Running From Destiny (7 page)

We reach the door and I insert my key, but the door flings open before I can get the door unlocked.

Heather.

Thank goodness she is here. Though I am surprised. Actually, no I’m not.
She seems to spend more time at my apartment than her own. “Hola chica!” She screams and I flinch. “Whoa, what happened to you?” She looks at me, then looks at Jackson with one eyebrow raised.

“Alexandra took a little nap in the limo.
She’s fine.” Jackson answers.

“Mmm, hmm.
Okay.” Heather responds, though I think she thinks something more happened.

I step through the door and the drive
r sets my bag down just inside. He doesn’t come in, nor does Jackson. “Thanks again for dinner and the ride home. It’s been.....an adventure.” I shyly say, though I know it’s not exactly what he wants to hear.

“Goodbye
Alexandra, we will speak soon. Get some rest.” He says as he turns back toward the car.

As quickly as he turns, I close the door and immediately grab my suitcase a
nd head to my room. I need to think about how I am going to murder Heather.

“Ally wa
it! What the hell is going on? You look like your puppy died.”

“I really don’t w
ant to discuss it right now, H. Right now I want a shower and to go to bed. I have to go back to work Monday and after this trip, that is all I want to do. Thanks for taking me to Miami with you, but remind me to sa
y
n
o
next time. K?” I smile at her and turn on my heel, closing the door behind me.

After a hot shower I put on my comfy jammies and roam out to the
kitchen for something to drink. Heather is still sitting on the sofa, lap top on the table in front of her. “There you are!” She pats the space next to her on the sofa. “Come. Talk to me. Tell me all about The Suit, as you call him.” She says as she closes her laptop, setting it on the coffee table. I never made it to the kitchen. I glare at her. Yes, it is an angry glare. But I sit down next to her and lean back and close my eyes. I’m silent for a few minutes, unsure where to start.

“D
on’t you ever go home, Heather? You do still have your own place, right?” She laughs, but I know she hates to be alone. This is her way of suggesting we become roommates, but I’m not having that. I need my space, and right now she is in my space. But I digress, because I really need to talk and she’s here, so I talk. About as much as I want her to know at this time. And, since I am not really sure what is going on myself, I’m limited in my discussion material.

“Th
ere is nothing to tell really. He took me to dinner and dropped me off, that’s it. I don’t know what he wants or why, but I don’t expect I’ll hear from him again.” I tell her.

“But
you said he offered you a job? Did you take it?” She asks.

“Of course not!
I have a job and I am very happy with it. I have no desire to give into The Suit’s demands. In fact, he never even brought that up.”

“Wait. What? Demands?
What are you talking about?” Her brow raises.

“He’s, how do I say thi
s? Bossy? Demanding? Infuriating? Confusing?” I go on and on with descriptive analogies before she cuts me off. “Okay, start from the beginning, Al. He seemed so into you in Miami.”

“Yes, he was.
No, he wasn’t.....oh hell, I don’t know. You saw him at the airport, thanks for your help by the way. Nothing like being thrown under the bus by your best friend.” I scowl at her.

“Yeah, that was good.
I was pretty proud of myself on that one.” She smirks.

Sassy bitch.
That’s what she is.

“So, is he good in bed? He looks like he would be.
If you don’t want him, I’ll tap it.” She giggles.

“
You are so bad, and wrong. You know me better than that. I did not sleep with him, nor will I. He’s too... overbearing. And I am too inexperienced to be able to handle a man like him. You know those demanding Alpha males we read about?Our so calle
d
Book Boyfriends? Yeah, he fits right in and I didn’t think men like him existed. But either he is one, or he is trying damn hard to make people believe he is. Dreaming about one is one thing, but having one right in front of you is another. I can’t handle it.” I explained shaking my head.

Heather is just staring at me right now, with this look on her face like she is about to burst
. But she remains silent and I know it's killing her. “Go on.” She prods me along.

