Nailed (Worked Up Book 2) Read online

  Three weeks passed and I’d been fucking Jason nearly every night. With him everything happened in the moment. I didn’t think about the past or the future.

  Then one afternoon he crept up behind me in the copy room.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered as his hands circled my waist and traveled lower. “Want you.”

  “Me too,” I whispered, dropping a few contract pages on the floor as Jason ground his hips against my ass. We’d been good at work, so stoic and professional no one seemed to suspect what was going on. But keeping up the façade was getting tough. I glanced over my shoulder at the closed door of the copy room. “Is it locked?”

  He looked. “Now why the hell does the door to the copy room have a lock on it?”

  I giggled. “For moments like this.”

  He swiftly turned the lock and then hiked my skirt up. “And this.”

  I dropped to my knees and unfastened his belt. “And this.”

  He held my face in his hands, then sucked in a breath as my lips closed around his swollen dick.

  “Why is this door locked?” The door handle rattled as the shrill voice of The Man penetrated the haze of lust in the tiny room. “Who locked this?” There was loud, semi-hysterical banging. “Who’s in there?”

  I was already furiously smoothing my skirt down while Jason tucked himself back inside his pants. In order to look busy and not even vaguely sexual, I grabbed a stapler and started stapling together the sheets I’d been copying, while Jason opened the door.

  “Beg your pardon, sir. I was just cleaning the knob and must have accidentally flipped the lock.”

  The Man didn’t care. He conducted a brief, frenzied search for green Post-its in the supply cabinet and left.

  I cared, though. I cared a lot. There was a time when I would have found the entire situation uproariously funny, to be nearly discovered by an authority figure as I gave head in a bizarre location because I was almost certainly drunk out of my skull. I enjoyed shocking my parents. The only time I felt like I had their attention was when I was behaving badly. And then there was the added bonus of upsetting their orderly world of status and privilege. Once my mother caught me getting high in the garage with a naked father of two who was ten years older and a sports coach at my high school. When she started screaming at me, I decided to remove myself from the situation by stealing the keys to my father’s Porsche, which I promptly crashed into the neighbor’s front-yard fountain.

  But that was a long time ago, and since then I’d worked hard to shed all traces of my bad-girl persona. I’d grown up. And even though I wouldn’t admit it out loud, I desperately wanted my folks to have a reason to feel half as much pride in me as they did in my brother. More important, I wanted to be proud of myself. I’d never get there by giving Jason Roma blow jobs in the copy room.

  It was time to put an end to whatever this was.

  Since Jason was trained and busy with his own work, there wasn’t much reason for us to interact throughout the day. We were both present in an afternoon department meeting, but I sat way on the other end of the conference table and tried to avoid catching his eye. I wasn’t blaming him. Every time Jason showed up at my apartment door, I’d practically pounced on him. It was my own sorry-ass fault that I now found myself in a less than desirable position of having fucked my new coworker a few dozen times. Now I just needed to tell him that all this reckless screwing needed to end. He’d understand.

  I stayed at work an hour late to finish completing an extensive materials order. When I finally left I was startled to find Jason there in the parking garage, leaning against my car as if he were having his picture taken. He flashed his trademark devastating grin when he saw me, and my resolve to inform him I couldn’t take my clothes off for him anymore almost vanished.

  I set my bag on the hood of the car. “I thought you left.”

  “I did. Went down the street, grabbed some tacos, and came back.” He held up a white paper bag. “You hungry? I picked up a few extra.”

  I slumped beside him against the car, lowering my head. “Jason.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been bent out of shape ever since that jackass came pounding on the copy room door.”

  “Quiet,” I hissed, and looked around furtively. But there was no one else to hear except for some scattered vehicles still waiting for their owners to call it quits for the day. “That so-called jackass happens to be the owner of the company, and I can’t justify being on my knees in the copy room in the middle of the day.”

  His arm nudged me. “It’s not the middle of the day now. There’s probably hardly anyone left up there. Let’s take another crack at it.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Not trying to be.” He faced me, bracing his palms on either side of me against the frame of the car, issuing the kind of seductive challenge that weakened every argument. “And you know whatever I get I’ll give back just as good.”

  “Jason.”

  “Audrey.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “We have to stop this.”

  He nipped at my neck. “Why?”

  Because you’re like a drug, one I can’t get enough of, and I have a rotten history with addiction.

  “Because it’s going to mess things up at work,” I told him, pushing him away.

  He took a step back and raked his hand through his hair. “I swear I’m not trying to screw things up for you. We’re having fun. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I shudder to think what would have happened if we’d been caught today.”

  “You mean caught with my dick in your mouth.”

  My jaw clenched. “Yes.”

  He laughed. “I would have liked to see the look on the old man’s face.”

  “Shut up,” I spat. “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

  He pretended to think about it. “It’s Thursday. Gravity is reserved only for Monday, Wednesday, and sometimes Friday.”

