Running From Destiny (9 page)

Thankfully, his other hand is around my waist or I would have collapsed right there on the sidewalk.

“Easy, sweet girl, I’ve got you.” He whispers in my ear.

Now, I’ve only kissed a few guys in my lifetime, but
none of them kissed like this. Holy shit, I’m doomed. I push back from him and look into his eyes. His lids are half closed and his fingers are still stroking my cheek. I really need to get out of here because I’m not liking the direction this is going.

I lick my lips,
because all the moisture has been sucked out of them and I swear he growls.

“Have dinne
r with me, Ally.” He demands.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mr. Bentley.” I pull out of his grip, his hand falls to his side.

“I think it’s a fabulous idea. What time do you get off work?” Yes, he’s persistent.

“No, Mr. Bentley.
I will not have dinner with you. I have plans with Heather tonight.” I don’t, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. Guess I can always make plans, cause if he finds out I’m lying, well...let’s just say I don’t want to find out what happens if he finds out I’m lying.

Did that even make sense?

“Tomorrow then, say six o’clock? I’ll pick you up right here. Don’t be late.” He turns to get back in the car, not waiting for an answer.

“Wait!
” I yell out. “What part of NO didn’t you understand, Mr. Bentley?” Here I go again with one liners from songs.

“Alexandra.
You know you can call me Jackson. We’ve been over this. You want me. I want you. What more is there to talk about? That kiss proves to me that I’m right and I can only imagine how uncomfortable you are going to be meeting with Tim wearing wet panties. I will see you here at six o’clock tomorrow. If you aren’t here, I will come up and get you.”

And he leaves.
Leaves! I get no say in this and let out a growl of frustration. Loud enough that people stop to look at me. And how does he know my panties are wet? I look back over my shoulder at my ass to see if my skirt is stuck to my ass, and thankfully it isn’t.

No, No No!
I have to find a way out of this. Maybe if I call out sick. No, he’ll just come to my apartment bringing chicken soup. Can’t have that either. I know, I’ll make a dentist appointment or doctor appointment and leave early. Nah, I would never get into either office that quickly.

I turn angrily to head inside an
d slam right into Tim. Great. Can this day get any better?

“Ally, you’re back.
Good, let’s go up to my office and go over the dimensions. Valerie headed over to CAD to have the layout drawn up. We’ll discuss our plans and then you can go down to the Design room and pick out the fabrics and such.” He tells me as we head to the elevator.

How much did he just see of tha
t little scene on the sidewalk? Did he see Jackson kiss me? Heat rushes up my neck and burns my cheeks. “Ally, you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fin
e. Just not feeling real well. I’ll be okay once I get cooled off.” The summer months here in Atlanta can get blistering. They don’t call it HOTlanta for nothing. Funny, it didn’t seem nearly as hot in Miami, though surely it must have been.

Tim and I walk in the direction of his office, but I m
ake a breakaway to my cubicle. “Five minutes, Al. In my office.” I nod my okay to him. I put my purse back in my desk and set my briefcase under my desk and head straight to Tim’s office. As I walk in, I see he is on the phone but he motions me in, then covering the speaker on the phone. “Close the door please.”

Shit.
That is becoming my new favorite word. I close the door quietly and sit down while I wait for Tim to finish his call, which thankfully doesn’t take long.

Once he has set the phone
in the cradle, he looks at me. And I mean, looks. Not sure what he is looking at or trying to find, but if looks could kill.....well, I’d be lying on the floor in a pool of blood, moaning and twitching.

“What’s the deal with y
ou and Mr. Bentley?” Tim asks.

Nice to kno
w he doesn’t sugar coat things. Just come on out with it, I always say.

“Um, to be honest.
I’m not really sure. He kinda freaks me out a little.” I shyly respond.

“Based on what I saw today, you two have apparently met before, am I correct?”

“Yes, we have met, albeit briefly. I don’t know him very well at all.” I need to answer his questions, but I don’t want to give too much away, not knowing what he knows and all that.