“What?
That’s it. There is nothing else to say. I went on our little ‘date’ and came home. End of story. Tomorrow, my life goes on and I couldn’t be happier about that.” I say it like I believe it, but deep inside I know I haven’t heard the last of Jackson Bentley.

Chapter 8

Sunday was quiet and Monday morning arrives quickly, and I am rudely awoken
by my alarm clock at five a.m. Have I told you yet that I am not a morning person? Well I’m telling you now. I reach over and slam my hand on the snooze button, but I hit it too hard and damn if the pain doesn’t wake me up. I glare at it. Yep. Five o’clock. Shit. I kick the covers off and roll my way off of the bed and traipse to the shower. I slept good I guess, no dreams of The Suit or our unusual weekend, which is a good thing.

Since I work downtown, I have to leave especially early to be i
n the office by eight o’clock. Traffic in the Atlanta area sucks balls with morning rush hour running from seven a.m. to nine a.m. and evening goes from four p.m. to seven p.m. It should be called rush hours instead of hour. Oh well, I have been here all my life, so I guess I’m used to it, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

I get in my little ole beat up Honda Civic and pray it cr
anks after sitting all weekend. Thankfully, it does. Trusty little bastard. It’s a 2002 model, eleven years old, but it was a graduation present and until I make Project Manager, it will have to do. I can’t afford a new car just yet.

As I merge on to I85 South toward the city, I can see up ahead
that traffic is already heavy. Welcome to Monday. Thankfully school is out, so it's lighter than normal, but still heavy. Wait until August, then prepare to leave your house at least an hour earlier just to get there in time.

I pull into the parking garage at Robertson Industries 45 minutes later, and make my way to the 14th floor and my
tiny cubicle. I have some personal things on the desk and pictures on the wall, trying to make it more homey and comfortable. It’s nothing that wouldn’t take a few seconds to remove should the economy decide I no longer have a job. I’ve put my purse away and clocked in, so I stand to go to the kitchen to get some coffee when Tim Fraker, my boss, makes his way to my desk.

“Good morning, All
y. How was your trip to Miami? Fun I hope?” He asks, all smiley and happy. Too happy for a Monday morning, if you ask me. “It was fine. Warm and sunny. Heather was awesome in the fashion show, but I ended up with a migraine so I missed the big party.” I tell him, not mentioning anything else. It’s not his business.

“Well, sorry about the migraine, glad
you had fun anyway. When you get settled, head into my office will ya?”

“Sure thing b
oss man.” I smile back at him.

Great, an early Monday meeting.
This usually means some big project has fallen on his plate and he needs to start now. Not tomorrow or next week. Now. Fabulous. I pull a Hazelnut K-Cup from my bottom desk drawer and grab my mug and head to the kitchen. Only one other person is in there, Sally. Oh. Freaking. Joy.

Sally Davenport is Ed McKinley’s admin assistant and is too
bubbly for her own damned good. She’s the office gossip queen and pretends like her life is awesome. Not sure if it is really, I only half listen to her most of the time because she’s extremely annoying. Have I told you I am not a morning person? She is definitely not the person I want to see this early on a Monday, but I hold in my groan. “Morning Sally.” I say, deliberately leaving out the Good portion of it.

“Top of the morning to y
a, Ally. How was your weekend? Have fun in Miami? Meet any cute guys?” She squeals at me. What is this, twenty questions?

“Good, yes and no.” There.
I've answered all of her questions.

“So, spill!
What’s happening in Miami?” She’s still at it. Geez.

“Miami, is....Miami.
It was a fashion show and drinks. Nothing much else to tell, Sally. What about your weekend?” I ask, though I really don’t care. I know she is going to tell me anyway, so I pretend to be interested.

“Oh
, just clubbing with the girls. Woke up with a massive hangover Sunday morning, but I’m over it now. Ready to rinse and repeat this weekend. You wanna go?”

