Falling for Fate (18 page)

Talked to HR and Benefits Department about that program we discussed. Need you to stay late tonight so we can draft a proposal.

She smirked at the screen. Of course he was Daniel Dean Maxwell
The Second
. Junior was too commonplace for him. She spent ten minutes perfecting the wording on a response.

To:
Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

From:
Fate Buchanan

Subject:
RE: Health & Wellness Program

Mr. Maxwell,

Since you asked so nicely, I’d be happy to stay after and draft a proposal with you. In fact, there’s no need for both of us to stay. I’d be more than willing to draft a proposal and submit for your approval this afternoon.

It seemed like she’d barely hit send before a reply came back.

To:
Fate Buchanan

From:
Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

Subject:
Asking Nicely

Do you have somewhere to be this evening, Miss. Buchanan?

God, he was so nosy. She quickly typed out a reply.

To:
Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

From:
Fate Buchanan

Subject:
RE: Asking Nicely (Which You Didn’t)

Do you consider this an appropriate line of questioning, Mr. Maxwell?

She almost didn’t hit send. For one, the banter was getting a little flirty and she knew that company emails were probably monitored. And as much as it drove her nuts, he was
technically
her boss. Or he would be in a few short months. If she hadn’t found something else with another company by then.

Hell with it.
She clicked send. And once again, he replied quicker than she’d anticipated.

To:
Fate Buchanan

From:
Daniel Dean Maxwell II.

Subject:
Appropriate Lines of Questioning

Do you consider it inappropriate, Miss Buchanan? If so, I can assure you, I only ask because I am swamped with meetings this afternoon and won’t be able to even glance at your proposal until after work. I’d like to get this handled immediately so that HR can begin instituting this valuable program as soon as possible.

If you find yourself with extra time on your hands and are opposed to the prospect of staying after work with me, please feel free to draft a proposal detailing the parameters of the program we discussed Saturday morning. Had you joined me for breakfast, we could’ve discussed this in further detail and saved ourselves from having to stay late this evening.

No he did not just put that in a work email.

She shoved her hands against her desk, rolling her chair backward so she could get out. Several of the other marketing assistants glanced at her as she stalked out of the bullpen. But she didn’t care. She walked the perimeter until she found the door with his name on it. She burst in without knocking, startling an attractive blonde typing on a computer.

“Um, I’m looking for Mr. Maxwell.
The Second,”
she added, hoping he could hear her wherever he was.

“He’s through there,” the blonde said, pointing at the door behind her. “Let me see if he’s avail—Hey!”

Fate didn’t wait around to listen to the rest. She stormed through the second door to find him sitting at his desk with his hands poised above the keyboard.

“It’s fine, Nicole.” Dean nodded at the blonde, who’d followed her in.

“Yes, Nicole. That will be all.” She shut the door firmly behind the woman before turning abruptly to face the man with an annoyingly amused grin on his face.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Buchanan?”

Oh, the possible answers to that question were limitless. He was wearing a charcoal-gray suit with a red tie that matched her dress perfectly. An unwelcome image of letting him tie her up with it flashed in the forefront of her mind.

She swallowed, forcing her thoughts to return to a PG rating. “First of all, if you keep emailing me, I won’t be able to get anything done. Much less the proposal. Secondly, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from mentioning any…interactions we have outside of work in company emails.”

His grin was infuriating. And also extremely sexy. Which she found even more infuriating.

“I can assure you, Ms. Buchanan, any emails I send are strictly confidential. I’ve taken great measures to make sure that no one is able to monitor them, nor do they go to a company server. And to be quite honest, I’d rather we draft the proposal together this evening when we can both devote our full attention to it.”

“Okay. Well. Good to know.” She bit her lip. “And this evening is fine. I was just trying to save you the trouble of having to work late.”

“I always work late. But thank you for your concern.” He nodded at the door.

She recognized the gesture.
Dis-missed
.
Got it.

Something about him being so cool toward her was bothering her. A lot. This was not the same man who had punched Owen so hard that he’d nearly spit teeth.

“Dean,” she said softly, causing his head to snap up. When his steely hazel gaze met hers, she had to force herself not to smile. “Don’t you think people will start to talk? I’m mean, you know, say things about us if we stay after hours? Together?”

For a moment, he just stared at her, shamelessly letting his eyes rake over her dress. “No more so than they will if you keep storming into my office dressed like that.”

Okay, he was walking a fine line between flattery and pissing her off. “Excuse me?”

At that, he stood. She watched as he stalked forward, coming closer and closer until she was backed against the office door.

“Do not barge into my office like a woman possessed. Understand?”

“Oh, I understand.” She hated how small her voice was. How small he was making her feel. Screw him. She’d never set foot in his damn office again. “And I forgot. I actually do have plans this evening. We’ll have to work on the proposal some other time.”

She turned to reach for the door handle, but strong hands gripped her. He was pressed tight against her back, breathing into her left ear as he spoke. “I’m being watched. My dad can hump any woman in this place and no one will say a word. But if he catches me even thinking about what that dress makes me think about, he’ll come up with a million and one ways to keep me from getting this promotion.”

Her knees threatened to give out. She reached back to grab him out of instinct, just to have something to hold on to. His answer was a low growl in her ear as he let his erection brush against her backside. A whimper escaped her lips and she could practically smell the ocean.

