Thirty Happens (14 page)

“I know, but I wish we had a little more... assurance. You know? I wish there was something more we could do.”

The bait was on the hook, and I had just cast the reel.

“Hey, gorgeous, I think my associates and I might be of assistance to you.”

A very large, somewhat hairy man spoke these words in a gravelly voice that was directed at my chest.

The way he said ‘gorgeous’ sounded more like ‘gowagiss’.

“Ohmigawd, you would do that for us?”

When I said us, I did a very calculated hand motion that to anyone else would look like I was indicating Anderson sitting next to me. It successfully drew more attention to the fact that I had my boobs jacked up to kingdom come.

I think I saw a little drool puddle in the corner of his mouth. He licked it away.

I shuddered a bit in revulsion. Fortunately, he seemed to think it was a little more like unbridled lust, judging by the fact that he leaned towards me and his belly made contact with my arm and entire right side.

I looked at Anderson who appeared to be fighting an inward battle between amusement and ‘I’m going to kick his ass’.

“Andy, do you hear that? This
sweet
heart of a man can help us.”

Anderson got the message and went back to being a leering jerk like the rest of them.

Good.

“Hey, thanks man, we appreciate it. Name’s Andy. What’s the drill?

“Gino.”

He leaned across me to shake Anderson’s hand, conveniently brushing his arm right across my chest in the process. I giggled as if I thought it was funny and was rewarded with a toothy grin.

“So here’s the deal, I know this guy. He runs a small company called Smith and Company Construction Advisors.”

I felt my pulse quickening. This was it.

“You need to register with them, and they will work with you and present your bid to the city. They’ll make sure the bid is nice and tight. You only pay them when you get the job, a percentage of the total bid.”

“Oh, man, that’s perfect. That’s just what we needed. How do we reach the guy?”

Gino dug in his back pocket for his phone, and scrolled through the contact, finally writing a name and number on the napkin and pushing it towards me.

“Steve McConnell. Great guy. He’s helped out a lot of us.”

Hmmm.

“Wow, he even helped you write the bids?”

Gino nodded.

“Yeah, like, shown us the ropes and everything. We all started out like you two, just trying to start a business, get in on the city contracts for some stability and to make a name for ourselves. Steve’s good people.”

I forced a smile.

“Thanks, Gino, we really appreciate it.”

I bumped my shoulder against his and touched Anderson’s arm.

It was time for us to go.

I pocketed the napkin and we paid our tab and left.

We waited until we were three blocks away before we let out a simultaneous breath.

In our hand was the number for the purchasing agent for the city. The very same purchasing agent that was getting a percentage of the successful bids.

We had our story.

chapter nineteen.

T
wo weeks later I found myself at Karlson’s with the reporting staff and a handful of feature reporters and editors.

It was after ten thirty at night.

I was exhausted but elated.

Tomorrow’s front page would be a feature article by Liam Anderson and Karyn Jensen.

My first cover.

I was at that point of giddy exhaustion where I could easily sleep for an entire week, but right now I wanted to revel in this moment.

“To Anderson and Jensen.” Jenkins raised a glass and winked at me.

“Anderson and Jensen!” The group surrounding us raised their glasses and downed their beers.

We’d done it. We’d managed to investigate the ethics violations at City Hall without word of it getting leaked to any of the other outlets. We were scooping everyone on this one, and that’s not an easy trick to pull off with the internet, cell phone camera, texting, you name it.

I felt a twinge of guilt at the guys who were probably going to have a harder time getting their bids and making a living, but, at the same time, there were rules and guidelines, and they were just going to have to follow like everyone else.

Honestly, I don’t think Gino and his pals had any idea that anything was wrong with the process.

Even though it was late and well past time that articles were turned into print at any of the papers, we were not saying a word about
why
we were celebrating. And trust me, the other reporters were sniffing around, their senses telling them that there was a big story here. One wrong move and our scoop would be on their paper’s website, Twitter feed, Facebook page, and we would be looking like sloppy seconds.

Hell no.

I lost track of time, but at some point, someone suggested tequila shots. There was a little voice in the back of my mind that told me tequila on top of the two beers I’d had was maybe not a great idea.

I mentally flipped off that annoying voice and reached for the salt shaker and a lime.

Lick.

Swallow.

Suck.

Holy shit. Now would be a good time to point out that I’d never done a tequila shot in my life. I mean, I’d seen it on television and stuff, which was how I knew the routine.

But damn. That burned like hell going down.

Why would anyone drink this on a regular basis?

Plus, I mean, eight dollars for about twenty seconds of a drink, and one that leaves you choking and gasping for air?

No, thank you.

Within minutes, another shot glass filled with jet fuel was placed in front of me, along with a fresh wedge of lime.

Ugh.

Well, someone else was covering this round, which was a nice gesture and all, so it would be rude to turn it away.

Lick.

Hold my breath.

Swallow.

Arrrrrghhhhhhh.

Suck.

Deep breath.

Hmmmm. This one wasn’t as bad. And I was starting to feel a little warm. I slipped out of my hoodie.

The band was sounding pretty damn good tonight. I caught my body moving with the beat a little bit.

I caught Anderson watching me out of the corner of my eye. Blatantly watching me as I swayed to the beat. I wish he wasn’t married.

I looked down at his hand.

Hmmm… no ring today.

Trouble in paradise?

I shook my head mentally to wipe the thoughts out. I had no business thinking about getting horizontal with him. Not at all.