“Nah, I don’t g
et into the club scene anymore. Hey, sorry to cut this short but I have a meeting with Tim. See ya around!” I tell her as I make a quick exit from the kitchen. If I don’t end it now, I will never make it to my meeting in time. Since I was out Friday, I have work to catch up on and now this meeting. Argh, it’s going to be a long day. I head back to my desk to grab a legal pad and pen and head around the corner to Tim’s office.

I gently knock on the door and
he looks up from his computer. He’s on the phone, but he motions me in, pointing at the leather office chair across from his desk. I sit and wait for him to finish his call. It sounds important, but I try not to eavesdrop which is hard to do when he is sitting in front of you. So, I look around his office at the various awards and paintings on the wall.

He finally hangs up and closes whatever program he is using on his computer.

“Okay.” He begins speaking. “We have the opportunity to bid on a new project. It’s not our typical build-out and design, but it is a great way to expand our services. It’s for some Class A office space in Midtown. Currently, there is a waiting/reception area and four offices plus a dark room and photo studio. Though, we will have to send those two rooms to Carson Technologies.”

I am jotting all of this down, if only to lo
ok like I know what I am doing. Frankly, I have no idea why I’m here as I’m just an admin, not a designer. Maybe he is finally giving me......nah, I doubt it. “I need for you to go with me to the office to take measurements and discuss options and ideas with the CEO. He has a general idea of what he wants, but we need to view it and then draw up a proposal.”

“Sounds great, but shouldn’t this
be directed to the design team? Don’t get me wrong, Tim, I’m excited to be included and ready to take on something like this. But, it sounds like an important proposal, wouldn’t you want someone more experienced?” I ask. He scratches his head a minute, as if he is pondering on how to answer.

“I like you and it’s time to see if
we can put your degree to work. You have more than proven yourself and you are dedicated and smart. Someone from the design team will be with us to assist, but I’d like to see what kind of ideas you can come up with. Think of it as a job interview. We have a PM position coming open soon, and I want to see what you’ve got.”

My heart drops
into my shoes. “Really? Thanks! That’s awesome. Yes, I’ll go with you. I won’t let you down, Tim.” I respond enthusiastically. Maybe too enthusiastically, but I am surprised at this major turn of events.

“Good.
Our appointment is at two o’clock. Finish up what you were working on Thursday and get those spread sheets to me as soon as possible. Then we’ll head over together after lunch.”

I stand up and no
d, turning to head to the door. “Thanks Tim.” I toss at him with a smile. He just nods and turns his attention back to his computer and I make my way back to my desk, setting my coffee down and flopping heavily on my small office chair.

I log into Excel and pull up the spread sheet I was workin
g on prior to my vacation day. Number crunching is not my specialty, but I have become good at it in the 3 years I have been working for Tim. He puts a lot on me, but like a sponge, I absorb it all and take it all with me.

The morning passes pretty quickly and before I know it
, its lunch time. I typically don’t leave the building for lunch, I just grab something from the vending machine and sit in the kitchen and stare at the television. Ellen is on today and I love her, but for some reason I am just not paying that much attention. For the first time today, my mind goes to Jackson Bentley. I suddenly wonder what he’s doing, where he is and if he’s thinking about me at all. Why am I thinking this? I have no idea, but I am. I did my best to turn my brain off last night and rest up before coming back to work. I did well, but now it is all coming back to me.

His eyes, his strong jaw, his hard body that I only felt briefly
when I tried to push him away. I’m still at a loss as to why he set his sights on me anyway, but it is what it is. I think back to dinner and the limo ride and his damn bossiness. “What are you smiling about, Ally?” I hear Sally coming up beside me, not even realizing I was smiling. Great.

“Nothing much, just have a big meeting with Tim and some CEO wa
nting his offices remodeled. I actually get to go with him to the proposal meeting. Just excited I guess.” I respond. No way will I tell her about The Suit, not unless I want it around the office within minutes.

