Miss Lauren,
All is not well.
Yes, you did fail to read the fine print of your employment contract, and legally speaking, I’m under no obligation to compromise.
That said, I have an emergency situation, and I need your help.
If you do agree to help me with this (and a few other things), I’ll let you out of your contract.
Meet me at my condo when you land.
Preston Parker,
CEO & Owner, Parker International
* * *
I read his email a few times in shock that he was willing to let me go. I turned my phone off and on and reread it again, just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing a trick on me.
I wasted no time telling the town car driver to rush me to his condo when I got off the plane. I took the elevator up to his floor, bracing myself for what I hoped would be a real emergency.
Knowing him, it’s probably not.
I knocked five times, waiting for an answer. I knocked again, and he opened the door wearing dark jeans and a black shirt that hugged his muscles in all the right places. He eyed my short beige and grey dress and his lips curved into a sexy smile.
“You told me you lost that dress months ago,” he said.
“No, I said I wouldn’t be wearing it again because all you did was stare at me when I wore it.”
He was still staring. “Come in.”
“Before I come in, there’s something I need to say.”
“I’m listening.”
“I just want you to know that what happened with me in the conference room can’t happen again.”
“Excuse me?” He raised his eyebrow.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I said, lowering my voice. “That can’t happen again, and I won’t let it.”
“Are you referring to all the mistakes you made during your mock presentation, or the fact that you were screaming “Don’t stop” while I was devouring your pussy?” He looked me up and down. “I need you to be a little more specific about what ‘that’ is …”
“Both. Both are that.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” He smiled. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy coming in my mouth?”
I blushed. “That’s not the point.”
“Answer my question.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you not enjoy coming in my mouth? Were three orgasms not enough?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I would’ve preferred if we were in my office, so I could spread you over my desk and prevent you from moving so much, but since you’re not interested in any more of that …” His voice trailed off with a smirk, and he opened the door a bit wider, inviting me in.
He led me into his dining room, and I noticed a huge purple stain on his favorite white Italian sofa.
Please don’t tell me you wanted me over here to research ways to clean your custom sofa.
Pouring me a glass of wine, he sat across from me at the table. He didn’t say anything, though. He just stared at me, turning me on with each second that passed.
“Was this really an emergency?” I asked. “Or are you trying to get me to have sex with you in exchange for getting out of my contract?”
“We both know that I don’t have to bring you to my condo to attempt that, Tara.” His smile slowly faded as he cleared his throat. “It is an emergency.”
“Someone new and special has come into my life,” he said, finally. “It was sudden and unexpected, but I already have feelings for her. Feelings I can’t explain, but I care about her immensely. I want our new relationship to work, since this is going to be a long-term commitment for me, but I’ll need help adjusting her to my lifestyle.”
A pang of jealousy hit me right in my chest. I picked up my wine and gulped the entire glass.
“I need you to help me plan a few things for us, in addition to finding your replacement at Parker International. Then, since you're so hell-bent on leaving, I'll let you go in six weeks.”
“I'm not planning your wedding. Ever.”
“What?” He looked confused.
“I'm not planning your engagement party either.” I couldn't stop talking. “And if you think for one minute that I won't tell this new instant fiancée that your mouth was all over me a few days ago and that you were talking about doing it again in your hallway, you’re sadly mistaken. Sadly mistaken.”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Then that smack-able grin that I half loved, half hated crossed his face. I almost raised my hand to knock it away.
“I was referring to my niece,” he said.
What? “Oh.” My cheeks began to burn. “I didn't know you had a niece.”
“I didn't either.” He paused, looking vulnerable for the very first time. “My brother passed away and left her in my care.” He looked away from me, and I noticed the stack of books on the edge of his table: Raising a Child, How to Handle a Toddler, Daughters and Single Dads, Juggling Career & Family.
As if on cue, a beautiful brown-haired toddler strutted into the room, half-eaten lollipop in hand. “Uncle Preston, can I have another one?”
As she stepped closer, I noticed her eyes were the same beautiful hue as his. She was also sporting red and blue sugar all over her mouth.
He unwrapped a new lollipop, and she smiled, looking at me. “I had an accident on the sofa today,” she said.
That explains the sofa stain.
Out of habit, I pulled out my phone and handled it. Returning my attention to her, I motioned for her to come closer. What's your name?
“Violet.” She paused. “Violet Rose Parker.”
“That's a beautiful name.”
“Thank you! What's your name?”
“Tara.” I paused just like she did. “Tara Rose Lauren.”
“I like my name better than your name.”
“Me, too.” I laughed, and she spun around and asked Preston to open another lollipop.
As he agreed and she walked away with two new ones, I let out a breath. “How many of those has she had today?”
“I don't know. Maybe twenty.”
“Maybe twenty? Are you out of your mind?”
“No, but I haven't finished reading my copy of What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting a Toddler. Care to share your notes?”
I rolled my eyes and walked to his kitchen, opening his refrigerator. Every rack was stuffed with bottled water, desserts, and wines. Nothing for a toddler. I stepped into one of his colossal guest rooms, noticing it was still as empty as it was when I first started working for him.
“You should make this guest room her bedroom,” I said, returning to the dining room. “That would be a good start to help with her new life.”
Before I could ask him when he planned on going grocery shopping, I heard the tell-tale sound of heaving. Then vomiting.
“I don’t feel good.” Violet wobbled into the room, looking up at Preston. “My tummy hurts.”
I sighed. “Can you get your driver and her car seat, please?”
“Driver’s on his way,” he said, tapping his phone. “What car seat?”
Violet vomited again before I could answer him.