A Kick in the Pants (a Riley O'Brien & Co. novella) Read online

  After tracking down the main number to the Hudson San Francisco, she placed the call and asked the woman who answered the phone to ring Garrett’s room. He didn’t answer, so she pressed zero and got bounced back to the attendant.

  Kyla knew the hotel wouldn’t give out Garrett’s number, but she didn’t want to break their date via voice mail or leave a message with one of his employees. Instead, she told woman on the phone that she needed to talk to him as soon as possible and asked her to track him down.

  Disconnecting the call, she leaned back in her office chair to wait for Garrett’s call. She hated to admit it, but she was more excited about working late with Jake than she had been about going on a date with Garrett.

  Kyla Genevieve Andrews, you are pathetic.

  Moments later, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number, which had a Seattle area code. Pressing the button to accept the call, she said, “Kyla Andrews.”

  “Did you call because you wanted my opinion on what to wear on our date?” Garrett asked without bothering to greet her. His deep baritone resonated through her earbud as he continued, “If so, might I suggest something sheer, short, and easy to remove?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Hi, Garrett.”

  “Hi,” he replied before saying, “What did you need, cupcake?”

  His endearment threw her for a second. “Uh…” she stuttered before blurting out, “I can’t go to dinner with you tonight. Jake needs my help with a last-minute project.”

  “A last-minute project, huh?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I was almost out the door when he caught me. He was desperate for my help.”

  To her surprise, Garrett chuckled. She frowned, a little offended that he wasn’t more disappointed that she had canceled their date.

  “I’m sure he was desperate,” Garrett replied, his voice tinged with amusement.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, unsure how else to respond.

  “That’s okay. I understand.”

  In fact, Garrett was so understanding that Kyla wondered if he was even bothered that he wouldn’t see her again. Suddenly, her pride demanded that she reschedule their date.

  “Maybe we can go to dinner another night,” she suggested.

  “I’d like that.”

  Just then, her phone vibrated in her hand, and a text popped up from Jake: “Where are you? We need to get busy.”

  “Garrett, I need to run. Jake’s waiting on me.”

  “I want you to give Jake a message,” Garrett requested.

  “What kind of message?” she asked warily. “You barely know him.”

  “We had an interesting conversation yesterday after you introduced us.”

  Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “You did? About what?”

  “Ask Jake,” he suggested.

  After Garrett dictated his message for Jake, she ended the call and headed to Jake’s office. When she got there, she found him reclining in his office chair with his feet propped on the frosted glass surface of his desk.

  Instead of his black motorcycle boots, he wore a pair of brown leather lace-up boots. Those scuffed boots had some serious mileage on them.

  He was completely absorbed in the papers he held in his hand, and she took a moment to study him. He must not have shaved this morning because dark auburn stubble shadowed his jaw. She wondered what it felt like … prickly and coarse, most likely. But his thick hair looked soft and touchable.

  After knocking lightly on the doorjamb, she entered Jake’s kingdom. His office was one of the few that was carpeted, and her silver metallic flats barely made a sound as she walked toward him.

  “There you are,” Jake said, a smile tilting his lips.

  “Here I am.”

  She dumped her bag on one of the chairs in front of his desk and rummaged inside for her tablet. With it in hand, she sat down in the other chair, tucking one leg under her.

  His eyes swept over her, seeming to linger on her dangly earrings before returning to her face. “Thank you for staying late.” He smiled slowly. “This is the second time that you’ve rescued me this week.”

  “Maybe I should start wearing a cape and red boots like Supergirl.”

  Jake dropped his feet to the floor, muttering under his breath. She couldn’t make out a single word.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he barked.

  She blinked in surprise. She had never heard him use such a harsh tone before—not with her, not with anyone. His mood had gone from good to growl.

  Deciding to get down to business, she asked, “Where do you want to start?”

  Four hours later, they had finished ninety percent of the loan package. Jake rose from his office chair with a groan.

  “I can’t sit here any longer,” he announced.

  Kyla glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling windows in Jake’s office. It was past eight o’clock, and the sky had darkened to a deep indigo.

  Jake lifted his arms over his head in a big stretch. His navy blue sweater rose enough for her to see the plaid button-down shirt he wore underneath it. She sighed inwardly, disappointed that she hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of his abs.

  “I know we still have work to do,” he continued, “but I need a break.”

  Rounding his desk, he stopped in front of her. He took her tablet and placed it on top of the desk before grabbing one of her hands and pulling her to her feet.

  “Let’s go up to the roof and take a walk around the garden.” He stepped back and eyed her. “Do you have a jacket? It might be chilly.”

  “No. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  She was wearing a long-sleeved, salmon pink chiffon blouse with a pussy-bow and charcoal wide-legged pants with matching salmon pink polka dots. She’d bought the outfit last weekend during a shopping trip with Vanessa.

  The moment she’d spotted it, she had fallen in love, but her older sister had pretended to stick her finger down her throat. What did Vanessa know? She dressed like the angel of death, assuming the angel of death wore all black.

