, and most definitely never this early in the morning.

She had never been so wrong.

*

Irritated.

That was how Piper felt as she stood at the counter brewing a fresh pot of coffee. After showing up at the office she had found a madhouse waiting for her. A week had passed since she had last come in and papers were piling up. There were at least a dozen messages that needed to be returned last week. Hell, they should have been routed to her cell phone, but someone somewhere had dropped the ball and now they were all going to be in the shit if she didn’t get things straightened out, like, yesterday.

The office was buzzing with lively conversation that she didn’t have the time or the inclination to get involved with. Besides, Tate had kept her so secluded in her job that she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to nurture other working relationships. Now, she simply did not fit.

Thankfully, she had Poppy in her corner, but even then, the woman had her own work to do and she couldn’t expect for her to drop everything just to hold her hand; although it might have been a comfort to have someone to talk with beyond the occasional lunch.

To make matters worse, when she decided to bite the bullet and call Tate to fill him in on what was going on at the office; it had gone straight to voice mail. It was now ten in the morning and he still hadn’t returned her call. He was either still sleeping, or he was shutting her out. She was betting on the latter.

Did Cindi know what kind of a brat she had raised? Of course she did, Piper concluded. Cindi had made it clear on more than one occasion that she knew full well how difficult her son could be. Which reminded her, she needed to call the woman and thank her for inviting her to the cookout. It was one of the nicest evenings she had experienced in a long time, despite everything that followed.

Annnnd….she was back to square one again.

As much as she would like to pretend that Tate didn’t exist and go on about her day with lethal efficiency, she knew they couldn’t continue playing the avoidance game. There was just too much to be done. If she didn’t get ahold of him by lunchtime, she was going to have to take more drastic measures and show up at his apartment, unannounced, which he hated. So of course she loved the idea. Why not have a little fun with her day, after all? She was looking forward to it already.

“Oh, good, coffee.”

Piper looked up to see Poppy’s sunshiny face beaming at her. “Morning.” Piper stepped to the side so the woman could slide in and pour herself a cup.

“Good morning.” Poppy smiled widely as she emptied two packets of sweetener into her cup and doused it with a healthy dose of creamer. “Haven’t seen you around lately. How’s everything?”

Piper shrugged. “Meh.”

Poppy turned toward her, leaning her hip against the counter, and took a measured drink of her coffee. “’Meh’? That doesn’t sound too hopeful. What’s up?”

Piper liked Poppy. From what Poppy had told her, she’d been hired on by Mr. Bradshaw via Mr. Sinclair earlier that year as his assistant and as far as she knew, she had become an asset to the company, though she had no clue what her job description entailed. She just hoped that she could one day become as invaluable to the company as Poppy seemed to be.

“It’s just been a trying couple of days, but I’m hoping to resolve it soon.”

Poppy leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “Men are assholes,” she confided. “With a few exceptions,” she amended. “But generally speaking, if you give them an inch, they’ll run roughshod all over you. Which can be fun, granted, but you have to show them who wears the pants, if you know what I’m saying?”

“Um, yes?” Piper laughed softly. Looking down into the black coffee gripped between her hands, she felt the need to unburden herself a little. Poppy seemed like the kind of woman who was trust worthy enough for that. She hoped. “Hey, Poppy. I know we kind of touched on this before, but what do you think of Tate Larsen?”

Poppy’s delicate eyebrows rose slightly. Her lips pursed as she thought it over. “Well, first impressions? He’s an ass. He carries himself like he’s mister know-it-all and so hot he can pick up any woman he sets his mind to. But if you ask me, he’s a scared little boy dressed up in men’s clothing whose overconfidence is really just a mask for his insecurity.” Wow, the woman didn’t pull any punches. “What a man like Tate needs is a good hard slap of reality, a woman strong enough to put him in his place and keep him there.”

Piper nodded her agreement, trying to use Poppy’s assessment of Tate to reassess her own view. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She smiled, though she could say with confidence that she wouldn’t be that woman.

“I am,” Poppy grinned back. “Why do you ask anyway?”

