How to Kill Your Boss (16 page)

I’d given up on that fantasy years ago. It was too painful to get excited over a guy, to enjoy a date, get my hopes up, then sit by the phone for days and days, waiting for the call that would never come.

One-Date Tate.

Nope. Wasn’t for me.

Not until Franklin Reed.

Through the foggy glass, I admired his form, watched him lather-up from neck to knees. My cheeks warmed when he reached down to wash his privates. Heat rolled under my skin when he fisted his sex and stroked the full length, then lifted it against his tight belly to clean the boys underneath. Who knew such a common act could be so titillating to witness?

“Are you enjoying the show?” he asked. His words bounced off the tiled walls, vibrating every cell of my body.

Oh shoot. Busted.

I bent to pick up his disheveled shirt. “Um, I’m picking up your clothes. Don’t want them to get wrinkled.” Jeez. Could I have sounded any more ridiculous?

A deep, throaty laugh boomed inside the glass enclosure.

I jetted out of there and searched for space in my closet to hang his things. Wow. Did I put them in mine or the guest bedroom? How would this work? I’d never had a roommate, let alone a live-in lover.

When he dropped the bomb he’d be here on a permanent basis, I didn’t protest for a few reasons. One—because his magic wand cast a seductive spell deep inside my womb, rendering me dependent on his touch. Two—after spending two seconds with Franklin, you want him permanently attached to your side. And three—he was right. It would be safer, at least until the stalker was caught and people stopped kicking the bucket.

Poor Wallace. What had his final moments been like? Was he scared? Did he beg and plead for his life? It wasn’t a secret that I despised the man, but despite the fact that I fantasy-killed him on a daily basis, I didn’t believe he deserved such a cruel exit from the greedy, selfish world he’d created for himself.

I hung the fine wool suit in my closet and tidied up the bedroom. Franklin came out wearing a towel and toe-curling grin. “You okay?” he asked, dropping the cloth to the floor. “Your cheeks are red.”

I threw a pillow at him. “I hate you.”

He chuckled and tugged a pair of boxer briefs over his thighs. “No, you don’t.”

“But I do. I really do.” I studied him one more time, from pecs to toes, and bit my lip to keep from grinning. “So much, in fact, that I cleaned out that dresser for you,” I teased and pointed to the antique chest of drawers in the corner of my room. I wanted to tear my clothes off and tackle him to the floor. My skin tingled just thinking about it. I’d become a sex fiend. Shaking my head, I drew a mind-clearing breath and headed for the kitchen.

Franklin appeared a few minutes later, buffed and shined. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch. “If you’re serious about doing this, we need to talk.”

He sat and yanked me into his lap. “You’re worried?”

I nodded. Was it that obvious?

“That we won’t get along?” he asked, with a cocky smirk and a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“That’s one thing.”

“What else? Throw it at me.”

“This thing we have going.” I waved my hand back and forth between us. “It’s amazing. I mean, blowing my mind amazing. But what if we’re only experiencing that short period of bliss. You know, the excitement people feel when they first meet. We don’t know each other.”

His playful grin disappeared. “I know you.”

“You say that. But do you? What if I drive you insane?”

“You do.” His worry wrinkles came out to play.

“Come on, this is a huge step.” I let out an exasperated puff of air. “What happens when the lust haze wears off?”

Franklin leaned back and crossed his arms. “Are you afraid I’ll bolt?”

Bingo! Although we’d yet to have an official date, he had stuck around longer than anyone else. My luck wouldn’t hold forever. “Well, yes. No… I don’t know. Nobody moves in together after a couple of weeks. We completely skipped the whole dating phase.”

“Killer, have you ever fit in with the crowd? Have you ever conformed?”

“No.”

“Right. Neither have I. What I feel for you. This
thing
between us. It’s real for me. I’ve lived without you. I refuse to go back to that. From my end, you’ve got zilch to worry about.”

This guy couldn’t be for real. “Aren’t you worried I might freak?”

“Hell, no. And listen, if you ever feel the need to run. Don’t. I’ll catch you. I’ll drag you home and give you so many earth-shattering orgasms you’ll become a junkie for my cock. Understand?”

I had a mini orgasm listening to his threat. I wiped drool from my lip, then tried and failed to form a lucid response.

