Craigslist was proving to be a dead end. The classifieds in the local paper, the employment agency, and applications she had personally delivered had also turned up nothing in the way of a job and Tiffany was growing a little desperate.
She sighed as she pushed her long hair back from her sweating forehead. At just eight in the morning the temperature outside stood at a sweltering eighty-nine degrees but she could not afford to turn on her air conditioner just yet. She had planned to be out of the house bright and early that morning but she had woken up late and groggy, sapped of her energy and her normally optimistic outlook by the events of the last few weeks.
She shut her laptop and stared gloomily at the remains of her breakfast, a single piece of toast spread with peanut butter, half a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee that she had made deliberately weak in order to ration out the grounds still left in the can. The windows were open, bringing cheerful, fresh sunlight into the room along with the sound of the birds singing from the tall live oaks that sheltered the house from the worst of the heat of summer in western Florida.
Two weeks before she would have woken up happy and humming, made breakfast for herself and Steven, gotten ready for work, and then driven there in her brand new sedan. That is what she would have done two weeks ago—but that had been before Stephen had left town with all their money, the new car, and Carol, Tiffany’s former best friend.
Steven had picked the worst time in the world to desert her. She had woken up one morning to find him, and the car gone. He had left a note and the keys to his battered old jeep on the kitchen table. The bank accounts had been cleaned almost to the bone although he had done her the great favor of leaving her a couple hundred dollars, reasoning that since the bills for the month were already paid and her career paid far more than his did she would be better able to make up the loss than he would be.
Tiffany had been close to hysterical, hurt, and angry and frightened all at once. She and Steven had met in high school and had been together ever since. He had always been the irrepressible bad boy and she had always been the serious studious one, and that was why they had worked. They had been together for a decade and while things had never been easy, exactly, she had always thought he was happy.
He was not, it seemed. In the note he left he stated that she had pushed him to change, that she made him miserable with the attempts she made to change him and that he had to leave because he could not live with someone who did not appreciate him for who he was. That had baffled her completely; Steve had been as impervious to change as he had been to the need for a steady and regular job.
That same afternoon Lou Grant, her boss, called her into his office. He had settled his expansive body back in the heavy brown leather chair and said, in his jovial grandfatherly voice, “Mrs. Vaughn, I am sure you know how much we appreciate your hard work and dedication to this company.”
Tiffany relaxed a bit. She had asked for a raise the week before, she had been far overdue for one. “Thank you.”
“Sadly, not only can I not afford to give you the raise I know you deserve, I cannot keep you on. The economy is poor right now…”
A strange and icy calm had overtaken her. She had tuned the rest of it out, taken her slim severance package, and said thank you before walking back to her desk and packing her things.
That eerie numbness had lasted all of three days then it had broken loose in a storm of sobbing and screaming. Tiffany knew then that Steve would not come back, apologizing for his mistake and asking for forgiveness, but what she also knew was that it would not matter if he did—she would never take him back, the betrayal went too deep. She had yanked what clothes he had left out of his closet and burned them on the grill in the backyard, thrown out the wedding photos that had once resided on their walls and smashed his forgotten cologne bottles into bits with a hammer.
For reasons she could not understand she yanked the underwear he had left out of their drawers, put them into the washing machine with SOS cleaning pads, dried them and then folded them and returned them to the drawers. That had made her feel slightly better, but only slightly. Tiffany spent a day in bed, crying and eating the lone container of ice cream that had remained behind in the freezer, a jar of peanut butter, and her emergency stash of M&M’s.
The next day she had gotten up and gone out job hunting. So far, that had not panned out well and she was growing desperate. She had devised all manners of ways to save the money she had and to make it last, she had not even been able to receive unemployment because she had taken that very small severance package, knowing that she had to cover expenses that were too high for an unemployment check to meet. She had even called her mortgage company and made certain that the insurance she had bought that would allow her a six month grace period if she lost her job was still in place. That had been the smartest purchase she had ever made and she knew that was all that stood between her and homelessness right now. She also wanted to hold off using it if possible, in order to keep it for a rainy day.
If there was ever a person who knew about rainy days, it was her.
*
Craig groaned as he stared down at the latest bank statements. The company was not growing, but it was not bogging down either. While the latter was good news, the former was bad. He needed to land some new accounts.
