I glug back a pint of water and toss my iPod into the fruit basket before throwing the double doors open and breathing in some more air. Making my way to the secret spot in my courtyard, I push my way through the leaves of the willow tree and land in the deckchair, stretching my legs while checking my phone. I have a text message from Jack. I open it quickly.
Running with a hard-on is fucking painful.
I laugh loudly and relax back in my chair, daydreaming for a few minutes as I run through yesterday and this morning. Jack runs every morning, which means I might have to, too. Will half an hour every day be part of our ongoing routine? I want to be grumpy about it, but I can’t, not when it means that 1) I’ll get to see Jack, and 2) I’ll tone up in the process. We just might have to think about where we run to avoid being seen together. I start to punch out a reply to him, but I’m interrupted halfway through my message when my phone rings.
I don’t recognize the number. “Annie Ryan,” I announce when I answer.
“Miss Ryan, my name’s Terrence Pink, CEO for Brawler’s.”
“Oh, hello.” I sit up straight in my chair, wondering why a world-renowned tech company would be calling little old me. “How can I help you?” I’m raging with curiosity.
“We’re expanding, building new premises, and we’ve heard your name on the grapevine. I’m hoping we could meet to discuss.”
They’ve heard of my name? “Of course!” I rush into the kitchen and grab my diary. “When is convenient for you?”
“The sooner the better. Today?”
I wince. My day is packed, especially after yesterday when I achieved a great big fat zero in the studio. “Could we do tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry; I know it’s short notice, but we’ve already seen others and hope to make a decision very soon so the project can move forward.”
I bite my lip and bite the bullet. This is too good an opportunity. “Two o’clock?”
“Two o’clock it is. We’re floor ten, 25 Churchill Place, Canary Wharf.”
I scribble it down. “See you then.” I hang up and the message I’d half typed out in reply to Jack appears on my screen.
Morning sex would remedy…
But I delete it instead of finishing it and sending it. Because that would just be reminding him that there will be no morning sex in this relationship, and I don’t want him to feel as grumpy as me at that notion. I pout, bringing my phone to my mouth and chewing the corner. No morning sex yet, but when? No snuggling in bed and simply being together, either. I stamp those thoughts away and run into my office ready to hit Google and research Brawler’s in preparation for the meeting.
Chapter 14
I walk into the building that houses Brawler’s, gazing around at the impressive space, not quite believing that I’m here. Everyone knows that Brawler’s is the giant in the tech world. That they dazzle with their innovative approach to marketing and development. What I didn’t know is that this project, the new offices, is a move being made after Brawler’s announced they’re launching a partnership with one of the world’s largest social media platforms. To say I’m intimidated by this meeting would be a slight understatement. But, as I’ve reminded myself countless times, while their area of expertise is tech, mine is designing buildings. And that’s what I’m here to potentially do.
I step inside the elevator with a guy and scan the list of companies on the wall sign to the side.
“What floor?” he asks.
“Ten, please,” I answer, my scanning eyes freezing when I make note of the companies that operate from floor ten. “What?” I say out loud, my mouth going dry. I look up to see we’re at floor eight already. “Oh no,” I squeak, turning back to face the doors just as they slide open and reveal the biggest silver engraved sign saying, JACK JOSEPH CONTRACTORS, above a sign that says BRAWLER’S. They share a floor?
“You okay, love?” the man asks, waiting for me to exit. No. No, I’m not okay.
I force myself out of the elevator, looking cautiously around, not quite believing that I’ve found myself in Jack’s office. It’s modern, smart, and impressive. Just like Jack.
I announce myself at Brawler’s reception, then take a seat in the waiting area, unable to stop my eyes from flitting everywhere nervously. He might not be here. He might be out for a meeting. I’m scanning the space again, reaching up and loosening the floral tasseled scarf that I have wrapped around my neck. I feel like I’m suffocating. I can’t deny I would love to see him, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself. Is he here?
And like he’s heard me ask, a door across the waiting area opens and Jack walks out, fastening his suit jacket. Good lord, he looks too delicious for his own good, his gray suit pristine, his tie perfectly knotted, and his hair a sexy mess. Fucking hell. He looks straight at me, like he knew I’d be here, and then it occurs to me: he did know I’d be here.
Jack strides forward with purpose until he comes to a stop before my seated form. His hand comes up and cups his chin, stroking down his scruff as he stares at me. “Annie,” he rasps, making my heart gallop and my tummy flutter. He presents his hand. “Good to see you.”
I briefly close my eyes to gather myself. He needs to stop saying my name, and I really shouldn’t entertain his prompt to make physical contact with him. I’m already struggling to cool down my rising temperature before I burst into flames at his feet. “You too.” I push myself to my feet and place my hand in his, for no other reason than the receptionist will think it odd if I don’t. I go stiff from head to toe when he locks me in his grasp, squeezing gently, his gray eyes dancing. “Gotcha,” he whispers.
My mouth drops open a little, and I quickly and discreetly reclaim my hand and look away from him before I give myself away. “Don’t say that,” I warn seriously, at risk of self-combusting. I look up through my lashes and catch his mild grin. “You knew I’d be here.”
“I recommended you.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.
“Why would you do that?”
He leans forward, bringing his face close to mine. “Because I wanted to lure you here under false pretenses so I can fuck you over my desk.”
My mouth falls open in shock and my panicked eyes quickly scope the surroundings. “I should slap you,” I retort indignantly when I’ve ensured no one’s in earshot.
He laughs softly. “I recommended you because you are an amazing architect and I just know you can pull this off. Plus, my company will be doing the build so it means I’ll get to see you more.”