Unfinished Business (24 page)

Good thing he has that packet handy because my thighs are spread apart and I’m hot and wet. He looks amazingly sexy as he tears it open and covers his hard dick. Just when I think he’s going to thrust into me, he pauses for a second and looks me over, his gaze soft from the rays of moonlight coming in through the opening. “You really are beautiful, Hayley.”

I open my mouth to say thanks, or something similar, but he starts kissing me again and the only thing I can think about is him, his body, and the way his makes me feel like my world is spinning as he starts to slide his cock into me. But he pulls back.

“Why, Hayley?”

I can barely breath. I definitely can’t think. “Why what?”

“Why is it so important to remain just friends?”

“I—I—” I grab his butt cheeks, harder this time and squeeze.

“We’re going to talk about it later,” he says, rubbing his cock against my clit. His cock is big and hard, and I want it inside me. “But for now…”

“Yes,” I say, taking his shaft in my hand and placing his tip between my slick folds.

Bit by bit he enters me, filling me so slowly that I’m tempted to beg for more of his dick. Finally he is all the way in and for a few seconds he remains still.

I cling to him. “More,” I say. “Now.”

He draws back then thrusts in, going inside just a bit more until he fills me completely.

The groan that comes from deep inside him matches mine and we work together, thrusting in a frantic rhythm of back and forth, deeper and deeper, until the last of my control falls away. He holds my back to the barn wall, using the solid wood to keep me steady and upright, as he breathes in my ear and whispers my name when he manages to get his breath.

He’s far and deep inside me. I can feel both his physical possession and his total acceptance of who I am. If I wasn’t on the brink of coming, so hard and fast that it takes everything I have just to stay conscious, I might let myself be afraid of him getting that far inside my body and my heart.

But I can’t fight it.

And just for those few seconds I don’t want to fight it.

I sigh and moan and whisper his name as I come.

Chapter Thirty

New Features

Friday morning I scoot into the mini-kitchen of the clubhouse thinking of Riana who must be downing vitamins and praying that Peter has fallen and broken his leg because it is the long awaited day one of the two-day rally. I stare into the box of twenty-four donuts Mr. Hastings brought in to celebrate the day before our big day, humming and trying to decide which one I want to eat first.

“Hayley!”

It takes me a minute to figure out that Josie is calling me from the main room of the clubhouse. I grab two chocolate frosteds and make my way out to offer her one.

She is standing near my desk and takes it but doesn’t smile. Even at a donut.

A black cloud drifts nearby. “What’s up?” I ask.

Josie looks so serious my heart sinks. “Is… Did… Riana, is she okay?”

“Riana’s fine. She’s out there somewhere getting ready to pedal her ass off.”

I only relax for a second. “What is it?”

“Well.”

I set my donut on my desk. “Seriously, Josie. You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. It’s, well…” She takes a wad of newspaper out of her shoulder bag, unravels it, then hands it to me. “It’s the new
Motor City
. I thought you better see it so you’d be ready.”

Without waiting for her to finish, I grab the paper and flip through.

NEW FEATURE: BITCHY BOSS AWARD

Does the woman who signs your checks make your life a living hell? Is the chick who does your evaluations fit to be fried?

Nominate her for next month’s bitchy boss award. If she’s chosen, you’ll win a day at Maxwell’s Day Spa in Dearborn—so you can relax for once—and she’ll get exposed—and get what she deserves for once.

Not sure if she’s a true bitch or just a pain in the ass?

Compare her to this month’s winner.

The Grosse Pointe Ghoul, Madeline.

The ghoul’s offenses include—

Reading other employees’ phone messages.

Often refusing to answer work-related questions and being rude when she does.

Disappearing for hours, leaving employees with no back up and no way to contact her.

Threatening to kill a tenant’s pet

And the worst offense of all—totally stole another employee’s promotional idea, took full credit for it, and was an ultra bitch about it.

Can your so-called supervisor top that? If you think so, drop me a line and maybe we’ll get together.

