Maddy Collated: The Complete Trilogy (2 page)

Mr. Lake and Mr. Taylor exchanged a glance.

“Madeline,” Mr. Taylor began, “we need you to tell us what you think about the fitness industry.”

There was an awkward silence as the elevator hit the lobby and the doors slid open with pneumatic hiss, but none of them paid it any mind, especially
Maddy
. She was too busy staring at two of the sexiest men alive and wondering who was playing a prank on her.

She couldn't help but glance down at herself, wondering if she'd switched bodies with another woman, one who might actually catch the eye of either Sam Lake or Chet Taylor, some fit little gym bunny who would have those kinds of thoughts, but no. All she saw was her extremely generous bosom blocking out her view of her toes, and when she self-consciously smoothed her skirt over her hips, she felt the same curves that made it impossible for her to find clothes that
laid
properly.

Looking back up,
Maddy
saw both of them staring at her intently, expecting an answer, as the doors closed behind her.

“The fitness industry?” she said. “You want to hear
my
thoughts on
that?”

As though neither of them realized they had just asked a self-proclaimed fat girl to tell them what she really thought about diet and exercise, they both nodded.

She took a deep breath. “Why?”

Mr. Lake waved a hand airily. “Oh,” he said, “we're thinking of expanding our outdoors and fitness divisions into targeting women, but our focus groups have been a bit... confusing. We can't seem to agree which direction we should go.”

Mr. Taylor crossed his arms. “No,
you
can't agree the direction we should go. I've already made up my mind.”

“You see?” Mr. Lake said, gesturing at his business partner. “You see what I have to put up with?” He reached out and grabbed her hand again, and
Maddy
started to see why they had made such a splash together. They played off each other perfectly with an incredible flair for theatrics, and she found herself wanting to get swept up in the grand play they were performing, if just to be a part of their world for a few moments. Even though her first instinct was to take her hand back from any man presumptuous enough to grab it, she hesitated, and Mr. Lake seized the opportunity she gave him. He pulled her toward him gently, and her whole body heated. It was as though he were a fire, and wherever her body drew close to his, she felt his warmth spreading through her.

“Madeline,” he said, and his fingers on hers were warm and delicious. She wondered what it would be like to suck one into her mouth. “We need you to save our company. Only you can help us.”

She swallowed, trying to keep her cool. “So I'm your only hope, then?”

Next to her, Mr. Taylor laughed, a deep, sensuous chuckle worthy of a great Bond villain. “Yes,” he agreed. “You are our only hope.”

Maddy
glanced at one, then the other. “And I'm allowed to say whatever I want?” she said. If she was going to get the ears of two of the greatest business moguls of her generation, she was going to make it count.

“Yes. Don't hold back,” Mr. Lake told her. “Lies are useless. No more yes men.”

“Or women,” Mr. Taylor added dryly.

“Right.
Or women,” Mr. Lake said. “For tonight, you are not our employee, but our most valuable source of information. Tell us, Madeline, what we should do.”

They were both extremely tipsy, and
Maddy
knew they would be wondering what had possessed them to grab the most convenient female employee they could find—especially an employee who looked so little like the women they surrounded themselves with—but how often did this sort of thing happen to a girl like her?

Only in romance novels,
she thought wryly.

“Fine,” she said. “But information that could save your company isn't free. You'd better be buying me a drink first.” And she turned and hit the button to open the elevator doors.

They dinged and slid open, and
Maddy
strode out. She felt every one of her voluptuous curves bounce invitingly as she walked away, and their eyes on her warmed her to her core.

When she was halfway across the lobby, she turned and gave them a coy little look over her shoulder. They were both staring at her, shocked.

“Well?” she said. “Time is money, people!” She clapped her hands briskly and turned. The sound of two pairs of Italian leather shoes almost running after her was enough to make her grin at herself in the glass of the lobby doors.

Apparently there
were
perks to working late.

*

The deep, throbbing
whump
whump
whump
of the latest club hit vibrated through her entire body as Mr. Taylor leaned in and poured her another drink. She wasn't even sure what she was drinking any more, just that she didn't want the night to end and it seemed like the best way to do that was to keep putting alcohol in her mouth. Mr. Lake and Mr. Taylor were certainly operating on this principle.

“
Maddy
!” Mr. Lake yelled above the noise. “You must try these tapas. I am in love with them!”

A small plate of unidentifiable lumps slid across the tiny table and
Maddy
popped two of them into her mouth.
Sweet and salty.
Just what she shouldn't be thinking about.
On either side of her, Mr. Lake and Mr. Taylor—wait, no...
they
had been insisting since at least drink two that she call them Sam and Chet—Sam and Chet had squeezed into the booth. The width of her hips meant both of them were forced to push the full length of their thighs against hers, but neither of them seemed to mind, and if they weren't complaining, well, who was she to point it out?

The heat of their bodies mingled with hers. Sweat gathered between her breasts, no doubt staining her white work shirt, but she found she didn't care. Sam was plying her with delicious treats and Chet appeared to be fascinated with how much she could drink.
Maddy
wouldn't have been surprised if their regular dates passed out after sniffing a beer. Too little meat on your bones would do that to you.

“So tell me,” Chet said directly in her ear, his hot, booze-laden breath sending illicit shivers up her spine, “what
can
we do to reach women?”

