IMPACT: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (5 page)

I cleared my throat, irritated. "You know it is, Marc."

Marc laughed. "Didn't you try to fuck Debbie Cappelli in the back there?"

The rain was coming down heavier now and the wipers slapped loudly against the windshield. But not loudly enough to drown out my brother's crowing. "Don't the Hawks pay you? Why do you still have this thing?"

"Because I like it," I gritted.

"Uh oh, are you getting mad now? Don't start stuttering okay? I don't think I could handle that."

"Fuck you." 

"What? I'm not being an ass, I'm just stating facts." Marc leaned his head back on the headrest. "You sound good by the way. Relaxed and shit. Good for you."

And just like that, I went from wanting to murder Marc to being happy to see him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You getting laid on the regular or something?"

I clenched my fists around the steering wheel. For some reason, I felt protective about mentioning Olivia. Things were too complicated. Too up in the air. My decision from last night was still banging around in my chest. I hadn't had a chance to put it into action yet. I didn't even know how.

I needed time to think.

So I said nothing to my brother. "Of course," I lied, inching forward through the red light. "I'm a fucking hockey star, after all. I can have any girl I want."

"My man." My brother slapped my shoulder and I grinned, thinking about the girl I wanted.

Chapter 7

Olivia

Kyle Jarrett had a thing for Candace. He'd been pining for her ever since she and I started doing the web development for
Cupid’s Arrow
Dating Agency, right out of college. His crush was plain for everyone to see... except Candace of course, who took great pains to be nice to the awkward as fuck Boy Wonder. Her niceness only made him fall even harder.

But the second Candace's belly started to swell with Ian Carter's kid, Kyle started treating her like she was made out of radioactive material.

Maybe it was because I was her friend? Maybe because he was used to walking over here to stare dopily at her and my cubicle was conveniently right across the aisle? Who the fuck knew why his beady little eyes started roving over my body that Friday afternoon?

I sighed and pushed my chair back from my desk. Of course Candace wasn't here to deflect the unwanted attention on to. Next time she had an OB/GYN appointment, I was going to make sure she scheduled it for when Kyle wasn't in the building. She was not allowed to leave me alone with him again.

"Kyle," I told him, "you're staring."

He froze like a deer in the headlights. "Am not," he whined, sounding so much the kid who picked his nose in my middle school that I had to suppress a laugh.

I leaned back in my chair and immediately took note of the way his eyes went to my tits. This didn't make sense. Kyle hated my guts. Of this, I was completely certain. Because the feeling was entirely mutual.

I tapped my temple. "Kyle, I swear to god, I never thought I would be saying this to you, but hey, my eyes are up here."

"Sorry," he muttered, his eyes sliding reluctantly upward.

"What the hell do you want?" I asked, not bothering to hide the contempt in my voice. He was the CEO, sure, but that didn't impress me. Once, back when I'd first started here, I'd taken the time to actually look at his spaghetti-ed lines of code. Way back then, I'd realized this entire tech company was held together by what amount to little more than rubber bands and glue.

If he were just a trifle less odious, I could help him. I knew way more about coding than he realized. Kyle underestimated me on a daily basis, but that was fine with me. I collected my paycheck and went home at five every night, unlike the rest of the programmers at
Cupid’s Arrow
.

And I liked it this way. I liked that no one asked me to stay late and help out. I liked being thought of as a slut, a bitch... a joke. It made my life a hell of a lot easier.

Kyle hadn't answered me yet. "Were you going to say something?" I wondered. "Or were you just going to drool at me?" 

His eyes darted back and forth. "Uh," he said. Then trailed off.

"Good talk. Let's do this again real soon." I rolled my eyes and swiveled back to my screen.

God, I hated him.

But... sometimes hate makes for a great lay. And Lord knows I needed one. I wasn't sure if I had lost my mojo or what, but since I had told Brad it was over, I hadn't found a single eligible guy.

And I'd hit all of my usual hotspots too. I went to hotel bars, dive bars, sports bars. All of my usual places. The treasure troves of easy dick.

But none of the people attached to the dicks had struck my fancy. No matter how hot they were in theory, when they actually opened their mouths I wound up finding them physically repugnant. Each effort had so far ended up with me going home alone. It was confusing the shit out of Romeo, who had gotten used to having the run of the house while I slept over at Brad's.

My dog was starting to give me pitying looks.  Especially the night I texted Brad and he shut me down cold.

That hurt more than I cared to consider.

Maybe this was what I needed. I found Kyle truly repellent, but he would be an easy, quick conquest. A notch in my post-Brad belt. This would be good for me. Kyle would be a good way to break the spell, get over the hump, and ease back in, all of those things.

If I could keep from vomiting in the middle of the act, that is. 

He was still standing there when I swiveled my chair back around to face him. And he seemed to have found his courage. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and then mumbled, "Bryant, you wanna get a drink after work or something?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Gee, Jarrett, you make it sound so appealing!" I scoffed, then reached out my hand and patted his arm. His skin was cool and slightly damp to the touch. "Why don't you try again and this time make it sound like you
actually
want to spend time with me?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. His voice rose higher until he was practically shouting at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few heads turn in our direction. "Come on, Bryant. I heard it through the grapevine that you called it off with your jock. Figured you might want to go out with somebody who could read above a fourth-grade level."

I laughed, but inside I was seething. He had no fucking idea what Brad liked to read, how dare he?

But then again... neither did I. Brad and I hadn't exactly sat around discussing modern literature. We didn't do much sitting at all.

Well... I did sit on his face a lot.