“Well, apparently you know him pretty well since I saw him kiss you on the
sidewalk outside of the office. You do realize he is a client and relations between employees and clients are against the rules right?” He quirks an eyebrow up at me.

“Yes.
But in my defense, he kissed me. I did not kiss back. He seems to have this.....I don’t know, infatuation maybe? Like I said, it’s creeping me out a bit.” I respond.

Silence.
Shit.

“Spill it, Ally.
I need to know what we are dealing with before we continue with the design plans. He hired us for a reason. Now I think I have figured out why.”

“And why d
o
yo
u
think he hired us, Tim?” I said a bit sarcastically, but hey, that’s who I am. Sarcasm is my middle name. Plus, I already know the answer to the question, so If I’m going to dig my own grave, I want to be able to pick out my coffin.

“You.
He hired us because of you, Ally. Now, can you tell me why that is?”

“Yes, I think I can
. But I’m not sure I want to.” I take a deep breath and continue.

“He wa
s at the fashion show in Miami. I didn’t know who he was, but he approached me at the bar. I got away, but Heather brought him up to our room after the party. Now, he keeps coming around and he won’t take no for an answer.” I said sheepishly. I didn’t look at Tim, I couldn’t. I heard him suck in a breath and pause, I guess trying to decide what to say next.

“Stay away fr
om him, Ally. He’s bad news.”

“Don’t you think I know that?
He’s not getting the hint, at all.” Shaking my head. “I’ve told him no, but he keeps at it. I’ve never been pursued like this and I’m at a loss as to what to do.” He knows where I live, he knows where I work. Hell, I think he knows more about me than I do.

Giving Tim what he wants, “I think you need
to remove me from this project. It would be best for the company, Tim, and for my sanity. I’ll understand.” I say as I start fighting tears. I refuse to cry at work. As much as I want to, I just can’t do it.

Pausing for a second, he sits back in his
chair, “No, we need this job. It’s a great way to branch out from what we’ve been doing. If I pull you off the project, we may lose it, so just do your best to keep your distance and keep it professional.”

“I’ll try.”
I tell him with as much conviction in my voice as I can muster up.

“Great. Okay.
Well, head down to see Valerie and she will take you to the sample room. We’ve only got four days to get the proposal to Mr. Bentley.”

“Yes sir.” I stand and exit the room.

“Oh, and Ally? Don’t let him get to you. If he knows what he is doing riles you up, he won’t stop.” I nod and exit his office and mosey my way back to my cubicle.

I flop down.
So hard that the chair sinks down a notch.I glance at my phone and see I have a message, from a
n
Unknown Number
,
so I have no clue who it’s from, until I read it.

“Tomorrow night. Six o’clock. No panties.”

What the fuck? I know he didn’t just tell me not to wear panties. Who in the hell does he think he is? He’s a client now, isn’t this sexual harassment? Should I report him? A thousand other questions are pounding through my brain, giving me a headache. Maybe reporting him will get him to back off. But I think, no. This is Jackson Bentley and if he hasn’t backed off yet, he isn’t going to. And, who would I report him to anyway, his mother?

I need to talk to Heather.
Now. She’s the only one I know that can talk me down from this pedestal, or is it a ledge, that Mr. Bentley has put me on. I pick up my desk phone, because management frowns on employees using their cell phones at their desk, though they typically don’t frown on a text message here and there.

“Heather Langley.” She picks up after the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. I’m screwed. Can you meet me at Digger’s after work? I need to talk and I’m afraid to go home.”

Well, that ju
st totally freaked Heather out. I spend the next five minutes trying to calm her down. “Whoa, wait. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just have a feeling The Suit is going to show up tonight and I am trying to avoid him.” I tell her.

“Jackson?
Why would he be....wait, you DID sleep with him didn’t you?”

