The Sexy Boss - Sedition: Book One (4 page)

A
t last I
make it home. The roads, thankfully, are pretty good. I hear my phone ringing as I open the door and rush inside to pick it up.

“Abby, it’s Kimmy.”

I take off my coat. “Oh, Kimmy. How are you?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Not much. I have work tomorrow, so I’m probably just doing laundry and making tomorrow’s lunch.”

“I didn’t ask about tomorrow. I asked about tonight.”

“Well, the two are intertwined, Kimmy. What I do tonight could ruin the day I’ll have tomorrow.”

“Jeez, Abby. Why don’t you just join me for a drink?”

I roll my eyes. Kimmy’s one of my oldest friends. We’ve known each other since junior high, but now she’s newly divorced and ready to find a second husband. She hits a hip and happening bar just about every night. Her motto is “a girl can’t find a husband if she confines herself to the house.” I once told her that she’s trying too hard and true love comes when we least expect it. She nearly bit my head for that remark. “That’s a lazy woman’s excuse,” she said. After that, I decided to keep my opinions to myself, although I still believe that fate is the smartest matchmaker given to the human race. If we wait on it, then true love will find its way into our lives.

“Abby, are you there?”

I sigh tiredly. “I’m here. I don’t know, Kimmy. I’m really tired.”

“Oh come on, Abs. It’s my birthday.”

At first I think she’s coming up with a lie to convince me, but after giving it further thought, I remember that it is actually her birthday. “That’s right. Happy birthday!”

“Don’t ‘happy birthday’ me. Buy me a drink.”

I sigh again. “Okay. I’ll buy you a cupcake or something while I’m at it.”

She asks me to meet her at Marvel at eight, the one near the parkway. I remind her again that I cannot stay out long.

“I know, jeez,” she says.

R
oads are looking pretty
good around the city. I'm a little intrigued about this place we’re going to tonight. It's supposed to have some pretty exotic drinks, but I can't really indulge if I want to go to work without a hangover.

I get there, and Kimmy’s looking cute as ever, talking with the bartender. When she sees me walk in, she hops out of her seat. I shuffle over for a heartfelt hug.

“So nice to see you,” she says.

“You too,” I say with a smile.

We have a seat and order our drinks. That cute bartender she was talking to before I showed up has no problem giving us lightning fast service with a smile. I’m sure Kimmy flirted her ass off then showed it to him in that little skirt she’s wearing. It’s just inches away from displaying her crotch.

For over an hour, she tells me all about the last guy she was involved with and how he eventually fucked her over.

“Jeez, he had a girlfriend?” I ask.

She holds up two fingers. “Two of them.” She shakes her head. “The jerk… but you know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“What about you?” she asks.

“What do you mean what about me?”

The bartender sets her third martini in front of her, and she flaps her eyelashes at him. The guy grins at her then at me.

Kimmy frowns at me. “Abby, sweetie, what's going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but you don’t look as good as you used too.”

I flinch, taken aback.

“Listen, I could keep that to myself but I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t tell you.”

I sigh. “Tell me what exactly.”

“Well, your hair is…” She gestures with her hands in a way that says she’s trying to come up with the right description. “A mess and not in a good way. You're walking around in this big balloon of a coat.”

“My coat is warm, and it’s cold outside.”

“I know it’s warm. So is a snowmobile suit. Do you wear that thing to work?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Did you know that ten percent of married couples met at work?”

I feel my eyes bulge. Everything is always about hooking up with her. Although I must admit to myself that she’s hit a nerve. I can’t stop thinking about Nolan. “I guess that leaves a measly ninety percent who don’t.”

She stirs the olives in her martini. “Don’t get sarcastic with me.”

“But you leave me no choice.”

She takes me by the shoulders and looks sympathetic. “Listen. You always used to look so adorable. You’re a beautiful woman, with the perfect body and a sexy face. I mean, you still have that Winona Ryder thing going for you. You should have men lining up to make you theirs.”

