Strictly The Worst First 3 Chapters

Chapter 1

TESSA

“I’m taking you off the project,” my boss tells me. He’s standing in the corner of his over-expansive office, holding a putter as he squints at the golf ball in front of him. He lightly swings it, gently murmuring to himself as though he’s having his own personal pep talk.

“I’m sorry?” I frown because my ears are ringing and it’s been almost impossible to hear anything for the past three days. I spent the weekend becoming close friends with a circular saw and even though I wore ear protection all I can hear is constant buzzing. It’s like a family of crickets has moved into my brain and thrown a party.

I wait for him to repeat his words. After he does, I’ll tell him what I thought he said and we’ll both laugh.

“You’re off the Exuma project.” He’s still glaring at the golf ball like it’s his nemesis. “A hundred and thirty-two,” he mutters. “I scored better than that when I was a beginner.” He finally looks up, his gaze meeting mine. “Did you know Salinger can score seventy without batting an eyelid? That’s professional level. Damn it, I’m never gonna beat him.”

My heart is slamming against my chest, not least because Roman Hampshire seems more interested in his golf score than the fact I’ve been working on the Exuma project for the past six months.

I swallow hard, trying not to hyperventilate. Because this project is the big one. It’s my first multimillion dollar budget, and my one chance to prove that I can create a PR plan for a huge client. And yes, there’s the sizable bonus that I’ll get at the end to consider, too.

I need that money. I’ve already spent it in my mind on a kitchen that actually has cupboards and a nice sink with faucets that don’t leak, along with a counter top that isn’t made of crates stacked on top of each other.

“We’re supposed to be doing the pitch in two weeks,” I say, as Roman taps the ball and it veers around the hole of his makeshift green in the corner. “I’ve been working on it for months. I’m all ready for it.”

He shrugs, as though it doesn’t matter that I’ve spent every waking hour I’m not demolishing my home making mock ups of brochures and social media campaigns. I can’t remember the last time I actually watched the television or read a book. I work and I renovate and I take care of my daughter.

“Is the client unhappy with my work?” I ask. Because the last time I spoke with the marketing team they loved the direction we were taking. He’s not the decision maker – that’s James Gold, the owner of Gold resorts. But the marketing director is a pretty big cheese.

“James is fine,” Roman says. “He just wants to take things in a different direction.”

“What kind of direction?” I’m already thinking of the printing budget I’ve spent and the draft contracts I’ve agreed to with influencers.

This is not good. Not good at all.

“He wants the pitch to be presented on Exuma itself.”

I blink. The presentation is supposed to take place at Gold Resorts’ head office on Fifth Avenue. I’ve already scoped out the room – thanks to a connection I have over there. In my head I’ve planned where everybody will sit. I enjoy planning. It’s my superpower. And though I know a lot about the Exumas – an archipelago of little islands in the Bahamas – what I don’t know is the audiovisual equipment they’ll have at the hotel.

I think I’m going to hyperventilate.

“Why would James want us to present the pitch on the island?” I ask.

“Because he thinks we need to experience the resort itself.” James shrugs. “I can’t say I disagree. You should have thought about that months ago.”

“You said you wanted me to keep within budget,” I say. “How could we do that and fly to Exuma?”

I’m shaking. I need to sit down. I can’t remember if I ate lunch today. I don’t think I did. I was too busy on a conference call during lunch. My assistant brought me a coffee at about two, and insisted I drank it. But apart from that…

There’s a knock at the door and Roman grabs his ball and club and puts them into the golf bag that’s leaning against the wall. “Don’t tell him I was practicing, okay? I don’t want him to know he’s gotten me riled up.”

“Who don’t you want me to tell?” I ask, completely confused.

A moment later my question is answered when Roman yells out for whoever is knocking to come in and the door opens wide. I turn around, my gaze taking in the sharply cut suit, the thick shoulders, and broad chest, tapering down to a slim waist.

“Salinger,” Roman calls out, beaming like Linc Salinger is his best friend and not another employee. “Come on in. I was just updating Tessa on our chat with James Gold on the course earlier.”

“You were playing golf with James Gold?” I ask. “Why didn’t you ask me to come along?”

“Do you play golf?” Roman asks. I’m aware of Salinger’s gaze on my face. He’s been working for Roman for the last year. His official title is Head of Client relations, but he’s basically Roman’s right-hand man. On paper, we’re equals – we both report to Roman.

But as far as everybody else here at Hampshire PR is concerned, Salinger and Roman are the head honchos around here.

“No,” I say tightly. “I don’t play golf.” I never had the chance to learn. I remember wanting to every Saturday morning when my ex-husband would head for the golf club, leaving me to nurse a baby with one arm and replying to emails with the other.

