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  “Well that could have gone over better. What the fuck did you ambush them for?”

  I ignore Weston’s question. I have my reasons. “They’ll come around,” I tell Weston as he helps himself to a drink from the shelf behind my desk. “So will your associate.” I grin and take the drink he poured for me. “You know I bumped into her yesterday… on the sidewalk outside of her hotel.”

  “And?”

  “She’s easy on the eyes and has… personality.” I take another sip of whiskey and think about how sexy she looks when she gets all flustered and angry. I bet she’s insane in bed. Bet she’d scratch her nails down my back. I’d love to have her saying my name as I fucked an orgasm out of her.

  Weston gives me a look like he can read my thoughts. The dirty ones I’m having about Tate Reynolds and ripping her tight skirt down her legs and spanking her ass over my desk for being a smartass during the meeting.

  “She may have mentioned you were the one who ruined her day, but I am warning you now, Tate is a professional and she’ll chew your goddamn head off and spit it out. I’m not bullshitting. She is a fucking shark.”

  “I have enough shit to worry about without fucking someone in my office. You know me better than that. And you of all people understand the ramifications. I know what’s at stake.” I don’t shit where I eat. Nothing will happen with the woman, despite my impure thoughts. I can’t say I was never tempted in the past, but I keep work and my personal life completely separate. Tate is very tempting, but I won’t let anything get in the way of this deal.

  “Indeed.” Weston raises his rocks glass.

  Quinn buzzes me. “The car is downstairs to take Mr. Hunter to the airport, sir.”

  “That’s my cue to leave you to the wolves.” Weston shakes my hand and leaves me to deal with my asshole brothers. The door closes and I fall back on the leather sofa in the corner of my office that overlooks Millennium Park. If I want to see Lake Michigan, I can see it from the roof deck. I go there often to clear my head. It’s my favorite spot.

  I know I have about two minutes before my asshat brothers barge in demanding answers. It’ll be even worse now that Weston’s gone. Rubbing my temples, I pop an aspirin and prepare to defend my choice in merging the firm. I’ve worked my goddamn ass off to build this place up, but The Hunter Group will take us to the next level.

  I buzz Quinn.

  “Yes, Mr. Collins?”

  “Put Tate in the corner office. The one with the gorgeous view of the lake.”

  That office is at the other end of the floor. I’m putting her there because having some distance between us will make it easier. I’m physically attracted to the woman and need to keep things strictly professional between us no matter how hard my cock grows at her smartass remarks.

  “Give her a tour and anything else she needs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  My office door bursts open, and my brothers quickly fill the room.

  “Don’t you assholes know how to knock?” I take another sip of whiskey. I’m going to need it to put up with them. The three of them enter the room and take up the three hardback leather chairs facing my desk.

  “I thought you were building the firm up for the family? This was supposed to be our legacy and what, you’re just gonna sell us out to the Hunter Group?”

  “What part of merger don’t you get? Every single thing I’m doing is for the good of this firm and all of you. Nothing has changed. It’s going to be better for everyone. You’ll see. Being under The Hunter umbrella will bring us more clients which means more billable hours. We can hire more attorneys and take a lot of the workload off ourselves. Our current growth rate can’t sustain what we’re doing. We’ll meet our goals faster with less of the work. I don’t get why you’re so upset.” I thought they would be happy. I know I work them hard. I run myself into the ground keeping things at the level we’re at. I don’t understand what the issue is here.

  “I like shit the way it is,” Deacon says, and Dexter nods his head.

  Fucking twins.

  Donavan is quiet, taking it all in. I expected his support most of all.

  I put my palm to my forehead. “Well, I don’t, and you know exactly why. I don’t need you to fight me on this. I need you to shape up and get with the program. This is a game changer that will be better for me and…”

  “It’s just sudden.” Donavan finally opens his mouth.

  Dexter and Deacon both remain quiet.

  I narrow my eyes at them. “It’s happening. End of discussion. Don’t the three of you have clients or cases to be working on?” I don’t always like being the hardass around here, but someone has to be, and I fit the role easily. I’m the big brother and it’s always been up to me to set the example. My brothers have always looked up to me, so it really chaps my ass when they second guess my decision making. They should know I would never enter into a merger that wouldn’t benefit both our family and the firm.

  This firm is my baby; I would never just give it away.

  I look around at them. “Look, you’ll all have partner status and easier jobs. It’s just a name change, that’s all. Extra support. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”

  They all nod like they trust me—or maybe they’ve just given up—and file out of my office.

  My line buzzes. It’s Quinn. “Ms. Reynolds is all settled in her office, sir.”

  “Thank you. Did she find everything to her liking?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  I end the call and lean back in my chair, my thoughts drifting back to Tate Reynolds and those spiked heels she’s wearing today.

  Finishing off my drink, I think I’ll go check in on her and see how she likes that view. I know I shouldn’t, but the whiskey is loosening me up a little.

  I can’t help but hope this merger will give me more of what I need—time.

  Tate

  “Downstairs on the third floor is the cafeteria and the main supply room, but we also have a small break room and storage closet on this floor. The best part of the whole building is the roof deck. Follow me.”

