Tempt The Playboy Read online

  “We have that sexual harassment conference that’s mandatory right after lunch.” He eyes me.

  “Oh, is it going to be given by Hannah?” I ask him. “I would so bang her. She’s so hot.”

  “You know she’s head of Human Resources, right? That she has you flagged as the biggest liability of this firm. You know that she hired your latest PA and the first thing on her list was male.”

  “I don’t know why I was the only one singled out.” I check my phone that has buzzed in my inside pocket.

  “You fucked your last twenty secretaries. Sometimes at work.” He points out to me, leaning back in his chair. “And a couple of the interns, some data processors, and let’s not forget a mother or two.”

  The text that comes in is from Austin.

  I’m going to need a stiff drink after work.

  “Now,” I say, putting the phone back in my pocket, “if you can excuse me, I have a merger or two to get to.” I get up, looking down at his caseload. “And you have people to divorce and alimony to screw people over with.” Another reason why I’ll never get married. This whole ‘I love you forever, or till someone else comes along and then guess what, I want half of everything’ isn’t that appealing to me. Not now, not ever.

  I round the corner to my office, stopping at my assistant’s desk. It was once the home of Cassandra, who stood six one and had legs up to her armpits, as well as the perfect size C implants I’ve ever seen. I mean, let’s not forget she had no idea what she was doing unless it was under my desk. Fuck, could she maneuver her mouth like the best prosecutor in town. Now there sits a guy old enough to be Ruth’s husband with glasses as thick as Coke bottles. “Morning, Alfred,” I say, gathering up my messages.

  “Sir, my name is Aaron. I’ve told you numerous times.”

  I smile at him. “And I told you I’m batman and you’re my confidant.” I wink at him, going into my office and trying to read his chicken scratch. I pick up the phone, calling Hannah, who answers after two rings. “Hannah darling.” I smile.

  “Noah King, to what do I owe the pleasure?” It comes out almost harsher than it should.

  “We need to talk about my assistant and the fact that he can’t write nor can he use a computer.” I flip through my messages again. “I mean, I think one message said to call Dr. Chen.”

  “Noah, we’ve gone over this. You can’t have any women. The last one was the final straw and you know it.”

  “Okay, fine, but can I have a man who can at least surf the web and type with both hands?” I stare out through my window at Alfred as he puts his face almost into the computer.

  “Fine, but I expect you at the seminar we set up this afternoon.” It’s the last thing she says before she hangs up on me.

  I open my own computer and go through all my emails as well as some mergers that we need to get fixed up.

  At noon, I find myself getting off the elevator at Austin’s company. I turn the corner, getting an eyeful of the nicest ass I’ve seen. Well, today, that is. “Holy mother of God,” I say loudly.

  The woman goes to straighten herself up but knocks her head on the desk. The bang echoes in the vast office space.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” I rush behind her as I try to help her up. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I’m holding her hand while her other hand is rubbing the back of her head. “It’s okay. You startled me,” she starts to say and then looks at me.

  “What the hell is going on here?” The roar comes from behind her.

  She pushes away from me and looks over at Austin. He stands there with his hands on his hips, the vein in his neck twitching.

  “It’s my fault, Austin,” I tell him, while I drop her hand. “I came in and was surprised to see her. I startled her, and she knocked her head under the desk. I was just helping her up,” I tell him as I walk around the desk, right up to Austin, where I slap him on the shoulder. “I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch.”

  I look at Austin, who hasn’t taken his eyes off this woman. “No, I’m eating in. I have to go over the Grey Stone Park file. Lauren, can you get me lunch? Go to the deli at the corner; we have an account there. Just tell them it’s for me. They know what I like.”

  She puts her hand on her hip, glaring at him.

  “Please,” Austin hisses out.

  “Fine.” She grabs her bag and walks out.

  We both watch Lauren walk away, her ass swinging from side to side with each step. Austin is so intent on watching her, he doesn’t even notice when I push him aside and walk into his office.