Once more I felt that strange sliding around in my belly that I had felt when my mom was telling me about Brad's upcoming season. That... was it regret? That feeling I had when I texted Brad, teasing him about eating me out, and he had refused to play along with the joke?

Was this what regret felt like?

Wow. Regret sucks.

"Yeah, sure, Jarrett," I answered, quickly cutting off that line of thinking before it could lead me down any more dark pathways. "But I'm picking the place. I don't trust your taste in the slightest."

*****

"Miss Bryant, how good to see you again." The hostess at the Grapery smiled widely, showing off her glinting tongue ring. "There's a gentleman here to see you, I believe?"

"I wouldn't call him a gentleman at all," I replied, but followed her to the back corner table anyway.

"Nice place, Bryant," Kyle said by way of greeting. He made to stand up politely but banged his knee against the corner of the table in the process. He plopped back down again, rubbing his knee grumpily.

"Yeah, I figured I'd need to drink large quantities of wine in order to stomach seeing you outside of work, Jarrett," I said, sitting, down and tucking my skirt under my legs. "I cannot believe I'm on a date with you."

"It's not a date," Kyle interjected.

"Good, let's keep pretending that," I answered, opening the menu, "for my ego's sake."

"It's not a date, Olivia," Kyle repeated, sounding irritated. "I only pretending to hit on you so no one in the office would be suspicious that we were talking."

"Okay, sure. Whatever makes this easier on you is fine with me."

Kyle leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "Climb down off your high horse for a sec and listen to me," he said, crossing his arms and leaning across the table. There was something...odd about his tone.

"Okay, I'm listening," I said, slamming down my menu and miming opening my eyes wide with my fingertips.

"You are completely maddening," he observed. "But you're a hell of a coder. I've been wondering something for a while now. What's your endgame at
Cupid’s Arrow
, Bryant?"

This was not what I was expecting. "Endgame?"

"You're fucking good at your job," he said. I was taken aback by his matter-of-fact tone. He wasn't trying to flatter me or get into my pants. He was just making an observation. "Better than the rest of your team put together. You could be pulling down some serious cash, but instead, you're slumming it. Why?"

I leaned back. "The pleasure of your company."

"Bullshit. You can't stand me. Frankly, I can't even believe you decided to come out tonight."

"Free booze is free booze. I'm going to order the most expensive bottle on the menu."

"And I can afford it. You know why? Because I'm paid what I am worth, Bryant. You could be too."

"You offering me a raise?"

"No." Kyle leaned back and drummed his fingers on the table. I looked at his hands and was startled to see he had long, elegant fingers. I'd never noticed how nice his hands were before. "A new job entirely. I'm leaving
Cupid’s Arrow
and I want you to come with me."

Luckily the waitress came by so I could recover my equilibrium. By the time we placed our orders, I had recovered my powers of speech. "Why do you want me with you? So you can stare at my tits all day?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Will you cut it with the junior high potty mouth? You're not shocking me, or embarrassing me, Bryant. And you're not getting out of answering me that easily."

"Who said I was trying to get out of answering you?"

But I was. My mouth was running dry. A new position? I liked my life. I liked the way things were, the way I had arranged them. I had power, control at
Cupid’s Arrow
. I had my best friend working in the cubicle next to me. I didn't regret a thing about the opportunities I had passed up to stay there. No regrets at all.

"Go find some twenty-year-old MIT grad who shares your taste in pleated khakis," I told Kyle. "I like the way things are."

"See that's the thing. Things aren't always going to be as they are now." He leaned forward. "There's a buyout coming soon. We're going to sell and then you're going to be on the street, pounding the pavement with the rest of the developers who have more on their resume than you do. Do you really want to compete with them? Or do you want to break out ahead of the pack and take care of yourself?"

I felt like he had just dumped a pitcher of cold water on my head. "There's a buyout?" I stammered. The waitress came by with our bottle and, for the first time, I noticed the little swell of belly under her apron. My thoughts went to Candace, her slim hand resting on her belly, the soft smiles she made when she felt her kid kick her. "When were you planning on telling the rest of the employees?"

"I wasn't," he said. "Just you." He stood up, his wine untouched. "Think about it. This would be a huge promotion for you. More responsibility, more power. You've got what it takes. I know you do. You just have to believe you can do it."

"Spare me the inspirational poster bullshit. I know I'm good."

"And it’s a good offer," Kyle said. "You just have to take it and not throw it away."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean don't sabotage this like you do everything else."

"Fuck you, Kyle. You don't know me at all."

"I’m not as dumb as I look and I'm certainly not as dumb as you think I am. You thought I wanted to get in your pants tonight. Look at you." My fingers went to my blouse, cut low and tight across the chest. "You were totally fucking ready to sleep with your boss out of what, boredom? Did you even think this through?"

"Fuck off," I said. There were tears pricking at the edges of my eyes. I couldn't let them fall. Not in front of this squirrelly, pleated pants wearing sadist. "Like I'd sleep with you."

"I don't give a shit about who you sleep with," he said. "I give a shit about
you
." He grabbed the damp napkin from under his wineglass, clicked a pen out of his shirt pocket, and then scribbled something on it. "Think about it," he said, sliding the napkin over. "I'll pay at the counter. Enjoy your expensive bottle of wine. It's on me."

I watched him leave, staring at his back as he settled our tab and then walked out the door. I kept watching as he passed by the plate glass windows and moved out of sight.

And I kept watching the windows for a long time after that. Because I wanted to avoid looking at the napkin - and the salary offer he had written on it - for as long as I possibly could.