Authors: Cydney Michele; Rax Lutishia; Grant Lovely
Crush (9 page)
Wanted: You
Lutishia Lovely
1
Lois Edwards’s jaw dropped, as did the paper from her hand. She surreptitiously looked around, as if her mother was lurking in the office and would catch and then chide her for reading porn. There’s no other way to describe the contents of the note she’d hastily thrown on her desk, the note that even now silently taunted her to be picked up and read again.
Lois looked at the clock: 8:45. She always came in to work early, especially on Mondays. Her boss, whose weekend mail she was opening and to whom the letter was addressed, wouldn’t be in until 9:00, at the earliest. There was no one else around. Her heartbeat quickened as she picked up the paper and read the letter again:
Dear Chaz:
You don’t know me, well, not really. But that’s neither here nor there when it comes to why I’m writing.
I’m writing because, simply put, I can’t get you out of my mind. This morning, while in the shower, I imagined you there with me, hard and naked. I imagined your thick shaft pulsating inside me, envisioned taking you full into my mouth. The water ran all over my body, and I imagined each drop was your tongue. I fingered my nipples, my nub, but in my mind, it was your hands that touched me. Chaz Covington, I want you. There, I’ve said it. And I won’t take it back. One of these days, maybe my dream will come true.
Signed, Yours
Lois crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash. “That’s where you belong,” she hissed under her breath, rubbing her hands against her slacks as if the words she’d read had soiled them.
Mr. Covington doesn’t need to know about this.
With resolve, she continued opening mail.
Mr. Covington doesn’t need to know about this.
With resolve, she continued opening mail.
Lois had worked for Chaz Covington, the handsome, prominent thirty-nine-year-old attorney representing the poor and downtrodden in the state of Illinois, for two years. Her admiration bordered on idolatry, and where Chaz was concerned, she was loyal to a fault. He was constantly fending off interested females and Lois counted protecting him from these predators one of her duties—along with typing, filing, and opening mail. “They ought to be ashamed,” she muttered, unaware of her facial expression or that she’d spoken out loud.
“That frown is fierce, girlfriend. Must have been some weekend.”
Lois jumped. She hadn’t heard her co-worker come in. “Hi, Gina.”
Please keep walking. You’re the last person I feel like talking to right now.
Please keep walking. You’re the last person I feel like talking to right now.
“So what happened? Bad date? Oh, but wait. I forgot. You don’t date.” Gina Perez obviously didn’t get the telepathically sent “keep it moving” message. She perched her perfectly round, silk-covered derriere on the edge of Lois’s desk, her flawlessly made-up face still beautiful despite the smirk.
“I’m fine, just busy. You know how Mondays are.” Lois underscored this statement and discouraged further conversation by turning on the shredder and feeding a pile of junk mail into the device. While she watched the paper being cut into miniscule pieces, she thought of the letter that needed to be obliterated as well.
“I know who’ll put a smile on your face,” Gina whispered conspiratorially, nodding in the direction of Chaz’s office. “And one of these days . . . I’d like to put a smile on his.” She slid off Lois’s desk and continued down the hall, her waist-length hair swaying from side to side, much like her hips.
Lois’s eyes narrowed as she watched Gina sashay to the break room, looking as if she’d slid off a page in a fashion magazine. Her thick ebony hair glistened with dark auburn highlights, complementing the tangerine-colored suit that Lois felt fit much too snugly for the workplace.
And how does she walk in those heels?
One step in what she assumed were four-inch stilettos, and Lois knew she would keel right over. When she’d dressed for work this morning, Lois felt that her pink, polka-dotted, button-down blouse—a nod to the arrival of spring and the unseasonably high seventy-degree March morning—navy slacks, and sensible loafers were quite adequate. But with the whiff of Gina’s floral perfume still tickling her nose, she now felt unfeminine, and underdressed.
And how does she walk in those heels?
One step in what she assumed were four-inch stilettos, and Lois knew she would keel right over. When she’d dressed for work this morning, Lois felt that her pink, polka-dotted, button-down blouse—a nod to the arrival of spring and the unseasonably high seventy-degree March morning—navy slacks, and sensible loafers were quite adequate. But with the whiff of Gina’s floral perfume still tickling her nose, she now felt unfeminine, and underdressed.
Lois’s eyes followed Gina until she’d turned the corner. She thought of the note lying in the bottom of the trash can, and thought that someone like Gina, who exuded sex appeal along with tons of confidence, could write something like that. Something bodacious and crass and . . . nasty. Her co-worker was always talking about men and Lois’s boss was the man Gina talked about the most. “I’d do him in a heartbeat,” she regularly admitted. Lois’s face showed her disgust. She believed she’d just read exactly how Gina would “do” him.