  I throw myself on the couch he has in his office, while he opens the shades to see out into the office space.

  “Jesus Christ, who was that sex kitten in heels? I nearly had a heart attack when I walked up to find her bending over,” I ask him, looking in the direction of her desk.

  “My new stay-away-from-her assistant,” he grumbles as he sits down on the other side of the couch.

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, what happened to the ‘don’t fuck where you eat, Noah’ speech that you always give me?” When we were in college he would never ever fuck anyone he was in the same class with, never slept with a girl who was in his work-study. He stayed away from anyone in his circle. Which was great for me, because I took them all.

  “She’s crazy,” he says. “I hit her car this morning, and then she shows up in the office. I thought she was fucking stalking me.”

  That just pushes me over the edge, and I can’t stop laughing, crouching to the side. “You hit her car and then thought she was following you? Holy shit. Were you an asshole to her?” I ask this question because he can be an asshole of sorts.

  He smirks at me. “She named me Asshat in her phone.” That set us both off.

  “You know you’re fucked, right?” I finally stop laughing and throw my hand over the back of the couch. “When you saw me touch her, I thought you would charge at me like one of those bulls running toward the red sheet.”

  “She’s nothing more than a crazy chick with a tight ass. Who will get me coffee daily.”

  “Oh, really?” Her voice cuts through the air. My eyes go from Austin to Lauren, who stands there with a couple of bags, and my man looks like he’s catching flies. “Well, then, I’m happy I could assist you in your day,” she snorts, coming in and dumping the bags on the table in front of us. “I also got something for your friend,” she huffs and then walks away. This time slamming the door on her way out.

  “Oh fuck, you are in so much fucking trouble. Dude, she is going to fucking string you up by the balls. Remember that chick you played in college? The one you promised to bring home during spring break? She turned around and cancelled all your tickets. Then she put that ad all over Craigslist. ‘Lonely man searching another lonely man,’” I remind him.

  “She was fucking crazy! I had to change my number four times. Four! Then I had to start wearing beanies so she wouldn’t recognize me.” He shakes his head, while I laugh so hard I fall over. He looks over at me. “It was fucking May! I had to take three showers a day. I had no idea the head could sweat so much.”

  I finally stop laughing and look in the bags that Lauren just dumped on the table in front of us. “If I were you, I’d enjoy this. It’s probably going to be the last meal she hasn’t had the time to spit in.”

  We spend the next thirty minutes eating our lunch while shooting the shit about everything else.

  “Are you going out this weekend with Deborah?” I ask him.

  “Not sure what my weekend plans are. What do you have planned?”

  I take out my phone, scrolling down the list of names. “Andrea, that is who I plan to do. I met her at Starbucks yesterday. She has the longest legs I’ve ever seen. I plan to have them wrapped around my neck, and not in a wrestling move, either.” I raise my eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

  I get up, putting the garbage in the bag. “This has been a hoot, but sadly, I must run.”
/>   I get up and walk out, going straight to Lauren’s desk. She is busy typing something, so she only turns her head. “Thank you so much for lunch, Lauren. You were a lifesaver.” I walk away, leaving her with a wink. Just to piss him off even more.

  By the time I get to my office the sexual harassment bullshit is underway. I slide in the back and sit next to Harvey. “Did I miss much?” I ask him.

  “They just showed a picture of you and what to stay away from.”

  I smile at the PowerPoint Cassandra is going over. Listening to what she’s saying.

  “If at any time, anyone corners you and makes you feel uncomfortable”—she looks around at the people in the room—“whether by touching or with sexual innuendo, it’s your right to come and say something.”

  I lean over, keeping my voice low. “If you corner someone and what you say and do is making her uncomfortable, you aren’t doing it right.” I can’t continue because Cassandra calls my name.

  “Is there anything you’d like to add to that, Mr. King?”

  “I’m just wondering if we’re going to have a dress code restriction. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone if I”—I shrug my shoulders—“wear my kilt one day and it isn’t long enough.”