Therein lay the rub. When it came to actually doing the work that would make his clients money, Craig was a whiz, when it came to actually dealing with people, not so much.
His fingers came up and rubbed absently at the scar on his lean face. He often forgot it was there; sometimes a little kid in a grocery store would see it and turn to their mother, frightened and excited all at once at the sight of it, and he would be reminded all over again.
The hell of it was that the scar seemed to have heightened his looks instead of taking away from them. It ran from his right temple to the corner of his mouth, zigging a little on his cheek. Coupled with his black hair and eyes, darkly tanned skin and trim body it added up to an almost pirate-like look that made women smile and men look at him with caution.
It was not just the scar though, Craig had never been much of a talker, and he had never learned the art of salesmanship. He fiddled with a pen, an old habit, as he sorted through possible ways to increase revenue without taking on new clients but came up blank.
The door opened and an incredibly attractive woman stepped into the office, paused, looked around like she was not sure if she had the right place then directed her gaze at him, giving him the full effect of her sea-green eyes.
“I am sorry; I think I have the wrong place. I am looking for Hughes &Company.”
He could understand her confusion. He ran the company on a bare bones budget and so the office consisted of two large rooms: his own office and the outer room, both of which were still mostly empty. Given that he specialized in restoring historic homes and buildings damaged by hurricanes, he knew that his office presented a rather bleak testament to his skills and he made a mental note to himself to look into doing something about that.
“You have the right place.”
The pregnant pause drew out. “I see. I take it you are Mr. Hughes?”
“Yes, I am. Can I help you?” The last was an afterthought. It was not just his usual taciturn disposition making it difficult for him to speak; it was everything about her. She wore a crisp white blouse, utterly correct and perfectly starched, that was sexier than any slinky little dress he had ever seen on a woman. Her A- line skirt hugged her lush hips and curvy thighs, the red belt that cinched in her already small waist made him painfully aware that she had an enviable hourglass shape and the curl of dark red hair that lay over the shoulder of her blouse grazed her full breast.
Tiffany’s heart sank. She had decided to come here as a last ditch effort. The office showed no signs of being occupied by anyone other than the gorgeous man with the chiseled arms sitting behind the desk. It did not look as if the company could even support another person.
Steeling herself she said, “I’m Tiffany Vaughn, I recently left Koehler’s. I was in charge of several large projects and as such I was directly responsible for…”
“Is there a point to this spiel?”
Her face heated as his husky voice cut through her words. “I am looking for employment.”
Craig had heard exactly what she had said; he just did not know why she had come to his company. Koehler’s was the biggest of the restoration and architectural companies in the state, over eight dozen employees worked within its offices and it made millions in revenue. She had said she had left, but who left that kind of position?
She had a reserved air about her. Working with her would likely be dull, and filled with tedious reports. She looked like the type to go out to a site, take notes in precise handwriting, and then go back to the office to create something on a model scale. He was willing to bet that she would not be the type to get her hands dirty, she was an idea person and probably more than willing to let others do the physical labor. That could be an asset, as it meant he would not have to work closely with her.
He tapped his fingers on the desk and her eyes went back to his arms then upward to his broad shoulders. The black tee shirt that he wore accentuated those shoulders and the raven wing like luster of his hair.
“Today may just be a lucky day for both of us. I need someone who is good with people, and who knows how to land an account.”
“That would be me,” Tiffany said.
“What were you making?”
“Quite probably a lot more than you could likely give me.”
Craig was amused by her bluntness, “That goes without saying.”
“I earned my money Mr. Hughes. I was responsible for bringing in several accounts, including the account of Madison Yates.”
That lifted his eyebrows. Madison was one of the richest women in the state, as well as one of the most eccentric. She was a notorious cheapskate and naturally suspicious when it came to her money, to get her to sign on must have taken a spectacular display of salesmanship as well as skill, because Madison was eccentric but far from stupid—and she had the Harvard degrees and Mensa card to prove it.
“It is in my resume and reference letter.” Tiffany set the folder she carried on his desk gingerly so as not to upset the delicately balanced piles of paperwork there.
“Sell me on hiring you.”
