Indulgence (53 page)

“Lisa says that shit all the time.” He tipped his Stetson
once at the rim then shoveled in another hunk of chips and plastic cheese.

This idea could actually work. The architect and I were well
acquainted now. He bought into Jensen Construction, and even said he’d be
promoting my company to his other clients when they had a job. I gathered I
could swindle him into coming to a face-to-face meetin’ at the AIR building.
Oliver could make sure she had the meetin’ on her calendar. He didn’t have to
say that I’d be there.

The idea was getting better and better with every beer I
downed. This was it. The time to get my girl back was now, and I was determined
to make it happen. I just had a few loose ends to tighten up on the job and
with my plan.

I dialed Oliver’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“This better be good, cowboy, because I’m already in all
kinds of trouble with our girl over your sorry ass.”

He sniffed and I could tell something was bothering him.
“What do you mean you’re in trouble? What happened?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. I just tried to get her to
talk to you and she flipped out, called me a traitor, and told me to fuck off.”
He started to laugh.

“Well, hell, I’m sorry, buddy. Good news is I’ve got a plan
to get my girl back where she belongs. I think it’s a good one, too. But I’m
going to need some help from you. You in?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The biggest smile split across my face. Two fresh beers
landed in front of me. Mac and I grabbed the coldies and clinked the sides. “To
gettin’ the girl.” I toasted and drank, my plan swirling, fizzing, and breaking
into the perfect way to seal my fate and bring me an Angel.

Week four of being without Hank had me in a better mood. A
little pep to my step, but nothing to write home about. After lunch with London
last week, I went straight to Oliver and Dean’s house. Dean answered and
filleted me for hurting Ollie for trying to help. I apologized to him, then
groveled at the feet of my best friend. He enjoyed every second. He may have
even taken a photo for proof of my transgression. We’d been inseparable ever
since.

Work was doing better than ever, bringing in more money than
I’d thought possible. My stocks were doing well and the building addition was
almost complete. The architect had called an evening meeting with the
stakeholders and was planning to walk us all through the new building. At least
my physical body and mind had moved forward. The blood red thing beating in my
chest however wasn’t. I was hollow inside. Keeping pace yet unable to feel
anything but longing and misery for what I’d lost.

Oliver had the meeting scheduled for five. I added a few
touches to my barely-there makeup in the bathroom mirror in my office. There
was no mistaking the tired woman looking back at me. I did my best to cover the
dark circles under my eyes, the gray pallor of my skin. Even my hair looked
dull and drab. Maybe it was the florescent lighting. Lying to myself was a new
thing I did lately. It helped me avoid the truth. The truth I hadn’t admitted
to anyone: I missed Hank so much it hurt.

Ollie entered the bathroom, picked up the brush, and fussed
with my hair. He swept the loose pieces into soft curls and spritzed it a few
times. He was a magician, capable of turning something ugly into something
presentable.

“So we’ll meet in the Sky Conference Room after the
walkthrough. Alex wants to take us through the new building first. Said it would
be the best way to truly enjoy the final product. Then we’ll have a chat about
the interior design aspects, then discuss the HR firm we’re going with to hire
the employees of the magazine.”

I nodded. “Sounds great. Looks like everything is in order.”

Oliver turned me toward him. He cupped the sides of my neck
and put his forehead against mine. “You know I love all your pieces right?” he
said softly.

My body stiffened. I tried to pull back to look into his
eyes but he held fast. “Ollie, what’s wrong?” I slid my hands into his hairline
and tickled his scalp. His breath was heavy against my face. Why was he
suddenly so sad?

“Nothing’s wrong. Just tell me you love me and no matter
what happens, you always will.” The alarm bells clanged loudly, almost to deafening
proportions.

“Of course I love you. All your pieces. You know that.
Nothing would ever make me stop loving you. Okay?” I tried my best to make him
feel secure, but not knowing what was wrong didn’t make it easy.