  “You’re Scottish?” one of the interns asks.

  I smirk at her, almost tempted to ask her if she wants to see under my kilt, but Cassandra interrupts again.

  “If at any time you have a complaint about what someone else is wearing, please send me an email with the description of the outfit in question.”

  “Or lack thereof,” I interrupt.

  Some interns roll their eyes while the other half try to catch my eye.

  The rest of the seminar or conference or whatever the fuck you want to call it goes by with me laughing at all the ‘situations’ she talks about. They’re mostly stuff I’ve done. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not one to throw myself at a woman, or make her uncomfortable. But if I connect with her and she connects with my cock, who am I to say no to that.

  By the time I get home and unwind, I fall asleep to SportsCenter.

  Chapter Three

  Kaleigh

  I finished doing outside yoga by eleven forty-five. If my client wasn’t so sweaty and hairy, I might have been tempted to do the plow pose with him, but I just can’t handle back hair.

  So instead I stopped by Starbucks to get myself a soy Frappuccino as I made my way to my yoga studio. Opening the glass door, the seashell wind charm zings. There’s a reception desk as soon as you walk in to the right. On the walk in block letters form the word Namaste. When you walk around the corner you enter what we call the ‘chill out room’, painted all white. White and tan cloth chairs align one wall while there’s a low canvas brown couch against the other wall. In the middle is a low white wooden table with ivory candles. To the left of the room are the men’s and women’s locker rooms. Straight ahead is the door that leads to the ‘Zen room’.

  The room is darker than the chill room. The walls are painted a dark chocolate brown. A square black box hangs suspended in the middle of the room. White chiffon curtains hang and are tied together all the way around. In the center is a round dim light and crystal beads are hanging to the floor. Around the room are six love seats, all with big plush cushions you can lie on, tiny tree lights scattered all over the room. In the middle is a rug set out for stretching if needed. The music coming out of the room is gentle charms, with flutes in the background. Just the sound makes the stress leave your shoulders. I check to see if there are people in there. During the day, there are many people who pop in to just sit down and block out the everyday hustle we all live in. It’s also a no phone zone. I know it’s a shocking concept, but it’s the way I roll.

  When I close the door and walk past the locker rooms, I check into the yoga studio that’s on the other side. I open the door to see Stephanie is in the middle of her hot yoga session. The room is huge, with one wall being floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden I have outside. The natural light coming in bounces off the wall that has the mirror all across it. There are about twenty people in this class. Hot yoga is a vigorous form of yoga performed in a studio that’s heated to one hundred and five degrees and has a humidity of forty percent. The formal name for hot yoga is “Bikram yoga.” It’s the biggest craze right now. People usually just dress in sports bras and shorts. Anything else would be too much. On one wall hangs a picture that says, “You are one yoga class away from a good mood.” While on the wall where the door is hangs “Yoga Every Day.”

  I know she’s at the end of her class since they’re doing the stretching part. I close the door, going back to the reception desk where Kathy is now sitting.

  “Hey, girl,” she greets me with a smile.

  “Hi there, sunshine. Can you add Mr. Bison to the same time next week?”

  She takes care of everything that needs scheduling in here and also does the Pilates class we host on the weekends.

  “You have a private group session starting in twenty minutes with three moms. Then I have to cancel the Pilates class on Saturday. My parents are coming in and I can’t get out of it.”

  I look at the clothing rack we’ve set up, organizing it by color. “Don’t cancel it. I can do it.” I smile over at her. “I’ll bring Rachel in. She loves walking around shouting at people to just breathe.”

  “Oh, that’s even better.” She continues posting about things on our Facebook page and putting a silly picture of me on the Instagram page. I run out of the studio at two-thirty, making it home at the same time as the bus pulls up.

  Rachel is the first one to bounce off the bus. “You almost forgot us.” She skips over, her big backpack over her head. Her arms barely make it around my waist. My hand cups her head while I lean down to kiss her.

