It’s been two weeks since my last encounter with Jaxon. I finally think I’m in the clear, safe from his unwanted advances, and I can carry on with life running my father’s multi-million-dollar construction company.
Men see me, a young attractive woman, walk onto a job site and immediately think I’m dumber than a box of rocks, that I don’t understand construction and all it entails. Little do they know this is my life and has been since I was ten years old. My dad taught me everything I need to know to run this business. My master’s degree is just icing on the cake.
Renovating skyscrapers and high-end hotels is only a small part of what my international business handles. My father had government contracts as well as the gentleman's handshake to be the go-to contractor for a couple of our nation’s tech industry heavy hitters. It’s been rumored, and I still don’t know if it’s true, that my dad designed and built hidden bunkers for Bill Gates and Elon Musk. Even though I am Walter Van DeWalt’s daughter and the COO of Van DeWalt Enterprises, I wasn’t privy to those deals.
My father’s lonely life wasn’t the result of being shady or a bad person. After my mother passed away when I was nine, he buried himself in his work and became a recluse of sorts. I wasn’t ignored or unloved by any means. My dad took me everywhere with him. That’s how I learned to love this business. He only withdrew socially. His only contact with the outside world was his employees and me.
I loved my father dearly, but I don’t want to be like him. I want a life, a family, a husband who will be strong yet gentle, be independent but enjoy his time with me, challenge me and have my back, and love me as much as I love him. That’s not too long of a “must haves” list. At least in my head it appears to be reasonable. Maybe I’m just as delusional as Kavanaugh.
“Miss Van DeWalt,” Brenda’s sweet voice chimes over the intercom on my desk phone.
“It’s Emery, Brenda, not Miss Van DeWalt,” I say back to her. She’s my best friend, but she insists on addressing me professionally now that I’m the head of the VE.
“Emery,” she sings back into the intercom. “You have a guest.”
I glance at my calendar, which is open on my right-hand monitor, but don’t see anyone scheduled for this particular time slot. Maybe Brenda forgot to add a meeting with one of the board members. She is human, after all. But there’s something in her voice that makes me think she’s up to no good. Just when I go to ask her who is here, the door to my office opens and in steps the only man I want absolutely nothing to do with, police uniform and all. He closes the door behind him and stands with his muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest. I want to throw my stapler across the room with the hope it hits him, but I wouldn’t put it past him to arrest me for assaulting an officer. He’s that kind of asshat.
But damn him. That uniform makes him look like the kind of man I want to marry and have babies with. Too bad our past and his cocky-ass demeanor get in the way. I swear to God I’m going to break into his house and burn all of his uniforms. Yeah, he’ll just buy more, but at least he won’t have any for a week or so.
“Why are you here, at my place of business, during business hours?” I don’t hide my annoyance as I cross my arms under my chest, propping my breasts up just a little more, showing off the cleavage my push-up bra helps to accentuate.
This man infuriates me and makes me do stupid things every time he’s near, so I’m secretly praying this visit is short.
“Looking mighty fine, Emery.” Again, his tone insinuates his dark and dirty intentions.
“That didn’t answer my question, Officer Dickhead.”
“Will you please stop calling me that?” he asks, his annoyance clearly at the same level as mine.
“What’s the matter? Does it hurt your little ole feelings when I call you that?” I snip back, thinking I’ve got the upper hand. Boy, am I wrong.
Jaxon closes the distance between us faster than I can get my ass out of my chair in order to maintain the space between us that I need. His hands come down hard onto the armrests, his gorgeous face inches from mine as I push myself as far back as the chair will allow.
Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger and frustration. No wait, make that sexual frustration. Breathing him in was a mistake. The mix of his body wash, natural manly scent, and minty breath conjures images of him bending me over my desk and fucking me until my knees buckle and I can’t stand any longer.
I keep my hands folded tightly in my lap and cross my feet at the ankles before opening my eyes. Narrowing my gaze, I stare straight into his dark emerald eyes, letting him know he’s wasting his time and mine.
Accepting my silent challenge, he removes his hands from the armrests and places one on each of my thighs where the hem of my pencil skirt meets the lace of my stockings. Jaxon’s calloused thumbs slip under the hem of my skirt and rub lightly over the lace of the stockings. Most women would hate the feel of calloused fingers, but knowing his are the result of doing what it takes to serve and protect our city—all while stalking me in between—makes the sensation so appealing. It’s sexy as hell, but I’m not doing this. Not again.
“I have a meeting in five minutes. You need to leave and you need to leave me alone, for good. I’m serious, Jaxon,” I lie using a tone that’s neutral in an effort to get my point across without encouraging this insane behavior. We’re done. We’ve been done. The day he left me handcuffed to his bed was the final straw.
He glances at my monitor and sees I’m telling the truth. When his eyes come back to meet mine he leans in closer, so I turn my head slightly, not giving him the opportunity to kiss me without my consent.
“I’ll be seeing you, Emery,” he whispers into my ear. Jaxon’s lips brush against my cheek before he stands to his full height of six foot four. Habit has my gaze shamelessly roaming up his body until our eyes lock once more. The right side of his mouth curves up on cue, scorching out the fire he started deep inside my core.
“No, you won’t, Officer Di—” I stop myself from finishing the nickname I gave him and choose the higher road. “Be safe, Officer Kavanaugh.”
He walks toward the closed door to my office but before he opens it to step out, he turns his attention back to me, waiting a beat before he says, “I love you, Em.” With that, he’s out the door.
No way. No fucking way he just said that. Those words have never left that man’s mouth, except for saying it to his mother and younger sister. I’m sure when he was younger he said it to his father too until he was shot in the line of duty and died in the operating room.
“What the fuck!” I yell out, not caring who hears my inappropriate outburst.
Slumping over my desk, I begin to bang my head against the solid wood.
“Brenda,” I snap out into the intercom. “Cancel the rest of my day…please. I’m going home.”