  Jake ushered her out of his office. They navigated the maze of cubicles in silence to reach the elevator. Seconds later, they were on the roof.

  Turning in a circle, Kyla took in the view. The city of San Francisco spread out before them, nothing but a sea of twinkling lights. They were up high enough that she could barely hear the sounds of traffic below.

  “I’ve never been up here at night,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

  Jake placed his hand on her lower back, his palm heating her through her silk blouse. His touch made her breath fracture, and she focused on pulling some much-needed air into her lungs.

  He gently guided her toward one of the stone walking paths before removing his hand. Cool air rushed over the spot he had warmed, and she shivered visibly.

  “You’re cold,” he noted. “We should go back inside.”

  “Let’s stay a few minutes.”

  They ventured farther along the path, passing a redwood pergola and a stone bench. A strong breeze blew across the roof, bringing the heady aroma of roses with it. Her nipples pebbled from the chill, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t want Jake to see the hard nubs.

  Jake grasped her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “If we’re going to stay up here, I want you to wear my sweater.”

  Before she could protest, he whipped the garment over his head and handed it to her. “Put it on,” he directed, his tone indicating that he would accept no argument.

  She clenched her hands in the sweater, the soft cashmere warm from the heat of his body. As she pulled it over her head, Jake’s scent wafted over her, a mouthwatering combination of musk and spice.

  She looked up at him, and he grinned. “My sweater gave you a serious case of flyaway hair.”

  As he placed his hand on her head, static electricity crackled between them. He laughed softly before smoothing her wild hair. It felt so good she had to lock her knees to
keep from leaning into him and nuzzling her head against his hand.

  “I think I’m making it worse,” he said.

  She almost moaned in disappointment when he dropped his hand. Resolutely, she resumed their walk, and he fell into step beside her, his hands tucked in the front pockets of his Rileys.

  “I’ve lived in the Bay Area for eight years, and I still can’t get used to the summers here,” Jake said. “I’m used to sunshine and triple-degree heat.”

  Kyla abruptly realized that she had no idea where Jake had grown up. She couldn’t believe the subject had never come up. She talked about her childhood in Boston all the time.

  She wanted to know more about Jake’s life before he’d moved to the Bay Area and started working for Riley O’Brien & Co. The more she learned about him, the more she wanted to know.

  “Where did you grow up?” she asked.

  “Las Vegas.”

  She hadn’t expected that answer. Her surprise must have been evident on her face because he grinned.

  “Everyone has that reaction when I tell them Vegas is my hometown,” he said. “I think it’s because most people think it’s a place to visit instead of a place to live.”

  “I don’t know anything about Las Vegas other than the fact that gambling and prostitution are legal there.”

  Jake vigorously shook his head. “Prostitution is not legal in Las Vegas. It’s legal in some parts of Nevada, but not in Clark County, which is where Las Vegas is located.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You might like Vegas,” Jake murmured. “It’s a place for people who love numbers.”

  “I thought it was a place for people who love to gamble.”

  “It is. It’s also a place for people who love to visit strip clubs, eat at buffets, and attend musicals.”

  “I don’t like to do any of those things.”

  Kyla didn’t want to have anything to do with gambling, legal or illegal. Her father had been a compulsive gambler, and his addiction had nearly bankrupted their family.

  He had gambled away the money he and her mother had saved for retirement. And he probably would have gambled away his kids’ college funds if they’d had any.

  Her father’s death certificate listed homicide as Russell Andrews’ official cause of death. But gambling was the real reason her father wasn’t alive today.

  *****

  The end justified the means. That was what Jake had told himself while he lurked around Kyla’s cubicle, waiting for her to go home to get ready for her date. He had been worried she might slip out before he could stop her.

  His conscience twinged at the fact that he had manufactured an urgent project that required her to stay late. But he soothed it by reminding himself that he had no choice. He couldn’t let her go on that date with Garrett the douche. Surely any guy in his position would do the same thing?

  He just hoped she never found out that the deadline for the financial documentation was six months away. He grimaced when he realized he was going to have to update the numbers for the real deadline, but then he shrugged.

  The end justifies the means.

  A gust of wind carried the sweet smell of rosemary to Jake. It mixed with the pungent odor of basil and the bright scent of citrus from the potted lemon and key lime trees in Riley Plaza’s rooftop garden.

  They strolled passed a fountain shaped like huge metal scissors, and Kyla stopped in front of it. Water made a tinkling sound as it bubbled over the blades and trickled into to the basin below. She leaned down and trailed her fingers through the water.

  He took a moment to snap a mental photo of her. His girl definitely liked color. Her sexy blouse was the same color as the peonies that bloomed in the sky-high garden.

  He wondered what Kyla had planned to wear on her date with Garrett. Most of Jake’s first dates had worn little black dresses, but knowing Kyla, she would have opted for something brighter.

  She flicked her fingers toward him, and droplets of water flew through the air like liquid diamonds. She laughed, and just like always, his heart got a jolt when a smile curved her plump lips. He wondered if heart attack victims felt the same way when they received four hundred joules from a defibrillator.