“Are you trying to get a replay of what happened at the beach?”

Yes.
“No.”

“No what?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a company policy forbidding it.”

His eyes widened as she spoke, but like the professional he was, he quickly regained his composure. “Actually, the policy forbids intracompany
dating
. We both know what happened at the beach wasn’t that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting something, Mr. Maxwell?”

He leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed hers. “I’m not suggesting anything,
Fate.
But you can stop with the Mr. Maxwell bullshit. Keaton calls me Dean at work and I didn’t even have to fuck him.”

“Can I call you Michael Phelps?” She let her finger trace the pattern of his tie while she waited to see if he’d get it.

“Excuse me?”

“Since you were kind enough to show me your gold-medal abilities and all.”

At that, he grinned. A cute, boyish grin that lit up his entire face. It was infectious, and despite herself, she smiled back at him.

This. This right here was what had led her to trusting him on the beach. When he dropped the arrogance and the intensity and was just…himself. Handsome and boyish and considerate.

“You should get back to work. Before you get us both into serious trouble.”

The idea sent a shiver thrilling up her spine. Mmm, trouble with Dean and that red tie sounded like an excellent idea to her lust-fogged brain.

“How much weight do you think your desk can hold?” she asked, looking around him.

His face blanked. He glanced over his shoulder at his desk. “I don’t—” Realization hit him hard and he glared back at her. “You have three seconds to vacate this office or we’re going to find out.”

“See you this evening, Mr. Maxwell.” She quirked a brow since she was trapped in his arms and couldn’t leave without him letting her.

He stepped back and released her. “I’ll be here,” he said evenly.

“So will I.” With that, she exited his office as calmly as she could manage.

The woman was trying to kill him. Or ruin him. Or ruin him and then kill him. He was going to have to spend an hour online reading about world tragedies to calm the erection she’d left him with. So much for not slipping up. Not even a week in and he’d damn near had sex with an employee. In his office. On his desk. Before lunch even.

An idea was forming in his head. One he couldn’t shake any more than the sweet, warm scent of whatever kind of perfume she wore. It reminded him of the cookies his mother used to bake. Kind of explained why, every time he was around Fate Buchanan, he was consumed by the overwhelming desire to taste her.

There’d only been a few women he’d slept with more than once or twice in his life. He could count them on one hand. Candace, a football groupie who was always hanging around him in high school. Danielle from college, who had a habit of showing up at his apartment half drunk and half dressed. And Brynn, the thirty-something divorced woman who owned the beach house next to his and had a similar mindset when it came to sex. It was a means to an end. Nothing more and nothing less. Each of them had just sort of presented themselves as opportunities on multiple occasions.

He’d never in his life sought a woman out for round two. Or three. But the thought of never getting to be inside Fate again made him sick to think about. She wanted it, too. He was certain of that after what had just happened in his office. The hungry way she’d eyed his desk. And his tie. For some reason, his red tie seemed to be doing it for her. He made a mental note to buy more like it.

He needed to get her out of his system. Fuck her as many times as was necessary until the newness wore off. By the third or fourth times with the others, he’d barely even cared anymore. Sure, it was probably going to take a few more times than that with her, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. But not here. It couldn’t happen here or anywhere in town where someone might see them. He’d already made a scene at Lux and used his own credit card to pay for her mother’s rehab. Anyone could easily find out about either of the two and nail his ass to the wall. He’d been sloppy. His mind was clouded by his unfulfilled sexual need to finish what he’d started.

Those fantasies he’d had about having her at the beach house needed to come true. Sooner than later so he could get the hell on with his life already. He’d have to work through this weekend to get the numbers together for the board and his dad on the insourcing project, but next weekend, he was taking Fate to his beach house so they could finish what they’d started back in June. He just hoped he could convince her to see that this would be mutually beneficial. In so many ways.

He needed to get her off his mind so he could concentrate on the job he was supposed to be excelling at. Twice Mr. Tenor had called him out for spacing when he should’ve been listening. The man was kind enough not to draw his dad’s attention to the fact, but it was only a matter of time.

Convinced that this was the best way, that she’d be able to see reason and give him what he wanted, he went back to annoying her via email.

W
hen Nicole came in to tell him that she was taking off for the evening, he startled. He’d been so lost in the paperwork his dad had shoveled on him after their tense lunch together that he hadn’t checked the time since.

“It’s after five, Mr. Maxwell,” his assistant said softly.

He rubbed his fingertips across his eyes. “Right. Sorry. Feel free to leave at five. Sometimes, I’m buried under a mountain of paperwork and just can’t get away from my desk.”

“Must be really stressful,” the woman said as she closed the door behind her.

His eyebrows shot up. Was she about to quit or seduce him? He wasn’t sure. She had the look of a nervous cat.

“Something bothering you, Nicole?”

One corner of her mouth tugged up in a small smile and she bit her lip. It was intentional. Unlike Fate, who turned him all the way on without even meaning to. He didn’t even want to think about why he was comparing this woman to Fate. But the differences were glaring. This woman’s clothes were too tight, her hair bleached a shade lighter than what matched her skin, and she was very obviously aiming for office sex kitten of the month.