“Oh, no reason.” She waved her off.

Poppy’s eyes narrowed briefly and Piper thought she might call her on her evasion, but thankfully she chose to let it go. “Right. Well, anyway, I’m always here if you want to talk.” She pivoted, snagging another sweetener packet from the open box on the counter. “There was something I had to ask you…Oh, right. Mr. Bradshaw says there is a conference or something coming up and there are going to be some big wigs attending. He wants you to handle finding the caterer, says you’re good at those sorts of things. Of course, you’ll have to run the details by him to finalize everything, but you know how that goes.”

Crap, Piper noticed a while back that there was an event coming up, but truthfully, with her head clouded in drama, she had forgotten all about it. One look at her planner and she would have caught it, but she hadn’t planned on having to do much for it.

The conference was set up in Vegas as part of a weekend long deal where some corporate execs would gather for dinners and business and would puff their chests to establish dominance. They’d invited five of their top selling authors along, promising open signings and meet and greets to the community. Tate was one of those authors.

Piper had attended one event like this in the past—as a fan—and she figured her part would entail making sure a room in the hotel was reserved for both of them, adjoining so she could wait on his highness—yes, she was feeling a little snappy at the moment—and setting up the booth and making sure Tate showed up for his part at the scheduled times.

Finding a caterer, however, had not been on her agenda. |

Piper’s eyes widened. “A caterer? That gives me like…” her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she counted, “three days?
Three
days
!” she whispered frantically. “Damn it. Are you telling me Mr. Bradshaw couldn’t have told me this last month? How in the hell am I supposed to find a caterer who is willing to travel in
two
days?”

For her part, Poppy didn’t seem too worried about it. “He said the guy they had lined up fell through, something to do with a city inspection. He knows he’s dealing you a heavy hand, and he’s agreed to pay you double if you can pull it off.”

“But two days.” Piper wanted to tear her hair out. There was just no way. No matter how much money he paid her, there was no way this could be pulled off.

“Call around. Maybe you can find someone in Vegas to do the event. I mean, it’s Vegas,” she insisted. “Isn’t that, like, what they do, cater to people’s whims?”

“I don’t know,” Piper sighed. “Maybe? But it’s more complicated than that. I can’t just hire the first company that’s available. There’s food to be tasted and wages to be agreed upon. This sort of thing doesn’t just happen overnight.”

“Well, that certainly does complicate matters, but I know you can do this.” Poppy stood fully and clasped Piper on the shoulder. “I have faith in you.”

“Faith in you for what?” Felix, Piper’s incredibly handsome and sophisticated boss, stepped into the break room and sidled up to the coffee maker. Did Poppy even appreciate how lucky she was to have such a nice, down to earth boss? Someone who didn’t shout at her and say cruel things after bringing her to a screaming orgasm? She hoped so, because it would be a shame to take something like that for granted.

Piper shifted to allow Felix more room as he reached to pour himself some coffee. It didn’t escape her notice that Poppy stayed where she was, putting her so close to Mr. Sinclair that they were practically sharing body heat. Interesting.

“Mr. Bradshaw asked her to find a last minute caterer for the Vegas conference,” Poppy supplied.

“That’s this weekend, right?” Mr. Sinclair turned, resting his back against the counter between them.

“It is.”

“Hmm, not much time,” he mused. “Think you can pull it off?”

“I don’t know.” Maybe. Most likely not. What a mess.

“She can handle it, right, Piper?” Poppy looked at her, her eyes holding a silent challenge, reminding her that she was a woman in a male dominated world. She needed to make this happen. Men were assholes. Or at least that’s what she took from it.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, if Ms. Montgomery thinks you can pull it off, then I am sure you can,” Felix declared. He pushed away from the counter and walked toward the door. Before passing through it, he turned back to the women. “Have a nice day, ladies.” His eyes lingered on Poppy. “When you get a moment, I need to speak with you in my office.”

“Sure, Mr. Sinclair,” Poppy said demurely, and Piper could have sworn she caught a hint of a coy smile flashed his way. “I should have a moment to stop by before I take my lunch, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine,” he told her, and then he was gone.