Franklin slapped my hip and stood, pulling me with him.

“We’re not done talking,” I protested.

He rolled his eyes. “We’re done.”

“Listen, Mr. Bossy Pants. I’m agreeing to this living arrangement for now.” I pretended to be in control of the situation. “It’s only temporary until things get back to normal, understand? What kind of girl would I be if I shacked up with a guy after two weeks?”

Franklin pretended to concede. “Whatever you say. Get your shoes. There’s an irate waitress waiting for me to bring you by. She’s convinced I’m an asshole. I think she spat in my beer earlier today.” Franklin bent to grab his keys off the coffee table. “Where’d that picture come from?” he asked, reaching for the photo I’d placed there earlier. He reached to pick it up, then shook his head and backed away.

“Detective Waters found it in Jacob’s apartment. That’s my dad.” I retrieved my ballet flats from under the couch and slipped them on.

“Why didn’t you show me?” he huffed.

“It slipped my mind. I don’t know who the women are, but she looks familiar.” I pointed to the blonde sitting on Dad’s lap. Franklin’s fingers stretched at his sides and curled into tight fists. Oh, good Lord, what had set him off this time? “Is something wrong?” I squeaked.

He shoved his hands in his front pockets and dropped his head. “No. Just tired.” When he looked at me again, the tension had disappeared. “Let’s go, then.”

I snatched the photo, shoved it into my pocket, and followed Franklin out the door.

* * * *

Lizzie plopped our drinks on the table and her ass in the seat, bumping my hip with a playful nudge. “I’m glad you’re here. Frankie explained what happened, but I needed to see for myself, make sure he was on the up and up.”

I smirked, struggling to hold my sex-charged joy to a low wattage. “Everything’s good.”

“Good, huh?” She studied my face, then Franklin’s, who pretended not to listen to our conversation. His mouth quivered at the corner, then relaxed.

Across the room, three women shared a plate of fries. Each of them threw seductive glances his way. He graced them with a nod, leaned back, and pressed his thigh against mine.

“We’ve been bonking like lovesick teenagers.” I blurted. Loud. On purpose. “So I think it’s safe to say, things are amazing.”

“TMI. Jeez, Tate.” Lizzie grabbed my beer and took a sip.

“Told you she was funny, Liz.” Franklin wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “I don’t think everyone in the bar heard you, Killer. You need to work on your projection,” he joked, flashing his million-dollar smile.

Lizzie laughed and scooted off the seat. “Listen, I gotta earn my paycheck”—she yanked the front of her curve-hugging tank down to reveal some impressive cleavage—“and my tips, but don’t leave. That fucker from the other night came back. I took a picture with my cell when he wasn’t paying attention.”

Franklin’s leg started to vibrate against me. He shifted, then pulled me closer. “Let’s see it.”

“It’s in my locker. I’ll bring it out on my break, ’kay?”

The sexy hunk of male next to me tensed like a lion ready to pounce. “I’d appreciate if we could see that picture sooner rather than later.” A threatening undercurrent carried the weight of his tone.

She slapped her palms on our table and leaned toward Franklin. “Listen, buddy. I don’t take to bossy, overbearing men. I’ll get it when I’m damned good and ready. Speak to me like that again, you’ll be out on your ass.” Her glare could’ve made the devil himself rattle in his boots, and she shot me a wink before strutting off. That was when I dubbed Lizzie my new best friend.

Franklin shocked me by laughing. “Damn. She’s a tough little shit.”

“I think I love her,” I replied.

“She’s holding us ransom, you know. She can grab that phone anytime she wants. The girl practically runs the damn place. The longer we’re here, the more beer we drink.”

“I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s you she wants to keep here,” I stated, remembering our conversation from the other night. Lizzie still crushed on Franklin. It was evident every time she looked at him. Did it bother me? Nah. Not a woman on earth could resist his charms.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snarled. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.” Franklin drew a deep breath and turned toward me. “I watched the parking garage video surveillance from the night the roses were left in your car.”

My stomach lurched.

“There’s approximately a thirty-minute window when the feed goes haywire. He must have left them during that time.”

“Dare I ask how you got access to the video?”

“Nathan in security owed me a favor. We also checked the number the text was sent from. Prick used a disposable cell.”

