It was later that evening and everyone, including Harriet, had gone home, when we were curled up on the sofa, Carter watching the highlights from yesterday’s football, and me buried in a book, when I thought of something.
“You still have my book.”
“Which one? There are plenty of yours at my house.”
“The verse novel. I would’ve thought you’d have brought it over.”
He laughed quietly. “Not yet. It’s waiting for you at my house.”
“Really. That’s blackmail.”
“It’s a bargaining chip. It can join the rest of your books when we live together. It’s up to you when that is.”
I looked over at him, his strong jaw grazed with stubble, brown eyes that swirled like fresh coffee, kind and often serious. It hadn’t eased off, what I felt for him. He’d been a rock for all of us when Fallon was poorly, especially me. There had been times when I felt like the whole world was about to fall apart, only Carter had held it together.
“We’ll know when the time’s right.”
He nodded. “We will. It’s all about the timing.” He gave me a soft kiss, one that promised to grow into something more when we got into my bedroom, still exploring each other, still learning ourselves.
Like the river, we’d keep flowing. Like time, we’d continue to move, second by second, hour by hour. Living it together.
The End
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Engagement Rate
CHAPTER ONE - JACKSON
I’d never considered that watching a woman do pull ups was a way to get rid of jet lag. This woman was wearing a sports bra that did nothing to hide the shape of perfect breasts and showed off a toned, smooth stomach; her yoga pants outlined long, long legs that would look fucking amazing around me as I thrust into her.
But sleep deprived, jet lagged and being travel-fresh wasn’t the best way to be caught staring at the dark-haired mystery working out in the gym. I was a lawyer and a businessman, and the way I was looking at her was not giving a professional first impression. Given I was in the gym in my company’s offices that was what I should be trying to do.
Deadlifts, bicep curls, tricep extensions, and a chest press too heavy to be doing without a spotter took my focus away from obsessing exactly how her long dark hair would look wrapped around my fist. I put the image of my head; it had been a while since I’d hooked up with anyone, but fantasising about someone who would be working here in a professional capacity was not on my to do list.
I had missed this space in the past three weeks; it was my retreat, my sanctuary. The place where I could be me and not the man who ran his family’s law firm. I focused on the music that was blaring out of the speakers and tried to stop looking at her. I should know who she was – I ran the place after all, and it was going to be embarrassing when I couldn’t place her. My brother, Maxwell, went through secretaries on a bi-weekly basis, so she could quite easily be a temp.
“Fuck me,” she said, as she half collapsed to the ground from the pull up bar, shaking her arms.
I managed to bite my tongue, stopping myself from offering to do just that. I watched her as she began another set of pull ups, hoping that she was aware of me being there. She was tall, a few inches shorter than my six two, with dark hair pulled into one of those messy bun things; all lean muscle and curves.
I turned my back to head for the showers, unsure if she was aware of me being there or not.
“Sorry,” I heard her say and I turned back, my neck twisting like an owl’s and my brain trying to conjure up images of Granny Callaghan without her teeth in. “I was oblivious to anyone else being in here. I apologise if you heard me swearing. Pull-ups aren’t my favourite thing to do.” She massaged her hands and I wasn’t sure whether it was a nervous reaction or they were hurting from the grip she had to use to do the exercise.
I shrugged, the images of Granny doing their job. “Not like I never use those words. I’m Jackson Callaghan. I don’t think we’ve met before.” I might as well get it out of the way
She stepped forward, beads of sweat glistening on her skin. “Vanessa Moore. I’m from Cole Henderson Marketing. Claire said it was okay to use the gym down here.”
I guessed she knew who I was, as our website had a profile of me on there. But right now, I hardly looked like I did on there. Shirts and suits went a long way to covering up most of mytattoos and I generally looked more presentable when my hair was not tied up in a shitty man bun and my scruff was tamed instead of looking as if garden birds were nesting there.
“It’s absolutely fine while you’re working with us. How’ve you found the first few days?” I hoped she’d enjoyed it so far. I was proud of the firm that I ran, and wanted people working for us to find it
She was close enough now for me to see that she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, her cheeks red from the exercise and blue eyes bright.
“Good. There’s a lot to do to rebrand and get everything ready for your father’s retirement ball but the firm’s got a clear direction and ethos so it’s volume of tasks rather than having to come up with the creative.” She tightened the ponytail and I sensed she was trying to show that she knew what she was doing, as if she was trying to impress me.
