The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

“I know. And yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll come. I’ll be there for the dinner.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“Thank you,” I say emphatically, offering her my hand so we can shake on our deal.

A smile broadens across her pretty face, and I can’t help but smile back in return. I let my thumb caress her wrist before letting go.

“You can sign at my desk,” I say, gesturing to the contract set neatly upon its surface.

Her heels click as she walks over and picks up the pen. Even from a few feet away, I can see that her signature is beautiful—not too loopy, sharp and simple.

“I’ll pick you up at five thirty. We’re expected at six.”

“Do you have a preference for what I wear?”

“I trust your instinct.”

“Wow, a compliment.” Presley smirks.

The corner of my own mouth quirks as I walk her toward the door. “You’ll be getting plenty of those tonight, so get used to it.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“See you at five thirty.”

“See you then.”

The door clicks closed behind her, and just like that, everything is in motion.

• • •

I knew I’d be worthless at work for the next few hours with my mind racing like it is. Shortly after Presley left, I also took off for the day. I have to be mentally prepared for anything Roger throws at me tonight. But first, a little recharge.

I ease open the door to my daughters’ room. It’s naptime, so they’re usually tucked in around this time, but their beds are empty.

Where are they?

“They’re in your bed,” comes a voice from less than a foot away, and I nearly jump out of my goddamn skin.

“Jesus, Fran!” How does a woman who wears fucking New Balance shoes sneak up on me so easily?

“You’ll be gone till late again?”

“Yes,” I say, averting my gaze. I really can’t handle any more judgment from you.

“All right,” she says, squeezing my arm. “Go spend some time with your little ones before you leave.”

I nod, turning down the hall toward my own room. The girls are curled up together on top of the duvet, two little cherubs holding hands.

Smiling, I kick off my shoes and climb in between them, lifting Emilia gently to give myself some space to lie down. She sleeps like the dead, so I have no worries of waking her. I lower myself onto the bed, tangling my fingers in Lacey’s curls and tucking Emilia against my chest. I listen to the whispers of their breathing—so soft, so steady.

I consider for a moment just staying like this for the rest of the afternoon. I could wake them up, take them out for ice cream, and put on one of our favorite movies. We could all snuggle close on the couch. I can almost hear the sound of Emilia sucking on her thumb and feel the tangles of Lacey’s hair as I try to unknot them before bed.

Maybe another time.

After a little while, I get up, careful not to wake them. My shoeless feet pad across the floor toward the bathroom. In a few minutes, I’m standing under the scalding downpour of my shower, letting the water burn away any hesitation I have about tonight.

There was no chance of sneaking out before the girls woke up. When I’m clean and dressed, I find them sitting up in my bed, both reaching for me with sleepy eyes and adorable yawns. I pick one up in each arm and they relax into my chest. I’m not always going to be able to hold them like this, so I do it as often as I can.

I carry them to my dresser and plop Lacey on top. Emilia is still waking up, her warm little nose nestled in the crook of my dress shirt collar. This is a game we’ve played before, so Lacey looks expectantly at the first small drawer. I slide it open, revealing all the cuff links I’ve acquired over the years. A gold pair from graduation. Two pairs gifted to me by my mother a long time ago. A silver pair I inherited from Teddy.

Emilia prefers the smaller, prettier ones, the ones my mother gave me. Lacey’s the one choosing this time, though.

“Bis!” she blurts, one fat little finger pointing at Teddy’s silver cuff links with the square crowning. She jabbers some more, and I laugh at her gibberish. They’re a little gaudy for my taste, but the lady insists.

I snap the cuff links into place. Just like if Teddy were coming with me.

“Now, which tie?”

• • •

As expected, Presley’s presence is a game changer. Roger is nearly red in the face with laughter, eating up every second of this woman’s attention. At first, I thought he was merely excited to have the attention of a younger woman. But now I’m fairly convinced that he genuinely likes her as a person.

As he should.

Presley flashes me a pretty smile, and my heart clenches like it did when she first walked out of her apartment earlier this evening.

“Aren’t you cold?” I asked as she slid into the passenger seat of my Porsche.

She froze momentarily, her hands hovering over the seat belt and door handle. “Should I change? Too much skin?”

“No, you look great. And if you get cold, I’ll give you my coat.”

“Oh, right. Good detail.”