Anger burns through me, making me wad the paper up and stuff it into my wastebasket. Maybe it isn’t as bad as I think. After I steam for a few seconds, I grab it, smooth it out then read it a second time.

Josie’s sister doesn’t come right out and say it’s Caroline from North Pointe Farms but anybody who knows Caroline and has half a brain will be able to figure it out.

Does Caroline read
Motor City
? “Is this online too?”

“Next week.”

Shit. She’ll know what I’ve been saying about her. On the record.

This turn of events can’t be good for my five-year plan, whatever it is.

Sure, a month ago I would’ve hardly cared. Now—things are different. I’ve got people depending on me and in spite of myself, success has been spurring me on to—
horrors
—try to do a good job.

Josie has backed up and is standing halfway between my desk and the exit. Her expression is so overwrought, she might start crying. Even as mad as I am, I really don’t want that.

I can tell by looking at the anguish in her eyes, that the damage her sister caused is even more painful than usual. This time, Josie sees the damage but has no way to do anything. She can’t deny the deed or simply sweep it aside as some kind of communication problem.

“I guess it’s part of her new reality series,” she mumbles while looking at me from under her perfectly arched eyebrows.

Like that makes a difference?
“Is she going to do a follow-up piece on the hell of job hunting?”

Josie doesn’t know what to make of the scorn hanging on my words. She’s frozen halfway between making a run for it and offering a tear-filled apology. But she doesn’t do either.

I wish there was someone to toss the fiery ball of fault to but it glows brightly in my lap. Why didn’t I listen to my instincts? Why did I ever talk to that stupid human sponge?

Those goths distracted me. Maybe that was part of her plan. I drank and talked and talked and drank while Josie’s sister, sipped and listened. I sold myself out, probably giving her the idea for the story as I filled in all the blanks with my all-too-funny anecdotes about my very own boss from hell.

I am so stupid.

And that girl is such a bitch!
How could she write something like that without telling me?

Who decided freedom of the press was a good idea? Benjamin Franklin? Thomas Jefferson? Why would anybody listen to those guys? Really.

My gaze meets Josie’s and I know she is feeling my pain, because she has felt it before. “Stop standing there like that, looking at me that way,” I grumble.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you.” I smile wickedly. “I can hate her, though.” My smile wilts. “Too bad my chances of getting back at her while I’m jobless and living on the street are pretty low.

“I guess I could park my stolen shopping cart in front of her office and shake my can of pennies at her every morning as she walks by.”

Josie’s phone rings, saving her from trying to convince me that my so-called career—the one that up until very recently I hated—isn’t about to come to a screeching halt.

After talking for a minute she covers her phone and whispers, “It’s Riana,” then goes back to nodding and offering encouragement.

I go back to my chocolate-frosted donut and coffee while Josie is promising Riana that we’ll be standing at the back entrance of North Pointe Farms to wave her on to the finish line.

Josie makes a joke about throwing herself in front of Peter but that turns out to be a bad idea because she has to follow it up with another round of gentle encouragement. “No, I was just kidding. I don’t think he’ll be ahead of you. Really.”

After a couple more minutes, Josie drops her phone into her bag then turns to me. “I’m supposed to park at the back entrance a bit after three, right?”

“Yep. There are three more miles after that so we’ll have enough time to cut through the parking lot to get to the finish line.”

Josie frowns and starts staring at the carpet again. “I’m going to call my sister and tell her what a bitchy thing that was to do. You trusted her. You talked to her like she was a friend.”

I wouldn’t go that far but I did let down my guard. “Forget it. That’s what I plan to do.” As if. I shove Josie out of the door. “Three-fifteen. Don’t be late.”

A while after she’s gone, I pick the article up, try to smooth out enough of the wrinkles then start reading it again. My blood pressure shoots up and my hands curl into fists. With a deep breath, I shove it aside.

That was nasty—tricking us all into talking about our jobs. What a sneaky witch.

I tear the article from the rest of the newspaper, slip it into the ridiculously tidy top drawer of my desk then stuff the rest of the paper into the trash. After checking to make sure there are no copies anywhere else in the clubhouse, I go back to my desk and start double-checking the last minute details for tomorrow.