After fishing the note from the wastebasket, Lois hurried to the restroom.
I’ll flush it down the toilet . . . make sure no one else reads it.
Passing the mirror on the way to a stall, she saw her reflection and stopped.
I’ll flush it down the toilet . . . make sure no one else reads it.
Passing the mirror on the way to a stall, she saw her reflection and stopped.
She stepped toward the glass, put a hand to her face. Her fingers idly stroked the smooth tanned skin, thin lips, and puffy cheeks. She stepped back, cocked her head, and saw breasts that were too small and hips that were too big.
I’m average-looking,
she concluded, before going into a stall and flushing the note. “Average, but decent,” she whispered, watching the torn paper pieces swirl around and go down the toilet.
And probably the only thirty-one-year-old virgin in Chicago.
A virgin whose body now shivered from the impact of the words contained in the note she’d just destroyed.
I’m average-looking,
she concluded, before going into a stall and flushing the note. “Average, but decent,” she whispered, watching the torn paper pieces swirl around and go down the toilet.
And probably the only thirty-one-year-old virgin in Chicago.
A virgin whose body now shivered from the impact of the words contained in the note she’d just destroyed.
2
Personal-injury attorney Chaz Covington was a household name. His television commercials were legendary: actual testimonies from rags-to-riches clients whose cases he’d won, followed by an impeccably dressed, confident-looking Chaz delivering the tagline straight into the camera:
If you don’t get paid, I don’t get paid.
Today, Chaz entered the office wearing a tailored navy suit, expensive cologne, and an award-winning smile.
If you don’t get paid, I don’t get paid.
Today, Chaz entered the office wearing a tailored navy suit, expensive cologne, and an award-winning smile.
“Good morning, boss,” Gina said, not even trying to hide her lust.
“Good morning, Gina,” Chaz replied, with a wink.
“Good morning, Mr. Covington.” Lois’s face was somber as she handed Chaz his mail. “I’ll get your coffee.”
“Make it green tea,” Chaz replied. When Lois looked questioningly in his direction—because she couldn’t look him in the eye—he added, “Trying to cut down on the caffeine.” Chaz took a step toward his office and then turned around. “Are you all right, Lois?”
“Uh, sure, Mr. Covington. Why do you ask?”
Because you can’t look at me,
is what he thought. “Just checking,” is what he said, accompanied by his signature killer smile. He looked intently at Lois another moment. “On second thought, I’ll skip the tea for now. Come into my office and give me today’s schedule.”
is what he thought. “Just checking,” is what he said, accompanied by his signature killer smile. He looked intently at Lois another moment. “On second thought, I’ll skip the tea for now. Come into my office and give me today’s schedule.”
Lois grabbed her iPad and followed Chaz into his office, noting a broad back and long legs that supported a six-foot-two-inch, mocha-colored frame. She took deep breaths to still her pounding heart and tried to put a casual look on her face, to act as if it was just another Monday—business as usual. A difficult task, since every time she looked at Chaz, she saw the acts described in the letter she’d destroyed.
“What are we looking at so far?” Chaz asked. Always the multitasker, he turned on his computer and checked e-mails while listening.
“You have two conference calls and a Skype meeting with the litigator for the Jimenez case,” Lois began, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “The interview with Roy Jones is scheduled for one o’clock this afternoon—”
“Police-chase victim, correct?” Chaz scrolled through his e-mails, deleting several without opening them.
“Yes,” Lois answered. “And then there’s the celebratory meeting with Mrs. Smith at three o’clock.” Delicia Smith had been severely injured due to a machine malfunction at the plastics manufacturing company where she’d worked. She’d lost the use of her left hand, but gained two and a half million dollars.
“Did you order the champagne?” Chaz clicked on another e-mail, his finger hovering over the DELETE button as he scanned its contents. “What the . . .” Chaz sat up and straightened an already perfectly aligned designer tie.
Lois’s heart raced.
Did the person who sent the nasty letter e-mail him, too?
The ringing office phone interrupted her thoughts. She reached over and picked up the call from Chaz’s desk. “Covington Law Offices, this is Lois. How may I help you?” She paused. “One moment, please.” Lois put the call on hold. “It’s Jennifer.”
Did the person who sent the nasty letter e-mail him, too?
