Chapter 1
Lana
“No. Absolutely not.” I wave my hands in front of my face while shaking my head.
“This is right up your alley, Lana. You’ve been telling me for months you want to do more domestic projects. A call came in, and I thought of you right away.” Eloise Quill, my elderly boss, clacks her manicured pink nails on the keyboard in front of her and gives me a tight smile. I know this smile of hers well. She uses it to seem polite, but it’s really her way of letting someone know she’s made the final decision.
I shouldn’t be fighting her on this project. This is exactly the type of work I’ve been trying to do since I joinedQuill and Smith Designsin Boston a year ago. I started here as a lowly paid intern after graduating from Cornell University with a Master’s degree in Architecture and a minor in Interior Design and Business. This firm was my first choice for an internship after months of research.
When I got the call that they would take me on, I packed my bags and found an apartment within a week. Dad had a few connections with people who owed him a favor or two, and he managed to get me an awesome apartment in Newton for a steal. It helps that Mom and Dad were willing to help me pay for the place at first because, if not, I never could have afforded it. It’s just a few blocks from the office.
I started working with them only two weeks after my last final exam. I must have made an impression with one of the partners because Eloise offered me a full-time position after six months. Now, it doesn’t hurt that I was always the first one here in the morning and the last one to leave at night. I’ve put in my hours, and she knows I work my ass off.
She’s become my mentor of sorts, always pushing me into design meetings and urging me to voice my opinions. She truly has helped me get so far in such a short amount of time. This is the first time she’s ever recommended me for a solo project, and now I’m turning her down.
“Eloise. Please. I can’t take this one. I have… history there.”
Why does it have to be that place?
“Lana, I remember seeing designs for cabins in your portfolio when we took you on as an intern, and I’ve seen how much your designs have evolved in the short time you have been working with us. I know you can do this, and I know the owner will love the designs. Plus, if you already know the place, it’s perfect. You won’t have to spend as much time out there.” She looks back to her computer screen, and I know this conversation is over.
I hang my head in defeat. I slink out of her office, closing the door behind me. My high heels tap on the faux wood tiles beneath my feet as I find my way back to my seat. I’m almost there when Miles Henderson, the office flirt, steps out from his cube, stopping me in my tracks. I really don’t have time to deal with him right now.
I give a quiet sigh as my hazel eyes flutter closed for a moment. “What do you want, Miles? I don’t have the time right now.”
He rests his outstretched arm on the top of the cubicle, his fingers grazing my bare arm. He’s not a bad looking guy. He’s about five-eleven, with thick blond hair and blue eyes. He’s not the most muscular man I’ve met, but he’s fit and works on keeping in shape. I’ve got to hand it to him though; the man knows how to dress. He always wears a stylish suit and pulls off the look with ease.
He was here when I first started but was new himself, only starting a month before me. From the moment I saw him, I was floored. He shows up every day in a pair of perfectly fitted slacks and a button-down shirt—no tie. He keeps the top two buttons undone, giving his unsuspecting victim a peek at some chest hair.
I say victim because, as soon as he finds out a girl’s checking him out, he’s on her like a dog in heat. Always trying to get his rocks off in some pretty thing.
“I wondered if you’d want to get a drink with me later? There’s a place I found that has amazing wings—best in Boston.” He flashes me a smile, showcasing his perfectly straight and white teeth.
Now, here’s the thing. Since I started working here, I have been too busy to date. And I’m not talking about finding a boyfriend. I mean, I’ve been too busy to even take the time to meet a guy for dinner, or hell—drinks. I put in long hours and crash hard when I get home. I don’t even remember what it’s like to have any time to myself, much less to have someone between my legs.
It’s been almost a year and a half since I last slept with a man. The most recent mistake of my life was Joe DiMatto. Before you say anything, we didn’t date in high school. I told him off and spent my senior year back with my old group of friends. Bethany and I still talked, but it was a secret friendship. We’re still friends today, and we see each other from time to time. Usually, when I go home to visit Mom and Dad.
Anyway, back to Joe. We met up again during the last year of my graduate program, and it was a drunken, stupid night. I never in a million years expected to see him in Boston, so I was surprised when he sidled up next to me and told me how much he’d missed me. One thing led to another, and I woke up in his bed the next morning.
The walk of shame has never been more embarrassing than through an oversized apartment with his personal chef cooking breakfast. He took one look at me and grinned, knowing exactly what I was doing. Then he handed me a muffin on my way out.
The only positive thing about my walk of shame is that it was the best damn muffin I’ve ever had.
I turn Miles’s request over in my mind. He’s not a bad looking guy, and it would be nice to get laid sometime this year. Gotta go out to get laid, after all. It’s also the best wings in Boston. Only a fool would turn down good wings. I don’t have to sleep with him.
I sigh. “Sure, Miles. I’d like that.”
He smiles triumphantly. “I’ll come by your cube at five, and we can go. It’s not too far.” He rakes his eyes over my body and down to my four-inch heels. “You gonna be okay walking in those?”
“I’ll be fine.” I have the urge to snap my fingers at him like he’s a dog.Bad dog!You don’t need to stare at me like I’m a hunk of meat. Instead, I turn on my heel and scatter as fast as my high heels will take me.
* * *
We stumble through Miles’s front door, and he drops his keys on a table somewhere, never breaking our kiss. His hands roam freely over my body, and when he stops at my ass, he squeezes and pulls me flush with his erection—which isn’t much. I push the disappointment away and focus on his kiss. It’s not bad, a little aggressive, and we’ve clacked teeth a few times, but I’ve had worse.
He squeezes my ass again, and my fuzzy head begins to clear. I put my hands up and push on his shoulders. “Wait, Miles.” He pulls back and looks me dead in the eye. “I can’t do this. It’s not right.”
He huffs. “Just close your eyes. You want this as bad as I do.”