“What? No! I told you I didn’t.
Listen, I can’t get into it now. I have to head down to the sample room, but I’ll leave here right at six o’clock. Can you meet me there at seven?” I’m practically begging.

She sighs, “Yeah, sure. But this better be good.
I’ll miss The Bachelor tonight, thanks to you.”

“Oh, it is.
I mean, it’s bad....not good, oh shit. I’ll explain it when I see you. Bye.” And I hang up without giving her the chance to ask more questions. I mean, this is her fault anyway. If she hadn’t brought him up to our hotel room, and if she hadn’t virtually pushed me into his limo at the airport, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

That’s my
story, and I’m sticking to it.

Chapter 9

Six o’clock rolls around and I grab my belongings and head to the elev
ator, so glad this day is over. I’ve had bad Mondays before, but this one is the cherry on the whipped cream.

My car is in the parking garage, and as the elevator door opens, I peer ou
t before exiting. Seems quiet. All I can hear are the sounds of tires of other cars echoing throughout the garage.

I make it to my car without incident
and actually am able to leave. I totally thought The Suit would be down here, watching and waiting for me. I exhale a deep sigh of relief and maneuver my car on to the busy Atlanta streets, aiming for the interstate. I chuckle to myself. Never have I been this paranoid.

I know, I really should take MARTA, but I’d have to hit a Park -N-Ride for Gwinnett County Transit, then hit the train at the Chamblee Sta
tion which is too much trouble. So instead I sit in my car, poking along at twenty miles an hour, if I’m lucky, spewing exhaust into the air with my fellow commuters.

Monday rush hour traffic is usually horrible, but thankfully traffic starts moving on I85, just past the Perimeter, which is nothing more than a ci
rcle that goes around the city. It’s one of those roads where if you don’t have a ramp on the back of your car so people can pass, you’d better get in the slow lane. And even then, anything less than eighty miles per hour is too slow.

Once I am past the merge, I
manage to get to about fifty. I have the music up loud and the air conditioner cranking and make it to Digger’s with a few minutes to spare so I go ahead and sit down at the bar, breathing a big sigh of relief. Now, I’m not a big drinker, as we established earlier. But today is a no-brainer. I order a tequila shot and a glass of wine. The shot is to take the edge off, the wine is to sip and drown myself in.

Heather finally flies in, looking li
ke the super model that she is. The men in the room stare and gawk at her as she makes her way to the bar but she doesn’t even notice. Good girl.

She sits down and orders h
er drink, going the beer route. When the bar tender sets her Blue Moon down, she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a long pull. She hasn’t spoken to me yet. No hello, howdy or kiss my ass. Nothing.

But now that she has had her first drink of beer, she turns on her bar stool and stares at me wi
th a This Better Be Good look. She doesn’t need to say anything, I know.

So, I spill it all.
Liquid courage causes loose lips, especially for me. I tell her all about the meeting with Tim, the incident on the street with The Suit, and the final meeting with Tim. Funny how things today began and ended with Tim, but I try hard not to think about that.

Heather takes another drink of her beer, setting the bottle on the bar a little harder
than she probably should have. “This is why you insisted meeting me here? We could have talked about this at home, Ally.” She waggles her finger at the bar tender for her check.

“I’m going home.
If you want to sit here in wallow in alcohol, you can do it by yourself. I’ve had a long day and my pajamas, a bowl of Cherry Garcia and The Bachelor are calling my name.” She flops a ten dollar bill on the bar and leaves. Never, has my best friend ever walked out on me.

Maybe I should
take a long hard look at that.

“Heather!” I call to her as she struts herself right on out of the bar, leaving me sitting alone
and I suddenly feel eyes on me. NO! I look around, and realize I’m just paranoid again. I scan the bar and don’t see anyone I know but he’s gotten under my skin so deep that I feel him everywhere. I sit there and finish my wine quietly before finally trudging to my car. Jackson’s text message has me on edge. No panties? No fucking way.

