"I'd say Chase was spot on with that description. But like you said, I have to keep my hands to myself or risk getting in trouble. And I'm not sure I've got that kind of control."
"Ah, bullshit, just pull out your phone and dial up one of the many women you have in your contact list. That'll take the edge off."
"Nope, I don't think that's going to do the trick. But I'll get through this. It's for the company, right? That fucking Chase. If he hadn't dumped the owner of the magazine, she wouldn't be so hyped on having an article about Plaything."
"Well you know Chase. Always thinks with his dick. But I'm more interested about what I'm hearing in this phone call. Sounds like Mr. Cool has finally met his match. Who'd have thought the brainy, journalist type was your thing? Although in high school, you did always have a hard on for that cute English teacher."
"Shit, you and that memory of yours. You never forget a fucking thing."
"Forget? You used to sit up front and stare at her like she was some damn centerfold model. Hey, which reminds me, Aidan invited a bunch of models to Sunday night's party. Have you invited your reporter friend? Could be a good place for her to see that we're all just a regular bunch of people running a successful company."
I laughed. "Regular, my ass. Especially when we're drunk and surrounded by models. But I might invite her. It could fit in with my plan." A sound behind me made me turn toward the glass doors leading to the balcony. Georgie had changed back into her dress. Her hair was slightly ruffled. Her cheeks were pink as she waved through the glass.
"I've got to go, Zane. Later." I hung up.
I slid open the door and stepped inside. Georgie avoided looking directly at me as she lifted her phone. "I just scheduled an Uber driver to pick me up."
"What? Why? You're welcome to stay the night. I'll sleep in the guestroom." That suggestion was meant to appease her. Instead, it seemed to make her frown.
"No, I don't want to intrude, and I prefer to sleep in my own bed. I told them I'd wait outside." She still didn't lift her eyes to me.
"Georgie, is everything all right?"
"Yes," she said quickly. "I had a lovely"—her frown turned to a weak smile—"an interesting time. I want to get home and do some writing." She finally lifted her face to me as she tapped her head. "Lots of stuff and reflections floating around up here. Thank you again."
I walked her to the door. "I'll wait outside with you."
"You don't have to. It seems like a very safe neighborhood."
"I have to buzz the car inside the gates." I walked out onto the porch with Georgie and had seriously begun regretting the whole idea. But now the thought of her walking out of my life for good left me with a cold feeling. I didn't want to let her go. I wanted to know her. I wanted to know what she liked to eat for breakfast. I wanted to know about her past and her future. I wanted to know what it felt like to hold her naked in my arms, stuttering my name on long hot whispers as I brought her to climax.
"We're having a cocktail party Sunday night for the company and other important people. I would really like you to come. It might be a good way to do some research."
Two headlights appeared at the gate.
"I'll think about it. Good night, Trey." Georgie hurried down the driveway to meet the car, rushing off as if she wanted to leave my house and never return.
Chapter Eleven
Georgie
I sat under the flickering light bulb hanging over the small kitchen table in my apartment. Tiger, my big orange tabby cat, stretched his body out across the table and curled his long tail over the notebook. I flicked his tail away, but, like a spring, it curled right back. Tiger leaned his head forward, and he pushed it against my hand for some ear rubbing. I put down my pen to grant him his wish.
After the Uber driver dropped me in the parking lot, I'd trudged up the two flights of stairs to my apartment feeling lonely and more than just a little disappointed in myself. I had considered myself a gutsy, daring reporter. At first, this story idea had seemed like just the edgy piece I needed. But I'd thrown just a bit too many of my feelings into the mix. After changing into pajamas and making myself some hot tea, I had sat down, thinking I had at least enough ideas to start the story. But my journaling session hadn't been terribly productive.
I sat back against the chair and looked down at the notebook I'd been staring at for an hour. My tea had turned cold and my ideas had too. I had, however, written the name Trey in every high school doodling font I could remember, and, of course, each time I'd written his name, I framed it with a heart. The man had transformed me from a confident, award winning journalist into a blushing school girl, a school girl with a crush on a boy who only wanted to use her to cheat off her math test. Trey had no interest in me except he knew I could give his company free advertisement in a widely circulated magazine. That sobering reality had prodded me from the warmth of his bed and out the door of his house.
