Mingle All the Way Page 2

  In exactly this moment, I realize three fundamental truths. One, by the intensity of Riley’s reaction, whatever this loathe-hate thing is, the feelings between us aren’t one-sided. Two, the ache to touch her has spread to the growing hard-on in my pants. And three, the pursed-lip death stare is going to be epic on Monday.

  Chapter Two

  I’m supposed to be in my cubicle by eight, but I slip in the door past a dozen people and over to Nina’s desk five minutes late…on purpose.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, ducking below her wall.

  Every person from IT, HR, accounting, and marketing is walking toward the front of the building in droves, which is exactly what I don’t want. I always avoid Chase Campbell, but after Saturday and the speed date event, the plan is not to take any chances. Show up late so there’s no time for chitchat or for him to hold the main door, even when I slow down so he can go first. I even packed a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat at my desk so I wouldn’t have to see him in the lunchroom.

  “Spencer James called an all-hands meeting,” Nina says, locking her computer.

  “Shit. Do you think he saw me come in late? Think it’s about a holiday bonus?” I’m talking a mile a minute.

  Nina shoots a confused glance at me. Damn. Chase has me on edge. I’m plastered against the gray fabric of her wall about to knock down the thumbtacks holding up her Men of New York calendar. “What are you doing?”

  “Shh. Hiding.”

  “From?”

  As more people pass the cubicle, I peek over the top of the wall only to catch Chase’s baby blue eyes before I drop to the floor. “Dammit.”

  On cue, he appears at the entrance of Nina’s cube wearing a pair of low hanging jeans and a black Henley pushed up at the sleeves. His outfit makes my pulse quicken. Almost instantly, I regret crawling around on my hands and knees pretending to be searching for Lord knows what on Nina’s floor—even if it’s the perfect position for what my lady flower needs to get out of a self-imposed drought.

  Holy wet dream.

  “Found it,” I say, popping up and tucking my empty hand into my pants pocket. “Oh, hey.”

  His brows furrow, but then he shrugs it off. “I was hoping I could walk with you guys to the meeting. Any idea what this is all about?”

  “A bonus, I hope,” I say.

  The three of us walk out into the aisle and I can feel Chase’s arm hairs brush against mine like flint and steel, striking up sparks he has no business igniting. Gah, he’s such a fucking tease.

  Nina leans in squishing me further into him. “I heard Jessica Faulkner telling someone Eric Voorhees was leaving—”

  “Shut up.” I slap my hand over my mouth.

  Chase sighs as if it’s too much to have an actual shocked reaction. Sorry, we aren’t your regular group of swooning women from marketing.

  “If that’s true, there’s going to be movement,” he says.

  “And you know Jessica’s going to be the first one all up in Spencer James’ face with muffins or good coffee or something equally obnoxious. She’s such a freaking suck-up.” I roll my eyes. “I love the name Jessica, but she’s totally ruined it for me.”

  Chase and Nina look at me like I’ve sprouted horns.

  “Anyway, I was waiting for a little later in my five-year plan, but if it’s true, I’m going to go for it. I have so many ideas to make us competitive in the dating industry—and safe for women.”

  Chase’s vibrant eyes snap to mine like he’s just put together a piece of the puzzle that is the mystery of Riley Mills.

  I wave off his empathetic stare and hang a step back so I can see through the haze. “For everyone, really. I mean, like, more safety features. It would mean combining the best and safest features of online dating services, meet groups, spark networks, and match groups.”

  Surprisingly, he nods, and I’m inclined to continue.

  “I’m just interested in giving people the best shot to find love.”

  Chase pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and though I try not to stare, I am. It’s embarrassing. Good God, he’s so freaking hot. But I will not be affected. I’m a professional. Up close and in the warm indoor light, I can’t not notice the constellation of freckles all over his face. Oh, and his piercing blue eyes are like supernovas exploding and shooting off flares that hit me straight in the vagina.

  I press my hand to the nape of my neck and loosen the collar on my blouse. Then, he frees his lower lip.

