“Like what?”
“A couple dozen Xanax?”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s Tylenol in the conference room.”
“I need something to calm my nerves. I feel like I’m going to explode. Or puke. Maybe both.”
“Where’s your car?” she asked. “Please tell me you didn’t drive.”
“It’s with the valet at Mercato.” I straightened my posture the best I could. “I came here in a clown car.”
“What?”
“One of those stupid little Fiats. It looked like it should be filled with clowns at a circus.” I cleared my desk with a swipe of my arm. I laid my head on the cool surface. “The back seat was insufficient for anything but a toddler. It didn’t have air conditioning.”
“An Uber?”
“Uh-huh. It was awful.”
“Why didn’t you get an XL?”
“It’s off-season,” I said. “There weren’t any.”
She bent over and looked me in the eyes. “How much did you drink?”
“Two glasses of wine, and then Margaret dropped the bomb.” I closed my eyes. “I had another bottle and a half after that. I had to tip the waiter a hundred bucks to let me overindulge.”
“Take a nap,” she said. “We can talk about it when you wake up.”
“Shut the door on your way out if you don’t mind,” I muttered, half asleep already.
“Okay.”
“Who’s the sexy guy with the tattoos?” I asked, smiling at the thought of him. “An architect?”
“He’s our new receptionist,” she replied. “I was going to surprise you.”
My head shot up off the desk. “What?”
“I hired him on Friday. You were out all day, and he was the only applicant worth hiring. You said to hire someone if they were attractive and able. He’s both. He’s a friend of Herb what’s-his-name. The old guy you sold the place in Pelican Bay to. The big house that needed to be redone by the clubhouse. You saw him in the store the other day.”
“Herb Riley?”
“Yeah. That’s him.”
I buried my face in my open palms and exhaled a long breath. If we employed Mister Sexy, there would be no way I could keep myself from fucking him. At some point it would happen. There was a reason I exposed myself to handsome alpha males as little as possible. I had no willpower when the time came to deny their sexual demands.
I spread my fingers apart and peeked through them. “He’s a man, Kate. We can’t have a man working here. I despise men. Especially men like him. You know that. What happened last time?”
“You don’t want me to fire him, do you?” She gave me puppy dog eyes. “He just started this morning.”
“We don’t have a defined probationary period. You can’t fire him without cause. We’ll just wait for him to fuck up. It’s only a matter of time. He’s got to be out of his element.”
She sighed. “I think he’ll do great.”
I lowered my head to the desk. “I suppose that’s his Harley beside Janine’s Jag?”
“It sure is.”
He was a tattooed biker. Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
I closed my eyes. “Don’t forget to close the door.”
Within minutes, I was passed out cold. During my drunken slumber, I had a vivid dream about the new receptionist.
I’d taken him to a showing for some ridiculous reason. After the client left, Mister Sexy bent me over the kitchen island. In shock but unwilling to oppose his sexual advances, I complied with his demands. He grabbed a fistful of my hair. With one strong tug, he tore my panties and tossed them aside. Using his scuffed boots, he kicked the insides of my feet, forcing me to widen my stance. When he penetrated me, I howled like I was being branded by a red-hot poker.
He liked it rough.
His tattooed hands were everywhere. Each time he slapped my ass, the sound echoed throughout the vacant home. He squeezed my tits so firmly that I nearly reached climax. The web of one hand tightened around my throat. His stamina was remarkable. Like a jackhammer, he pounded himself into me for all eternity. Breathless, I allowed him to fulfill his every desire. In time, his breathing became irregular. His cock swelled to twice its size. My clit throbbed with each thrust that followed. On the cusp of an orgasm, I peered over my shoulder.
His head had been replaced with Margaret Seever’s.
I awoke in a panic. Still drunk and somewhat confused, I stumbled to the hallway. I gazed toward the reception area. Mister Sexy’s tattooed hand was cradling the phone’s receiver.
A low laugh escaped him. “One moment, Janice. Let me see if she’s in.” He tapped his index finger against one button and then another. “Janine, I’ve got Janice Williams on line one… All right, I’ll put her through.”
He appeared to be doing rather well for his first day at work. No matter how good he was at his job, I eventually needed to find a reason to let him go.
If not, my dream was going to become a reality.
The last time I let that happen, it ended disastrously.
Chapter Three
Devin
By Friday morning, I knew fuck-all about being a receptionist. But after a week of inspirational YouTube videos, instructional seminars, and reading blog posts, I felt I could at least survive.
According to the internet, there were only four rules for being a good receptionist. One, love a ringing phone. Two, love your job. Three, leave the attitude at home. And four, the customer is your passion.
I got along with anyone willing to get along with me. That made the job requirements easy, as long as I didn’t have to deal with someone who was disrespectful. Being rude toward me—or the four and a half women I was hired to serve—was a different subject altogether. Convinced working with an all-woman team should be a breeze, I happily answered each phone call and hoped for the best.
With her purse over one shoulder and a leather bag over the other, Teddi came out of her office and made a beeline for the front door. I’d never considered pantsuits to be flattering until I saw her hourglass-shaped body encompassed by one. It accentuated every curve.
I clenched my jaw as she strolled past, talking on her phone. She looked to be all of five-foot-three in four-inch heels. Her curvaceous body would cause any man to embarrass himself by staring. Somewhat protected by the upper platform of my desk, I did just that, following her every move by swiveling my chair in her direction as she glided across the floor.
Just as she reached the door, she dropped her phone into her purse. She stood for a moment, staring into the parking lot. Then she turned around. She was coming straight for me. I diverted my eyes to my computer monitor and jiggled the mouse.
When she arrived, I was scrolling through available properties in Naples, trying my best to appear preoccupied—and disinterested in her.
“What’s your name again?” she asked.
I looked up. The bottoms of her tits were resting against the marble countertop. Her white blouse was unbuttoned enough to reveal more than a hint of cleavage. I had to force myself not to stare.
“Oh. I didn’t notice you,” I said, lying through my teeth. “Sorry. It’s Devin.”