  “I was waiting for you in the car.” I pretend.

  “Sure, Aunt Kay.” Gabe, my nephew, comes up the driveway bouncing his soccer ball. “I saw you swerve in right before the bus stopped.”

  “Hush it, kid, or I’ll make you eat tofu raw.” I dare him while he makes a grimace with his face. I’m a full-fledged Vegan. The kids, however, are not, and let’s not even start with Lauren.

  “Why don’t we go in and wash our hands, grab a snack, and go do some poses in the backyard?” I lean down, picking up Rachel. “Whatcha say, Rachie, want to learn downward dog?”

  She throws her hands up in the air. “Yes, I want to do the dog.”

  I laugh at the same time that Gabe does. “Don’t say that out loud.”

  We go inside where I make them wash their hands and cut up some apples and cheese. I tried to pass them the vegan cheese, but they caught on and made me cut the normal cheddar one.

  “I think I’m going to try a new recipe for dinner tonight to surprise your mom.” I turn to the fridge where I spot the three bottles of wine I bought yesterday, and it’s a good thing I got a text from her today saying that she needed it. “So what do you guys think about cauliflower?” I turn, nodding my head. “Yum, right.”

  Rachel holds her nose. “Yucky.”

  I pull up my phone, taking out a recipe. “Go start your homework and when I finish we’ll go outside.”

  They both push away from the counter, going to the kitchen table where they take out their stuff.

  I take out the cauliflower, wash it, and cut it in little pieces, mixing some spices together and drizzling them with oil. I wash my hands and set the oven. “Okay, rugrats, we have thirty-five minutes before I have to take it out. Let’s go outside and soak up the sun.”

  “I want to do the dog, please.” Rachel runs to me with her yoga mat.

  “Let’s go do downward dog, okay?” I walk outside, closing the door behind us.

  Gabe runs out with his soccer ball, throwing it on the grass and practicing with it.

  “Okay, Rachel, let’s start.” I go through about five or six exercises, then we lie on the grass together while we watch the clouds float by, trying to decide what they look
like.

  “I’m going to get water,” Gabe says as he opens the door. “Auntie Kay, there’s something smoking,” he says with panic.

  “Shit, the cauliflower.” I get up and run inside. The smell of char hits me right away. “Oh my God, oh my God.” I grab the oven mitt, opening the oven.

  “Mom’s here,” Gabe says, running to the front door.

  She walks in the door just as the smoke detector goes off. “Oh, dear Christ, Kay, what the hell are you doing?” She grabs a broom out of the closet and positions herself beneath the smoke detector, using the broom to fan the smoke away. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” she chants while looking over at the kitchen in time to see me pulling a tray of charred, smoking cauliflower out of the oven.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I’m so sorry! We went outside to do some kid yoga, and I totally forgot.” I try explaining while I walk with the pan to the sink, turning on the water and soaking the smoking remains of what was once cauliflower. The sizzling sound of water hitting a hot metal pan fills the quiet room, along with a burnt, smelly, steamy smoke that has the potential to set off the now silent smoke detector again.

  “Oh, Auntie Kay, what are we going to eat now?” Rachel asks. She would have been the only one of us to attempt to eat one of my creations.

  I slap my hands together. “Oh! I have some tofu we can cut up and—” Before I can even finish that sentence, Gabe and Lauren both yell a combined firm yet panicky, “No!” I glare at both of them.

  “Okay, I’m going to change. Gabe, start your homework. Rachel, go start studying your spelling words. You”—Lauren points at me—“clean up this mess. I’ll find something to throw together for pasta.”

  I groan. “I don’t have any gluten-free pasta here.” I walk up to the fridge while Lauren goes upstairs to change out of her ‘work clothes.’ When she comes back downstairs I am putting things in the dishwasher. “Oh, good news,” I inform her. “I found some rice, so I’ll throw whatever sauce you make on there. Yumm-O.”