Southern Seduction (110 page)

I’m stewing in my office, pacing the floor like an adolescent who’s just been sent to his room for a time out. It’s utterly ridiculous, and I’m wasting valuable business time, but I can’t help myself. Unable to contain it, I cross to my desk. After I take the key out of its hidden spot, I unlock the bottom drawer. Reaching into the back, I can feel the picture frame, and I wrap my hands around it, pulling it out.

It’s a picture of the two of us on the farm. Wyatt got some weird hankering for photography and started snapping shots when we weren’t paying attention. He didn’t even show them to me until she after was gone. In this particular one, I’m trying to get her up on a horse and she’s resisting me. I look mildly annoyed yet amused, and she’s grinning at me. I feel a pang in my heart, wishing we could go back to those days. To when it was simple. Before everything got so fucked up.

A knock interrupts my thoughts, and I’m quick to turn the picture on its face so it’s not visible. “Come in,” I bellow, wondering why my secretary, Marnie, didn’t give me a call first.

The door opens and Katherine Richardson enters my office with Cheyenne Hamilton in tow. Apparently this is my lucky fucking day because the only reason for someone from HR to bring Cheyenne to my office would be because she’ll be working for my department. Katherine makes introductions and Cheyenne acts as if she has no idea who I am, so I do the same, pretending to be indifferent as I quickly scan her resume, which is actually pretty impressive for someone so young.

“Hello, Mr. Callahan. It’s nice to see you. I look forward to working with you,” she says, shaking my hand.

“Likewise, Ms. Hamilton. Your resume is quite impressive. I see you’re from California. Do you have any experience in the South?” I ask, hoping to push her buttons, wondering if she stills look cute when she gets riled up.

Her eyes narrow as she scowls at me. “Actually, I grew up just a couple of hours from here. I know Georgia like the back of my hand,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly. “Probably more than a city boy like you, Mr. Callahan.”

Hearing her call me that turns me on and sends all the blood in my body straight to my dick.

“We’re fine here, Katherine. Thank you for showing Ms. Hamilton to my office,” I tell her, to which she nods before exiting my office, closing the door behind her.

“Cheyenne,” I say cooly, and I watch as she takes a deep breath. The sight of her breasts swelling doesn’t escape me, and I quickly look away before I get caught. I gesture towards an open chair across from my desk. “Please sit so we can discuss your role here at Wellsley.”

Smoothing out her skirt, she does as I suggested. “Wellsley-Callahan, you mean?” she asks, her right eyebrow cocking up at me. “When I took this position, I wasn’t aware that the two companies had merged.” Something about the way she says it has me wondering if she’d have still accepted the job offer if she’d known about the merge.

“It’s a recent development. Dad was ready to retire and spend more time with Sylvia,” I tell her, and she grimaces at the mention of our parents. “Have you been by the house?”

She’s been avoiding looking at me since she sat down, but the question causes her head to snap up, and I see her glaring at me. “Actually, I don’t even know where
the house
is,” she scoffs, using quotations around those two words. I’m caught off guard at her statement, but then again, I guess it does make sense that she’s never been back since she left for school.

“You don’t even know where your own mother lives?” I ask, incredulous.

She sighs, her face falling. “Sawyer, you were there. We didn’t exactly part on the best terms. I haven’t seen my mother since I left Shiloh Grove. Sure, we’ve talked on the phone, exchanged emails, but we don’t exactly get together for reunions every year.” I notice the way she says ‘mother,’ and I realize that her whole Southern accent has faded. I miss the sound of it.

“Mother? What the hell happened to mama?” I ask. “Seriously, Cheyenne. One of the many things I loved about you was your cute drawl. Don’t tell me you went out to California and lost it.” She bristles when I say the word ‘love,’ but I don’t care. It’s the truth, and if that’s too much for her, she’ll just have to get over it.

“When I got to Berkeley, I tried my best to blend in. The first couple of weeks, people kept asking me where I was from and commenting on my accent, so I started working on making it less pronounced. Plus, she hasn’t been my mama for a long time. She doesn’t deserve the title. Now, can we get down to business? I’d like to know what I’m going to be doing and get started please.”

Clearing my throat, I look down at the paperwork Mrs. Richardson handed me when she brought Cheyenne into my office. I see that she’s supposed to be working as a production analyst, and while I’m sure she has the eye for it, I decide I can find a better role for her. Is it selfish of me to do this? Probably. Professionally unethical? Yeah, pretty damn sure it is, but right now I don’t give a shit. I have six years to make up for, and if I have to force her to work alongside me every day to try and work my way back in, I’ll do just that.

“As you know, I’m the head of the production department, but I’m also the interim V.P. of Marketing. Based on your work at Berkeley and your references, I think you’d be a perfect fit as the assistant to the V.P. of Marketing,” I tell her, feeling smug and satisfied that I’m going to be her boss. With this role, we’ll be working alongside each other every single day, and I love the thought of getting to know her again under the guise of employment.

She stands up quickly, almost knocking the chair over. “I was told I was going to be a production analyst. Not a frickin’ lackey,” she seethes, and I try to suppress the grin that’s threatening to cross my face when I hear her Southern accent coming out.

“You’re not going to be a lackey. You’re going to be my right hand. I’m taking on more responsibility and I need to be working with someone I trust. Call it fate or whatever, but you landed in my office and I can’t think of anyone else better suited for the position. However, I need to know that you’re committed to this job. That you’re not going to run away if things get tough. I need to know you’re with me on this one hundred percent, all the way.”

