Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (5 page)

****

After his tedious day, Logan drove home, the just-over-an-hour-long trip giving him time to think about what his next plan of action for his home would be. But instead of business, he found himself still thinking about Chloe and the look on her face when he spoke of his history with the old church. He had wanted to share more with her in hopes of seeing that scandalized and entertained expression on her face again, but so much for that.

Finally at home, he gazed around at the misplaced furniture. The surprise of seeing Chloe was still fresh in his mind when he began rearranging the furniture for the fourth time. He remembered well what it felt like having to work while taking on an internship, and wondered how she was faring with that prick Moriarty. Hopefully, he was treating her kindly, though deep down he knew she was most likely being treated like some second-class citizen. Working God only knows how many hours at Indulgent Designs
and
Baker & Macy Architecture Firm was surely putting a strain on her physically. The last thing Chloe needed was the emotional stress of working for an asshole.

Annoyed with himself for fawning over and worrying about a woman he knew nothing about, he decided to take the matter of his pleasure into his own hands. He might as well since calling any number of women on his personal contact list
was off the table while his place remained unsuitable for guests.

In the shower, he focused inwardly as music and
steam swirled all around him. With his eyes closed, he let the hot water cascade down his body as he tried to envision what his home would look like when completed—the colors, the layout,
the equipment
—and the women he would entertain there.

He tightened his grip on himself and stroked, the sounds of his grunts echoing off the stone walls. He would show those women what it was like to be under his control and to experience a kind of pleasure that would leave them reeling and begging for more.

Without warning, Chloe's smile flashed behind his closed lids.

Was she attached to anyone?

Stroke.

What things interested her?

Stroke.

Her likes? Dislikes?

Squeeze.

Was she as talented at getting her throat fucked as she was at holding his attention?

Grunt.

What was the point of even wondering about any of it?

He knew what the point was—
he wanted her
. He widened his stance and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself when the image of her tight body infiltrated his thoughts. To stave off the sexual tension boiling in his balls, he stroked more intensely. When he imagined her ass lifted in the air and pushing against him as her body responded to his manipulations and deep penetrations, he let out one last moan ending in a sigh with his release.

Dried and dressed in flannel pants, he tossed himself onto the mattress still lying on the floor. Though he felt physically satisfied, it did little to get Chloe out of his mind. It seemed fate had intervened and given him one last chance to see her. While it was an odd thing on fate's part, the more he thought about it, their employment at the same company might have its advantages. He hadn't yet worked out what those advantages might be, but with a little bit of elbow grease and persuasion, his wicked fantasies about her might just turn into reality.

*

Chloe’s evening was spent at her second job, moping. Once again feeling embittered about her ill-fitting uniform that looked more like a costume, she took a break from serving lattes and espressos to complete strangers in order to browse the want ads. Not that it mattered. No one was going to give her a chance after having been let go from Indulgent Designs.

Forcing herself to think about something else before she broke down crying again, she instead attempted to read the newest issue of
High Gloss
, but it was no use. She was trying too hard to think of everything other than the fact that her lifelong dream had turned out to be a massive time-suck.

In her quest to graduate at the top of her class, she had not only let her friendships fall by the wayside, but her love life, and now she had nothing to show for it and no one to blame but herself. Not that there was much of a love-life to begin with. The past four years had been about becoming an interior designer and everything surrounding that goal, and she didn't have anything to show for it except a well-decorated apartment. The sad realization was that she was just as big an asshole as Dimitry was.

Still, there was Logan Evans and the thoughts of him that kept creeping into her head. The attraction simmering between them, his intense eye contact, visions of his hands on her body and rolling sweat, and his mouth making urgent demands—all fantasies, sure, but what was life if she couldn't pander to an occasional dream?

Working part-time for Baker & Macy, it would be another three days until she
might
get a glimpse of
Mr. Sex Appeal again. Three days too damned long.

****

At the end of her shift, Chloe found herself in her apartment, tired and worn out. Fully clothed, she threw herself on her bed and tried to forget about the life she was living while dreaming of a day when she didn’t have to hold down two jobs to pay her bills. Maybe even a day when a strong man would enter her life and give her the kind of satisfaction she had only fantasized about.

T
he following day when lunchtime arrived, Logan was faced with a decision. He had tried all morning to side-step thoughts of the pretty brown-haired woman with the mouth that was begging to be kissed, and if he was lucky,
fucked.
And that body—holy hell, the things he wanted to do with that body. He had even avoided thinking her name in a lame attempt to keep his mind off the image of her legs draped over his shoulders while pile-driving into her.

When he ultimately, though not surprisingly, gave into his carnal nature, he ventured back down to the file room in hopes of getting another peek at Chloe. He searched the room only to see the older woman he had encountered the day before.

“Where's Chloe?” The eagerness in his voice was hard to conceal, making him fidget with his tie in an attempt to regain his composure.