I dropped the pen and got up from the table. I switched off the light and heard Tiger's padded paws hit the floor and trot behind me as I headed to the bedroom.
Meredith could have her reporter position. A broken heart had never been a part of the job description.
Chapter Twelve
Trey
My hand hovered over my phone for a minute before I coaxed myself to pick it up. As much as Georgie had insisted everything was fine, she had left my house upset. I blamed myself. I should never have betrayed her trust by walking over to watch her on the bed. I couldn't help myself. I'd gone to the very edge of self-control with Georgie, but hearing her quiet moans across the room had finally broken my steely resolve. Obviously, it was a stupid move, and now, I'd no doubt, lost her confidence. If I was smart or had any sense, I would just let it go, let her go and wait to see what she wrote in the magazine. But all my smarts and senses seemed to have disappeared the second Georgie Dempsey walked into my office.
I dialed the number she had given me. I half expected it to go to voicemail and was thrown off guard when she answered. "Hello."
"Georgie, it's Trey, Trey Armstrong."
"Yes, I thought it might be. Listen, I'm sorry I scurried out so fast last night."
"No," I spoke up quickly. "I went back on my promise. I don't blame you for wanting to leave. Look, we can just drop the whole thing. I don't want to push you into doing something that makes you uncomfortable."
She paused. "Actually, I went to bed last night telling myself that this just wasn't going to work out. Then I woke this morning, and instead of feeling relieved by my decision, I felt utter disappointment in myself. I'm usually not such a delicate flower. I want to continue with this sexual awakening. I pulled myself out of bed this morning and wrote a good three thousand words. I want to keep going. Unless of course, it no longer interests you. I can only imagine how busy you are. I could just continue by myself."
"That doesn't sound the least bit fun. If you still want my help with this, I'm glad to lend a hand. Or whatever else it might take. I mean no physical contact still. I will stick to that rule." Even if it is the fucking death of me, I wanted to add but decided against it.
There was a longer pause on her end, and I thought she'd changed her mind again. I was sounding too damn enthusiastic. "Sounds like you need to give it more thought."
"No." The word shot back to me. "No, I've given it plenty of thought. As unusual as last night was, I realized that my sex life hasn't just been peanut butter sandwiches. It's been plain bread. And I'm talking about that white, flavorless kind. I learned some things about myself. I felt—My body reacted in a way—Never mind, you'll have to read all about it in my article. So, yes, any help or advice you want to give this plain bread girl, I'll take it."
Instantly, my cock reacted to the idea of helping her. I shifted on the kitchen chair to relieve the pressure. Even though no amount of publicity was worth the physical torture I was going to go through helping Georgie find her sexual self, I couldn't say no. Mostly because I wanted to be near her.
"It's Saturday and the weather is great. Why don't I take you out on my boat." The suggestion popped into my head and out of my mouth before I'd given it much thought.
"You have a boat? Of course you have a boat. You'll need to excuse me. I'm one of those regular people who is thrilled when I have extra money to buy a ticket to a movie with a boat in it, let alone enough to ever actually own a boat. Yes, I'd like that. Where should I meet you?"
"I can pick you up."
"No, I'd rather just meet you. That way I'll have my own car just in case."
"All right." I made sure to push away the disappointment in my voice. It was clear she didn't completely trust me. Couldn't blame her. "The Bridgeport Marina, slip eighteen. I'll see you in an hour. Bring a swimsuit. I've got everything else you'll need."
Chapter Thirteen
Georgie
Slip eighteen at the marina contained a beautiful boat, with a nice shiny white hull and lots of slivery chrome. But the thing that really caught my eye was the glistening, shirtless man in swim trunks and a blue captain's cap.
Trey's white smile gleamed out from under the shade of his hat. He waved and climbed down from the top deck to meet me at the dock. He lowered a small gangplank, and I walked across and onto his boat. White and blue striped seats lined the stern, and there was plenty of sunning space at the bow. I'd been on a few ski boats, a rented party pontoon and a whale watching boat. This was definitely my first time on a luxury yacht, although it was smaller than I'd imagined.