  Did it just get hotter in here?

  “I’d love to hear about it. There are some features my team is working on for the app now we might be able to tweak. We could figure out how to implement your ideas.”

  My wretched heart gives a small lurch at his sweet smile.

  This is all bad.

  Then, everyone is assembled in a half-circle around Spencer James’ front office. Quiet anticipation falls over the room, and the whispering stops.

  Spencer’s appearance is as exquisite as it is authoritative. Today, he’s wearing a sharp navy blazer with pressed jeans and a white collared shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top. A close-shaven black beard outlines his full lips. His skin looks as if it was molded from rich, dark earth and chiseled in the likeness of the gods. What I’ve always liked about him is that he isn’t quick to wield his power. He’s quiet and observant and takes the time to make eye contact with each and every waiting pair of eyes. He smiles warmly.

  I’ve heard him speak at least quarterly, but I find I’m never prepared for his voice. He’s got the trademark low baritone to fit his refined gentleman aesthetic. It’s his easy croak between pauses—kind of like a pilot before takeoff—that makes me feel like he’s about to guide us into unchartered territory.

  So, I brace myself.

  “Thank you all for stopping what you’re doing to give me a few minutes of your time.” He runs a hand over his bald head before standing taller and tugging the lapels of his blazer. “As many of you may have heard, our senior marketing manager, Eric Voorhees is no longer with the Lovestruck team.”

  A collection of gasps and sighs wash over the room.

  “While one of our own leaving is a sad event, we wish him the best.” He lifts his chin regally, and I’m holding my breath. “That leaves us with an opportunity, doesn’t it?”

  I can almost see the claws coming out and the blood in the water. A new position most likely means an internal promotion. I realize just at this moment I want it badly. While I’ve only been with this company three and half years, this could finally be my chance to put my sales and marketing degree to use.

  My mind drifts to my sister Keira and so many young women like her, who should be able to date, find love, or have sex without the fear of being catfished or nearly assaulted.

  I have to get this position.

  “So, we’re going to have our first annual holiday party December 18th. As we prepare our office for the holidays this week, it feels like the perfect time to show my appreciation. It’ll give us a chance to say our goodbyes to Eric and give me a chance to mingle with all of you.”

  After the whispers and chatter die down and the crowds gradually disperse, I’m hoping to get Riley alone to talk about what happened Saturday and maybe explore what that look she gave me after we left Nina’s cubicle was all about.

  But Nina doesn’t move.

  And neither does Jessica Faulkner.

  “Oh my gosh. Isn’t this amazing?” she says turning to the three of us. “You know what this means…” When we all stare at her confused, Jessica relieves us of our suspense. “He’s totally going to pick Eric’s replacement at the holiday party. It’s completely his MO.”

  Riley’s top lip curls and I’m pretty certain she’s on the verge of rolling her eyes at Jessica, so I interject and save her from herself.

  “What makes you so sure?” I ask, genuinely interested in how she’s unearthed some pattern between the open position and the holiday party.

  Jessica, in
her all-things-pink signature look, pushes her thick-rimmed pink glasses up the bridge of her perky nose like she’s been waiting for someone to ask just this question. She straightens, catches a strand of her sandy blonde hair in her hand, and starts to twirl it around her finger. “Remember Lacey Anderson’s birthday in the lunchroom when Spencer announced he was adding another event planner to the staff? Or the Fourth of July when he scooped up Darrell Jenkins from iMatch for the IT team?”

  Both Nina and Riley nod.

  “Spencer James is one hundred percent a big production guy. He likes fireworks and fanfare. When he makes an announcement, it’s going to be huge.”

  Nina nips at the tip of her finger like she’s weighing the conclusiveness of Jessica’s supporting evidence.

  “That could be the case,” Riley says with slightly less disgust in her tone.

  Then Jessica hits us with, “Plus, Eric totally said he’d put a good word in for me with Spence.”

  Now I’m at risk of rolling my eyes.