“That’s a shame,” Roman says.

Linc still hasn’t said anything. I turn to look at him and his dark blue gaze hits mine. “Carmichael,” he says softly, not moving his gaze at all. I swallow hard, because as much as I hate it, this man is stupidly attractive.

“Salinger.”

He’s not in the New York office very much, because his job requires him to fly to whatever client is threatening to leave at any given time. I’ve seen him in action. The man could smooth talk anybody. He has this way about him that makes everybody love him.

Everybody but me. Because, no, my insides aren’t tingling like they’ve just touched a frayed piece of electrical wire. Not at all. I’m not interested in this man with the sharp jaw and god-like charm.

And yes, part of that is professional jealousy. I’ve been working for Hampshire PR for the last nine years. Managed to claw my way up to Head of Social Media Marketing. And then Salinger sails in a year ago pretty much above my head and Roman thinks the sun shines out of his rather fine behind.

“Salinger agreed that he can give the pitch,” Roman tells me, smiling as though he’s doing me a favor. “You just need to meet with him to give him all the details. The videos and whatnot.”

And whatnot. I blew out a mouthful of air. There’s no point in explaining that whatnot involves many hours of my life. Or that I’ve fallen in love with this project.

“This isn’t fair,” I say, aware I sound like a kid who’s just been told to go to bed. “This is my project.”

Roman lifts a brow and I know I’ve spoken out of line.

But they can’t give Exuma to him. That’s just wrong.

“James specifically asked for Linc to take over,” Roman says. “He knows you’re not able to travel at short notice because…” he waves his hand, as though my reasons are unimportant.

As though Zoe is unimportant.

Linc still says nothing. I turn to look at him and he presses his lips together, his vivid blue eyes still trained on my face. I know he doesn’t like me much either. I also know that’s because he knows I don’t like him.

So why is the air sizzling between us like somebody’s just popped it into a Soda Stream?

It’s uncomfortable, because there’s not many people I dislike.

My ex-husband. Obviously.

His girlfriend. Who is also his boss’ daughter.

And Ryan Sharp from first grade who stole my favorite Peanuts pencil topper and threw it down the boy’s toilet.

That’s it. I like everybody else. Except him…

Linc Salinger is part of a very favored few. And from the way he’s looking at me, he knows it.

“Okay,” I say, because I need to get out of here. My throat is doing that weird tickly thing it always does before I start to cry. And I’m not going to let Salinger know he’s upset me. “Is there anything else?”

Roman shrugs. “No, that’s it.”

I nod wordlessly and turn around, wrenching his door open and stepping outside.

“Sixty-eight,” Roman says. “How the heck do you score that?”

“Practice,” Salinger replies. “And a little bit of genius.”

* * *

“He can’t do that,” my assistant, Gina, whispers, horrified. She’s force feeding me a Snickers bar – king sized – and a mug of coffee. As soon as I walked into the large office full of desks she took one look at my pale face and forced me to sit down while she took care of me. So I’m in her chair while she’s perched on her desk in front of me, pointing half a candy bar at my mouth.

“Eat,” she says.

I shake my head. “I can’t eat any more.”

“Just one more bite,” she urges, like she’s talking to a child. “It will do you good.”

I appreciate her, I really do. But all I really want is to be alone. And maybe scream at the world, because it really isn’t fair.

She gives me the most sympathetic of smiles. “Maybe Roman will change his mind.”

“He won’t,” I say. “He’s already given it to Salinger.”

“Stupid dumbass nepo babies,” Gina mutters. And this is why I love her, because I know she doesn’t mean it. She likes Linc. Like most of the female employees at Hampshire PR, when he first arrived she had a crush on him.

Now it’s more of an admiration. And I know for a fact that she stalks him on Instagram. Because she insists on showing me all the beautiful women he dates in what seems like every city in the world.

That’s the beauty of his job. He flies wherever the business needs him. He can be in Paris one day, London the next, and then suddenly he’s on an airplane to Dubai. He rarely spends any time in New York, much to Gina’s – and everybody else’s – disappointment.

“I thought you liked him,” I say. Because she definitely runs to the bathroom to touch her lipstick up whenever he walks into the office.

“I don’t,” she tells me. “I just want to tear his clothes off and climb him like a tree.”

I’m not going to imagine him with his clothes off. I’m just not.

“So what do we do now?” she asks me. “Do you still get the account if they decide to give it to us?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. And that’s the most upsetting part of all. The Exuma project was supposed to be my opportunity to show Gold Leisure what I can do. With an aim to win all their PR and social media business across the US as well as Exuma.