If she were surprised it did not show, she answered without hesitation. “Your company will never get any larger without new accounts, and I have the name and the network to help bring new accounts into this office.
“You restored the Haywood Mansion downtown, a feat nobody in my former firm thought possible for the budget that the owners had to work with. You somehow managed to find rosewood, American rosewood, which is extinct, and enough of it to restore the entire floor in the ballroom and still stayed within budget. Your skills in that area are beyond reproach but what you do not have is an actual architectural degree, you have a degree in engineering which you got while serving in the military.
“You can see by my resume that I have taken part in some major historical and disaster restorations, including ones in Fort Walton, Saint Augustine and so forth.
“I have my degree in architecture as well as design, and again I have been working for several years and have that network so I obviously have skills that can help build this company. I need to work somewhere, and it would benefit you greatly if that was here.” Tiffany’s heart pounded rapidly as she finished speaking. The man behind the desk had caused an unusual set of reactions in her not the least of which was a sharp cramp of physical attraction.
“You do not look old enough to have done all of that,” he commented.
“I am twenty seven. I double majored in college and was recruited by Koehler’s team before graduation.”
“But they just let you go.”
“Yes,” Tiffany admitted.
“Maybe you care to tell me why?”
“The company wrote the reason for my dismissal in the reference letter,” she said stiffly.
His eyes bored into her and Tiffany had the oddest sensation that he knew that the sudden loss of her job had upset and confused her and that she did not buy into the reasons they had given her for the termination. The reason stated seemed obvious on the surface but they were not—the economy had been down for years after all.
“I see. Miss…”his eyes darted to her hand and the plain gold band there, “Mrs.…it was Vaughn?” At her nod he continued, “I am going to hire you on what I am certain is going to be a temporary basis. Someone with your skills and background should have no trouble finding a job. So let us agree that while I cannot offer you a terribly high rate of pay I can offer you the flexibility to find another position when it suits you.”
Relief made Tiffany’s entire body relax. Unaware that the man watching her noticed that she said in a brisk business like voice, “Perfect, when could I start?”
“Tomorrow. I need to…”he waved a hand. “I do not spend a lot of money on my office for obvious reasons but I have a desk and whatnot at home that I could put out front for you if you like.”
Tiffany’s throat closed over the huge lump that had risen in it. “Thank you. That would be very kind of you. I promise you that you will not be sorry Mr. Hughes.”
Watching her pert rump swing back out his door Craig found himself regretting one thing, that he had seen the wedding ring on her slender finger.
**
Wow, he is freaking handsome. No, not handsome, that is not the right word. He is magnificent. He is primal; that is the word. He looks like he would pick a woman up, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her off to a cave somewhere.
Tiffany cranked up the old jeep, laughing softly at the ridiculous turn her thoughts had taken about her new boss. He was probably married and the proud father of eight children or something like that. Not to mention that he was now her boss and the last thing she needed was to let her long denied sexual desires get in the way of her career.
That thought gave her pause. She had never voiced, or even let herself think about the fact that the sexual part of her marriage had fizzled somewhere. She had been unhappy too, and had hidden it so well that until that moment she had not even known it.
She was so ecstatic about the job, even if the salary he had written on the piece of paper he had passed to her had been slightly dismaying, she decided to treat herself to a decent meal, her first in weeks.
The restaurant that she stopped at sat directly on the boardwalk and the upstairs had a patio that jutted out over the glistening white sands of the beach. The ocean glittered and purled at the shore and the waves made a soft hushing sound that soothed her even as she took out a notepad and began to work out a new budget for herself.
“I swear I just do not know what to do about it,” an older woman with a pair of devastatingly blue eyes said to her companion, “I want someone who understands why I love the place so much.”
Tiffany paused with a mouthful of steak at her lips. Her ears literally perked forward as she strained to hear the conversation at the table next to hers and a grin crossed her full lips. Sometimes things just worked out, she told herself as she turned around and said, “Hello, I am sorry for eavesdropping but I know the house you are talking about. It is one of my favorites and if I had had the money I would have bought it myself.”