  She tilted her head, and the end of her ponytail swept over her shoulder. A couple of wispy tendrils framed her face, tangling with the delicate silver earrings hanging from her lobes. He had a momentary fantasy of sucking her earlobe into his mouth, jewelry and all.

  “I think I’ve found a place I want to volunteer,” she said.

  Forcing himself to focus on her words, he said, “Oh, yeah? Where?”

  “The Bay Area Women’s Center. I read an article about it a couple of days ago. It sounds like it could use my help.”

  Jake frowned. “I’m not familiar with the Bay Area Women’s Center. What do they do?”

  “The Center’s primary mission is to provide shelter for women and children who are victims of sexual assault and domestic violence, but it also provides counseling and offers life skills classes.”

  Domestic abuse was one of those topics that made Jake want to hit someone. And yes, he recognized the heartbreaking irony of his feelings. He just couldn’t imagine hurting someone he loved, physically or emotionally. For Jake, loving someone meant cherishing them.

  “I could teach a class at the Center,” Kyla continued.

  “What kind of class?”

  “Money management.” She bent down and shoved her nose in the creamy white center of a gardenia. “Oh, that smells divine.”

  She rubbed the petals between her thumb and forefinger and then brought her fingers to the spot behind her ear. At that moment, Jake would have given one of his own fingers to nuzzle his nose into that spot. Not his thumb … maybe his pinkie.

  “According to the article,” Kyla continued, “a lot of the women who end up at the Bay Area Women’s Center are trapped in their current situation because of money. Their partners use money to control them, and they give them an allowance and make them account for every penny. When these women try to save money to escape, their partners find it and beat them for hiding cash.”

  “Assholes. If you can help these women get away from their abusive boyfriends and husbands, you should.”

  “It’s not just men,” Kyla countered. “Women abuse their partners, too. The percentage of lesbians who have been abused by their partner is actually higher than the percentage of heterosexual women.”

  Surprised by that bit of information, he asked, “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m quoting the article, which referenced a CDC study.”

  His stomach growled, and he realized that they hadn’t eaten dinner. When he’d concocted this distraction, he hadn’t plan to starve Kyla of food, only Garrett’s douchebag company.

  He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Garrett had talked Kyla into a late date. Jake needed to keep Kyla at work late enough that she went home and went to bed.

  Alone.

  “When we get back to my office, we can order some takeout from that Thai place you like,” he suggested.

  “I actually had dinner plans tonight,” she said.

  He feigned surprise, hoping he was a good enough actor to fool her. “You did?”

  She nodded. “I had a date with Garrett Gale at The Ellington Club.”

  Now that he knew the douche had planned to take Kyla to the most romantic restaurant in the city, Jake didn’t feel one ounce of guilt about lying to her. If anyone was going to take her to The Ellington Club, it was going to be Jake.

  “Garrett asked me to give you a message,” Kyla continued.

  Jake tensed. What the fuck had Garrett said to her? He was almost afraid to ask, but when she didn’t elaborate, he prodded her, “What’s the message?”

  “Well played.”

  “What?”

  “That’s his message: well played.”

  Jake absorbed her answer. “And that’s all he said?”

  She nodded. �
��That’s it. He said you’d know exactly what he meant.”

  Jake laughed, long and loud. If not for the fact that Garrett was a rival for Kyla, he might actually like the douche.

  “Were you disappointed that you had to cancel your date to help me?” he asked, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  Kyla’s cheeks turned the same shade as her shirt. She licked her lips, and he tracked the movement with his eyes. For months, he had dreamed about that pink tongue licking the tip of his cock before those sweet lips sucked him deep.

  “I wanted to help you,” she finally replied.

  “But were you disappointed about not seeing Garrett?” he persisted.

  She looked away from his penetrating gaze, her eyes darting around the garden. He waited patiently, and finally she answered with a softly spoken no.

  Satisfaction flooded Jake, along with a healthy dose of relief. If she had been disappointed, he would have been tempted to let her go.

  His conscience chimed in: Who are you kidding? It wouldn’t have made a goddamn difference. You want a chance with her … a chance to show her that you’re the one.

  He sighed, silently acknowledging that his conscience was right.

  “Did you have plans tonight?”

  Kyla’s question interrupted Jake’s discussion with his conscience.

  “No. Charlie’s on call.”

  Her lips twitched. “I meant plans with a woman.”

  He eyed her, wondering if her question was casual or if she was really interested in his answer. He hadn’t gone on a date in several months. Not since he had realized Kyla was the only one he wanted.

  “I’m not dating anyone.”

  “Oh,” she murmured. “That’s surprising.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re … I just thought …”

  “What?”

  She bit her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening. He smiled, ridiculously pleased with her discomfiture. He liked making her a little off balance. It seemed only fair since she had upended his happy-to-be-a-bachelor existence.

  “Nothing.”

  Snapping off a sprig of peppermint, she rubbed it between her fingers. The frosty scent of the herb perfumed the air and stung the delicate tissue of his nostrils.