Edited by:
D. Beck
Lisa Hollett, Silently Correcting Your Grammar
Cover design by:
Melissa Ringuette, Monark Design Services
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Family isn’t always about blood. It’s about love.
To my dear Mum-in-law, Valerie,
and my adopted sisters, Megan and Kay-
Thank you for being part of my life and making me part of your family.
Your love and support mean so much.
And Matthew—always. Forever.
Reid
I liked lists. I always had, even as a kid. They helped me focus. Even in the worst of places I lived, I could find a few scraps of paper and a pencil.
I would write out a list, then number what to do in priority. It gave me a sense of accomplishment when I could run a thick line through an item when it was completed. If I was lucky enough to have more paper, I could rewrite the list—smaller and more organized until I’d finished it.
Now, as an adult, I still liked lists. But with today’s technology, I used my computer instead of paper, my keyboard instead of the stub of a pencil. With the click of my mouse, I could sort, organize, remove, and reprioritize my items.
I stared at my computer, looking over my latest list. I called it Project B.
Learn to talk to Becca like a man instead of a stuttering idiot
Get Becca to notice me as a man—not as the company IT boy
Finish the new program I developed for Becca so she falls in love with me
Ask Becca out on a date
Send Becca flowers
Buy Becca coffee
Kiss Becca
Lose my virginity to Becca
I pursed my lips and moved buying Becca coffee into second place. I wondered if I should send her flowers before or after the program installation. Once she saw what it could do for her, she might be the one sending me flowers. Perhaps she’d throw in a kiss or two. I was certain she’d say yes to a date.
I wasn’t sure she’d go for the helping me lose my virginity thing. I probably had to work up to that idea.
I saved the file to my private drive, knowing I needed to concentrate on Bentley’s latest request. I would return to my list once I had his requests done.
I tugged off my glasses and rubbed my tired eyes. I had pulled another all-nighter. Between all the ideas for Ridge Towers, the new programs I was working on for control freak Maddox, ensuring the security protocols were current for big-ass Aiden, and our systems were safe and impenetrable for overanxious Bentley, my days were full.
On top of that, I had to add in Becca detail. She sat less than twenty feet away from me, separated solely by a wall, yet it might as well have been twenty miles.
From the moment I had rushed into the boardroom, late and disheveled, planning simply to give my excuses and leave, I was entranced.
She sat in my usual spot at the boardroom table, a small intruder in my space. She gazed at me, her eyes wide with surprise. I knew I looked worse than usual and I should leave, but my feet carried me forward, and I sat across from her.
She was the prettiest woman I had ever seen—rich, dark brown hair, creamy skin, and brilliant blue eyes that captured my attention. She was dressed in a business suit, her hair perfect, understated makeup, and her small laptop open, a notebook and pen at the ready, a professional woman prepared to do business. Yet, there was a softness to her gaze, and her smile was warm, even a touch shy.
She was incredibly sexy.
So sexy, I almost missed my chair when I sat down. I was lucky Aiden saved me from that embarrassment. I was doing well enough on my own in that department. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. More than once, I had to adjust myself discreetly under the table, grateful Bentley preferred wood to glass. My dick liked what he saw—more than liked.
That day, he decided she was what we had been waiting for all my life.
As I discovered, talking business with her was easy. She was intelligent, understood computers and the lingo. She asked smart questions, made notes she often referred to, listened carefully to my replies. But it was when business was done and she became Becca, the girl, I became Reid, the loser.
I had so much I wanted to say to her, but I found I couldn’t say anything. There was this disconnect between my brain and my mouth. I could barely form a sentence in her presence.
I ran a hand over my face. My behavior hadn’t changed much since she arrived. The only smooth interactions we had together were business-related. In meetings, we were on the same page. When she came to my office to ask a question, I could answer her without hesitation. Yesterday, she had told me about her dream report.
“One where I could have all the information about a campaign in the same place,” she mused. “It would make my life so much easier.”
My ears perked up. Anything to make her life easier was something I was interested in. I grabbed a piece of paper. “Tell me.”
“I have to go to every site, and collect the click rates, follow-throughs, page views, etc. For print, I have to wait for the numbers to be sent and then download them. I would love something that took all that information and put it in one place. Then I could compare and analyze things so much faster.”
I jotted down notes, my mind already working. “Can you send me examples?”
Her eyes glowed. “Really? You could do that?”’
It was going to take a huge amount of work.
I met her gaze. “For you, yes.”
Her smile was brilliant. I felt as if I had won the lottery.
But once the conversation was over, as usual, my throat dried up, and all I could do was to stare at her.
Wanting. Longing. Silent.
She smiled and left before the right words hit me. But it was too late.
I was always too fucking late.
I flipped open the cover of the thick file folder on my desk. I had been working on breaking down Bentley’s notes, making my own list so I could ensure it all happened for him in the timeframe he wanted and the order he needed it done.
I clicked the icon for his list, scanning what I had typed earlier. Heavy footsteps made me glance toward the sound. Aiden stood in the doorway, his massive shoulders filling the space. He looked as if he was on the borderline of losing it. I stiffened at his words.
“Got a minute?”
Aiden was never that polite, not unless there was something wrong. “Yeah.”
He entered and closed the door, ramping up my anxiety. He never shut the door.
He sat across from me, silent for a moment.
“What’s up?”
He swallowed, meeting my eyes. “So Bentley asked me to come and talk to you.”
“About?”
“You, ah, well . . .”
My stomach fell. “Are you firing me?”
“No. Absolutely not,” he responded vehemently. “Not a chance.”