I sigh wearily. “I've been working hard, and I'm not really going out that much.”

“How’s the job going anyway?”

“Well, Liza’s gone. Remember I told you how scatter-brained she could be?”

“I remember. So you have a new boss?”

I think of Nolan again, and my desire is stirred.

Kimmy points at my face. “Uh-oh, tell me about him.”

I frown. “What do you mean uh-oh?”

“You think he’s hot. I can tell by that look on your face.”

I get rid of whatever expression she’s talking about. “His name is Nolan Patrick. He’s Liza’s stepbrother.”

“Is he handsome?”

“Very.”

Kimmy chuckles. “Boy, you answered that quickly.”

I raise my glass to my lips. “And he smells good.”

She laughs again. “How old is he?”

I shrug. “In his early thirties, I think.”

There she goes gesturing with her arms again. “Abby, you have so got this.”

“But, Kimmy, he's my boss.” I take a drink, waiting for her to convince me to throw caution to the wind.

“So what? Anyway, I thought you wanted to work in a museum?”

Of course she fails me when I need her the most. “I do. I mean, I did. Heck, I don’t know anymore.”

Kimmy tilts her head suspiciously. “You don’t know anymore because of your new boss. Am I right?”

I shrug, but she hit the nail right on the head.

“Well, that job I told you about in Chicago is an open offer. Greg will do anything to have you in his workspace every day.”

“But he’s your cousin, and he’s married with three children.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, no. He’s getting a divorce and he only has two children. Maybe one and a half children but that’s a long story. Regardless, he would love to make you a stepmommy.”

I frown as if I’m chewing on lemons. “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.” I raise a finger. “
But
you’re right about my wardrobe and my hair and stuff. I can do better.”

She grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Yes, you can!”

We laugh. As the night continues, we talk more about the guys Kimmy has been dating and reminisce about old times. What was supposed to be one drink for me and a short night out turns into two drinks for me, four for Kimmy, and four hours spent at the bar. When it’s time to leave, Kimmy and I give each other a great hug. She thanks me for a fun birthday night of gossiping and catching up. She wishes me luck with landing Nolan. I roll my eyes, but I secretly accept her well wishes, and we part ways.

When I make it home, I take a good look at myself in the mirror.

“What happened, Abigail?” I say.

My hair is limp, and my figure is begging for more flattering clothing. Heck, I can do that! I mean, I'll never degrade myself like Misty, but I can certainly sex it up a bit. Before I go to bed, I dig through my closet and take out a form-fitting brown dress that comes past my knees. What makes the dress so sexy is the deep V-neck, the supple sweater material, and the way it hugs my ass. The color matches my eyes and brings out my alabaster skin.

I hold the dress against me. I can’t wait to see Nolan’s reaction when I walk into his office wearing this. I hang the dress back up, take a shower, and climb into bed. The drinks I had at the bar help take the edge off. Unfortunately I’m too exhausted to fantasize about going at it hot and heavy with Nolan. I fall asleep right away.

M
y alarm clock buzzes
, and I hurry to get out of bed and do myself up as I planned. Unfortunately, dolling myself up makes me fifteen minutes late for work. By the time I arrive, Nolan’s already at his desk. I put my coat and purse away, turn on my computer, and head for his office.

I stop at the door, straighten the skirt of my dress, take a deep breath, and open the door. “Good morning.” My smile is larger than life.

Nolan looks at me with wide eyes then coughs. I think he’s choking on his coffee.

“
M
orning
, Abby.” He winces as he tries not to cough and pounds himself on the chest.

“Sorry, can I get you some water?” I ask.

I watch his eyes roll brazenly up and down my body.

“Um, no…” He finishes clearing his throat. “Have a seat.” He sounds better.

Nolan can’t keep his eyes off my figure and face; it’s as if he doesn’t know which to focus on. I take the seat in front of his desk.

“Um, listen—” He takes a sip of orange juice. “I would like for you to go out with me on Thursday night.”