Considering everything that’s going on, the office is strangely quiet for the rest of the morning. I manage to get a lot done, important things like calling to confirm the stage set-up I reserved for the raffle drawing. I keep glancing at the door, expecting Caroline to come steaming in and fire me. She doesn’t show. No call either.

Maybe she’s outside stuffing the interior of my car with wadded-up copies of
Motor City
. Maybe her absence is some sort of strategy to make me crazy. It’ll never work.

I don’t think.

I do wish she’d hurry up and get here so I could stop waiting and staring at the door.

Finally, at twelve-thirty, she strolls in with Tony. Alarm bells ring in my head because, number one, I’m pretty sure he hates her as much as I do. And, number two, I want to get the ugliness over with.

He must be up to something. But what?

Caroline comes up to my desk and scans the surface, the way she always does. “Any messages?”

She’s eyeing the messages for Mr. Hastings and Tony, and I know she wants to read them. I ask coolly, the same way I have each day since I got my red chair, “Messages for you?”

Her controlled scowl is delightful. It means she hasn’t seen the article. Yet.

I pick up the messages and hold them halfway between us. “I’m leaving at two o’clock today.”

“Whatever,” she says without taking her gaze off the pink sheets of paper.

With a sly smile, I slip Tony’s message out of the stack, set it on the corner of my desk, and lean around her to say, “Message here for you, Tony.”

I might as well annoy her during the little time I have left because once the shit hits the fan no amount of ass-kissing will matter.

Caroline’s mouth pinches tighter when she realizes I have turned the message upside down so she can’t read it without being totally obvious. I smile broadly at her. “Did you want to read Mr. Hastings’ messages?”

She snatches Mr. Hastings’ messages and starts flipping through them while Tony comes over to get his. Because I know what his message says, I’m not surprised when he looks less than pleased.

He gawks at me. “Mrs. Klonski wants me to babysit Snickers tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I kind of told her you were trustworthy so she thinks you’ll be good enough to watch her beloved pet.” I smile and add, “You should be flattered.”

“Why doesn’t she leave the dog in her apartment?”

“She thinks someone has been stalking her little darling, getting ready to kidnap him. She’s afraid to leave him alone, especially when there will be so many strangers around.”

He drags his hands through his hair and groans. “I can’t… I’m…busy tomorrow.”

Caroline spins around and pins him with one of the ultra-bitchy looks she usually reserves for me. “You are planning on being here tomorrow aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” he says with a shrug. “But I…can’t watch Snickers all day.”

I sit up. “She only needs you during the raffle drawing. I’m pretty sure she plans on winning everything so she needs her hands free.”

He glances at Caroline then looks back to me. “How long will that be?”

“Only about thirty minutes. From around four to four-thirty.”

By this time, he’s sidestepped his way to the door and is looking really uncomfortable. “Couldn’t you do it, Hayley?”

“No, I’m doing the raffle.”
Duh.

“I could do the raffle,” Caroline says sweetly.

Um. No, I don’t even think so, you fucking bitch.
“Gee thanks, Caroline. But Mr. Neville put me in charge of it so I think I better do it.”

She sets Mr. Hastings’ messages on the corner of my desk then heads back to her office without saying another thing.

I get up and sit on my desk. “Sorry I can’t help you out but it’ll only be for a few minutes and you do have to be here anyway. Look on the bright side, we’re all getting overtime.”

He starts picking at his fingernails. “Yeah, well, I have to be somewhere at five-thirty.”

“You’ll be out of here by quarter to five at the latest. I promise.”

He looks so sad.

“Okay?”

He sighs and throws his hands in the air. “Whatever! I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Want to come with me to watch the bike racers go past the back entrance?” I offer as a consolation prize.

“I thought the race was tomorrow?”

“It’s a two-day event, this is the short day. Do you want to come?”

Looking like the puppy that always gets pushed out of the basket, he mumbles, “No thanks,” then leaves.