It would guarantee me a job for life in Roman’s eyes. But now I don’t know if I’ll have one next week.

I take a deep breath. “We’re going to have to package everything we’ve worked on into a neat bow so we can pass it over to Salinger.”

Gina snaps her head to look at me. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I nod. Because yes, we’ve done all the work, but Salinger will take the glory.

“Maybe we should sabotage it,” she says, a wicked glint in her eye. “We could put subliminal messages in the videos.”

“What kind of subliminal messages?” I’m only humoring her, but right now I need something to make me smile. And if anybody can make me smile it's Gina.

She’s been my assistant for the last four years and nobody could ask for anybody better. She knows everything about me. She was there when I found out about my ex – Jared’s affair, and she was there when I filed for divorce.

When I need somebody to vent to, or a shoulder to cry on she’s always there. Gina is part of my very small circle of trust.

“I don’t know what messages, but I’ll think of something,” she promises.

I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not. Mary Beth, one of Salinger’s two assistants, walks past us and shoots us a look.

And I open my mouth to remind Gina that we’re better than that, and that we’re all supposed to be on the same team, but then my phone rings.

Zoe’s name lights up on the screen.

There aren’t many people that I rush to answer. I much prefer to write a message than talk on the phone. Unlike Linc Salinger, I’m not always great with a speedy answer. I need to think about things before I respond and messages help with that.

But this is my daughter. And at thirteen years old she calls a lot.

“I’ll just get this,” I tell Gina, leaving her to her evil plans for retaliation as I walk into my office. It’s small but perfectly formed. Gina’s desk is right outside – she pretty much acts as my gatekeeper. And my feeder, if the stash of candy bars in her drawer is anything to go by.

“Hey honey,” I say after closing the door and swiping the screen to accept Zoe’s call. “Is everything okay?” I glance at my watch. It’s almost five o’clock. This week she’s at her dad’s. We share custody. It’s supposed to be fifty-fifty, but it never is.

“Dad’s late,” she tells me. “And I can’t get ahold of him. He’s not answering my calls.”

I let out a long breath. I shouldn’t be surprised. This isn’t the first time he’s left her stranded, and it probably won’t be the last.

But today is Zoe’s orthodontist check up. The office is about a five-minute walk from her school, so she’d agreed with Jared to meet him there.

“Did you call his office?” I ask, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Yeah, they said he’s in surgery.”

“Now?” My voice lifts. Jared is a cosmetic surgeon. He can choose his hours. And he knows about this appointment because I reminded him four times.

“Yeah. So I called Melissa and she spoke to the orthodontist and he did the check up anyway. But she can’t come and get me. She’s at a salon on the other side of town.”

Melissa is Jared’s twenty-four year old girlfriend.

It’s kind of laughable that she’s more responsible than Jared is when it comes to our daughter. And I’m almost certain that the orthodontist has broken some kind of code by seeing Zoe without a parent being present. But I’ll work through that one later.

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?” I ask her. Even though I probably would have been in Roman’s office at the precise moment she called, I still would have answered. And I would have rushed to the orthodontist to be with her.

“Dad told me not to call you every time he’s late,” she says, her voice small, because she thinks it will piss me off.

“You can always call me,” I tell her. “Always. No matter what. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, still sounding uncertain.

“I’m leaving now,” I tell her. “Hang tight and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“They’re closing up.”

“Let me talk to them,” I say. “Don’t leave the office without me, okay?” I’m already picking up my jacket and purse, and pulling open my office door.

“Hello?” a voice says down the phone. “This is Doctor Archer’s office.”

“Hello, this is Tessa Carmichael. Zoe’s mom. I’m afraid there’s been a mix up. I’m heading over to pick her up now, but it’s going to take twenty minutes. Can you make sure she’s safe until I’m there to meet her?”

A huff comes down the line. “It’s very inconvenient.”

“Gotta go,” I mouth to Gina. She frowns and I gesture at the phone. “Zoe.”

She nods and I run down the corridor.

“I understand it’s inconvenient,” I say. “But it’s all I’ve got. Please just make sure my daughter isn’t left alone in the middle of the street.”

“Okay then. But you need to organize your children better,” the person says, and I immediately want to scream. But I need their help so I’ll save it for later.

Zoe comes back on the line and I promise her I’ll see her soon, right as I turn around the corner and stop short.

But not short enough. Because I barrel into the one man I’d like to avoid for the rest of my life.

2

LINC

“Can I have a word please, Carmichael?” I ask her. And I’m trying to keep my voice even because I can’t quite believe what I just heard. That her team is planning to sabotage the presentation. I need to nip this in the bud before it gets out of hand.