Hmm. I knew better than to push the issue. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see anymore grim on Franklin’s lovely face. Especially with his hand resting on my thigh, dangerously close to the pleasure zone.

“What do you think will happen with Cruse Investigations?” I asked, hoping to shift the mood.

His shoulders dropped, but only a tad. “Business as usual, I hope. If Wallace had any silent partners, they’ll step in. Although, I doubt that was the case. Fucker was too greedy to bring in partners.”

“Aren’t you concerned about losing your job?” I slapped my hand over his. If it traveled any higher we ran the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure or lewd acts.

He brushed a finger under my chin and studied my eyes. “No, love. You?”

I leaned in and stole a kiss. “Nah. I’m a rich bitch. Besides, I have a roommate now. I’ll raise his rent if the need arises.”

I’d never discussed my finances with Franklin, or anyone for that matter. I expected him to query me further on the subject of money, but he didn’t. “Maybe now would be a good time for me to consider higher education.”

“Yeah?” He brushed a tendril of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. Holy cow, why did we have to be in a public place? Every nerve ending in my body tingled with delight.

“Why not? It’s time I grow up and get a real job.” Unless he wanted me to be his sex slave. Now that was a career choice I could sink my teeth into.

“Doing what?” he asked, killing my brain cells one at a time with the blue electricity powering his gaze.

“That’s the problem. I don’t have a friggin’ clue.”

Franklin relaxed against the back of the chair and circled the rim of his beer mug with his index finger. “Buy the company.”

“What?” I snorted. “Are you insane?”

“Why not? Your father started it. It’d be fitting for you to take over.”

“No. Not gonna happen. I don’t have the first clue about running a company.” I could barely keep my own finances in order.

“Hear me out.” He turned toward me, resting a knee on the seat and his arm over the back. “Nan practically runs the place. Give her a promotion. She’d be thrilled to take over. Everyone there loves the shit out of you. They’d stay, just to watch you succeed.”

It took every string of self control I owned to not laugh in his face. “What would
I
do?”

“Get a bigger office. Sit there, look pretty. Dissolve the inter-office dating rule. Then we can fuck like bunnies on your big new desk in your private den.” He wiggled his thick eyebrows. “There are special perks to being the boss.”

“Jeez, Wallace hasn’t been dead twenty-four hours and we’re discussing how to take over his empire. What kind of cold-hearted creeps are we?”

“You’re right.” Franklin held his glass in the air. “To Wallace. I hated the bastard, but he was a…well, he was….”

I jumped in to ease his torture. “To Wallace.” I tapped my glass against his, downed the rest of its contents in one long swig, and slammed my mug on the table. “Wench. Another round,” I shouted to Lizzie.

She smiled and pointed her middle finger to the sky.

“Maybe I could work here,” I teased. “Lizzie and I would make a great team.”

“Hell, no. You think I’d let you loose in a bar full of drunk assholes? Over my dead fucking body.”

Overbearing? Yes he was. “You know, it’s creepy how much like my dad you are.”

His grin morphed from playful to woeful. My heart deflated.

“Tell me. How are we alike?” He grabbed my hand and squeezed.

“He’d move mountains to keep Mom and me out of harm’s way. I’m pretty sure he beat the daylights out of a boy in class who harassed me.”

Franklin blanched. “What do you mean?”

I’d never shared that theory with anyone before. No time like the present. “My bosoms made their debut in seventh grade. Boys in school took notice and razzed me. One guy, Jay Masters, teased me relentlessly. Most of the time, I laughed it off. Boys will be boys, you know?” I quirked an eyebrow. Franklin tensed.

“Jay was a football player and twice my size. One day, he was more aggressive than usual. I came home, broke down in tears, and spilled my guts to Dad. The next day, Jay wasn’t at school. When he did come back over a week later, he had a cast on his arm and a mangled face. The dick never looked at me again.”

Franklin laughed. “Got what he deserved.”

It really hadn’t been funny. I had felt bad for the kid. “I knew it was Dad. I never asked, but I knew. I was his only child, so I never gave him too much grief about escorting me to all my school functions, sleepovers, or excursions to the mall.”

Franklin lifted his hand from mine and wrapped it around his beer mug.

“On the rare occasion a boy actually asked me on a date, I’d catch Dad sitting in the back row of the movie theater, or parked across the street of the restaurant.”