“She’s not working today. Why, is there a problem?”

“No problem,” he answered with practiced casual ease.
Except that he had a mammoth hard-on with Chloe's name written all over it
. “When does she work next?”

The white-haired woman pinched her brows together and critically pursed her lips at him. “You know I can’t divulge personal information about another employee, and that includes their work schedule.”

Rules
.

Logan had never been fond of following them. Strict protocol on the other hand, was a whole other issue. Yes, he liked strict protocol followed. Not by himself, of course, but by a woman kneeling in front of him as he plunged his shaft balls deep into her throat while he …

“Mr. Evans?” the woman asked, pulling him out of his sinful thoughts.

“Yes, fine. I need a file,” his irritable answer came back clipped.

He rattled off some random number, making it up as he went along, so the woman would get out of his face. When she disappeared, he quickly readjusted his rigid dick and mentally scolded himself for reacting in such a pubescent way.

He casually wondered if there was a drug that worked in the opposite was as Viagra.
An anti-hardening lotion, maybe
? He closed his eyes for a split second to recall the memory of his bitchy ex-girlfriend, Jess, and her ghastly grimacing while giving head and, sure enough, it had the desired effect he was hoping for. She never could suck cock with any kind of grace, though that had been the least of his issues with her. The fact that she couldn't keep her hands and mouth off other men was far more offensive than her pathetic oral abilities.

With his shaft now back to its pre-Chloe flaccid state, he quickly checked the area for anything that looked remotely like a schedule. He crept back to the office where the woman had come from, and low and behold, he found what he was looking for on her desk. He put his photographic memory to good use as he perused it and committed to memory Chloe’s days and hours of work and contact information. From the looks of it, she only worked thirty hours a week, which was perfect for the plan that was already forming in his mind.

Promptly, he walked back to the tall counter. When the office manager came back out, she looked bewildered.

“You must have the file number incorrect.”

“I’ll double check and get back with you,” he countered as he turned to walk out.

Three more days until he would see Chloe again?
He wondered if he could wait that long, knowing damned well it would be sheer torture. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue he had been blessed with—practiced, yes—achieved by sheer will power, yes,
most of the time
. But that didn’t make waiting any less tiresome.

In the meantime, he would do a bit of homework on Chloe, while occupying the rest of his time by searching for a new interior decorator. As for the ensuing boners she was inadvertently causing, he would just have to continue getting himself off.

*

Chloe’s second job was proving to be more of a nuisance than anything else. Minimum wage and the measly tips she made at the coffee shop barely made it worth her while.
And that damned outfit.
She was beyond infuriated about having to wear it.

S
tudent loans
, she reminded herself. Though, at this rate, she would be forever paying them off.

Though physically she was a late-bloomer, she knew from a young age what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now, a month away from her twenty-third birthday, she felt as if all her effort had been for naught, and all those late nights studying diligently had been wasted.

If only she could build her client list and find someone who would give an unknown interior decorator a chance, her life would be so much happier. At least then she could throw it in Dimitry's smug face that she had made it on her own.

When the day of her next shift at Baker & Macy finally arrived, nervous jitters had all but taken over. It was an absurd reaction considering she wasn’t even sure if she would see Logan Evans again or if he would grace her with his dimpled, crooked grin once more.

The day started out slowly, and as hour after dreary hour passed, she gave up hope that Mr. Evans would show up. She sulked into her manager’s office contemplating whether or not to take matters into her own hands and seek him out under the guise of delivering someone a file.

Seated in an uncomfortable office chair, she began swiveling around in it, daydreaming of someday catering to the rich and famous and designing the most luxurious rooms imaginable across the globe.
Velvets, satins, exotic hand-woven linens and rugs, imported silks…

With her eyes closed and her head swimming, her ears were filled with the sound of a man’s deep and husky voice.

“Having fun?”

Chloe halted, her eyes bleary from spinning for far too long. When her vision cleared, Mr. Evans was standing in the doorway of her boss’ office, and there it was—that mischievous smile that she had been thinking about for three long days.

She quickly stood up, wobbly on her feet, and about teetered over. Logan lunged toward her, gripped her by her shoulders and steadied her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your playtime.”

His words and sultry voice eased over her. The way his mouth formed the word
playtime
warmed her insides as did the scent of saffron, amber and jasmine cologne.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I was just taking a break,” she replied, running her tongue along her upper lip as she stared at his mouth. “Is there something I can help you with, Sir?”

*

Again with the Sir?
This little tart was in need of some serious memory-recall training. Logan fingered Chloe’s chin, lifting her face to meet his. When he touched her, she took a sharp breath in and held it, her eyes wide and unblinking.

