Wrong Number, Right Guy Page 5

  I suppose it could be a strange coincidence, some funny twist of fate that happened to put us on the same street at the exact same time, right after I accidentally called him. Not likely, but not outside the realm of extreme possibility.

  But that kiss. Even now, several minutes later, my lips tingle and my knees aren’t as steady as they should be. Heat warms each place his hands rested, as if he branded me with his touch.

  He kissed me like a man who hasn’t been kissed in a very long time. He kissed me the way girls always dream of being kissed, like he was a man who’s finally found the very thing he’s been searching for his entire life.

  Nonsense.

  I shake my head in an effort to knock my thoughts back on a more realistic, less fanciful path. I’m not the kind of girl who inspires anyone to pine after them for several years. I am more the love ‘em and forget about ‘em type.

  Still, it’s nice to think that I am, even if it’s just a bit of fun.

  And Jason. HOLY COW! I’ve looked at enough pictures of him to know he’s changed since our one night together, but man, I assumed the photos were photoshopped or at the very least airbrushed.

  Wrong.

  Talk about an extreme makeover. Seven years ago, he was a skinny guy dressed in tattered swim trunks and a Surf’s Up T-shirt and hair that hadn’t seen a pair of scissors in at least six months. This time, dressed in designer jeans and an expensive pea coat, he was perfectly groomed and my hands hadn’t been groping the same skinny body. Somewhere along the line Jason bulked up. Now instead of being a cute geek, he’s turned into a major hunk – and way out of my league.

  Though based on his greeting, maybe he doesn’t know just how hot he’s become.

  For a moment, I was been tempted to run away with him. And if it was just me, I would, without the slightest hesitation.

  But it’s not just me. Not only do I have Kelsey, I also have to think about Abe, Abe’s father, and everyone else who would be very interested to learn that I know Chicago’s newest – and hottest – member of the billionaire club. There is no way they’d ignore the connection. They’d find a way to exploit it until Jason is as firmly under their thumb as I am.

  There’s no way I can do that to him.

  The elevator doors slide open before I can work out an explanation for Jason tracking me down and greeting me with the kind of soul-shaking kiss that only happens in the movies.

  Jerry’s angry glare clashes with mine, yanking my thoughts away from Jason and back to where they should be: cold, harsh reality. “Where have you been?” he demands.

  “What? Why?” I’m a few minutes late, but that’s hardly the end of the world. Very few of us actually show up on time, a fact that Jerry barely notices, probably because he’s so rarely on time himself.

  “I just got word from upper management.” Jerry wraps a big hand around my arm and steers me to my little cubicle. “A potential investor is coming this morning.”

  “An investor?” The call center earns enough money to pay wages and keep the lights on, but past that, it doesn’t make much money, at least not as far as I can tell. It certainly doesn’t seem like the kind of business a serious, legit investor would take an interest in.

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “In the grand scheme of things, nothing.” Jerry turns down the row that houses my cubicle. One of the newest hires, a pretty redhead who’d graduated high school last spring, walks toward us on her way to the water cooler. Jerry sucks in his gut and runs a hand through his hair while shooting her a half leering smile. She rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

  Smart girl.

  “But I want everyone here, at their cubicles, and working the phone lines as if their life depends on it when the guy gets here.” We reach my cubicle and he releases me. I resist, barely, the urge to rub my upper arm. “And what happened last night?”

  ‘So much’ is my knee-jerk answer, but I’ll be damned before I tell Jerry that.

  “What do you mean, what happened?”

  “I went through the records and the last call you made, it looks like you hung up. Looks like you did it almost as soon as the call connected.”

  “Oh, that.”

  Figures. The one and only time I hang up the phone is the same time Jerry actually does his job and checks things out. I take off my coat and carefully hang it on the back of my chair, using the time to think up a reasonable excuse. “There must be a glitch in the system. Like you said, I made the call, and the phone disconnected. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I called it a night.”

  “Great,” Jerry mutters as I slide into my chair and put on my headset. His eyes rove up around the room but I get the impression he doesn’t see anybody, that he’s lost in his own thoughts. Funny, I don’t usually think of Jerry having any thoughts, beyond which employee he wants to seduce. “Someone with money coming in and things start breaking down. Typical.”

  He walks away before I can respond. It’s the only time I can remember him leaving my side without making some sort of lewd comment or trying to cop a feel. I could get used to this. Maybe potential investors should distract him more often.

  I hit the computer’s power switch and wait for the ancient machine to slowly boot up. My mind drifts back to Jason.

  He looks good. He’s filled out since that night in Florida, losing that gaunt, half-starved look that plagues tall guys through their teens and early twenties. And he’s become more confident—that was the other thing I noticed just before he’d captured my lips with his own.

  I glance at the list of calls I need to make before the end of my shift and enter the first number into the computer. Clicks and beeps sound in my ear while the system struggles to connect.

  A moment later a woman’s soft, slightly harassed hello sounds in my ear and I shove all thoughts of Jason from my mind. I can’t afford to think about him now, if I’m going to pay off my debts and protect my daughter—Jason’s daughter.

