J. Critch - In The Boss's Bed

Sure. Maybe ten years ago that reputation would have been warranted. Jamie had grown up with nothing and his first taste of success had been sweet. He had admittedly overindulged in his youth, in alcohol, women, wild antics. But it was local reporter scumbag John Power who had been the catalyst for his turnaround. Power had gotten a hold of a picture of Jamie with a model enjoying a, ahem, private moment, and then he uncovered more and more of Jamie’s bad deeds. He’d dredged up the details of Jamie’s less-than-ideal childhood, with an absentee father and a drug-addict mother, a past that Jamie had guarded carefully. To say it was embarrassing was an understatement. Jamie had been cannon fodder for the reporter, who seemingly made a career of gathering information on him.

Since then, Jamie had kept it clean. He no longer overindulged. He never partied. He focused on business and it had paid off. Jamie had enjoyed an unimaginable level of success. Still, no matter how many nightclubs he opened, how much he gave to charity or how often his company showed up on lists of preferred employers, people still saw him as the millionaire, bad boy womanizer.

“Not bad for a Thursday,” Jamie remarked to Trevor—one of his best friends, and definitely the best bartender he had ever met—sipping the cola Trevor had handed him.

Trevor finished pouring a pair of martinis and handed them off to a waitress. “Yeah, it must be the warm weather. Normally the end of semester makes the students hunker down, studying. But this place is clearly bumping tonight,” he said, throwing an appreciative glance over the scantily clad women dancing against each other on the dance floor.

“Keep it professional, Trev,” Jamie warned with a glare, before laughing. He knew that he had nothing to worry about with his friend. Trevor was a pro and would never overserve a guest, or use his position to take advantage of the young women who patronized the club. But it didn’t stop him from appreciating the female beauty that was in front of him.

Jamie bit back a yawn, and Trevor regarded him carefully. “Why don’t you go on home? I’ve got this.”

“I know you do. But I’ve got a few things to finish up tonight. It’s been crazy since Martin left.” Jamie frowned at the thought of his former assistant. “I’ve got a couple of early morning meetings tomorrow and then I have to head to the university and give a talk with some graduate class about entrepreneurship, and entertainment, and hospitality, and yada yada yada.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like something you would normally do,” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like somebody is hot for teacher?”

Jamie was almost too tired to smirk at the quip. “It’s nothing like that, smart guy. The professor is Dr. Carmichael.”

“I see.”

“So, I owe him. It’s really the least I can do.”

“Oh, of course.” Trevor nodded. “Dr. C. And you’re doing this at the expense of any sleep you might get tonight?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Jamie took another sip of his drink and turned to survey his nightclub.

A packed club was always good news for Jamie, and there had been plenty of that as of late. All of his nightclubs were outperforming expectations on a nightly basis. But his brain was always working, knowing that he had to keep the guest experience fresh in each of his clubs to keep people coming back. Every time he looked around, he saw areas for improvement. Ways to make the continuous lineup to the front door more efficient, an enhanced VIP experience, flair bartenders and entertainers, A-list DJs and performers, the list was always growing.

It was while he was surveying his domain, rolling through his mental to-do list, that he noticed a stunning woman walk toward him. She wasn’t just stunning; she was actually the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, and a little black dress highlighted legs that seemed to go on forever. She was looking straight at him, making a beeline for where he was standing at the bar. He sighed quietly. She obviously knew who he was. She wanted to cozy up to the single, rich owner of Swerve. Even though he was a fan of her beauty, he was exhausted and he didn’t have time for the attention of groupies tonight, no matter how gorgeous.

When she was close enough to him, he extended his hand to her and put on his most cordial smile. “Hi, can I help—”

His words were stopped in his throat when her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him forward until his lips found hers. His eyes widened as she kissed him. But they soon closed when he felt her tongue stroke his bottom lip. He stifled a moan and opened his mouth, to let himself be taken over by the feeling of this mysterious women in his arms.

Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed so fiercely by a woman. Everything else seemed to disappear. There was no music, no flashing lights, no crowd of thirsty patrons lined up at the bar, no Trevor, who was surely staring at them, agog.

It was when his hands found her hips, the spell broke and the sounds and lights of the club and all of the people around them came rushing back. She broke away from him. Still standing just inches apart, he saw the flush that stained her face and felt her breath on his chin. He got a good look at her and the thing that stood out most was the frightened, guilty look in those amazingly dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was a second from hightailing it away from him, out of his life, and he knew it. He wanted to ask her name, maybe buy her a drink, anything to make her stay.

After a beat, she shook out of her trance, mumbled an “I’m so sorry,” and did exactly what he thought she would. She turned on her heel and walked away, almost running, disappearing in the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

Jamie was rendered speechless for a moment, before he turned to Trevor, bewildered and out of breath. “Do you know who she was?”

Trevor laughed heartily. “I have no idea. You didn’t know her? It definitely seemed as if you two were familiar. Wait a minute!” Trevor snapped his fingers in a moment of inspiration and turned to the computer behind the bar and consulted the names of the customers who had started drink tabs. “Maya Connor is her name. She’s here with a friend, she’s drinking vodka-cran and the friend is a light-beer girl.”

Jamie ran a hand through his dark hair and checked his watch. “I’ve got to head back upstairs.” He turned to go, but stopped and faced Trevor again. “Take care of their tab, will you? Make sure they get whatever they want.”

“Will do, boss,” Trevor replied with a smirk.

* * *

WHEN MAYA RETURNED to Abby, it seemed that her friend had made a friend of her own. Maya watched Abby as she talked to a gentleman who had taken up residence at their booth. Maya scooted in on the far side and looked at the stranger.

“Beat it, bud.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder and scowled. When he left with a confused shrug, she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe I kissed him!” Realizing that her own glass was empty, she reached across the table and snatched Abby’s beer bottle from her hands.

“Hey!” Abby yelled, attempting to take back her drink. Maya assumed that she was more upset about her stolen drink than she was about the newly vacated seat next to her.

“I can’t believe you dared me to do that.” Maya looked back at the bar and saw that the man she had kissed was gone, but the bartender was still there. She was suddenly parched, and she certainly couldn’t go back up there. She didn’t think she could even face him again. How was she supposed to get another drink? Or even pay her tab when they were ready to leave? She’d thought of none of those things when she had made the stupidest, most impulsive decision of her life in kissing the stranger at the bar. “Oh, God, I need another drink.”