“I can’t concentrate when you call me Sir. I’ve already asked you to call me Logan.
Twice
. Do you normally have difficulty following simple instructions?” He drew closer, allowing his hot, damp breath and softly spoken words to flow over her mouth. While Chloe stood immobile and breathless, he held her gaze steadily, enjoying the effect he was having on her. “Do you need me to repeat the question?” The palpable and visible excitement he was causing in her made the corners of his mouth lift in a playful smile. His left eyebrow rose infinitesimally at her silence
.
“I’m waiting for your answer,” he whispered, his widening smile causing her to shake her head
no
. “That’s good to know,” he said as he released her.

She promptly inhaled as she blinked rapidly. When her faculties appeared to return, a look of irritation flashed over her face. When she pushed past him, he attempted to reach out to her, but she was too quick on her feet and escaped his clutches.

Without making direct eye contact, she addressed him. “Was there something you needed?”

“No, I believe I got what I came for,” he replied, unable to suppress a breathy burst of laughter.

Her eyes darted to his. “I don't know what you find so funny. For your information, it's because of you that I lost my position with Indulgent Designs,
Logan.
” she retorted, emphasizing his name with heavy sarcasm.

As her eyes filled with tears, she whirled away from him, her hips swinging furiously.

Left standing alone in the small office, Logan felt a combination of guilt and anger wash over him. It hadn’t been his plan to intimidate or upset her, though clearly he had. The urge to pull her back into the room and apologize while planting his lips on hers was so overwhelming—he took two steps in the direction she had disappeared, but decided it was probably better to let her simmer down.

****

At the end of his day, and after much thought about Chloe and her predicament, Logan decided to stop off for a strong coffee before heading home to plan out how he was going to deal with the fallout of his actions. When he looked up from his phone, he was shocked to see his favorite brunette standing before him dressed in a tight-fitting ruffled blouse and plaid skirt.

It seemed everywhere he went Chloe was destined to be in his path. Maybe it was a sign.

With rounded eyes she stared back at him, speechless.

“Mr. Evans,” she finally greeted him after several awkward, silent seconds.

“Ms. Stephens. That’s an interesting uniform,” his gaze roamed over her body. “You wear it well,” he remarked, his lusty eyes taking in every inch of her.

Visibly taken aback with his statement but still irate, she shifted from foot to foot. Looking past him, she dismissed his statement. “Thank you, but it’s not something I particularly like.”

“Perhaps under different circumstances, and with a little coaxing, you might enjoy dressing up like that?” he questioned her suggestively, in an attempt to brighten her mood.

Unmistakably affected by his suggestion, but still looking as if she was holding a grudge, she stammered, “What …what would you like?”

“Well, since we’re on the subject …,” he decided to take the leap, “… first, I'd like to apologize. I had no idea that what I said to Moriarty caused you to lose your internship. You have to know that I would never intentionally do something to jeopardize your future. But I won’t work with someone who can treat another human being so disrespectfully, no matter what their reputation is."

A flash of remorse shone in her eyes. "I'm sorry you were put in that position. I know how much you were looking forward to working with him."

Seeing her irritation wane, he decided to take the next step. "Second, I'd love the opportunity to get to know you better.”

Logan never was good at subtlety, and there was no sense in beating around the bush.

Bush
.

Why the hell did his mind always have to go
there?
He smiled up at her, keeping his inappropriate thoughts to himself.

She momentarily faltered but kept moving right along. “What would you like to drink?”

“A double shot energy mocha,” he answered, his building curiosity about her private grooming habits growing with each passing second.

Chloe disappeared, her hips swaying side-to-side once again and frustrating the hell out of him with her lack of acknowledgment of his comment.

When she reappeared, she placed his drink in front of him and tried to swiftly withdraw, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Chloe, please sit.”

*

Unable to resist Logan’s gentle command, Chloe turned to face him and slowly eased herself into the chair across from him. She was still stunned at his heartfelt apology and comment about wanting to get to know her. She couldn’t be sure if she was dreaming and because of that, she didn’t know how to respond, especially after their uncomfortable encounter earlier in the afternoon and her explosive reaction. Not to mention, she was still reeling from the fact that Logan had fired Dimitry over the way he had treated
her
.
Dimitry Friggin' Moriarty.
The Big Man in interior design.

Logan definitely had balls. That or he didn't have a clue as to how influential D-Mo was. On the other hand, maybe Logan did know and he just didn't care. That would be novel. She should try that approach.

Regardless, she was even more aggravated with herself for not having given the arrogant D-Mo a piece of her mind after he let her go for no good reason, as well as irritated for having allowed Logan to touch her without invitation. Though, in actuality, she had never been touched quite like
that
before, and the way her body responded to him felt surprisingly incredible.

“Exactly how many hours a week do you work?” His voice pulled her back to the present.

Disoriented by his question, she stared at him a moment. How much she worked wasn’t any of his business, but the look on his face compelled her to answer anyway.

“Sixty, sometimes seventy hours.”