  “You’re such a child.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Look, Audrey, I like hanging out with you, and we have a good time together. Not looking for something permanent.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “Good, then let’s go back to your place and spend some time reenacting the copy room scene. It was hot. I’ve been thinking about it all day. We can pretend that boss man busts through the door just as I come in your mouth.”

  “Jason!”

  “It would have added to the shock value if you’d had your tits exposed.”

  “Grow the fuck up,” I said, annoyed he still was making this a joke.

  Jason looked at me. There was a flash of something in his dark eyes—irritation or anger or hurt; I couldn’t tell the difference when it came to him.

  His voice was tight. “Rest assured, I’m fully grown, Audrey.”

  “You’re a twenty-three-year-old man-child who thinks with your dick and apparently couldn’t give two shits about your job, a job only acquired because someone in management knows your father, who ran his own company into the ground.”

  This time there was no mistaking the anger in Jason’s dark eyes. Immediately I regretted what I’d said. I knew very little about Jason’s family—it was bitchy of me to lash out like that when all I wanted was to end things on an amicable note. I started to apologize but Jason cut me off.

  “Give me a fucking break, Audrey Gordon. You think there’s a single damn person in that building unaware of who you are? Your father and his cronies probably run half the city. And you can fuck right off with your conceit over the job. I asked around. I know you didn’t even bother to finish college, probably never had a steady job before working here, and you have a few legal demerits on your permanent record. Your family name and maybe a timely phone call from Daddy opened the door for you, sweetheart, and you damn well know it.”

  “You asshole,” I whispered, balling my fists up. It was the t
ruest and most devastating speech anyone had ever flung in my direction. Jason thought he’d cut me down, but he didn’t know me at all. He didn’t know how hard I’d worked since I started at Lester & Brown, how badly I wanted to forget about the reckless girl I’d been. Jason didn’t know these things because we didn’t usually have meaningful conversations. And there was certainly no point in having one now.

  Jason was smirking, triumphant, probably figuring he’d bested me with a few harsh observations. He’d done nothing of the kind.

  I straightened my back and glared at him. “Go fuck yourself, Jason.”

  He snorted. “Nah. But I’ll have no trouble finding someone else to do the job.”

  On that note he turned his back and walked away.

  “Jason, wait!”

  He turned around, annoyance written all over his face.

  I twisted my hands and blushed, hating every second of needing to ask him for a favor. I took a deep breath. “Please don’t say anything. About this. Us. Please don’t tell anyone at work.”

  He took his time about answering. Then he said, “I won’t. I’m not as much of an asshole as you think I am, Audrey.”

  Then he resumed his walk in the opposite direction. I didn’t stop him a second time.

  I kicked aside the bag of dropped tacos and retreated into my car, pounding the steering wheel once with my fist before starting the ignition. On the drive home I comforted myself with the fact that Jason wouldn’t last long at Lester & Brown. He’d get bored and move on or else he’d get fired when he screwed up something important, as he was bound to do. That frat-boy mentality came with a short attention span. Jason would almost certainly be gone in another six months.

  “Auntie Audi?” said a sweet voice, shaking me out of my reverie.

  My youngest nephew stood three feet away. He yawned. “Daddy said to tell you that we’re leaving now.”

  I stood up and held out my hand to Isaac before walking across the vast yard toward the party tables, which were littered with used plates and napkins. While I was out brooding in the orchard, nearly all the guests had departed.

  William seemed distracted when he gave me a brief farewell hug. I cuddled the small bodies of my nephews close for a long moment, silently promising once again that somehow I’d find the opportunity to spend more time with them.

  “That went well,” my mother commented in a bright tone as we watched William and the boys leave through the gate.

  “The centerpieces made all the difference,” I said.

  My mother threw me a look, as if she was trying to guess whether I was full of shit or not. I grinned and she laughed.

  “They worked out fine after all,” she said.

  “It was a nice party, Mom. I’m sure William was pleased.”

  I wasn’t really sure about that at all. It was more likely William had simply endured the event. But my mother would be happier if she thought otherwise.

  She looked in the direction of the wrought iron gate William had just exited. “Do you think so?”

  I plucked one of the flowers out of the nearest centerpiece and sniffed it. “Sure. Who wouldn’t be delighted by a gala event celebrating the day you were born?”

  Her eyes scanned me, and her brow wrinkled just a little. “You wouldn’t. Would you, Audrey?”

  She sounded uncertain, as if she truly didn’t know one way or another. It struck me how little we really knew one another. This should not have been a revelation. And I knew I was as guilty of avoiding important topics as she was.

  “No,” I told her honestly. “I wouldn’t.”

  I started to help with the cleanup until my mother scolded me, insisting that the catering staff would take care of it. She handed me a tray of leftovers that I was happy enough to take. My father had already decamped to his study and I planned on saying goodbye, but when I reached his door, it was closed. I hovered on the other side for a moment, debating whether I ought to interrupt his probable liaison with a bottle of expensive Scotch, and then just left, clutching my foil-wrapped package of congealing mushrooms and shrimp.