I know what I'll do...Grannie panti
es, you know....period panties? The oversized, hip hugging grande drawers that are the most comfortable, but totally not sexy. Yeah, that’ll serve him right. Look out Jackson, the last laugh is going to be on you! Wait, why am I even considering this? It’s not like he’s going to see them anyway.

The drive home is uneventful.
I walk into the apartment an hour or so after Heather would have gotten home and she wasn’t kidding. There she is like a lump on MY sofa, spoon and ice cream container in hand, glued to the television.

“Hey.” I say as I walk in. She doesn’t speak, just waives her hand acknowledging me, but not
taking her eyes off of the TV. Silly reality television. I’ve got so much reality going on in my life right now, I don’t need someone else’s. Why is she here anyway and not at her own apartment?

I drop my purse on the sofa table along with my keys
and go straight to my bedroom. I throw on a baggy tee shirt and capri pajama pants. I glance at the clock and it’s only 8 o’clock. Too early to go to bed, but I refuse to sulk in front of the television.

I grab the laundry in the dryer and dump it on my bed
, folding and hanging as I go. I hate laundry, but it’s an important part of life. As I am folding, I come across a pair of those infamous grannie panties. These are so big they could pass for maternity underwear and I love them. They don’t ride up the crack of my ass and the cotton is soft and comfortable, so I place them in my panty drawer, on top so I remember to wear them tomorrow. If Jackson Bentley thinks he’s getting into my panties, then he has another thing coming. This will turn him off like a light bulb and he will go away. Of course, I don’t plan on letting him see my panties anyway, but I figured it's better to be armed than empty handed.

As I am hanging clothes in the closet, my phone rings
and I can only imagine who it is, since Heather is lounging on MY sofa in MY apartment. I’m afraid to look at it, so I decide not to. I close my eyes and pick up the phone, hitting the off button and holding it down, blindly swiping at the slide button to shut it off. Almost immediately, the land line rings and no one calls my land line. Anyone who is anything calls my cell, in fact I only have the land line cause it came with my cable and internet package, and I need it to let people in through the security gate out front. I peek into the living room to look at the caller ID, which appears on my television.

Tim.
What the hell is he calling for this late?

“Hello?” I answered
.

“It’s Tim, why didn’t you a
nswer your cell?” He barks out. “Sorry, was in the shower and just got out, I haven’t even looked at my phone.” I lie, but he’ll never know, and it sounds good and believable. “Jackson Bentley has requested your presence at dinner tomorrow night. He’ll pick you up after work in front of the building. You need to let security know your car will remain in the parking garage after hours, let them know in the morning when you pull in.”

“Tim, I am not go
ing to dinner with Mr. Bentley. He already asked and I politely told him no. He has an ulterior motive, though what that is I can’t figure out.” Actually, he didn’t ask, h
e
tol
d
me that I was having dinner with him.

“Ally, if you cause the company to lose this account, it will reflect
on your performance appraisal. You’ve been dogging me for months for the opportunity to lead a remodel and now is your chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Tim, have you forgot
ten our meeting this afternoon? Cause I sure haven’t. You saw him out front of the building and you even told me to stay away from him. Why are you pushing this?” Yes, I am frantic by this point. Heather just glances at me from the sofa. I know she’s listening, because she muted the television. Her name should have been Parker, Nosey Parker.

She needs to go home.
If she’s not going to help me, then she needs to leave.

I turn my back to h
er, hoping she’ll get the hint. “I trust you to keep it professional, Ally. We need this account and I’m putting it in your hands. I know you won’t let me down, see you in the morning.” And the line goes dead. I slam the phone back on the base. Well, I don’t really because it’s a cordless phone, all I have to do is push the OFF button. But I do slam it on the counter.

“ARGHHHH!” I scream. “Shit, shit, SHIT!!
Fuck, damn it all, crap, shit, fuck, son of a bitch!”

I know
it's immature, but I’m pissed. Pissed at Tim, pissed at Heather and pissed at Jackson.