My expression goes from focused and upbeat to one of surprise and nervousness. “Excuse me?”

“Would you accompany me on Thursday night?” Nolan says.

Oh my God. Is he finally asking me out on a date? “Of course?”

“I've got a meeting with a new client. I told him you’re my assistant so he’ll be working a lot with you, and now he insists on meeting you. I told him I’d ask if you can do dinner at one of his restaurants on Thursday. Could you?”

I go from excited to embarrassed. “Well, sure.”

We finish going over the tasks we have planned for the day. I get up to return to my desk.

“Could I get you anything else?” I ask.

Very quickly his eyes veer down to my bosom and back up to my face. “I’m okay for now. Thank you for asking.”

I smile and nod. Just as I get ready to close the door to his office, he asks me to leave it open.

For the rest of the morning, Nolan and I pretend as if we’re not paying attention to each other. I feel as if I’m not imagining the strong sexual tension between us. He leaves at two o’clock for site meetings with realtors and won’t be back until tomorrow. Now that he’s gone, I can relax. To take the edge off, I decide to do some fun work and put a dent into planning the upcoming Christmas party. It’s the Friday after next. I’ve already hired a highly reviewed jazz quartet that often plays at Reeses. I email the caterer a purchase order and have a brief conference call with those on the decorating committee. We talk about large ball-shaped ornaments placed against the walls, lots of tinsel, and sparkling lights.

The next day at work, I’m anxious from the moment I sit at my desk. Tonight Nolan and I are going to spend some quality time together. I fight the urge to make our night together more than what it is. A client will be at the table with us, so it’s definitely not a date.

“It’s only work,” I whisper to myself.

Nolan hasn’t started closing the door to his office again. I guess he’s comfortable with the sexual tension between us. I’m not but only because I feel that it’s all probably in my head.

Finally it's past five, and the building is virtually empty. I'm ready with the files for our dinner meeting tonight.

“Abby?” Nolan calls from his office.

I jump and look at him from my desk. “Yes?”

“I'd like to be ready to go in about fifteen minutes. Do you think you can be ready by then?”

“Yes.”

Nolan maintains eye contact with me for six seconds too long. He’s been doing that a lot lately. The funny part is I’m not even sure he knows he’s staring.

Before long, we’re in Nolan's car on our way to the Wild Roast Cafe. I find myself feeling a little nervous. As we head down Hennepin, we pass the State and the Grain Exchange, past Whole Foods and over the river. I love the way the city looks during the winter. Ice covers everything except for the falls. I catch a glimpse of the Guthrie.

“You like theater?” Nolan says.

I jump, startled. “Huh?”

“You were staring at the Guthrie.”

I smile a little. “Oh, yeah. I like theater.” I think it’s time for me to learn more about my sexy boss. “What about you? What do you like?”

He cocks his head and keeps his eyes on the road. “What about me?” His tone is playful.

I’m so happy he has welcomed my question. “Do you like theater?”

“Sure.”

“What's the last play you've seen?”

He looks at me with a smile before his eyes train back to the road. “
Phantom of the Opera
.”

I feel like playing with him some more. “Okay. Who's the composer?”

His smile grows wider. “Andrew Lloyd Webber.”

I feel like I'm getting somewhere, and I want to know more. “So when you went to the theater, did you take a date?”

“Yes. I was in high school.”

“Wow, young connoisseur of fine art.”

He tosses his head back to chuckle.

“So who did you go with?” I say.

“My girlfriend.”

“And what happened to her?”

Nolan turns into the parking garage behind the parkway project and pulls into a reserved spot. “I married her.”

I sit up straight. “Oh.”

The car comes to a rest, and Nolan puts it in park. He leans ever so slightly toward me and says with a breath so soft I can almost feel it on my face, “I'll be right there.”