**
The sun pulsed down, turning the overgrown yard into a delightfully colorful jungle. The roses, huge and blowsy, sent a long stream of perfume into the air and bees ran rampant. Craig, on his knees beside a crumbling section of wall, looked up to see Tiffany swinging over a fallen gate in the side yard. Her tight jeans clung to her long legs and when she threw one leg over the fence the denim pulled taut across her mound, making his penis grow unmercifully erect below his own jeans.
“Isn’t it great?” Tiffany called as she approached. Under the dingy old shirt that she wore her rounded breasts swung and bobbed in a way that strippers would have envied. Craig shifted so that she would be unable to see where his thoughts had led him as she came to where he crouched.
“Yes, it is,” he said, assuming she meant the house.
Tiffany had turned out to be nothing like his first impression of her. Not only did she love being onsite she had been the first one to grab the rotted old flagstones on the garden path and move them so that they would not fall on the mildew slick stones. She fearlessly climbed upon the roof to peek at the broken tiles there, crawled under a broken section of the porch, and returned triumphant and filthy to announce that the foundation itself was solid, a fact he re-checked and affirmed.
She showed up every day in work clothes, including heavy boots, and the sight of her battered old Jeep, a vehicle he could not quite picture her having chosen, sitting in the driveway every morning when he arrived never failed to make him smile.
Another thing that had made him smile was her showing up without her wedding ring. Craig had asked her about it and she had grimaced before replying.
“I pawned it. I needed a little money and it had no value to me anymore, not sentimental value anyway. My husband left with my ex best friend and quite frankly I am just surprised he did not take the ring too, he took everything else that had monetary value.”
Craig had made some appropriately sympathetic sound but she had waved it off, “Do not feel sorry for me. I do not feel sorry for myself. Shit happens it seems and this time it happened to me is all.”
Her cavalier attitude did not disguise the hurt that momentarily crossed her face so he did not press her. Craig knew all about having someone you loved and trusted leave you for someone else. He did not offer that up, but his empathy caused the small tension between them to settle into a friendly work routine.
Tiffany did enjoy the work and being outside in the sunshine with someone who shared her passion, she also enjoyed, perhaps a little too much, spending time with Craig. He was not a talkative person but when they did speak it was to discover that restoration was only one of their shared interests. They had a common love for the music of the nineteen eighties, NASCAR racing, Mexican and Italian food and baseball. The days flew past and Tiffany had slowly let go of the hurt and anger that had nearly driven her half-insane in the early days after Steve’s desertion.
The attraction she felt for Craig grew by leaps and bounds although she did her best to squash it. Everything about him appealed to her, even the air of danger that surrounded him. She knew he had been in combat, but he did not speak about it and she did not ask him about it sensing that it was a subject that he closed for reasons of his own.
He would lean back, his thumb hooked in a belt loop of his well-fitting jeans and her eyes would be drawn to his groin. Once she caught sight of his bulge, plump and long below that cradling denim, she almost walked right into a wall.
She fantasized about him constantly, she knew that was improper on a multitude of levels but still, he drew her like a moth to the flame. Today was no exception, he had taken his shirt off while chipping away the many layers of paint that had accumulated on the house over the years, and his strong chest glowed with a patina of sweat that made her heart race in an alarming way.
He was muscular but not bulky, he had not earned his body in a gym but on the roads running and through hard physical labor. Every time she looked at him she thought of Steve and his vanity, his habit of working out for two hours a day so that his body stayed in perfect shape, and the habit he had always had of nagging her about her weight.
Steve had left her insecure, a fact she hated to admit but couldn’t deny. He had been hyper critical of her natural curves, he had always wanted her to try some extreme diet or workout for hours on end, and she had always refused—something else he had pointed out in his poisonous little goodbye missive.
She saw the occasional looks that Craig shot at her, and there never seemed to be a hint of disapproval in his face. To economize Tiffany brown bagged her lunch, and to her relief Craig did as well. They often sat sprawled out against the low rock wall of the garden sharing each other’s food and Craig never once suggested that perhaps a little cottage cheese and water would be better for her than the thick sandwiches she preferred.
“You beat me here today!”
Craig replied, “I did. I cannot have my employee making me look bad. Besides, it is supposed to be in the nineties by noon so we need to be inside the house before then. Are those Krispy Kreme doughnuts in that bag you are holding?”
“They are, and the hot sign was on. I got a half dozen of different kinds. I have glazed, chocolate glazed, crème filled and jelly.”