  Quinn leads me to the most gorgeous scene I’ve ever laid eyes on. Clear as day I can see a panoramic view of Lake Michigan. The water is beautiful. I could stand up here forever, watching all the boats and just gazing at the blueish green that stretches to the horizon. A few buildings away I see a rooftop botanical garden.

  “Perfect, right?”

  I nod at Quinn and continue taking in the breathtaking view, falling in love with the scenery.

  “Wait until you get to your office. You can see the lake and part of the park.” Her dark brows wiggle.

  Quinn is pretty with soft feminine features. Peach-colored cheeks, green eyes, and auburn hair. She’s dressed in a dark green skirt and jacket combination that really pops with her pale skin. I hope she’s someone I can grab lunch with during my time here. She’s friendly, and I like her style.

  I’ve never been to Chicago until this trip, but I can see how people love the place. I’ve heard the food is amazing and I can’t wait to try out a few different restaurants.

  We go back down so she can show me to my office. The view is better than I imagined. My office is huge and located in the corner with floor-to-ceiling windows. Decker has outdone himself. I was expecting him to shove me in a closet like Harry Potter just for the hell of it. He strikes me as the type. The kind of man who is an asshole just because he can be. I have a desk that’s much larger than I’ll ever need. It also has a sitting area that overlooks part of the park and Lake Michigan.

  Maybe I could get used to this place after all.

  “I’ll be doubling as your assistant until one is assigned to you. If you need to reach me, I’m line four. If there is anything I can get you, just give me a buzz. Coffee. Whatever you need, I’m at your disposal.”

  “Thank you.” The door closes behind h
er, and I get my laptop set up and arrange things the way I want them on the desk. I shoot my assistant in Dallas an email. Quinn is nice but I’m used to Danelle. We already have a system in place and she just gets me.

  Danelle,

  I need a list of touristy things to do in Chicago. Preferably on the weekend. Throw in some good places to eat too. Also go through my contacts and see if I have any friends living in the city I could set up lunch with. I need my favorite black pants and those snakeskin heels…the ones that give me three inches in height. Overnight them to me, please.

  I’m attaching the contact information for an assistant at this firm. Please see that you get her a cheat sheet to make my time here easier.

  Thanks so much!

  Tate Reynolds, Senior Associate

  The Hunter Group

  After I hit send, the door to my office swings open. I glance up from my computer screen and Decker Collins strolls in like he’s the king of the castle. Just like him to show up and shit on my parade just as I start to like the place. I guess, technically, he is the king, but his arrogance is unsettling. The cocky jerk smirks at me again. He does that a lot and the sad part is deep down I’m starting to enjoy it.

  “Didn’t get to give you a tour. Thought I’d stop by and make sure Quinn got you settled in okay and that everything is to your liking. I’ll set you up with your own assistant as soon as I find someone capable of filling the position.” Why does it sound so sexual when he says filling the position? And why am I squirming in my seat as he speaks? This is ridiculous.

  I lick my lips and feel parched all of a sudden. I’m sure my dry mouth has nothing to do with the sexy bastard standing in my office. “Thank you. The view is spectacular. Yours must be amazing if you gave me this one.”

  “Actually…” He strolls casually to the window and gazes at the picture-perfect scene. “This one’s my favorite. It used to be mine.”

  Why would he give up his favorite office?

  “I prefer being closer to the elevator.” He answers before I can respond as though he can read my thoughts.

  Who the hell factors proximity to the elevator to choose an office? Damn. I’m anal and not even that bad. I wonder if he has some sort of complex. I bet he’s a time management freak and clocks himself in the damn pisser. He probably counts how many steps it is from his office to the front door of the building and tries to shave off a few seconds every day.

  Poking fun at his routine sets my mind at ease.

  I wish he’d quit grinning at me.

  My brow lifts into an arch. “The elevator? You moved offices to be closer to the elevator?”

  “Yup.” He pops the P.

  I sense there’s more he isn’t sharing with me. Reading men is one of my talents. It has allowed me to be successful at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. I credit the ability to growing up with brothers who loved to hold shit in and never wanted to share their feelings. Being surrounded by their friends made it easy for me to pick up on men’s social cues.

  He pulls away from the window and comes toward my desk. The man stalks toward me like a lion ready to pounce on his next meal. I watch with fascination as he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his muscular forearms. I’ve always found men’s arms to be sexy.

  Decker’s are up there close to a ten. Who am I kidding? They’re perfect like the rest of him. Nothing but corded muscle and rough sinew, yet tanned and smooth like he actually uses lotion. A few veins run from under his sleeves and snake down to his wrists.

  He glances at his Rolex. I expected an Apple watch. I’m impressed to see some men are still old fashioned in that sense. Everyone is so plugged into their devices. It’s the first endearing quality I’ve noticed about the man.

  “I thought we could meet up for drinks later. We didn’t get off to a great start.”

  “You stole my cab yesterday, left me in the rain with my papers—talked all this shit, and now you want to have drinks?” Wow, I should shut up, but I guess that’d been building at the back of my mind.