The ringing office phone interrupted her thoughts. She reached over and picked up the call from Chaz’s desk. “Covington Law Offices, this is Lois. How may I help you?” She paused. “One moment, please.” Lois put the call on hold. “It’s Jennifer.”
At the mention of his ex-wife, a light frown scampered across Chaz’s face. He’d just seen her yesterday, when he dropped off their children.
What does she want now?
He nodded curtly at Lois, who gave him the phone.
What does she want now?
He nodded curtly at Lois, who gave him the phone.
Soon, Chaz’s one-sided conversation was drowned out by Lois’s thoughts.
It could be Jennifer who sent it. Everybody knows she’s still in love with him.
Lois had never cared for Chaz’s ex-wife, and never bought the demure persona Jennifer tried to convey. She knew the truth: that at one time Jennifer Lawton Covington had been a “hostess” at a gentlemen’s club. That’s how she’d met Chaz. Lois believed that “ho” may have been a more accurate description, even though, being the church-going person that she was, she tried not to judge. Chaz’s second line began blinking, and Lois hurried to her desk to answer the call.
It could be Jennifer who sent it. Everybody knows she’s still in love with him.
Lois had never cared for Chaz’s ex-wife, and never bought the demure persona Jennifer tried to convey. She knew the truth: that at one time Jennifer Lawton Covington had been a “hostess” at a gentlemen’s club. That’s how she’d met Chaz. Lois believed that “ho” may have been a more accurate description, even though, being the church-going person that she was, she tried not to judge. Chaz’s second line began blinking, and Lois hurried to her desk to answer the call.
“Elizabeth Stein for Chaz Covington,” Liz’s assistant chirped into the phone.
“Hi, Melanie,” Lois answered, rolling her eyes. Elizabeth Owens Stein was the pampered and prideful daughter of Chicago real estate mogul Kenneth Owens. Stunningly beautiful, with bountiful blonde hair, turquoise blue eyes, and a model’s physique, she and Chaz had met at a charity event a year ago. She’d been trying to make herself a permanent fixture in his life ever since. “Mr. Covington is on the other line.”
“Hold on a moment.” After Melanie relayed this information to her boss, Elizabeth came on the line.
“Tell him it’s me,” Elizabeth said with authority.
I’d rather not.
“Hello, Mrs. Stein.” Lois almost choked on the respectful greeting. “Mr. Covington is on an important call at the moment. Is there some way I can help you, or a message I can relay?”
“Hello, Mrs. Stein.” Lois almost choked on the respectful greeting. “Mr. Covington is on an important call at the moment. Is there some way I can help you, or a message I can relay?”
“Look, you simpleton, the only thing you can do for me is get your boss on the phone. Now!”
“If you can wait one moment, Mrs. . . .” The sound of a click in her ear told Lois that Elizabeth had hung up the phone. Lois rushed back into Chaz’s office, sure that his cell phone would ring within seconds. She was right.
“Jen, I need to run.” Chaz ended the call on the office line and reached for his cell at the same time. He looked at the number, waited a beat, and then answered. “Hey, beautiful.”
Lois almost flinched at hearing the endearment.
That’s why you’re always knee-deep in women problems, Mr. Covington. You’re a big flirt!
Chaz routinely addressed women as “beautiful,” “lovely,” “gorgeous,” and with other terms of endearment. From another man, these words might be considered chauvinistic, inappropriate for the workplace. But from Chaz, they were embraced as the highest form of flattery.
That’s why you’re always knee-deep in women problems, Mr. Covington. You’re a big flirt!
Chaz routinely addressed women as “beautiful,” “lovely,” “gorgeous,” and with other terms of endearment. From another man, these words might be considered chauvinistic, inappropriate for the workplace. But from Chaz, they were embraced as the highest form of flattery.
“She spoke correctly, Liz. I
am
on a call, and have a conference call starting in ten minutes. Lois is just doing her job, trying to keep me on track.” Chaz winked at Lois, who quickly averted her eyes. “No, it’s busy all day, but I’ll call you back if I get a minute.
am
on a call, and have a conference call starting in ten minutes. Lois is just doing her job, trying to keep me on track.” Chaz winked at Lois, who quickly averted her eyes. “No, it’s busy all day, but I’ll call you back if I get a minute.
“Another Monday, another round of madness,” Chaz continued when he got off the phone. “Look, finish going through my e-mails and let me know if there’s anything urgent. Oh, I probably should tell you that I just deleted a rather provocative one. It was probably an isolated incident, but I’m aware of your religious convictions and felt you should be forewarned. If you run across another one, just delete it.”