“Not the jelly,” Craig actually shuddered, making her laugh. It felt good to laugh, and laughter came naturally to her a lot lately.
“Not a fan of jelly huh?”
“Not at all, if you want smashed fruit why not just toss an apple on the ground then eat it?”
“Speaking of apples on the ground, did you see the apple trees by the wall?”
Craig took the crème-filled doughnut she extended and took a healthy bite. “Yeah, they look like they could be saved. Or at least some of them could be. I cannot believe that this house sat abandoned for so many years.”
They both looked behind them at the house—a sprawling Victorian mansion set in a vast lot in the middle of the city; it had seen much throughout its life. It had begun as a plantation then it became a boardinghouse, after that a fire took part of the lower floor and it sat empty for many years until it was bought by a couple who wanted to open a bed and breakfast within its walls. As the house was not far from the beach it would have made sense but the repairs had ultimately proven too costly and they had sold it. It had changed hands several times, going through phases as the neighborhood around it crumbled then went through an urban renewal and gentrification phase. It had been empty for nearly a decade and it showed but the bones were still beautiful, and both Craig and Tiffany could see how lovely it would be when it was finished.
Craig turned his head to ask her a question and she looked up at him. The sugar on her lips and fingertips sparkled in the sun and his cock stiffened yet again. But this time he saw the pulse at the base of her throat leap, saw her nipples dwindle into tiny stiff points and her eyes darken with desire.
Tiffany’s heartbeat accelerated so fast it hurt her chest walls. She stood, still clutching her doughnut and mumbled something then fled into the house. She leaned against one wall, grateful for the dimness and slightly cooler air within the house.
It did not stay cool for long. Craig walked in and asked, “Are you okay?”
Tiffany’s eyes went to the slim band of paler flesh that showed right above the waistband of his jeans. Her nipples grew even harder, aching with need and she tried to speak but all that came out was a soft groan.
Craig crossed the distance between them, his body pressed against hers and the wall scraped her back through her shirt. His mouth sealed hers shut in a tender but savage kiss that left her knees shaking and her pussy throbbing, slick with fluids and an incredibly empty feeling.
Her hands came out and she tugged at the buttons on his jeans, desperate to feel him. His thick staff filled her palm; hot, solid and heavy. His hips thrust forward and she squeezed her fist, tightening her fingers around him while her thumb rubbed the slick drop of juice that spilled from across the engorged helmet.
The kiss went on, deepened and his hands pushed her shirt up. Her breasts were exposed, his fingers on her nipples, tugging and twisting just slightly in a move that was both terribly exciting and painful all at once. Tiffany moaned, her ass quivering as his mouth left hers and traveled to her nipples. His lips tightened around the sensitive buds while his tongue flicked across them.
Craig moved back and spun her around. Tiffany gasped as his hands yanked her jeans down, and pulled her ass upward and back. Her fingers curled into a rotten section of sheetrock, crumbling it to dust as he gently smacked her ass cheeks, eliciting a reaction she had never known before.
Lust, primitive and demanding, spiraled up in her belly. She surrendered totally, pushing her ass back further and he hit her harder, making her flesh jiggle and her pussy run with juices that spilled down the insides of her thighs.
The paint stirrer lay on the bucket, still new and clean. Craig grabbed it and began to apply the thin wooden length to her buttocks. Tiffany shrieked and writhed, her fingers crumbling away more of the wall as an orgasm tore through her.
Craig spun her back to face him and once more his mouth took possession of hers. Their tongues twisted together and Tiffany kicked her jeans and panties off, leaving them dangling from one foot but she did not notice.
Craig picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his trim waist, her hands wrapped around his neck and his cock bumped against the soaked entrance to her swollen channel. Her back arched as she slid down his rigid organ. He filled her completely in a way she had never been filled before and she whimpered as her slippery walls seized up around his prick and held him tightly within her.
It did not last long; they were both too consumed by the unspoken desire that had lain between them since the day that they had met. Craig arched his hips and drove into her, she met his every thrust with her own, and his hands held her legs so that she would not fall.
A second orgasm, smaller but still intense, swept through Tiffany as Craig’s cock pulsed within her. His sticky seed spilled out, and mingled with her juices. They stayed there, entwined and not speaking, for a long moment.