Poppy’s eyes lingered on the doorway; only pulling away at Piper’s sudden burst of laughter. “You like him,” she teased.

“What’s not to like?” Poppy sniffed delicately and sipped at her coffee.

“Indeed.” Piper looked toward the doorway too. Felix was a good-looking man. He had money, power, and he rocked a suit like nobody’s business. She could definitely see the appeal, but he was no Tate Larsen. Damn him. She needed to track that man down and squash this issue between them, sooner rather than later. “Well, I should get back to work,” she told Poppy.

Poppy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Remember, men need to be put in their place. Tate Larsen is one of those men. Don’t let him push you around.”

Piper didn’t know what to say. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Poppy.”

“Don’t mention it. Oh,” she said, stopping her once more. “If you’re looking for him, I think I saw him duck into the office earlier.”

Piper gritted her teeth. Leave it to Tate to ruin her day by showing up to the one place she hadn’t expected him to be. He never came into the office, not in all the weeks she had worked here. Of course, he was probably only there to see if he could further ruin her day. Well, she’d be damned if she gave him the satisfaction.

To Poppy, she inclined her head, then stepped out of the room with only one goal in mind: to find the man in question.

18

Tate shuffled some papers around on his desk to clear some elbow room. One of these days, he really needed to take some time to clean his office. He would have thought Piper would have done it, but apparently her services didn’t extend that far. Even the trash can looked like it had thrown up.

It was his fault, of course. He wasn’t that much of an ass that he couldn’t recognize when he bore responsibility. When he wrote he needed to make notes, which resulted in hundreds of pieces of scrap paper whose permanent home became wherever they landed after leaving his pockets. It was an organized mess. Better at the office than at home, though. Home didn’t have a janitor to pick up after him.

Staring at the blinking cursor, Tate scratched his head as he searched his mind for his next plan of action. His character, Stacy, and her partner, Howard, were standing in the middle of a cave located deep in the Amazon jungles. They had just navigated a treacherous series of tunnels that dumped them into the middle of an unmarked section of forest…and someone was on their trail. The book was part three in what had turned into a very successful adventure series, and it should have been smooth sailing at this point, but his head was muddled and his characters weren’t exactly lifting a finger to help him out.

“Shit.” It was the only word he had in his vocabulary all morning. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. Had he taken that job in Sacramento at the close of his senior year at university, he would be wearing suits and ties and earning a fat paycheck now. Instead, he had chosen the life of an artist where each paycheck depended on his ability to constantly form new ideas, put them to paper, market and advertise, and interact with the public. At any moment, if he slacked off too much or his brain simply took a vacation, he could be out of a job. People were fickle like that.

But at least he could wear jeans to work. Definitely a bonus.

Leaning back in his chair, staring accusingly at the screen, Tate’s blank thoughts were interrupted when the door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall as Piper stormed inside.

“What are you doing here?” Piper demanded to know, her voice deceptively calm considering the turbulent storm brewing behind those ferocious brown eyes. God, she was magnificent when she got all fired up.

His cock twitched to life and Tate shifted to hide the growing erection now tenting his pants. He looked at her, affecting a bored expression. |

Avoidance. It was a hard thing to do, especially when you worked with the person. He’d left her apartment after calling her names and he hadn’t even bothered to stop and apologize, and Tate had been kicking his own ass ever since.

They never should have slept together. They never should have done what they did, period. Big mistake, mixing business with pleasure. Now every time he looked at her he couldn’t shake the image of her bent over the edge of a sink as he pounded into her from behind, or his new personal favorite, watching her cum while he buried his face between her thighs.

She’d been calling him and leaving messages that he had yet to play back, but so far he had managed to elude her. He figured that if he ignored her long enough, she would give up. Without any direction from him, he assumed she would take the day off. To be safe, he had come into the office to get some work done, knowing that it would be risky to stay home when she had a key and could barge in on him anytime.