“Some women have no shame,” Lois said softly. “I’ll promptly delete every single one of them.”
“On second thought, you might want to save them in a folder. Like I said, it’s probably nothing, but on the other hand, this could be a potential stalker.”
Lois’s eyes widened.
“Just kidding, Lois. About the stalker, that is. But if these e-mails turn into a form of harassment, I’ll want to have kept track of the evidence.”
Lois hesitated, wondering if she should tell Chaz about the letter she’d flushed.
But like Mr. Covington said, it’s probably nothing; just some bored bimbo who’s seen him on TV.
But like Mr. Covington said, it’s probably nothing; just some bored bimbo who’s seen him on TV.
Chaz, who’d swiveled around to retrieve a case from his back table, was surprised when he turned back to the desk and saw Lois still standing there. “Is there something else, Lois?” he asked, remembering her fidgety demeanor when he’d first arrived at the office.
“Uh, no, Mr. Covington.” Lois quickly left his office and headed for the bottle of aspirin at her desk. It was definitely going to be one of those days. Before she could retrieve it, the phone rang again. “For the love of God,” she murmured when she saw the number on the caller ID. She forced a smile to her voice as she answered.
“It’s me again!” Melanie said laughing, accurately visualizing the scowl on Lois’s face.
“What’s the witch want now?” Lois asked, in a whisper. Melanie’s mirth was contagious; Lois smiled for the first time that day. She’d never met Melanie McDougal, but they’d developed a phone friendship based on their mutual despising of Melanie’s boss, Liz Stein—or Elizabeth, as everyone who didn’t call her “Mrs. Stein” was instructed to address her. Everyone, that is, except Chaz.
“Mrs. Stein would like to see if Mr. Covington is available for a dinner meeting, tonight if possible.” Melanie’s ultraprofessional delivery alerted Lois that Mrs. Stein was either standing directly in front of Melanie, or had come within earshot.
“One moment, please,” Lois replied, matching Melanie’s professionalism. She clicked onto Chaz’s calendar. “His first available evening isn’t until Thursday.”
After placing Lois on hold for a moment, Melanie replied, “Mrs. Stein would like to know if this evening’s appointment can be rescheduled. She would like Mr. Covington to meet a potential major donor for his foundation. He’s only in town for one day. She asks to be called back ASAP.”
“Will do, Melanie.” Lois ended the call, moved Chaz’s appointment with his accountant to Thursday, and placed Elizabeth’s dinner meeting in its place. Next to defending those who’d been injured or wrongfully terminated, Chaz’s foundation was his passion. He’d founded From the Heart five years prior, after losing his mother to a heart disease that went undiagnosed for years. Lois knew that meeting with a potential donor would take precedence over Chaz’s monthly examination of the meticulous books maintained by his personal accountant. She knew that Elizabeth was also aware of the foundation’s importance in Chaz’s life. Which is why this shrewd, determined woman had played the heart card.
After returning from the break room with a bottle of water and downing four aspirin, Lois once again tried to concentrate on work. But all she could think of was the letter, and who could have written it. Almost every female she’d encountered today, either by phone or in person, could be the culprit. Initially, Lois had been convinced it was Gina. She worked in the office, was always flirting with Chaz, and made no secret to Lois that she wanted to sex her boss. But Chaz’s ex-wife, Jennifer, still believed she could win back the husband she’d lost after having an affair. Melanie had told Lois that Elizabeth Stein’s marriage was a sham. Maybe she was considering divorce, and eyeing one of Chicago’s most eligible divorcés as her next prospect.
They’d make a gorgeous couple,
Lois begrudgingly thought. Elizabeth could walk the runway at fashion week, and Chaz looked like a leading man.
Maybe she wrote the letter. But why be anonymous?
As Lois opened a file and began typing up the latest brief regarding a hit-and-run, questions about the letter-writer’s identity continued to swirl in her mind. But she was sure of one thing: protecting her boss and his reputation from she-wolves was part of her job. And when it came to doing her duty . . . Lois Edwards was on the case.
They’d make a gorgeous couple,
Lois begrudgingly thought. Elizabeth could walk the runway at fashion week, and Chaz looked like a leading man.
Maybe she wrote the letter. But why be anonymous?
As Lois opened a file and began typing up the latest brief regarding a hit-and-run, questions about the letter-writer’s identity continued to swirl in her mind. But she was sure of one thing: protecting her boss and his reputation from she-wolves was part of her job. And when it came to doing her duty . . . Lois Edwards was on the case.
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