  On the drive back to my apartment, the things I’d been fretting over in the orchard resurfaced. I hoped that wouldn’t be happening every day now that I’d be constantly working with Jason.

  I could admit I’d been wrong about him in some ways.

  Jason didn’t get bored with the job and he didn’t screw up. Management loved him, and his promotion to project manager happened mere months after mine. Avoiding him completely was out of the question since we worked in the same department, but I found it was easy enough to limit contact since we were never assigned to the same projects. Jason cheerfully moved on to a variety of other conquests, and when I happened to see him around town, I always pretended I didn’t notice the youthful eye candy dry-humping him in plain sight while I clutched the arm of whatever responsible fellow I was currently seeing.

  After that big blowup in the parking garage, I was afraid he’d betray me by engaging in some locker room talk with some of the guys around the office who had lunch at Hooters every day. They seemed like Jason’s crowd.

  But to his credit, he proved to be discreet. He might get a kick out of subtly mocking me when the occasion arose (e.g., the Third Street handbag mishap) until I wanted to throttle him with one of his designer neckties, but to my knowledge he’d kept his word about keeping the details of our sexual exploits to himself.

  In all this time I’d never heard so much as a whisper indicating he’d ever said a single gossipy thing about me. Of course I preferred things this way, even as I wondered if he thought about our time together anywhere near as much as I did.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The day after William’s party, I arrived at the courthouse jobsite twenty-five minutes early and somehow Jason still managed to beat me. He was walking around in the flattened dirt and he stopped to watch as I approached.

  “I thought you said the meeting was at seven,” I said a little huffily.

  “Good morning to you too, Audrey,” he replied, and held out a brown paper bag. “Would you like a buttered muffin?”

  “What is that, a sexual innuendo?”

  “No. It’s a polite statement. You ought to try it now and then. Politeness.”

  “I don’t want your buttered muffin, Jason.”

  He crumpled up the bag. “Too bad. It was tasty.”

  “How do you know if you didn’t eat it yourself?”

  He shrugged. “I took a bite.”

  “You took a bite of the breakfast you were planning to offer me?”

  “Sure.”

  “What if I’d decided I wanted it?”

  “But you didn’t.” He hurled the bag into a nearby open dumpster.

  I looked around. “Where’s this architect?”

  “He’s not here yet. You’re half an hour early.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  He breathed in deeply as the sounds of Phoenix traffic rattled past. Soon it would be rush hour.

  “What can I say? I love the smell of the asphalt in the morning,” Jason said. “What do you love in the morning, Audrey?”

  “Jason,” I said a little sharply.

  He looked at me. “What’s up?”

  I took a breath. “Is this going to be a problem?”

  “Of course not. You’re more than welcome to hang out here until the meeting starts.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He grinned, obviously enjoying himself. “No, enlighten me.”

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I might have some explaining to do in the office if I broke Jason Roma’s nose. “Is there going to be a problem with us working closely together on this project?”

  Jason appeared to consider the question carefully. He tapped his chin and gazed out at the ten-acre city plot where a derelict hotel had been razed to make room for the courthouse. “I’m not sure. Just how close are we going to get?”

  “You’re ridiculous,” I huff
ed. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”

  “Does this mean you’re blowing off the meeting?”

  I glared. “No. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  Once I had consumed a few ounces of caffeine, I felt a little less on edge. Maybe I was overreacting when it came to Jason. He liked to get a rise out of people, that’s all. It wasn’t best to contend with that in a colleague, but I could handle him. I could keep things professional. And when Jason realized I could no longer be baited, he’d get bored with trying and just do his job. And the best way to embark on this new era was by marching back to the jobsite, coolly ignoring any mocking remarks, and having a successful meeting with this architect whose name I wished I’d inquired about. I assumed it had to be Mike Destin, the original chief architect at Lollis Architecture Group, the Phoenix firm that had been hired to draw up the plans even before bids were made on the project. I couldn’t really picture old stern-faced Mike yapping over beers at the Diamondbacks game with Jason Roma, but I knew Jason well enough to figure he could probably nudge the pope out of his comfort zone if he set his mind to it.

  When I returned to the site, I saw that Jason was no longer alone and I cursed myself for taking off in the first place. Jason and the man who was presumably the architect were walking inside the perimeter of the heavily roped-off jobsite. I squinted at the man. From a distance I could tell he did not have the stoop-shouldered look of Mike Destin, yet there was something familiar about him.

  I pasted a smile to my face and hoped it didn’t look too ghastly. An ex-boyfriend once complained that I was terrible about keeping my heart off my sleeve and ought to figure out how to fake it like the rest of the world.

  And speak of the devil.

  There had to be some kind of cosmic force that rounded up bad liaisons and dumped them on your head. That was the only way to explain how the past week had coughed up an encounter with Dole Closterman’s mother, an involuntary partnership with Jason Roma, and now this.