  Decker grins—the most facetious grin I’ve ever seen in my life—like he relishes the conflict and wants to verbally spar. “First, I offered to help pick up your papers and you declined. Second, this is business only. No pleasure involved.” He leans across my desk and my heart rate speeds up tenfold. “Pencil me in on your calendar. It’s not a request.” He taps the empty square in front of me.

  My breath catches in my throat at his close proximity. I need to make a note to keep him at arm’s length at all times. If he gets much closer, my brain might shut down.

  “Um…” My voice comes out in a sultry whisper that’s highly inappropriate but I can’t stop it.

  Decker gets up and starts to the door. “I don’t know how you do things down in Texas, but here in Chicago, sweetheart, we do business over drinks.” He mocks my accent by drawing out his words in an exaggerated southern drawl.

  Before I can turn him down, the door shuts behind him.

  I roll my eyes and sink back in my chair, nibbling the tip of my fingernail as I look down at my desk.

  The blank space on my calendar stares back, mocking me. I should stand him up, but Weston’s voice harps in the back of my mind. This man shouldn’t get under my skin, but he does. I can get the job done. Weston always tells me I’m the best he’s got, so I need to believe it too. Grabbing my favorite pen, I mark drinks with Decker Collins into my schedule a little too roughly and ink bleeds on the paper, ruining my pretty penmanship.

  * * *

  It’s not a date.

  I skim the racks at Ikram, settling on a Narciso Rodriguez number. It’s black with a white abstract pattern and something that can double as work attire. A pair of Dolce & Gabbana heels, and a new necklace and bracelet complete the look. Finally satisfied, I get everything boxed up and head out front to find a cab.

  On the way back to my hotel I rack my brain trying to figure out what on earth we need to meet for drinks about. Anything Decker wants to discuss can be done at the office. Hell, he can do it on the phone if he wants.

  The only thought running through my mind is he wants me there in person. The thought sends a shiver up my spine for two different reasons. One, maybe he’s attracted to me and wants to get me drunk and do naughty things to me. Two, maybe he wants to actually discuss work and be an insufferable prick the entire time. Nothing good can come of this, yet I can’t help but notice I just bought an entire new outfit I don’t need, but it’s perfect and I look hot as shit in it.

  I shake my head as the cabbie pulls up to the curb and drops me in front of the hotel.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  * * *

  Later, as I get ready in my hotel room, I can’t help but feel this is very much a date. I’ve analyzed this situation from front to back, replaying every word in my mind and every one of Decker’s reactions and the inflection in his voice. He said it wasn’t a date, and I don’t want it to be because we work together. But still… despite all my reservations, I have that giddy feeling all girls get before a first date.

  Butterflies flutter around in my stomach. I primp in the mirror touching up my makeup and taking my hair down. I run my fingers through the waves and spritz it with some hairspray. I look over my appearance and know I’m spending more time than I usually would for a business meeting. Apparently, a girl has to look good when going out for the night in a new city even if it is just for drinks with a colleague.

  I’m doomed.

  Decker

  I hop out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Water trickles down my torso as I stand at the sink to brush my teeth. I don’t know why I’m making a big deal about going out for drinks with Tate. I only asked because I thought maybe it would loosen her up and help with the transition for the merger if I get to know her better. She can learn a little more about me in a more intimate setting while still keeping things neutral outside the office. I probably wouldn’t have been such a prick to her the first time I
met her if I knew I’d have to work with her.

  Yeah, you would. Who are you kidding?

  The only problem is from the moment I crashed into her on the sidewalk, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. Her cute accent. The fact she gives me shit right back as good as I dish it out. She’s got—something. Gumption, maybe? Attitude? I just like the way she challenges me, both of us competing to be the dominant voice in the conversation. Nothing more.

  So why the hell am I so damn nervous? This is not a damn date. I’m Decker Collins. I don’t need to stick my dick in the company gene pool to get laid. I can fuck any eligible woman in Chicago I want. I have. I don’t do relationships or the dating scene. My life doesn’t allow for it. It’s why arrangements like I had with Jessica are key. Tate doesn’t strike me as the type of woman I could get away with just fucking occasionally mid-day in a hotel room. A woman like her doesn’t even need a man, but I bet she still wants the fairytale romance all the same. All women want that shit, even if they act like they don’t.

  I hear the backdoor shut. Molly, my housekeeper, is here. Over the next several minutes I finish getting dressed in something a little more casual than the usual suit and tie I wear for work. I go with a pair of dark jeans and a grey fitted v-neck. I pocket my wallet and head to the kitchen to greet Molly.

  She’s been with me for years and does an excellent job keeping my household running efficiently. Her dark hair is swept back in a tight bun that rests neatly on her head. There are streaks of gray around her temples. She’s already busying herself with dinner though I won’t be around to eat it until later.

  “Good evening, Miss Molly. Something smells good.”

  “I’m making chicken parm, a garden salad, and cheesy garlic bread.” The woman can cook anything. Her Italian is to die for. No one can top her in the kitchen.

  “Sounds perfect. I have to go out, but I’ll be back no later than nine.”