Page 12 of Maneater (The Mavens #1)
“Yeah, we’ve made sure it’s all gone. You know, I’d really love to talk about all of this. I’m just…” A deep, exaggerated sigh leaves her lips, making her breasts in her far too low shirt rise dramatically. “I’m so stressed about it, you know?”
“We have a great insurance plan,” I tell her bluntly. “You should talk to someone.”
Annoyance fights with irritation on her face before that smile returns.
“I know, but I’d so rather talk to someone who understands the intricate details of this workplace, you know?”
I don’t, but I can’t say that because it seems like grounds for her to file a complaint against me.
“Well—”
“Hey, Mr. Fisher?” a voice calls, and relief that I’m being interrupted from talking to this woman floods me.
“Yeah?” I ask, turning to see the pool manager, Carol, looking at me nervously. This job was not the best choice for her since she can’t stand confrontation, and I can guarantee that’s what she’s about to inform me of.
“Um, a couple of guests just walked that way, toward the rental shack. There’s nothing really over there, but it’s still dangerous, you know? I don’t know what to do.” She bites her lip nervously.
“Do we still have everything roped off?” I ask.
“Yeah, but you know how guests are. They see a ‘ do not enter’ sign, and they think it means everyone but them.”
I groan, looking around. It’s busy on the pool deck this afternoon, and Carol seems to be the only one on shift right now.
“I’ll handle it,” I say, and she nods before a guest waves her down.
I nod, telling her to go assist them, and give Tanya a small, polite nod before heading off.
Annoyed, I make my way around the pool, taking a shortcut through the pool house until I reach the edge of the beach.
Two figures far off duck under the caution tape, and I curse low before continuing toward them.
It’s not until I’m about twenty feet away that I catch a brief, familiar glance of one of the women’s faces and freeze before shifting around the corner in case she turns again.
Because for some insane reason, I’m pretty sure I’m looking at Josie.
Josie, the woman who has intrigued and confused me for months.
Years, even. Josie, whose dates I can’t seem to stop myself from interrupting just to watch her jaw get tight with irritation.
Josie, whom I bumped into at Dante’s bar, who got my dick hard just by arguing with me, who willfully followed me into the office belonging to my friend, who let me push her against a wall and kiss her, who moaned when I slid my fingers into her, who called out my name when she came, and who, most importantly, refused to give me her number.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time.
The first time I met Josephine Montgomery, she was an undergrad, and I was finishing the final year of my MBA.
I’d been convinced by my friends to go out for once instead of obsessing about grades and work.
There, I met Josie, who had been out celebrating her friend’s birthday, and danced nearly the entire night with her.
When her friends tugged her away to go home, I asked for her number.
She gave me a coy smile, shook her head, and said she doesn’t date.
I told myself it was fine, that I didn’t have time for some party girl barely over twenty-one. Especially not when I was on the fast track finishing my MBA, a degree that Daydream was paying for since even at twenty-six, Annette saw some kind of promise in me I couldn’t quite grasp at the time.
That is, until I saw her out a week later with some asshole whom I’d met in a statistics class the previous semester.
Doesn’t date, my ass.
I avoided her that night and did my best to brush her out of my mind, but two weeks later, she was out to dinner with some other trust fund kid who had more money than sense, and I understood it then: she turned me down because I didn’t have whatever pull she looked for in order for someone to be worthy of her time.
Unfortunately, for whatever idiots fell for her charm and met her rigorous standards, it seemed like none of them proved worthy of her for more than one date.
For the next six months, until graduation, I saw her out multiple times, each with a different man, some other poor schmuck who fell for her act and was quickly tossed aside.
After graduation, I forgot about the brunette bombshell, instead focusing solely on work and climbing the ladder as quickly as possible to prove to Annette that her belief and investment in sending me to get my MBA were sound.
Last year, at thirty-two, that hard work paid off, and I was promoted to VP of Operations for the entire Daydream Resorts: the youngest VP in the one-hundred-year history of the company, and I moved to Hudson City, where Daydream’s headquarters are located.
That was when I started spotting her out again.
She was once more going on dates with powerful and wealthy men, except this time, I knew them personally.
Many were clients, investors, or vendors for Daydream.
The first time I bumped into her on one, there was a flash of utter irritation in her eyes before a wall fell over her face and she reverted to some kind of airhead sex kitten, all tits and doe eyes and silly giggles.
All of it was hot; all of it was alluring.
But what I really wanted to see again was that irritation.
That was the look that made my cock hard.
So, every time I happened upon her out with someone I knew, which has been at least once a month for the last year, I stopped by, made some small talk with her date, and handed out a stealthy barb that succeeded in drawing her fire.
When I saw her at Opal, I was ready for more of the same: a quick flare of her irritation and then moving on with my evening, but this time, she wasn’t actually with someone.
This time, I took the seat next to her, flirted with her, chatted with her, and realized I fucking wanted her.
Since the only woman I had been able to think about for the past year, since she fell back into my life, was her, I decided fucking her out of my system would be the solution. That is, until we were interrupted.
It was for the best, I told myself. A reminder of what’s really important: work. A sign from some higher power that I couldn’t veer from my path, and if I did, disaster was bound to strike.
But if that was the case, then what was the universe trying to tell me by putting her here and doing it now ?
Peeking around the corner once more, I catch her side profile better, see the curves of her lush body, and realize it was not some trick of my mind: Josie is here.
Both dread and thrill rush through me at the realization, not that once again we’re at the same place at the same time, but that she’s here at my job during the biggest mess of my career.
Instantly, my mind starts reeling.
Why does the fucking universe hate me so goddamn much as to put this woman in my path, interrupt us in such an untimely manner, and then put her here this week ? As if I don’t have enough on my plate, the world drops this utter distraction of a woman into my lap.
Just my fucking luck.