My heart is beating a mile a minute as he hops out of the driver’s seat. In an instant, my door opens, and Nolan is standing there. He takes my hand, and my flesh tingles as he helps me out of the car. What is this man doing to me?
He’s my boss,
I repeat until it sinks into my thick skull,
and he’s a gentleman
. All of this special attention he’s giving me means nothing significant.

We walk into the restaurant, and Nolan is instantly greeted by a pretty hostess with flowing brown hair and a very short, thin white dress. I wait for Nolan to stare at her as if she’s his last supper, but he hardly notices that the hills of her tits and her panties are on display.

“Nolan Patrick,” a guy passing through the entry says.

“Chef Clark, good to see you.” Nolan shakes his hand and quickly introduces me.

The chef says that he’s just starting his shift and instructs the maître d’ to seat us at the best table in the house. We follow the maître d’ to a table in the corner of the room near but not too close to the window. We have an excellent view of the pedestrian walkway, newly shoveled banks and enclaves of snow, and the Mississippi River. I take it in, careful not to show how much I want Nolan to throw me on top of the table and bang my brains out.

I want to know more about Nolan’s past affairs, only because I want to put myself in her lucky shoes. I mean, I’ve never thought much about marriage or making a family. Heck, everyone I’ve known from high school who got married is either getting a divorce or should get a divorce, and I mean everyone.

I take a moment to compose my question. “So, Nolan, you went to the theater and ended up marrying your date. That’s pretty interesting.”

He peers at me with those sea-blue eyes of his. “And then we got a divorce.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m sure Cinderella and Prince Charming didn’t live happily ever after either. Nor did Sleeping Beauty and her prince and all the other ones who supposedly lived happily ever after.”

“Not a fan of marriage?” he says.

I shrug. “My parents have been married since forever. They love each other—like for real. Even when I was kid, I knew my parents were each other’s best friend. They used to tell me to make marriage my last priority and life and happiness my first.”

Nolan nods, appearing impressed. “That's good advice.”

“My parents are good at dispensing wisdom.”

“Do they still live here in the city?”

I grin. “My mom and dad live everywhere. They’ve spent the last five months in Honolulu, and now they’re on their way to St. Kitts.”

“The Caribbean?”

“That’s where they like to spend Christmas.”

“Are you going to join them?”

“They’ve already sent my ticket—first class, mind you.” I wink.

Nolan’s face changes expression. “Abby,” he says quite sternly.

I sit up straight, hoping I haven’t gotten too personal with him. “Yes.”

“Those files you brought? Can you take those out please?”

“Oh, sure.” What a strange and abrupt change of subject. I take the files out of my bag and set them on the table. “Is right here fine?”

“Right there is perfect.” Suddenly he loses that tense expression. “So you’re spending Christmas where it’s warm?”

It takes a moment for me to get back into my cheery mood. “Yes.”

“Well, good for you! Just make sure you come back in one piece.” He winks.

I smile. “I will.”

Our gazes are lingering again. When this happens, my heart can’t help but palpitate.

“Nolan, sorry I’ve taken so long. It’s pretty busy for a Thursday night,” Chef Clark says. “So what do you have for me?”

We tear our eyes off each other to look at the chef, who’s now wearing his work uniform.

Nolan stands up with the files I’ve taken out of my briefcase. “Here’s the proposal. Abby here will be working on all the paperwork coming out of my office.”

Chef Clark studies me with a smile. “That’s why I asked you to bring her. I need to look all my business associates in the eyes so when I call, you know to pick up the phone and hop to it.” He laughs as if that was a joke, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.

Chef Clark talks more about franchising the restaurant we’re sitting in. The chef is adamant about making sure the establishments remain high-end. I listen carefully to Nolan’s replies. It’s strange, but he has not yet made one promise. The pretty hostess steps up next to the chef and tells him that he’s needed in the kitchen.

Chef Clark holds up the folders I put together for him. “Thanks for bringing this by. I’ll have my team read through them.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Nolan says.

Chef turns and leaves the table. Nolan sits back down and leans across the table. I’m hypnotized by his eyes.