Yep, he probably should have taken that away before leaving last night. She could have sneaked in and killed him while he slept. He wouldn’t blame her one bit if she had, because he had been completely out of line, but damn, that would suck.

So, he was avoiding her. He knew it was childish and he couldn’t keep her away forever—she was a huge part of his life—but he needed some time to get his shit together before he could face her.

Would she be hurt? He grimaced at the idea that she might be mad at him. What if she had cried? Hell that would be even worse.

Then it dawned on him. What if she wasn’t affected at all? What if Piper was perfectly indifferent to their little tryst? For some reason, that scenario kind of stung, which was ridiculous because the best thing for them both is if she remained completely unattached like he had. Yes, he was unattached.

Completely.

Unattached.

Should have stayed home today.

She had asked him a question. What was it again? Tate cleared his throat and his head at once. “I came to get some work done. What are
you
doing here?”

Piper, her soft hair fluttering around her shoulders, crossed the room with purpose. Tate held back a groan and shifted the relentless erection digging at his fly. She wore a burgundy dress, the kind that wrapped around her waist and dipped down low in the front, hinting at just enough cleavage to shove his mind straight into the gutter. And the way her hips sashayed…
Damn
.

“Same. What, didn’t think I could function without your guidance,” she sneered, then shifted her gaze to the bundle she carried and got down to business. “
Transgressions
is back from editing.” She plunked the heavy manuscript on the desk and took the seat across from him. “You’ll need to get right on that and have it back to me by the end of the month with any changes so I can get it off for a final proof.” Long fingers flipped through a stack on her lap. She hadn’t looked at him since she entered the office.
Hmm
. “You have a one-thirty with Ms. Peters and a three o’clock with Doctor Dwight. What do you want me to pick you up for lunch?”

Reclining back in his chair, Tate watched her as he mentally organized his day. Really, Piper wasn’t required to do any of this, but to keep him on schedule; it was a necessary evil and a task she insisted on providing. With his mind as cluttered as his workspace, he wasn’t about to turn her down. Honestly, he was a little surprised that she was still willing to do anything for him after the way he’d behaved.

“Cancel Ms. Peters. I hate interviews. Reschedule Dwight. I hate dentists. I’m in the mood for something Italian. Surprise me. And I will get started on the revisions tonight.”

Piper busily scratched out a few notes, pressing the tip of the ballpoint into the paper a little harder than was necessary. “I will
reschedule
Ms. Peters. You
will
go to see Doctor Dwight,
today
,” she stressed, “and I’ll see if I can find you a Stromboli or something.” She glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Tate glared, but there was no anger behind it. “You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Donovan.”

Her eyes flashed. “That’s because I know what you need, Mr. Larson.”

Smirking, Tate inclined his head. “That you do.” Her use of his last name hadn’t escaped his notice. So it was like that now, was it? He’d gotten down on his hands and knees and licked her until she came in his mouth, and now she was…He suddenly remembered why he was avoiding her. Straightening, Tate turned to his computer screen. “Is that all then?”

Silence stretched as Piper watched him, her expression unreadable. Finally, she clicked her pen and rose to her feet. “I guess that’s all for now.” Tate relaxed a little as she made her way to the door. For a moment there, he thought she might want to do some something heinous, like talk.

Reaching for the door, Piper suddenly dropped her hand and spun around to face him. “Actually, that’s not all,” she said as she marched up to his desk with a determined glint in her eye. Tate eased back, preparing to take whatever verbal lashing she was about to unleash on him. What he didn’t expect was for her to look so ravishing doing it. “Why the hell have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t—”

“The hell!” Piper slammed her stack of files on his desk so hard, a blast of cool air scattered a few loose papers to the floor and pushed the hair on his forehead back. “You walked out on me, in the middle of a fight,” she accused, “and then like a coward, you’ve refused to answer my calls or return my messages.”

*

If she wasn’t so pissed off, Piper would have laughed at the stunned, and slightly fearful, look on his face.

Despite her initial determination to confront him, the moment she entered the office she had lost her nerve. For whatever reason, standing in front of Tate Larson shorted her circuits and disabled her defenses.