I swallowed, looking away. For a moment, I’d forgotten that this was all an elaborate, staged scheme of ours. I was just going to give her my coat to warm her, not to make things look more convincing. “Devil’s in the details.”

We then fell into a comfortable silence. The Seattle streetlights zipped by.

“I was expecting a limo,” she said, out of the blue.

“Oh, was this not extravagant enough for you?” I smirked.

“Jesus, no! This is your car?”

“It is.”

I wasn’t about to pull up with the SUV and its car seats nestled into the back row. No, this version of me drives a Porsche, a recent model with plenty of horsepower. I may be a single dad, but I can still have a bachelor’s sports car.

“I don’t have a car,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You don’t need one in the city.”

“So, why do you have one?”

“Because I can afford it,” I said with a grin, and she smiled back at me with a short laugh.

And that was how our car ride went. Playful. Comfortable. Fun.

• • •

So far, dinner is meeting every one of my expectations. The only bump in the road is that Roger refuses to talk business. The fat old bastard.

“There’s always time for office talk,” he says, brushing aside my second attempt at focusing. “I’m enjoying this young lady’s company.”

Presley gives me a knowing smile and turns back to Roger. “It’s as if he thinks we can’t do both,” she says, pretending to be appalled.

Roger practically roars with laughter.

I shrug with as much of a charismatic smile as I can offer. She’s got me.

“You know what,” Roger says hoarsely, after he’s recovered. “You two should come to the waterfront.”

“The what?” Presley asks.

“It’s my weekend home, right on the Sound. A couple of hours from here. Monica and I are going tomorrow morning. You should join us.”

In unison, Presley says, “Oh no, we couldn’t—” right as I say, “We’d love to.” She turns to me with a desperate look in her eyes.

Reaching under the table, I find her hand resting on her knee. I give it a reassuring squeeze as if to say, We’ll talk about it later.

“That’s fucking fantastic,” Roger says, raising his glass. “To spontaneity!”

“To spontaneity.”

With dinner finally done, Presley walks several paces ahead of me, purposely keeping her distance as we head to the car. She didn’t even give me a chance to ask the valet to bring it around for us. After jogging to catch up with her, I grab her hand, and she snatches it back as if I’ve burned her.

“You keep doing that,” she says.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology is reflexive. “I won’t do it again.”

“It’s fine,” she says, backpedaling.

“No, it’s not. I won’t do it again without your permission.”

She accepts that easier than she did my last apology. We get to the car, but Presley leans against the door to face me before I can unlock it for her.

“I don’t want to go to Roger’s place.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a whole weekend. That’s a lot more involved than one dinner every now and then.”

“It’s a lot to ask, I know.”

“Yes, it is.” Her cheeks are pink, and her arms are crossed against her chest as if she’s cold. Seattle is always a little chilly at night, no matter the season.

“Would you like my jacket?”

She shakes her head, lips pressing into a line.

“Let’s get in the car.” I reach around her to put my hand on the door handle. When she doesn’t move, I let my hand drop away, determined to keep my promise not to touch her.

“I need you,” I hear myself saying. “Presley, I need your help.”

A small crease forms between her eyebrows, but she’s staring at my lips again, giving me that look she gave me in my office on Monday. The look I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see again—hooded eyes, wet lips, and a faint blush. And it’s pulling me in. Big fucking time.

It doesn’t matter that I’m the boss and she’s my employee. Because right now? I’ve never been more aware of the fact that I’m a man, and she’s a woman.

I shrug off my coat and place it around her shoulders, thinking how tiny she looks wearing my large coat on her slight frame.

“You’re cold. Please wear it.” I step into her, as close as I can without pinning her against the car, then softly brush her jawline with my knuckles, my gaze fixed on her pink lips.

Looking deeply into her eyes, I ask a silent question. May I?

She nods, and my heart stops.

I press a kiss to her mouth, intending for it to be slow, chaste. But Presley’s lips open against mine, and I’m shot back in time to our kiss in my office, reliving that first touch of her tongue.

But this kiss is even more desperate and wild. She lets out a soft moan, lifting on her toes to get closer, her fingers curling into my jacket. I couldn’t pull away from her if I wanted to. And I sure as hell don’t want to.

My hands skim down her waist as she rakes her teeth gently against my lower lip.

God, I want her.

When we break apart, I struggle to find my voice.

“Please come?”

“Okay,” she agrees, breathlessly.