The silence was broken by the sound of a car horn. The owner of the house was there and looking for them. They scrambled into their clothes, laughing like teenagers. Tiffany had trouble keeping her face straight when she looked down just in time to see her panties kicking merrily alongside her right foot. She yanked them up and stuffed them in her pocket before the homeowner could see them but not before Craig did, and to her delight he actually checked the ground around his own feet.
They were saved from what would have been an awkward conversation by the arrival of not just the owner but the crew Craig had hired for the flooring work so the day ended without them having any time alone. Tiffany went home without regretting what had happened, but not sure what Craig felt about it.
**
Tiffany groaned as she collected her mail and saw the letter from her car’s finance company. Steve had been smart, he took the car, and while he could do so legally as it was community property that did not mean he had to pay for it. It was in her name, and it was her credit on the line. She had filed for legal separation as soon as she realized he was busy running up their joint credit cards but she was still stuck with the bill for a very expensive trip to Cancun for him and Carol as well as the cost of other things that he had charged before she had seen the bills. Now she was also stuck paying off a car she could not even find long enough to drive.
The frustration she felt right then took her mind off Craig and the encounter that they had shared that afternoon, which was a short-lived relief. She opened a letter from a lawyer and read it, her eyes going wide with shock.
“That bastard!” Tiffany yelled, “He is suing me for alimony? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?”
The letter said nothing; it just lay crumpled on the counter where she had tossed it. Tiffany grabbed it, smoothed it out, and read it again. Her blood pressure soared and her anger rose right along with it.
Her cell rang and she grabbed it, not looking at the screen. She knew it was Steve; she just had a gut feeling it was so she answered in the coldest voice she could summon to keep from screaming at him at the top of her lungs.
“Hello Tiffany, Lou Grant here.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about rejoining Koehler.”
The world spun crazily. Last month she would have said yes and danced a crazy little jig on her floor, and she knew she should do that very thing right now but her feet were rooted to the floor.
She managed to parrot out, “You want to talk to me about rejoining Koehler?”
Lou’s smug chuckle grated on her eardrums, “I know it is coming out of the blue but we had a meeting yesterday and after reviewing all the work in the office it seems perhaps we laid off the wrong person. Now, please bear in mind that one of the considerations was salary so that means you would have to be willing to accept a lesser salary…”
Her voice was past cold, it was icy. “How much less?”
He cleared his throat, “Ten thousand dollars and your benefits would be reduced as well.”
That would still be more money than she was making with Craig. Her eyes went back to the letter from the attorney, the bill from her finance company and to the nearly empty refrigerator. She closed her eyes and put her hand up to her forehead, wondering if she were losing her mind and this was all just a hallucination brought on by stress.
She should take it. As it was, she was barely able to make it, if a judge ordered her to pay alimony she would not be able to keep her head above water. That thought brought a pang, to take Lou’s offer meant not just leaving a project that she was heavily invested in emotionally and physically, it meant leaving Craig.
But was that so bad? She barely knew him, after all. One tryst did not make a romance and three weeks of employment hardly called for her loyalty. He had known she would leave eventually.
“Tiffany? Are you there?”
“Yes, I am here.”
“I know it is a lot to take in but I need an answer and I need it fast. You were the first person on my list but there were three people laid off and I know either of the other two would jump at the chance.”
Tiffany did not doubt that. She tapped a finger on the alimony letter, glaring at the sum spelled out, and wondering how many more nights of Ramen noodles mixed with frozen peas she could stand.
Logically speaking she had everything to gain from going back to work at Koehler’s, and nothing to gain from leaving Craig. Except Craig, that was.
Was she willing to risk everything on a romance that had just begun and might turn out to be nothing?
Tiffany looked down at the newspaper she had brought in with her mail, her forehead wrinkled with thought. Her body cried out in pleasure at the memory of his touch, her tender ass cheeks still stung slightly from the spanking he had administered and the thought of that made her nipples grow taut and hard.
Sex did not play the bills though, if it had been able to Steve would have made them millionaires in their early days.
“Tiffany, I would like to give you more time to think about this but I need your decision,” Lou said.
Tiffany opened her mouth to speak.