No Romance Required(8)

He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded in his typical king-of-the-universe manner. “Very well. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Sure.” She couldn’t wait for their twice-weekly magazine strategy session. Tons o’ fun.

Still, he didn’t leave. He studied her, making her heated skin prickle uncomfortably. The throbbing flesh between her thighs didn’t really help her decision to be cucumber-cool, but she could adapt.

By getting the hell out of there.

She grabbed her purse and rose, stiffening at his retreating footsteps. She didn’t turn until she was sure he was gone. Then she gathered her long hair in a messy topknot with a band from her bag and took off before the night could get any worse.

…

Sunday found Cory in his office at Value Hardware, as was his routine. Normally he’d also gotten some sleep the night before, but after the benefit that hadn’t happened.

Not even close.

Every time his mind veered to the events in the gazebo he redirected his thoughts to the task at hand. Forcibly. He worked through breakfast, then halfway to lunch. Occasionally he wandered into the store to pretend to be sociable, though he left that to his brother and his parents as much as possible. But Dillon had yet to come up for air after his romantic reconciliation, and his parents had gone shopping to prepare for their imminent cross-country move.

That left him.

Despite feeling even more surly than usual at the prospect of being friendly, he walked through and made idle chitchat about Joe Wilson’s bursitis, and Mac Connor’s new grandbaby. He hand-sold a new leaf blower, despite that also being Dillon’s area of expertise, and generally tried to act as if the burr up his ass wouldn’t do permanent damage if he moved just so.

And that burr’s name was Victoria Violet Townsend.

In several short minutes, he’d nearly allowed her to cause him to do something he never did. Namely, completely lose his mind.

Luckily seeing her orgasm—hell, feeling it through the fabric—had doused the raging flames of his libido. His ego might’ve swelled, and his cock might’ve been harder that night than the drill he’d just discussed with a customer, but his brain had reengaged and saved them both from certain calamity.

Well, that and his lack of a condom. Something he hadn’t been about to admit to Victoria. He’d been so caught up he hadn’t even realized he’d come to dig without a shovel. It had turned out to be a fortuitous thing, since they hated each other. They also worked together, which seemed to be a contradiction considering the fact that he’d selected her from a field of more qualified candidates. In this economy, he had to cut corners where he could, and she had one thing those other candidates didn’t. Or so he’d so foolishly believed.

She would come cheap.

Last night had proved that wasn’t true twice over, because if there was a gold standard for climaxes, she’d achieved it. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He almost snorted as he waved good-bye to Doc Cranston and turned toward his office at the back of the store. Cheap? Not bloody likely. She’d set a gouging fee for her employment, and he paid it because he’d been the fool who hadn’t locked down the financial terms of their agreement before signing on the dotted line. Moral of the story? Never assume anything with Victoria, and get every damn thing in writing.

After a few more hours of work, he did another walk-through of the store since Dillon still hadn’t surfaced—lucky bastard—and he couldn’t help noticing how friendly everyone seemed to be. Lots of smiles in his direction, even a few atta boys he didn’t quite understand. He chalked it up to leftover positive feeling from the benefit and returned to his office with his thoughts on the new Carlton store and the talk about personnel issues he had to have that morning with the HR rep he’d hired. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Peterson could be a hard-ass, and he had enough on his mind without wading into fights between employees.

He glanced at his watch, then at the phone. Maybe he’d reschedule. He also had to call that worthless no-show photographer and demand his deposit back. Christ, he didn’t have time for all these petty interruptions.

The door swung open and banged the inside wall, making him raise an eyebrow. For a man who’d probably left his new girlfriend in traction after their twelve-hour-plus lovefest, Dillon didn’t look nearly as cheerful as he should.

“Seen the paper, bro?” Dillon asked, waving the object in question. “You really need to take a look at it. Now.”

Dread curled in Cory’s stomach as he reached for his coffee. He normally drank decaf but switched over to the high-octane version whenever he put in a lot of hours at work. Which, lately, was always. “Let me guess, your girlfriend put in another fancy ad. If Alexa feels her flower shop can afford splashy ads that blow ours out of the water, that’s her decision. I don’t choose to spend our money that way.”