  Because Jessica is so tight with Eric Voorhees and Spencer James, they’re on a first-name basis. Give me a break. Word about Jessica taking credit for Reyna’s sales last year spread through the cubicles like wildfire. So, not only is she a brownnoser who’s willing to sabotage, it looks like we can officially add office gossip to the growing list of reasons she is quite possibly the worst candidate for management.

  As close as web development and marketing have to work together on this app, there’s no way in hell I’m reporting to a woman who only wants the title and has no actual plans to make the company better. Unlike, Riley…

  “That’s awesome, Jess.” There’s your first-name basis for you. “I hear you might have some stiff competition, though.”

  Pure satisfaction oozes through my veins to see the panic flash across Jessica’s face. “Why? What have you heard?” She swallows and leans in closer.

  I toss Riley a glance before turning back to Jessica. “Just that Spence has pegged a diamond in the rough.” I shrug.

  Jessica folds her arms over her chest and narrows her big brown eyes at me. “Well, I hope whoever it is knows that Spence is notorious for picking sticky people. Everyone he’s promoted over the five years I’ve been here has reasons to stick around—like a marriage and kids or a mortgage. Even a dog will do. He’s not looking for someone who’ll just up and decide to jump ship to a competitor.”

  Nina and Riley stand there tight-lipped, their eyes darting between Jessica and me like we’re in a tennis match.

  And the ball is in my court.

  “That may be true.” I tilt my head to the side, conceding the validity of her point. There isn’t an employee at the Lovestruck headquarters who’s been here under three years. “But he also wants people who are looking to make his company better. He likes taking chances, too…on people who are hardworking, and ethical.”

  She gasps and holds her chest like I’ve struck her right in the heart. Her sweeping lashes flap like crazy. “Whatever, Chase,” she says, open-mouthed. “I was just letting you guys in on what I know. Figured you’d be happy since we’ll be working so closely when I get the position, but…no matter.” She plasters on a smile and straightens her posture. “Hope you guys have a nice rest of the day.”

  The second she’s out of earshot, Nina plants herself in front of me with the widest smile. Her dark ponytail is still swaying. “Well color me surprised. I didn’t know you had it in you. Damn.”

  Riley dips her chin and one shoulder to look at me from beneath her brow. She gives me a painstakingly slow stare down that leaves me throbbing in southernmost places that are not work appropriate. When her eyes reach mine, along with flecks of gold, there is light and amusement in her warm gaze.

  “Where have you been hiding this hardcore badass all this time?”

  I chuckle, and she matches me with an airy giggle.

  “I mean, not that everyone didn’t already know she was shady as heck, but dang. You put her business all out on front street.” She laughs and latches onto my arm sending a ripple of heat racing through me. “And excuse me, who is this diamond in the rough who’s going to save us from the suck-up?”

  Without a hint of humor, I say, “You.”

  Chapter Three

  We’ve barely inched into December and by Tuesday, the office is already in full holiday mode. Holly is draped over the tops of… Every. Single. Cubicle. Bright red poinsettias and fully dressed wreaths are strategically placed around the doors and edges of the open space. A cheery playlist of exactly one hundred of the most silver-jingle-bells-joy-to-the-Tannenbaum-chestnuts-roasting holiday songs is playing on a loop. And just off the entrance to Spencer James’ glassed-in office is a gigantic ten-foot tree with a shiny star at the top.

  It’s pretty safe to say we’re feeling the holiday spirit at Lovestruck, but I can’t exactly adopt the cheer just yet.

  I slap my hand down on my knee to stop the bouncing and look up just as Jessica Faulkner leaves Spencer’s office. My eyes dart from her pink newswoman dress to the large coffee and muffin on Spencer’s desk then back to her easy stride as she flashes me a quick smile.

  Bah humbug to you, Jessica.

  “She’s not going to get it even if she buys him a whole coffee shop and a bakery.” Nina’s head pops up over the top of my cubicle wall. “Go. Now.”