Maddy
rolled her eyes, though it was too dark to see it. She'd been telling them the answer all night, but they hadn't been listening. “I told you,” she shouted at him, “you can't. Not the way things are right now.”

“I don't get it!”

Uuuugggghh
! Men!
“You need to start cultivating a healthier view of women in your other divisions before you can expand in the fitness division!”

“But
how?”

Maddy
plucked a cherry from one of the empty glasses in front of her and sucked it off its stem. She turned to Chet. His blue eyes gleamed in the gloom of the club. He was like one of those vampires in those movies.
The sexy ones.
“Well,” she said, “maybe you should stop emphasizing stick-thin as the be-all and end-all of attraction.”

“But marketing research shows that women are less likely to buy products featuring full-figured women on them—”

Normally she would feel offended, but she really
had
had a lot to drink. She waved a hand in his face. “I
know
that,” she interrupted, “but you have to be subtle.
Subtle.
And, like, not even when it has anything to do with women, since you guys use women to sell all your shit anyway. Use a girl who looks like one of those forties pin-ups for the... the
whatchamacallit
, the booze division.”

“The breweries,” Sam said, leaning in a little too close. His lips brushed against the inner folds of her ear, and she thought of other inner folds where she might like those lips to be.

Beneath her skirt,
Maddy
felt her clit swell, and the flashing lights of the club were suddenly competing with the flashing lights of her blood-deprived brain.

“R... right...” she said, struggling to remember what she had been talking about. “
The breweries.
In your ads and on your labels, you need girls with tits and ass. You
know,
these things.” And she put her hands on her own breasts and jiggled them.

As though their eyes were compass needles and her boobs were due north, Sam and Chet dropped their gazes and stared at the lush mounds of flesh threatening to burst out of her shirt. For the first time in a long time,
Maddy
felt good about her breasts. Usually she hated them—they were irrepressible, and none of her shirts could quite fit over them, always leaving a gap in between the second and third buttons. Now, however, with the gazes of two of the hottest men in the world riveted to them, she felt different.
Bolder.
More powerful.

She let her hands stay on her breasts for a moment,
then
slid them down, giving them the barest lingering caress. The sensation of her own hands dragging over her nipples sent ripples of pleasure down through her stomach to her core.

“So, uh...” Sam licked his lips, still staring at her chest. “What you're saying is we need to change what men find attractive, right?”

Maddy
giggled. “What, you think men don't like boobs?” She could feel them still staring at her, so she reached out and popped another of the salty-sweet tapas dish that she couldn't identify into her mouth and chewed.

Chet transferred his gaze to her lips. “But, uh... Market research, um, indicates...” He trailed off, as though he had lost his train of thought.

Maddy
reached for her glass, but it was mysteriously empty. “Stop talking about market research,” she said. “I'm giving you gold, here. Change what
women
think men find attractive, and you can make some room to break through in fitness marketing.”

“
Maddy's
right, Chet,” Sam said. He was still staring at her breasts, mesmerized. “We need to be writing this down.”

Next to her, Chet patted his pockets, searching for his phone, and his fingers slid between their hips, causing her breath to hitch.
Maddy
squirmed as Chet drew his phone out and turned it on.

The glare of the screen blinded her enough that it took her a moment to realize Chet wasn't typing anything.

“What are you waiting for?” she demanded as the bass of the last song merged seamlessly with the next one. A light, airy soprano sang over a deep driving beat, like the moans of a woman and the primal sounds of sex...

Maddy
swallowed. She really
had
had too much to drink. She nudged Chet with her elbow. “Come on. Don't waste my nuggets of wisdom.”

He frowned. “I forgot what you said already,” he told her.
“Something about the forties?”

Sam began to laugh. “Oh man, you are
wasted.”
He reached across the table and grabbed the phone, but as he continued to giggle, he kept punching the wrong letters on the screen, until he was a helpless pile of laughter.

“Oh my god, you two are hopeless,”
Maddy
said. “A woman is drinking you under the table!”

“Oh yeah?”
Chet said. “Then you do it.”

“Yeah.
Maddy
, take a memo already,” Sam said between bouts of laughter.

Maddy
snatched the phone from him and very carefully typed,
Tits and ass.
“There,” she said. “See? See?” She shoved the phone in their faces. Sam couldn't get a response out as he gasped for air. Chet took the phone from her and carefully and deliberately saved it.

“You are the best sort of employee,” he said.

“Why, because I can find my tits and ass with both hands and no mirror, and then I can take a memo about it?” she asked.

Sam laughed harder.

Chet gave them both a cool gaze that might have been intimidating had his eyes not crossed slightly when he tried to focus on them. “No,” he said haughtily. “Because here you are, covering for your
drunk
boss even at almost two in the morning.”

Though his words were meant to be a joke,
Maddy
sat straight up in the booth. “What?” she cried.
“Two in the morning?”

Sam stopped laughing. “What's wrong?”

Completely ignoring the physics of the situation,
Maddy
stood abruptly. “Out of my way, I have to... I can't be...
shit!”
She was so screwed. Rick was going to rip
her a
new asshole if she didn't get that presentation done, and she had three hours to get some sleep before she had to be up and working at it. Scratch that, even less, because they were still
downtown,
and her apartment was at least a ten minute drive up the highway. And her car was at the office because they'd taken the limo. Why didn't she
think
about these things?