  I need to focus on what I’m doing and not do anything that will cost me my job.

  8

  Jason

  I’ve been in some depressing office buildings and even worked in a few back before I got my own software company up and running, but the offices used by the Abutilon Telemarketing Services take the cake as being the most depressing I’ve ever encountered. I’m not sure it would be much of a stretch to say that they’re one of the most boring places in the world.

  It’s like all the color, all the joy, has been sucked right out of the place, leaving behind a few rows of tiny, boring cubicles where joyless people work.

  I can’t for the life of me understand how Ella ended up in a place like this.

  The manager, Jerry Paoletti, is doing nothing to improve the situation. He greeted me as soon as I stepped out of the elevator and handed me a pile of papers that turned out to be various business records.

  Working in the computer industry, I’ve encountered lots of guys like him, irritating guys who think they’re important because they’ve been put in a position of minor responsibility. I mean, seriously, the guy is just a manager in a small telecommunications satellite office.

  From what I can tell, the manager position simply means that he feels he’s justified in making sure those poor people who have to run the phones are actually making phone calls and not simply sitting around collecting a paycheck. Based on the paperwork he’s showing me, someone else, someone more qualified, handles everything else from a home office.

  He’s one of those guys that always makes you wonder just how they managed to become a manager in the first place. Back in college, when I worked at a computer store and for the few years after when I worked in B-grade IT departments, I never liked guys like Jerry.

  Turns out I still don’t.

  Jerry points at the profit and loss record in my hands. “As you can see, the company is very profitable – and we’re one of the more successful branches.”

  The company made money, yeah, but lookin
g at the figures, I wouldn’t call it very profitable. More like toeing the line between red and black.

  I turn to another page, which contains a hand-written list of names. One name, Eleanor Collins, jumps out at me. It’s reasonable to assume that Ella is short for Eleanor. Right?

  “What’s this?”

  Jerry looks down his nose at the list and the faintest hint of redness tinges his face. “Oh that’s, er, it’s a list I put together of people who I feel should be considered as an assistant manager.”

  Uh huh. Each name on the list is a woman’s, so I can’t help wondering if maybe the list has less to do with their prospective management skills and more to do with how attractive Jerry finds them.

  “Interesting.” A glimmer of an idea tickles my brain. Since she left me standing on the sidewalk, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get Ella alone, to convince her to talk to me. “I’d like to meet with some of these people. It might help me get a feel for the company, decide if it’s a sound investment opportunity or if I should look elsewhere. Are they working right now?”

  Jerry doesn’t look happy. Probably because if my little theory is right, the women on list won’t have many pleasant things to say about him. Eventually, he nods. “I suppose that’ll be okay. Though they’re not all here, and the ones who are here are supposed to be working the phones right now.”

  “Oh, I doubt your bosses will mind if I pull one of them away from the phones for a little while, not if it helps me decide if I want to invest in this company.” I clap a hand to his shoulder, barely able to conceal a little smile on my own deviousness.

  I decide to thrust in the knife. “And if you’re worried, you could always take over and make a few calls yourself. Right?”

  “I suppose,” Jason says glumly.

  “Great.” I run my finger down the piece of paper, seemingly picking a name at random. “How about this one? Eleanor Collins. Is she here today?” My heart beats a little harder as I wait for his response.

  “Yeah.” Jerry draws the word out. Clearly, he’s not happy about my choice. Interesting. “Right this way.”

  I follow Jerry to a cubicle near the middle of the room. Ella, my Ella, sits at the chair and stares at a computer monitor while she explains into a headset why the person on the other end of the call should consider investing in life insurance, the sooner the better.

  “Ella.” Ignoring the fact that she’s hard at work, he taps Ella’s back. “You have a visitor.”

  Ella’s head snaps around, her glare pinning itself to Jerry before she notices me. Her eyes widen and her skin pales. In that split second, I realize just how good she is at her job. She misses maybe one beat before picking up the thread of the conversation she’s having with the invisible person on the other end of the line. She pivots in her chair, the gesture designed to show both of us that she won’t deal with us until she’s completed the call.

  I use the time to study the cubicle.

  There’s not a single thing to indicate that Ella, not the Ella I met seven years ago or the Ella she’s become since then, has anything to do with the small space. She hasn’t put up any pictures, moved a plant in, or even brought her own coffee cup. The only things that belong to Ella, her coat and the laptop bag, hang off the back of her chair.

  How the hell has she come to work in a place like this? When we laid together in that empty lifeguard station, she’d been so full of hope about her future. She’d practically glowed while she whispered how she was inches away from receiving her degree, and how because of her aptitude, multiple government agencies were head hunting her. She’d been inches from an exciting – and very profitable – career; all she had to do was complete her degree.

  So what the heck happened?

  All those years apart, I never had any doubt that she’d make all of her dreams come true. In fact, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve imagined her tucked in the basement of a federal building somewhere, her fingers flying over a computer keyboard while everyone around her panics. In my fantasy, she’s always wearing tight black leather and does whatever it takes to save the day, at which point she calmly packs it all in and comes home to me.

