Falling for Fate (33 page)

“I’m not usually one to order dessert with lunch, but I have no willpower when it comes to chocolate. Want to get something and share?”

Dean glanced at the menu even though he knew it by heart. He nodded to the waiter and pointed to the dessert he thought Fate would like the best once the guy had come over.

“I know you like to order for yourself.” She’d made this very clear when they had ordered dinner. “But there’s only one dessert with chocolate worthy of your taste buds.”

Fate smiled. “Strangely, I don’t mind you ordering for me. It just used to be a…a pet peeve of mine, I guess.” She didn’t elaborate, but a hint of that world-wounded pain softened her eyes.

“Well, I’ll try not to do it anymore if I can help it.” Dean drew her attention to the back patio doors behind her. “See those boats out there? One of them is mine.”

Fate looked over her shoulder then back at him. “Oh yeah? Which one?”

“You can’t see it from here. It’s one of the smaller ones on the end, slightly less ostentatious than the rest of what I own. It’s called The Wishing Star.”

Fate paled several shades, the mirth from her enjoyment of their food fading instantly. “You don’t say?”

Her hand trembled when she retrieved her wine glass from the table.

Dean watched her cautiously. He wondered if maybe she wasn’t crazy about boats and he should forgo his plan for brunch tomorrow. “It was just something my mom and I used to do when I was a kid. I got a scholarship to NYU and invested the money I’d saved to attend. I’d always wished on stars for a boat, so when I’d made enough money from investments to buy one, seemed like the only fitting name.”

Fate chugged the remaining blush-colored liquid in her glass. “Makes sense. My mom and I used to do the same thing. Wish on stars, I mean.”

“Ever been on one?” Dean’s curiosity at her odd reaction intensified.

Fate shook her head. “No. I was supposed to go on a cruise…once. But that didn’t work out.”

“I’d like to take you on it tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

She nodded, but her smile wasn’t as genuine as the ones that had come before. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Dean was thankful that their dessert arrived when it did. Fate’s eyes went wide as the chocolate soufflé torte with raspberry sauce was placed on the table in front of her. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying her appreciation of food.

“It’s almost too pretty to eat,” she said with reverence lifting her voice. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Dean grabbed a fork, making sure to get torte, sauce, and a raspberry on it. “Here. I think it’s important to get the whole experience.”

Fate opened her mouth, but her eyes were wary. He wondered if being fed was a pet peeve like the ordering. Oh well. It was too late now.

Once the dessert had entered her mouth, she closed her lips around the fork and the wariness in her eyes turned to a heat-fueled, satiated gratification.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, licking a drizzle of sauce that escaped before covering her mouth with her hand. “That was almost better than sex. No offense.”

Dean accepted the challenge. “In that case, I guess I’ll have to work a little harder.”

As if he’d flipped a switch, Fate’s interest in the dessert shifted to him. “Then we should probably get back to the beach house.”

She could feel it too then, the ticking clock counting down their remaining moments together. He heard the urgency in her voice.

“Finish your dessert, baby. Then I’ll take you home and you can be my dessert.”

“I’ll take it to go.”

“Works for me.” Dean signaled the waiter again.

Within a few minutes, he had the pasta he’d ordered for their dinner later, an extra take-home box for Fate’s chocolate torte, and the check.

They’d barely made it to the car when his phone began the relentless intervals of buzzing from an incoming call and chiming of the voicemail notification.

“Maybe you should answer it,” Fate suggested softly.

Dean continued to ignore it while opening her door. “It’ll keep.” Whatever had his dad so determined to reach him wasn’t likely to change between now and tomorrow. “Want to grab some wine or something on the way home?”

Home?
Oh shit. He’d definitely said ‘home.’ Home was in Manhattan. In separate apartments. He’d meant the beach house.

Fuck.

The phone had thrown him off-kilter and he’d called the beach house home.

He pulled into the wine and handmade gifts store parking lot mid-panic attack. This was exactly what Keaton had warned him about. Playing house with Fate for the weekend was dangerous. For the both of them.

“Sure. I really liked the—”

“You know what? I’ll just let you run in and grab some while I return this call. That all right with you?”

“Wine we had with lunch,” Fate finished despite his rude interruption. “And that’s fine, Dean. Wine I can handle. Be right back.”

He watched her exit the car knowing he’d done it again. The Dean Maxwell Bipolar Express, she’d called it. He’d yanked Fate aboard for a hot-and-cold ride in which his feelings swung from one end of the spectrum to the other without warning.

He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to keep her. He didn’t deserve her, but holy mother of hell, he was falling in fucking love with her.

How did I let this happen?

Dean took a deep breath once she’d disappeared into the store. She held a part of him, had taken it that first night they met and it had belonged to her ever since. Without her, without the piece of him she held, he felt incomplete.

The buzzing in his hand redirected his attention to his phone. Keaton this time. Dean answered, hoping maybe his friend could give him some insight into why his dad was blowing up his phone.

“Miss me?”

Keaton’s laughter filled the line. “Like I’d miss a case of genital warts.”

“Words can hurt, man. What’s up?”