“And now we can have a drink,” Nolan says.

It takes me a moment to snap out of my haze. “I’ll take a merlot.”

Nolan cracks a smile. “Not quite cold enough for a bourbon, huh?”

I smile. I love that he likes keeping our conversation light when we’re together like this. “Nope.”

The waiter comes, and we order dinner. I ask for the sautéed scallops, and Nolan orders the swordfish.

“So, Abby, tell me a little more about yourself,” Nolan asks while we wait.

“Actually I was hoping you could tell me a little more about yourself.” I’m still not done learning about this gorgeous man’s life before the moment I spilled coffee on him.

Nolan leans back in his chair and smiles. “Okay, what would you like to know?”

I rub my hands together playfully. “Were you able to get your coat cleaned after I spilled coffee on it?”

He smiles. “Yeah, I think it’s going to be just fine.”

I exaggerate wiping my forehead. “Good.”

Nolan chuckles. “What else would you like to know?”

“What are the boundaries?”

He narrows his eyes seductively. “There are none.”

I think I forgot to breathe, and I have to take a few quick breaths to catch up. I’m still fascinated to know what kind of woman would divorce a man like Nolan Patrick.

“Could you tell me more about why you got a divorce?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “It goes back to your Cinderella analogy. You know, the typical story. We were two people who got married too young. Each of us grew into ourselves more and more, and in so doing, we grew apart from one another.”

I lean in closer. “Isn’t there a through-thick-and-thin clause in the marriage contract?”

Nolan sighs, his posture crumbling a bit. “It isn’t written in black and white. It’s kind of like the projects that you work on, in a way. You start with this idea, and through the process, it changes. It has to change, because you learn new things. You adapt and work with what you have. Sometimes by the end of it, you like what you have, and sometimes you don't.”

I nod. “Wow, Nolan, I think I get it.”

Nolan sits up straight. “Good.” He leans toward me. “And by the way, you look great tonight.”

I’m taken aback. “Thanks.” I simper as I take another drink of wine.

“So how about you?” he says.

“What about me?”

“You must have a significant other.”

“Actually, I don't.”

“Why not?” He shoves his hands in my direction and lifts his eyebrows. “Look at you.”

I blush, extremely flattered. “Well...”

“Let me guess, it’s complicated.”

I smile. “Yeah, you could say that.” No need to tell him that I pretty much lost interest in dating in the last three or so years, and I just don’t know why.

“So how long have you not been seeing anyone?” he says.

My eyes kind of roll upward.

“Let me guess, it’s complicated too.”

I look at Nolan and point at him. “Yes!” I say playfully, relieved that he's given me an out on two not-so-easy questions. “And how long have you been divorced?” The conversation is far more interesting if he’s the one answering questions.

“We've been divorced for about nine months now.”

“Oh, and you don't have any kids?”

“No.”

My eyes narrow. “Let me guess—you were too focused on your career?”

“Actually, we both were.”

“What does she do?”

“The same thing that I do.”

My body shifts. “Really? That must have been interesting.”

“It has certainly made our split more complicated.”

“I bet.”

“Excuse me,” our server says.

We sit back. I guess neither of us had noticed how close our faces were. The server places our food in front of us.

We both enjoy our meals and talk more about some of the greatest spots in the city. Neither of us cares to order dessert. Mostly, I want to have another drink and see Nolan's place, though I doubt that the offer will arise.

The food is on the house, so Nolan leaves the waiter a hundred-dollar tip. Gosh, he’s such a generous man. His ex-wife must regret the day she let him go. If I were her, I know I would. We make our way toward the exit. As we cross the restaurant, a well-dressed, attractive woman, who is speaking with the maître d’, looks at me and then focuses on Nolan. He stops walking behind me, so I stop walking too.

The woman raises a finger to the maître d'. I read her lips as she says, “Wait a minute.”

Suddenly she’s walking toward us, and I feel Nolan go rigid behind me.