I didn’t trust him enough for that, plus, knowing Anderson he probably took his ring off regularly in hopes of a little side action.

Nope, for me to get with him, I’d need to see the divorce decree, notarized and signed in triplicate.

I walked up to the front of the bar to join the small group of patrons that had decided to dance to the band’s music.

I was shortly joined by a few co-workers, all of whom were starting to look a little glassy-eyed. Funny, they obviously couldn’t hold their alcohol as well as I could.

I felt someone shimmy up behind me and found that I enjoyed it. Which was really weird because I’m normally very uncomfortable being touched after… well… after.

I turned around and got a teensy bit wobbly, so steadied myself by reaching out for the person in front of me.

I looked up and saw blue eyes.

Anderson.

His hands were on my hips and he slowly pulled me forward until we were grinding against each other.

Oh hot damn.

He leaned forward to brush my lips with his but I turned away.

No.

I knew better.

I pulled away and walked towards the front door, needing some fresh air. I needed to clear my mind. I needed to get my brain out of my uterus and stop thinking with my hormones.

I needed to get my head examined.

I knew better than to get mixed up with Anderson. I was supposed to be immune to him.

I paced around outside in front of the bar, my hand on my pepper spray in my pocket. I was muttering to myself giving myself part motivational talk and part stern talking to.

After about fifteen minutes of looking like I’d completely lost my mind, my head felt clear enough to go back in. The armor was firmly back in place.

I got to the table.

“Jensen, we were getting worried that you’d run away. Last round is on me.”

Yeah, another round. So thrilled.

I managed a tight grin as a little shot glass was put in front of me.

I shouldn’t.

I really should not.

Everyone licked their wrists and started passing around the salt shaker. Including me.

I grabbed my shot glass and downed the drink, and quickly followed it with the lime.

The warmth kicked into overdrive this time, but I was out of clothing to take off.

I felt eyes on me and instinctively turned and saw Anderson staring at me, again.

I quickly excused myself to go to the bathroom and walked past him to the back of the bar. I went into the stall and sat down, my head in my hands. Why was I playing with fire? I mean, this was so stupid. Of all the stupid things I’d done in my life, I was flirting with
him
of all people, and that was record dumb.

I realized I couldn’t hide in here any longer, without it seeming strange, so I walked out, and straight into the object of my desire and nightmares.

I pushed away and he walked toward me, a determined look in his eye.

I walked backward until the cool of the brick walk hit the back of my legs. I couldn’t go any further.

I had a strange feeling I didn’t want to back up anymore.

“You keep running away from me little mouse.”

“You’re full of it and full of yourself. I don’t run from anyone.”

I stood with my hands on my hips, looking as if I was brave and sassy as hell.

“Uh, huh.”

I felt those words more than heard them, as he had leaned forward to speak softly into my ear. Oh my God, the rush of breath against my neck had a ripple of pure lust rip through my body.

“Not interested, are you?” He stared at my boobs as they were rising and falling with my quickened breath. Unfortunately, instead of being revolted, I was turned on as all hell. My nipples decided that was the perfect time to join the party, and grew sharp enough to cut glass.

I put my hand on his stomach with the intent to push him away, and for some reason, my hand got a mind of its own and lingered there just a little too long.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand over my head, which pushed my chest out even more. Then I felt his other hand on my ass, as he pulled me forward and up. Out of natural instinct and not wanting to fall, my legs wrapped around his waist and I found my back pushed against the wall.

This was by far the hottest moment of my life.

I could feel his excitement for the moment between my legs, and I was both grateful and really disappointed that two pairs of pants separated it from me.

He leaned forward and, what the hell, I met him halfway open mouthed. Our tongues rubbed against each as he pushed against me, dry humping me against a brick wall in a bar with our co-workers only about thirty feet away.

I didn’t give a shit.

I ran my hand through his hair, pulling back his head as I sucked on his lower lip.

I was hearing music in the back of my head. Strange music. I ground against him just a little more and he moaned in the back of his throat.

More of the music.

My mind started to come out of its fog and I realized it wasn’t music I was hearing, it was the sound of an old typewriter. That was weird.

Suddenly, I felt his upper body pull away from me a bit, as he reached behind himself, past my leg and pulled a phone out of his back pocket. He frowned as he looked at the display, and answered it with me pinned against the wall.

“Hey, honey, what’s up?”

Wait, what? Honey?

“Oh yeah, just out at the bar with a group of the guys from work.”

His hand was on my ass.

I was pinned against a wall with my lips still swollen from the hottest, almost orgasmic make-out session that just occurred.

He was still rock hard.

He was talking to his wife.

I could almost see my lust punching him in the nuts, flipping him off and running away. Buh-bye, lust.

“Okay, do you need me to pick up anything on my way home? I’ll probably be home in about forty five minutes.”

I was still pinned there as he wrapped up his call.

“Great, love you, too, baby.”

He grinned at me as he disconnected the call with his wife.

“Now, where were we? I have about a half hour.” His hip thrust against me accented his comment, but there was no feeling there. No interest. No warmth.

Just disgust.

Disgust at him. Disgust at me. I dropped my legs and pushed him away from me, as hard as I could. I was pleased to see him almost fall on the ground with an impressive tent in the front of his jeans.

“Seriously?”

I walked away.

I thought of slapping my own ass to remind him of what he could have had, but held off. He shouldn’t have gotten that far.

I shouldn’t have let him.

I hoped that I wouldn’t remember this in the morning.