  My fantasy doesn’t end with her walking through my front door, oh hell no. That’s just when it gets good.

  As soon as she walks through that door, I drop everything I’m working on and hurry over to her. I gather her close, lifting her off her feet and carrying her up the stairs toward our bedroom, while she whispers wicked suggestions in my ear. I lower her to our bed and slowly peel that tight black leather suit she wore to work from her curvy little body. Her arms reach up and…

  “Mr. Monroe?” Jerry’s strident voice speaks my name, his tone implying he’s had to say it more than once before it reached my fantasy fevered brain.

  I shake my head and meet his eyes. “Sorry, my mind took a bit of a trip there. Yes?”

  Jerry gestures down at Ella. Once again, she’s spun her chair around to face me. She’s still pale and in her eyes I see a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.

  Jerry gestures to her. “This is Ella Collins. One my best employees, hands down.” He reaches out as if to pat her back, but Ella evades his touch with a quick twist and shimmy. Seems I’m not the only one who isn’t impressed by Jerry Paoletti.

  I need to… I’m not entirely sure exactly what I need right now, but I do know that it centers on getting Ella out of this place.

  “Miss Collins,” I say, careful to keep any hint of familiarity out of my voice.

  I shoot her my best smile and extend a hand toward her. She hesitates a moment before putting her own hand in it and giving it a quick, tentative shake. She pulls out of my grasp before I fully have time to appreciate the feel of her skin against mine. “I’m interested in investing in Abutilon Telemarketing Services and was hoping you would give me some insight into the business. Perhaps over coffee.”

  I don’t give her time to respond. I grab her laptop case and sling it over my own shoulder before holding her coat open for her. One way or another, I’m going to spend some time with her – and we’re going to figure out what the future has in store for us.

  9

  Ella

  My gaze bounces from Jason to Jerry as I weigh my choices. Neither is good. I’ve never been convinced that Abe and his goons aren’t watching my every move. If they saw me in the street with Jason, well, that I can explain. I’ll just tell them that it was a simple case of mistaken identity. That he mistook me for an old girlfriend.

  I won’t even be lying. Jason remembers me as that bright, hopeful girl with her whole future stretching out ahead of her like a shiny ribbon that he knew seven years ago, but she’s gone. I’m what’s left.

  But if I leave here with him, if I am being watched, what would happen then? Abe and his father aren’t the type to let a connection to a billionaire go unexploited.

  I’ve never been able to determine if they’re keeping an eye on me. I’ve merely lived my life assuming they are. Which is why I’ve made sure to never socialize with anyone that I don’t share a working relationship with or do anything else that could potentially put someone else’s life in danger.

  My attitude has always been that it’s easier to be safe than to live with someone else’s misery weighing on my conscience.

  One the other hand, it’s clear that Jerry really wants to make a good impression and as far as he’s concerned right now, I’m a vital part of that. If I refuse to go with Jason, Jerry will find some petty and vindictive way to make me pay. If I’m lucky, it will be shifts like last night that continue on long after I should be home. If I’m not lucky, he’ll come up with some excuse to fire me, and that’s the one thing I can’t afford.

  No amount of freelancing will make up for a steady paycheck.

  And there’s Jason himself. His taste still lingers on my lips, making it nearly impossible for me to focus on my job, and now that he’s standing right here, looking at me with eyes the color of melted mil
k chocolate and the sweetest expression of longing on his face, my resistance is weakening fast.

  Just looking at him weakens my knees.

  My mind flips through my possible options, and keeps coming back to the same choice.

  If someone is watching me and questions what I’m doing with a billionaire like Jason Monroe, they’ll simply have to accept that this is a business deal.

  Hopefully, I’ve never given Abe, his father, or any of their goons a reason to spy on me. I cross my fingers, just in case.

  “Coffee sounds lovely,” I tell Jason.

  Decision made, I stand up and pull on my coat. I toy with the idea of leaving my laptop here. I hate hauling it around. Each time I carry the bag, I feel like I’m wearing a big neon flashing sign that begs muggers to attack me. Still, I’ll feel better with it near as opposed to wondering and worrying if Jason is going through it while I’m away.

  It’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do if given half a chance.

  Jason’s eyes shine brighter than the sun. “Outstanding.” He rubs his hands together. That, plus the sheer excitement in his eyes, reminds me of Kelsey as she waits for her birthday party to start. “I know of a great place just a few blocks from here. Run by a pair of locals so the coffee is better than that sludge the franchise chains sell. I’ll drive.”

  “Sounds good,” I tell him.

  As we walk toward the door, I feel the eyes of my co-workers following me as they wonder about my connection to Jason and just what we’re going to be doing.

  I wish there was a subtle way of letting them know that the only thing we’ll be discussing is business. For one brief, shining night, Jason was the most wonderful thing in the world, but now, as a result of choices I’ve made, he can never be a part of my life again.

  Once this coffee date ends, I’ll once again erase him from my life, and if he decides to become an active investor in Abutilon Telemarketing Services, I’ll simply quit and find another job. It’s not like boring, dead end jobs like this one are difficult to find.