  I heave a heavy sigh and nod, wishing I’d stopped for good coffee instead of the crappy lunchroom stuff. “You’re right. I’m just going to go in there and tell him why I’m a good candidate for the position.”

  “Breathe. All this garland and merriment, he’s probably in the best mood.”

  Dipping my hand in my locs, I scratch my scalp and blow out a breath.

  “You got this. ‘You are smart. You are kind. You are important,’” Nina says, mimicking The Help and making me laugh.

  It’s enough to get me on my feet. I grab my portfolio and march toward my goal. My future is just like the star on that tree—bright and at the top for a reason.

  When I reach Spencer’s office, I lightly tap on the glass, and he waves me in.

  “Ah, Riley. This is a pleasure,” he says, his voice cracking reassuringly.

  This is the same guy who hired you. He knows what you’re capable of and how hard you work. You’re ready for this opportunity. And you’re ethical, dammit.

  “Thank you, Mr. James. I—”

  “Spencer, please.”

  I swallow. “Oh. Okay. Thanks, Spencer. If you have a few minutes, I know you haven’t stated when you plan to replace Eric Voorhees, or if you will at all, but I’d like to officially express my interest in the position when and if you decide to. I’ve only been here three and half years. I know that’s not as long as—”

  “Slow down. It’s okay. I’m just another co-worker. No need to be nervous around me.”

  I breathe a sigh and give him a small smile.

  He gestures to the two sleek metal armchairs facing his plexiglass desk. “Please, join me.”

  Through the door, I hear Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas playing over the loudspeaker—the Ella Fitzgerald version from all my favorite holiday movies. The light tinkling sound and the harmony of her silvery voice soothes my nerves just a little.

  Spencer leans back against his chair and folds his arms. “So, tell me, have you made plans for the holiday? Started shopping for gifts yet?”

  The questions catch me off guard. I sort of got the impression he was a straight-down-to-business guy.

  “Yeah. My family’s here in Vegas. They live over in Green Valley. We usually celebrate Christmas Eve. We open gifts right at midnight, then laze around on Christmas day. I’m pretty bad about shopping, though. I usually put it off until the very last minute,” I say with a laugh.

  “That sounds nice, actually.”

  For what feels like two full minutes, we say nothing. Just sit there in awkward silence. But then, he sits upright and clasps his large hands on the edge of the desk. His brow c
reases as he slowly blinks a dozen or so times.

  “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but…is there a reason you don’t have pictures on your desk? Personal items? There’s just a desk organizer and a calendar.” His full lips purse as he lifts his chin to pin me with a stare. “Is it that you don’t feel safe or comfortable displaying your private life, or is there something else?”

  My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.

  Somehow, my actual explanation of being a neat freak and maintaining a professional space feels underwhelming and, pretty pathetic. I don’t actually have anyone’s picture to tack to the wall. I love my parents, but I don’t need them watching me at work all day.

  The memory of the day Spencer announced the party comes flooding back to me like a tsunami, pulling everything up by the roots.

  All I can think about is Jessica’s contention that he only promotes people in relationships, or with kids and mortgages. Maybe he changed the subject from the position to the holiday and family life because I’m not his ideal candidate. I’m single—no kids, no pet, no mortgage. I’m renting a super-cute chic little house in the northwest. I have the lowest tenure here. As far as he’s seen, I’m basically the billboard for a flight risk.

  “No, it’s not that. I’m uh…”

  I clear my throat and turn toward the glass at my right. There is Chase Campbell with a sweet smile, taking careful steps to avoid spilling the well-meaning crappy coffees he’s carrying in each hand—one for him and likely one for a member of his all-female fan club in marketing.

  And that’s when the lightbulb goes off in my head.

  “I’m in a serious relationship,” I blurt out.

  “Oh, well. Good for you.” Spencer’s face lights up and his chin lifts like the news of my fake relationship has infused him with a newfound interest in me. “I’m happy to hear it. Thank you for sharing.”