Her scowl returns and I know she gets what I’m trying to say. Surprisingly, she doesn’t play into it. “I assure you, I’m committed to this job, and I’ll work my ass off. But this needs to be strictly business. I didn’t move across the country to be back in the same room with you day in and day out, but it’s a little late to turn back now,” she says, looking at me straight in the eyes, waiting for me to respond.

“I can be professional, Ms. Hamilton,” I tell her, and she narrows her eyebrows when I use her last name. I decide to act cool so she doesn’t know that her very presence is getting to me. “I’m sure you learned this morning about our strict sexual harassment policies, and I have no intention of ending up in HR because of our past. The way I see it, that was a lifetime ago. We’re both adults, and a lot of time has passed since that summer. There’s no need for any awkwardness.”

The look in her eyes changes from defiance to what looks like hurt, but I know I must be seeing things. It’s cold the way I just brushed off the summer we had together, the one where she made me fall in love with her. It’s just that, with her standing here in front of me, knowing that she probably hasn’t given me a single thought in the last six years makes me want to put up a front, yet at the same time, when I look at her, I can still see my Cheyenne, my pretty girl, and I want nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms, begging her to never leave me again.

Her voice tears me away from my thoughts, and it’s a damn good thing because I was close to remembering that day on the dock, the when I finally got up the courage to kiss her deeper than I did at the tattoo shop. “Understandable, Mr. Callahan. And you’re right. We’re both professionals and should treat this working relationship as such,” she says, and the way she reverts back to being formal grates on my nerves.

This isn’t the Cheyenne I remember, but then again, we’ve probably both changed since that summer.
Fuck this
, I tell myself, vowing to wipe all thoughts of our past out of my mind. It’s obvious she has no interest in getting reacquainted, so I may as well get used to that now. Instead of making any more small talk, I go about telling her the details of my latest project, one that’ll have us working a lot of long hours alongside each other. She doesn’t know it yet, but I can be a pretty damn demanding boss. And when it comes to Cheyenne? Well, let’s just say I used to be putty in her hands. Not this time. My pretty girl’s about to find out just how bossy I can be.

Cheyenne

I hate the way he calls me Ms. Hamilton. I hate the way he just got in a jab over what he obviously thinks are my commitment issues. I hate the way he’s looking at me like my boss, not the boy I fell in love with, the boy I didn’t let myself believe I was missing until he walked into that small auditorium, back into my life, as quickly as he’d left it. Or well, was pushed from it. And I hate, really hate, the way my heart started racing when I saw him looking me up and down when I first came into his office. For a split second, I was back in Shiloh Grove, a young, naïve girl getting naked for the first time in front of someone. The heat in his eyes was the same as it was back then, and I quickly try to push the image out of my mind, not wanting to relive those days—at least not here in his office, in his presence.

“Okay, you can drop the formalities. Almost everyone here except for the interns calls me Sawyer. Mr. Callahan is my dad, not me. And frankly, it just sounds wrong coming from your lips,” he says, and I don’t miss the way he looks at them, like he wants a taste, just a small nibble. Part of me wants that, too.

I don’t know why being around him for five whole minutes has me already wishing he’d clear off his desk and bend me over it, but I can’t get the image out of my mind. While he’s going on about job responsibilities and work hours, I take a moment to check him out up close. He looks practically the same as he did the last time I saw him, almost as if he hasn’t aged a bit. His hair’s a little shorter than it used to be, and it’s got product in it, something he never did again that summer after I ribbed him about it the day we met.

“Cheyenne, are you even listening to me?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

Clearing my throat, I silently hope the blush isn’t too noticeable on my face. “Yes,” I lie, but even I know it sounds forced.

He cocks an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair, watching me. “If you were listening, then what did I just say?” he challenges. Dammit. This definitely isn’t how I expected my first day to go.

“Uhh, you were telling me about the next project we’re going to be working on. It sounds fascinating,” I tell him, hoping I’m somewhere in the ballpark.

I know I’m caught when he starts shaking his head, chuckling under his breath. “Well, it’s nice to see that not everything has changed. You always were a terrible liar. Where’d you go just then?”

He’s right. I never could lie to him, not even about the smallest things. Not liking his insinuation that I’ve changed, I decide to suck it up and tell him what I was thinking. Sure, some things have changed, but that’s life. That happens when you grow up. I’m still the same person I used to be. Maybe a little stronger. Maybe a little more jaded. But I’m still me.

“I was looking at your hair.”

“My hair?” he asks incredulously, as if it’s the strangest thing.

Gesturing to his brown locks, I nod my head. “It’s shorter. You’re using product again. I don’t know. It’s just different. By the time Wyatt was done with you, you didn’t look like a city boy anymore, and I guess that’s the picture I’ve had in my mind all these years,” I say, flinching at my admission.

“You’ve been picturing me since you left Georgia? I find that hard to believe,” he scoffs. “You hightailed it out of Shiloh Grove and never looked back, so forgive me if I don’t exactly believe that you’ve bothered to think of me at all since then.”

His tone is disbelieving and slightly angry. Yeah, this is definitely not the way I expected this day to go. I can’t blame him though, knowing how I left things all those years ago when I packed up and drove off to California. But he’s wrong. I looked back. I’ve been looking back ever since.