“Great!
That sounds awesome! I’m sure you’ll do well, even though you’ve never done anything like this before.” She says with an evil eye. Leave it to Sally to squash my fun.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to the op
portunity to see what I can do. It is what I studied for in college, you know.” I know, sarcasm will get you nowhere, but Sally brings the worst out in me.

As I said earlier, she’s the lead car o
n the gossip train around here. I dare not let on to anything more than a meeting. She is also a back stabber. She will do whatever she can to get ahead of everyone else. I sometimes wonder if she slept with her boss, since she moved up the ranks pretty quickly. She started in the mail room and within a year she was named Ed McKinley’s assistant. Ed is the CFO of Robertson Industries. THE BOSS. My boss’s boss. So naturally, she thinks she’s hot shit. Shit maybe, but not hot. Not even close.

I gather my cracker and candy bar wrappers that make up my lunch and
deposit them in the trash can. No lunch is complete without chocolate. “Have a good day, Sally!” I wave as I exit the kitchen. Damn she gets on my nerves.

I get back to my
desk and Tim is waiting for me. “Good, glad you’re back. Meeting has been moved to one thirty, so we need to roll.” He says with excitement in his eyes. He almost looks like he is up to something, but I ignore it and grab my briefcase and purse and we head to the elevator and down to the parking garage to Tim’s Mercedes. I’ve never been in a Mercedes, but I’ve been in a Bentley limo. I laugh inside. A Bentley is a huge step up from a Mercedes, but I don’t say anything. No one else needs to know, especially Tim. He opens the trunk and we place our briefcases in and he closes the door, then moves to open the passenger door for me. Who says chivalry is dead, huh? He closes my door and makes his way around the car to his side, getting in and starting the engine.

He doe
sn’t set an address in his GPS. He lives and works downtown, so I assume he knows where we are going. The office isn’t far, in fact we could have walked it’s so close. We pull into the parking garage of what looks to me thirty stories or more. Glass and shiny.

After our briefcases are retrieved from the
trunk, we head into the lobby. Sleek marble floors, trendy furniture and lots of plants. Damn, there’s even a water fountain in the middle. Sweet.

Tim checks in at reception and then we are required to sign
in and given a visitor’s pass. We are directed to the elevators and told to go to the top floor. As we ride up the elevator, Tim discusses his ideas and expresses his excitement and I wonder why he is so excited. The doors open and Valerie from the design team is already there, waiting in one of the high back leather chairs. Whoa.

I l
ook around. This place is top of the line. Leather chairs, Maple reception desk, windows and plants. All soft beige and browns. Frankly, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m now confused as to why any changes need to be made to this room, but I’ll go in with an open mind.

A few minutes later a tall, slim blonde woman opens the door and calls us back
.

I suddenly feel extremely self-consciou
s, which is not unusual for me. I look nice, but nothing like that. I wore my navy pencil skirt, a cream ruffled blouse and navy pumps. It’s professional enough, but I feel frumpy next to the blonde goddess walking us back. I even see Tim sneak a peek at her ass. Smirking, I say nothing. Men. Do they not realize how obvious they can be? Blondie knocks on a solid maple door that looks like it should be the front door of one of those Buckhead mansions. Thick, heavy and a deep, rich color.

“Come i
n.” I hear from the other side.

She opens the door.
“Sir, Tim Fraker and his team are here to see you.” She whispers as she peers around the barely opened door.

“Send them in.”
And she steps back, motioning for us to enter the room. She pulls the door closed as she leaves. Wow. I know, I have such a broad vocabulary. But that is the only word I can think of.

Rich, thick brown carpet, maple desk and creden
za full of books and magazines. It’s a corner office with glass on two sides. Framed magazine covers and awards decorate the walls. Hold on a second.

The CEO turns in his chair and stands.

Wait for it
.

Shit.

Jackson Bentley.

My heart drops to my stomach and rolls around like a bulldog fighting to get out from under a blanket. My neck heats and I feel that unwelcome rosy blush creep up my body. I stand back, hoping he won’t notice me, but I get the feeling.