She was kicking herself as she very nearly walked out the door, but his question had her rethinking her earlier promise to herself, and she couldn’t ignore the need to hear his excuses. No doubt they would be incredibly lame, as any man performing the walk of shame would resort to.

Walk of shame
, she snorted. If anyone deserved to walk that path, it was her. After an insanely good fucking—oral or otherwise, that is all that it was, she had come to realize—he had treated her like some two-bit floozy not worth much else. Well, he was going to answer for that.

“I haven’t been avoiding you.” Piper’s brow lifted dangerously. Tate raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I might have been avoiding you. But it was for good reason!” he rushed out.

“Good reason.” For some reason, Piper was not convinced.

“Yes, good reason.” Pushing to his feet, Tate towered over her, which, she assumed, made him feel a little more confident, big man that he was. “Piper.” He sighed. “What we did, that was a mistake. It never should have happened.”

Everything in her body recoiled, the words stinging more than they should. Hell, she knew it was a mistake. She had been the one to put an end to it, but it didn’t stop the fact that a part of her still wanted him, and standing there before him, she barely managed to keep her reaction internal. Her only tell was a slight stiffening of her muscles, which she was confident Tate hadn’t noticed because the minute the words left his lips, he spun away from her, giving her his back.

What he said hurt. It was a monumental understatement, but she would be damned if she let him see what he did to her. She’d had all night let the knowledge of how bad Tate would be for her soak in. She wasn’t going to continue acting stupid or let her naiveté show by letting him have his way with her. Piper Donovan was a strong, independent woman. She would rather throw herself over the proverbial cliff before she let him, or anyone, know that they got to her. Sure, it was a little late for that, the damage done, but it was time to take control of this situation.

“It was just sex, Tate.” Piper bit out the words, but somehow managed to make them sound flippant anyway. It looked like that semester of high school drama was finally coming in handy. “It’s not like I’m in love with you or anything.”

Pivoting around, Tate regarded her with hard eyes. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that, right,” he said bitterly, making Piper wonder at what was going on in that head of his. Did he want her to fall in love with him? Hell, it would probably give a real boost to his already overinflated ego if she did. Fat chance of that ever happening.

Stepping closer to the sliver of window, Tate looked out at the city skyline and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. The things I said. I didn’t mean any of it. I was upset.”

“So that gives you the right to call me names?” Piper shot back.

“No.” Tate twisted around, his expression pinched. “My behavior was inexcusable. I’m sure you know by now that I have a problem keeping my temper in check, but no matter how pissed off I get, I don’t have the right to mistreat anyone. Most especially you.”

His voice had turned soft at that last bit, and Piper couldn’t deny the need in her to forgive him, but she had to stay strong. Now more than ever, it was clear that allowing herself to get too close to this man would be to her detriment. Tate was dangerous to a girl’s heart.

“Look,” Piper began, steeling her resolve. She leaned forward, propping her hands on the edge of the desk and looking him in the eye, letting him see the truth reflected in them. She would forgive, but she wouldn’t forget. “As much as I want to tell you to go fuck yourself, I need this job. So consider this your one pass. But if anything like this ever happens again, I will file a complaint. I’m here to work, and
nothing
else,” she stressed, hoping he understood her.

“I understand. It won’t happen again.” The look of contrition on his face told her he’d received the message.

“Good.” Piper straightened and gathered her things, tucking them under her arm as she headed for the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. There is a conference being held this weekend. Looks like we’re going to Vegas.”

Tate scowled. “That’s less than a week, and you’re only telling me this now?”

“I only just learned about it this morning, Tate.” She grabbed the handle and twisted. “Count yourself lucky I’m not a
vindictive
bitch.” Her words hung in the air, reminding him that she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Piper,” Tate called after her. Piper paused with one foot out the door. “Thanks.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she met those mesmerizing blue eyes of his and saw the unspoken apology, and most importantly, regret. That single look would be burned into her memory, and it worried her how much it meant to her.

With a slight nod, Piper stepped into the hall and closed the door tightly behind her.