“Okay.” He rubbed his forehead against mine and kissed the
tip of my nose. He shook his head, seemingly to clear it. “Alrighty, then.
Let’s get to gettin!”

His smile was fake and plastered on his face all too
quickly. I wanted to sit him down and find out what was bothering him, but we
didn’t have the time. The stakeholders were waiting, Grant among them. Seeing
him again after the case against Hank was settled would add salt to my open
wound, but it was unavoidable. The bastard had gotten away with a couple
hundred grand of my hard-earned dollars and a personal apology from me for “my
boyfriend’s” embarrassing outburst at my mother and father’s home. He made me
sick. Vile human being.

Oliver and I walked through the office buildings, only being
stopped a few times to ask this or that, get a quick off-the-cuff decision on
something as I passed. It was the norm and gave me the extra confidence I
needed to deal with the boys’ club. At least Alex Benson, my architect, was
leading the tour. I’d seen most of the building already, but only after hours. Didn’t
want to accidentally run into Hank.

Silently I thanked the heavens above that Alex had called
the meeting at five. Hank’s crew started their work at six in the morning and
typically ended their day no later than four. I’d made sure of it before sneaking
onto the premises to check the progress. Seeing something Hank worked on each
and every day made me feel closer to him somehow. Everything was always in
order, too. Hank ran a tight ship, and his work spoke volumes to ethics. If
only his personal ethics were as authentic.

We met the six stakeholders in the lobby of AIR Bright
Enterprises along with the architect. Oliver chose a red power suit for me with
leather trim down the lapels and down the side of the pant. Tuxedo-style, he
called it. I wore a crisp white shirt with a high, perfectly starched collar.
Black sky-high stilettos complimented the look giving me the extra height I
needed to look most of the men directly in the eye.

Grant tried to hug me, putting his hand on my bicep and
pulling me toward him. In an awkward move, I shimmied away and presented my
hand for a cordial, business-like shake. His eyes widened for a moment, and
then he slipped into his cool and professional demeanor like an old suit. He
was comfortable in his bored, overly professional persona, and hell if it
didn’t fit him perfectly.

Watching him now interact with the other men made me realize
how completely blinded I’d been by him. He was a smooth talker, had a nice
build, but he was also dreary, overly snobbish, and gave a new meaning to the
self-righteousness of upper-classman. A gentleman he was not, though he’d like
to think he was. I knew better; one day he’d get his for the embarrassment he
caused me during our relationship and again with the Hank debacle.

Alex led the group through the breezeway to the new section
of AIR Bright. We entered into a wide open space with a pristine granite
reception built-in that spanned a good fifteen-foot radius. On each side of the
reception desk were frosted glass double doors with the new logo imprinted in
the see-through cut outs, prominently displaying “Bright Magazine.” The etching
of the sun coming from behind the upper half of the logo was captivating. Drop
lights hung down in varying locations throughout the open space.

“Under each light the designer has chosen special seating
areas for guests of the magazine.” His hand swept the air in a flourish over
the open floor plan. It was pretty easy to imagine, and so far the stakeholders
seemed to like what they were seeing.

Alex continued the tour through the doors and into a long
hallway with individual offices dotting each side. At the end of the hall it
opened to another large space with cubicles surrounding each wall. “In the
middle of the room there will be an extra-large conference table complete with
Wi-Fi, a drop-down graphics screen, all of the latest technology built-in,” he
continued.

I added to Alex’s description of the space: “I’d suggested
the open plan so that the staff could meet together right in the heart of the
magazine. They could share the up-and-coming trends, columns, the pieces
they’re working on all within earshot of the rest of the staff. This will
promote working together, a team environment. It gives all the staff a sense of
belonging and that there are no secrets. Gossip should be minimized with this
plan, allowing for staff to focus on what’s important … Bright Magazine!” The
concept was a New Age approach; I truly believed it would return excellent
results.