“Other than my dick, not a whole lot. I was actually calling to see if you’d proposed yet. Gwen and I have a pool going and there’s a lot of money on the line. If you could get on it, say, before midnight tonight, you’d really be helping a brother out.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re welcome. So proposals aside, how is it going? Did you two crazy kids reenact the night on the beach yet?”

“First of all, it’s barely seventy degrees here. And secondly, you’re walking a fine line between making conversation and earning an ass kicking.”

Keaton full out laughed at Dean’s threat. “I’ll take that as a no. In any case, I’m actually calling to let you know that your dad has been doing some investigating. I gave him the runaround when he called me, but I’d say he’s figured out what—or who, rather—inspired the new company mental health benefit program by now.”

“And how exactly did
you
figure it out?” Dean was pretty sure Fate didn’t go around broadcasting the situation with her mother.

“Well…I know the future Mrs. Maxwell’s roommate in a biblical sense. Your current weekend companion received some mail from a rehab facility in Dallas yesterday. I’ve never known you to have a specific interest in providing additional mental health benefits for employees until now. Also, I can do simple math.”

“I looked into it. Several other companies offer similar programs. It’s a reasonable—”

“Save the explanation for your pops, man. I don’t care if you let your dick make your professional decisions. Sometimes, it seems to be a little brighter than you anyway.”

“You’re hilarious, Slade.”

“I was being serious, Maxwell. In all honesty, maybe you should just lay it out there. Let your dad know that this is the real deal with this chick. He’s plowed half his support staff. You know that as well as anyone. What can he really do to you?”

Fire me. Take my title, my job, and my livelihood.

His dad could do a lot of negative shit to him. He’d threatened him with it enough times during college that Dean knew he was serious.

A beeping sound interrupted their conversation before Dean could answer. He pulled the phone from his ear to glance at the screen.

“That’s him calling me now. I should answer.”

“Enjoy your weekend. Don’t let the man get you down.”

“Hey, Keaton?”

“Yeah?”

“What makes you so sure this chick is ‘the real deal’?” Dean asked, quoting his friend directly.

“The short answer?”

Dean grunted in response as the phone continued to signal that he had another call.

Keaton took a breath that was audible through the line. “You were different after last summer. Which, hell, was great for me because you stopped snatching up all the beautiful women in your path and they were happy to have me as a consolation prize. But everyone can see it—the possessive way you watch her at work, like she belongs to you. Trust me, it isn’t the bullshit company policy that’s keeping guys from asking her out. It’s you, caveman.”

Dean felt the familiar constriction in his chest. “I gotta go, man. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Later.”

Dean stabbed the button on the screen to end Keaton’s call and answer his dad.

“Dad,” he greeted his caller stoically. “Something I can help you with?”

“I know where you are, Dean,” his father responded gruffly. “And I know she’s with you. I’m going to tell you one time and one time only—this will end badly.”

Dean snorted. “I didn’t realize you were so interested in my personal life. Speaking of personal lives, how was dinner with Brynn last weekend?”

Two could play at this game. He knew that Brynn had likely been the one to tell his father he was here and describe his guest. But that was a two-way street, and if Daniel Maxwell was going to make threats, Dean had some shit he’d kept to himself that he was more than ready to reveal.

“You may not believe me, son, but I have your best interest at heart. There is a reason I enforce the company policy strictly even though I don’t adhere to it.
I
can handle the fallout and I’m very selective about who I break the rules with. There’s an NDA involved before I move past any boundaries with anyone. Did you have Fate Buchanan sign one before you took her to the beach house?”

It was the first time his dad had openly admitted his own transgressions. His honesty left Dean at a loss for words.

“Look at it this way, Dean. Say you return from your weekend getaway and things just don’t work out. Maybe Ms. Buchanan now feels uncomfortable at work. Maybe she decides she needs the money but can’t deal with being in such close proximity to you every day. Then what? How long until she sues you for sexual harassment—or worse?”

“She’s not like that.”

His dad huffed out a breath. “They never are, son. Until their heart gets broken and there’s money to be made. I learned the hard way. I’m hoping you won’t have to. Hell hath no fury, Dean.”

“This is the difference between you and me, Dad. You might be better at choosing women willing to sign your papers and accept your legal stipulations, but I chose one who actually gives a damn about her job and her reputation.”

And me
, his subconscious added. Fate wouldn’t do anything like that to him. He was almost positive she wouldn’t.

“Dean. Listen to me. Please. I understand where you’re coming from. I do. But you need to end this little flirtation now before it gets out of hand. The company is at a point of major transition involving shareholders, and the competition is only getting stronger. It wouldn’t make it through a sex scandal involving the CEO’s son. Either you end it or I will.”

Anger boiled to the surface, up in to Dean’s throat and out his mouth. “Do not fucking threaten to fire her. She needs this job and she’s damn good at it.”

His words were met with silence. Then a sigh.

“Fine. I won’t fire her. Keep this up and I’ll fire
you
.”

The line went dead. So did any hope Dean had of continuing what he and Fate had beyond tomorrow.