"Uh...Ms. Carter? Is everything copasetic?"
Blinking at the strange question—Mr. Tomford loves his word-of-the-day calendar—I straighten in my seat. "Y-yes, of course. Were we done talking about this quarter? I was hoping to broach next quarter loans," I suggest, sitting up as I pull out four folders—one of them is the Brant Brother’s folder, a loan I am sure we should and could provide for them.
I might have been a bit...imprudent with him during our first meeting. It was due to my being so thrown off by my attraction. I’ve never felt anything so powerful, so consuming. I cannot let what I am feeling get in the way of business—and their proposal is a good, solid one deserving of funding.
"Well, yes, before we get to the coming quarter...we won’t be moving forward with any funding beyond the Ridgeview Manor project. It is our sole focus for the remainder of the fiscal year," he announces, adjusting his tie.
Once again, I blink at him in confusion. "Would you explain that further? We have four other bids for loans that should be funded in my opinion. All local businesses, the same as Ridgeview Manor, all with good cases for approval. Is there something I am missing?"
Sitting forward, I am all business now. Not just because I had all intentions of granting the Brant Brothers proposal. All the bids sitting before me should be funded. There is a solid proposal for the flower shop in town looking to partner with local distributors. Another is for a coffee shop on the edge of town, where highway traffic would ensure a great return on any investment. There is no reason these should not move forward.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Tomford puts on his stern face. "The manor is our primary focus this year. All our funds have been allocated for it."
Sitting forward, I clear my throat as I fix on my own dour look. "Mr. Tomford...prettier words to repeat the same nonsense. A bank is meant to grow alongside our community. I see no valid reason to reject these proposals. Unless you can provide one, I am moving forward with funding."
"Ms. Carter," he cuts my name in that way men do when they want to remind you there is something wrong with it being Ms. not Mrs. "While I appreciate your addition to our staff, your experience, this is not Silver Shores where funds might be.... flexible. We partnered with the Wilford Foundation to bring luster back to Ridgeview Manor. It is our priority."
"It may very well be a priority, Mr. Tomford—it does not mean it is our sole grant for our fiscal year. It just cannot be," I argue, on the defensive at his comment about funds beingflexible in Silver Shores. He is referring to the nefarious dealings that took place there—the very reason I left.
"I am afraid it is, Ms. Carter. Speak with Mr. Hartford with further questions. If you will excuse me now," his words still hang in the air by the time he hustles his old ass out of my office.
"Mr. Tomford. Mr. Hartford. Mr. Wilford. Fuck all these old Ford assholes!" I shout, pushing back from my desk with a sigh.
"Ms. Carter," a soft voice asks, startling me. Looking up, I see Liah peeking past my door. "Well...uh, Mr. Brant sent this over."
Flushing as I recall her knocking at my door earlier, while Mr. Brant had his head between my thighs, I bow my head. Jesus what was I thinking? I was notthinking, for once in my damn life. I wasfeeling. Taking.Giving. I was being human, letting him take the lead between us. I have never been good at letting someone else have control over me.
He took charge of things the moment he walked in earlier. I was still shaken from the talk with Mr. Akron, haunted by the image of my father in this same position with my mother—and the knowledge that I’ll eventually be in it for him. I was falling apart, and Morgan gave me exactly what I needed to hold on.
At the door, Liah smiles as she holds steaming coffees with a bag of fresh croissants. I laugh because earlier, Morgan came in with his hands full of the same items. We got just a little...occupied with one another, so they sit on my desk forgotten. Making up my mind fast, I shoot to my feet, grab the tray from her, thanking her with a latte I think she will love and go.
"I will be gone for the rest of the day. Take off if you want to, Liah. I appreciate you," I tell her honestly, tipping the tray of coffee and bag of pastries at her.
"Tell him I said hi," she teases with a wave, making me flush a little.
I circle downtown for a while before I realize I’m driving blind. Given that he showed up at my office dirty and sweaty—a look I’m becoming dangerously fond of—I assume he isn't at his firm near the bank. Just the thought of him in a suit and tie is enough to make me lose my breath. This man has successfully ruined me, and he hasn't a clue he's done it.
Just as I’m ready to call it a night, I see it. A jolt of excitement hits me—I’d know that beast of a work truck anywhere. I park behind him, forcing a calming breath.Business first,I remind myself. I’m here to talk shop—to tell him I might not be able to deliver the news he hopes for. Even considering letting him down upsets me more than I expect.
It hits me as ironic to find the Brant brothers working on a rundown hotel. It’s just one of two in town—the other being Ridgeview Manor. Just considering the paradox of him fixing this wreck while the other property threatens to dismantle his future upsets me.
I follow the rhythmic hammering to a doorway and peer inside. The room is dim, smelling of dust, wet plaster, and the unmistakable scent of him. My breath hitches, and I almost trip over myself as I take him in. Morgan works shirtless, sweat making his skin glisten. Dusty jeans cling to his powerful thighs, his back showing off a spread of dark ink I don’t expect.
Lord, could he be any more of a good girls’ wet dream?
"Can feel you watching me, honey," his voice startles me enough that I almost drop the tray of coffee.
"How could you know it was me?" I wonder as I step inside the room, setting the tray down with the bag of pastries.
"Still taste you on my tongue. Smell you too," he murmurs, turning to glance back at me over his shoulder.
Heat smolders in his gaze as he turns, hooking his hammer to his belt. I don't hesitate; I’m drawn across the room, helpless against the pull of his orbit. He reaches for me, hoisting me up asI leap towards him, and in one fluid motion, he pins me against the fresh drywall. His hands, rough and coated in dust, tangle in my hair to yank my head back.
"I was about to head back to the office, Ms. Carter," he husks the words against my jaw as he brushes his mouth there. "I was not even close to getting my fill of how sweet you taste, honey."
Fitting my mouth to his, I agree. He tastes sweet, smoky, like a cherry sweet cigar. His tongue traces my lips, but I am greedy, so I open for him, suckling at the soft flesh. He grunts as I wriggle my arm between us, going for his zipper. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since he left earlier. The pull of metal teeth seems loud. My hand dives inside and I whimper into the kiss when I find his cock hard, heavy, still wrapped in the lace of my panties.
"Jesus, you’re so hot," I say it as if I am uncovering a brand-new world.