We continued through the space where Alex had added indoor-outdoor
breezeways that connected different departments. “I wanted to give a person
walking through the feeling of being inside a catacomb of light and air.
Greenery will be added everywhere, and the space will be naturally warm with
organic light brought in from the sun. The canisters you see throughout will
only go on if the sun is not providing enough natural light.”

“Alex and I agreed upon this concept after a great amount of
research had been done on the productivity of workers who have access to natural
light and fresh air through windows and plants, versus working in a cubicle
farm. The statistics on creativity and productivity in the employees that had
regular access to nature’s gifts were staggering.”

The men spoke among themselves, but overall, the staunch,
rich businessmen looked pleased with their investments. I couldn’t have been
more proud. The only thing that would have made it better was if Hank was
seeing their excitement in what he and his team built.

Alex spent the next thirty minutes walking the group from
room to room, highlighting specific features of the design. His excitement was
contagious. I actually looked forward to hitting the books with these men and
making some decisions on the HR firm we needed to hire, the business plan, and
the design aspects of the offices, cubicles, and conference rooms. Of course, I
was hiring London to design the space. Not because she was my sister, but
because she was brilliant and could fit her vision into a specific budget. The
stakeholders all knew we were hiring my sister to do the work; they agreed
after they’d seen her portfolio, but before I’d told them my relation to her.
Grant had a few choice words to say about the decision, but in the end,
majority ruled.

We made our way back to the Sky Conference room at the top
of AIR Bright. It was on the sixtieth floor and almost completely surrounded by
glass windows. Everyone found a chair and settled into their preferred
locations around the table.

After two hours of discussing the ins and outs of the building,
we agreed upon an HR firm and some of the story board designs that London had
provided detailing the seating and artwork in the reception area. We also
confirmed what an average office would look with the style desks, file
cabinets, and bookcases she chose to suit the space. Her designs were really
quite beautiful. We had agreed that we wanted to go contemporary and sleek with
the space, but with an organic, rugged edge to pay homage to the old-school
magazines and news-style media rooms that had come and gone in the past.

“Does anyone have anything else to add before we conclude
the meeting?” I asked, happy but drained physically and emotionally. This
excruciating month had definitely taken its toll.

“I actually have a guest I wanted to introduce to the
stakeholders, if you all don’t mind. This man made the build possible with only
one accident to speak of. His company and his crew beat the odds, met all
deadlines, and finished the project a week ahead of schedule.”
Oh good God,
no
. There’s only one man that could be behind that door.

He opened it with a flourish. “Hank Jensen everybody, from
Jensen Construction. Now, you remember that name because he’s just expanded and
opened a new branch of his firm here in New York City,” Alex gushed.

My mouth hung up in shock. He’d expanded his business.
Oliver slid his hand over mine, his eyes downcast and pleading. He’d known
about this, was probably in on it from the get-go. He was a dead man!

Hank shook the hand of each of the stakeholders, even Grant,
though you could tell he’d squeezed his hand a great deal harder.
Caveman!
The
thought sent a chill down my spine. He clapped Oliver on the back with an
affectionate, man’s man gesture.

“How she doin’, buddy?” he asked Ollie conspiratorially. I
just sat there, trying to take everything in: his larger than life presence,
his musky citrus covered scent, the color of his eyes … oh, God, I could drown
in those honey green depths.

“But how?” I whispered.

My Angel was stunned stupid. I grabbed her hands and pulled
her up straight against my body. She melted into me, confused, as if she’d been
dreaming.

“Where there is a will, there is a way, Angel. You’re my
will. And the way, well, there’s only one way: the direction that leads to
you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I took the moment to
cover her lips with my own. Sliding my hands up her delicate spine, I tunneled
my paws into her perfect golden locks, deepening the kiss. She came willingly.
It had been too long. My hands, body, and mouth physically ached for her. Her
tongue tangled with mine. She tasted of coffee and sweet vanilla. I needed
more.