Did I say I’m pissed?

I walk back into my bedroom and slam the door, face planting on to the center of the bed. Arms to my side, face first in the pile of frilly, colorful throw pillows spread on my bed. “I need a vacation.” I mumble to myself from under the pile of fluff.

“Al, what’s going on?” Heather whispers after opening my door.

“Oh NOW you want to talk? Where were you at Digger’s when I was wanting to talk? Huh? Ben and Jerry’s and the Bachelor were more important than! Get out, Heather. Go home. I’ve had enough shit go on today that I no longer want to talk about it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I’m not sure if she heard me through the mountain of pillows, but she doesn’t say any
thing. I look back at the bedroom door and I hear the front door click. Great, now I’ve pissed off my best friend, but I can’t care about that right now. I have bigger problems to deal with.

The tears that have been threatening all day finally com
e roaring to the surface. My shoulders are shaking and I just know my mascara is running all over my pillows. Great, I’ll have to wash them too. In between sobs, I roll over and stare at the ceiling fan whirling above me, letting the cool breeze of air flow over my wet face until my tears are dry.

I s
it up and look toward the door. Why? I have no clue, but I stare, willing Heather to come back. I really need advice and I just sent my very own Dr. Ruth packing. Crap. I reach over to the end table and grab my iPhone, powering it on. I’ll send her an apologetic text and hope that smooths things over until tomorrow. Once the phone is on and signal obtained, I look at it. Four text messages and one voice mail. I press the button to go to my voice mail. Tim. I’ve already spoken to him, so I delete it and go back to the texts messages.

Two from Tim, one from Heather apologizing and one from the sa
me unknown number from earlier. Uh oh. Do I really want to read this?

Unknown Number: Don’t 4get. 6pm sharp tomorrow. No panties.

There’s no name, but I know who it is. But why unknown number? And, how did he get MY number anyway? Guess I need to head to AT&T tomorrow and change my number. I just can’t shake this guy, but do I really want to? I’m torn. The little devil sitting on my right shoulder says go for it. Have some hot, steamy monkey sex and get him out of your system. The angel on the left shoulder says to stay away, that he’s no good and nothing but trouble.

I reply to Heather’s text with an apology as well, telling her my job is at stake and I don’t know how to shake The Suit.

H - Just go with it

A - I can’t. Tim told me to stay away

H- But he told you to have dinner with him?

A - Yeah, go figure.

Look at that, even my text messages are laughing at me.

A - He told me not to wear panties.

H - What?

A - Yeah, no clue

I wait for Heather to respond when the phone rings and I jump and drop it in my lap. Grabbing it I look at the contact. Heather. “Thank God, you scared me to death.” I answer.

“What do mean by the no panties comment?” She asks.

Instead of responding, I forward her the text from Unknown Caller. Before she responds, someone knocks at the front door and I look at the clock, nine fifteen. Who the hell is knocking on my door and how did they get in past the gate?

“H
old on, someone’s at the door.” I set the phone down and go to the door, peering through the peep hole before opening the door. It’s probably one of my neighbors wanting to borrow some milk or something. They can have the milk, no need to bring it back when they’re done.

“Who is it?” I ask through the closed door.

“Delivery for Ms. Sanders.” A male voice responds.

I open the door, leavi
ng the chain on. “I didn’t order anything.” I tell him.

“Ma
’am, I’m just the delivery guy. I need you to sign here please.”

I close the door, remove
the chain and reopen the door. He hands me a pen and clipboard, but I see there are no other signatures on the document, like I’m his only delivery for the evening.

I glance down and see a brown paper wrapped box leaning ag
ainst the wall beside the door. I sign the document and hand it back to the delivery guy as he hands me the box and walks away. Closing the door, I remember Heather is still on the phone. I set the box down and grab the phone.

“Weird.
A package was just delivered for me.” I tell Heather.

“Well, open it!
What are you waiting for?” She sounds much more excited than I am.