She looks up at me through those thick eyelashes of hers. If she wasn’t so annoying she’d be deadly attractive, with her soft skin and her pink rosebud lips. My gaze dips to take in the way the top button of her blouse has come undone. I don’t think she knows it has, but my eyes do. I can just about see the top of her cleavage and my body reacts even though I don’t want it to.

“Sorry, I don’t have time,” she says, shrugging as though this isn’t the most important thing right now. “I have to pick up my daughter.”

“Well, can you make time, please?” I say, my voice tight. And yeah, I’m more than a little pissed. I’m doing her a damn favor. I didn’t ask for this project, I didn’t want it. Either I fly to Exuma on her behalf or she loses the whole damn thing.

She stops walking and stares at me, those pretty eyes flashing. “Seriously, I’m in a rush. I’m sorry. Can we do this tomorrow?”

“Not really. I have exactly two weeks to prepare for a presentation that most people would take months over.”

“I have taken months over it,” she says, her voice thick. She’s started walking again and I follow her because she’s really annoying me. “And when I hand it to you it’ll be perfect.”

“That’s funny, because I heard you might sabotage it.”

She turns to look at me, her eyes flashing. “What? Where did you hear that?” She shifts her feet.

“A little bird told me.” I catch her eye.

“Of course she did.” Tessa rolls hers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

She looks at her watch. “Nothing. I have to go.”

I let out a long breath, because I have no idea how to deal with her. From the moment I started working at Hampshire PR, she’s disliked me. I’m grateful that I don’t spend much time in the office where I have to deal with it. Roman brought me in to deal with our overseas clients, which requires a lot of travel. Roman used to do it, but after his second heart attack his doctor advised him to slow down.

So now he plays golf in the mornings – badly – and works in the afternoons. And I fly to Paris or Exuma or wherever he needs me to in order to smooth out problems with his best paying clients.

I like this job. I like the travel. I feel better when I’m not stuck in one city for too long. Carmichael is the one sexy fly in the ointment.

For a minute neither of us say anything. We both stare at each other, and I feel that pull again. Why am I attracted to her when she’s being a bitch?

Because you want to tame her. You want to win whatever game this is she’s playing.

She pushes the door to the parking lot open and grabs her keys from her bag. “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow,” she says. “Call my assistant and set up a time.”

“I have meetings all day tomorrow. Jesus, will you slow down?”

I lightly touch her shoulder and she swings around to look at me, a neutral expression on her face. But I’m almost certain that underneath her calm exterior she’s fuming.

I don’t like the way we always clash, I really don’t. Keeping everybody happy is my superpower.

In every aspect of my life, I’m the peace maker.

I keep clients happy by day, and friends and family happy by night.

But I can’t make this woman smile no matter what I do.

My fingers are still touching her shoulder, and beneath her blouse I can feel the heat radiating from her. Like she’s so full of energy it doesn’t know where to go.

She’s so damn closed up not even a nuclear missile could penetrate her.

And now I’m thinking about penetration. With her. Great. I push that thought right out of my mind.

But it keeps trying to climb back up with an image of her face all soft and full of pleasure.

“I’ll get Gina to liaise with you,” she mutters. “You’ll be fully briefed. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Here’s the thing about Carmichael. She’s the best that Hampshire PR has. She knows it. I know it. Everybody in the damn building knows it.

But her people skills leave something to be desired, which is why she’ll never climb up the greasy pole. It annoys me, because if she tried, she could do so much better. With her looks and the way she holds herself she could be dynamite if she wanted to be.

She clicks her keys and her car beeps. “I have to go.”

“I really didn’t know Roman hadn’t told you about the project,” I say as she reaches for the car door.

She takes a long breath, her chest lifting. Then she touches her dark hair, as though she’s worried a strand is out of place.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, in a voice that tells me it does matter, a lot. “It’s done. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“If you can travel to Exuma, I’ll back out,” I say magnanimously. Okay, not so magnanimous. I don’t want to be the asshole that stole her project. Truth be told, I want nothing to do with it.

“I can’t do that.” Her lips press together.

I wrack my brain about what to say. Right now all I can see is a red flashing light, warning me of danger.

“Why not?” I frown at her. If it was me, I’d jump at this opportunity.

“Because I can’t exactly leave my child to fend for herself.”

“Can’t your husband look after your kid for a week?”

She looks at me coolly. “My ex-husband is probably busy.” She slides into the car seat. I try not to notice as her skirt rides up, revealing perfectly toned thighs. 

I’d forgotten that she was divorced. And now my mouth feels dry because I’m the asshole that stole a project from a single mom.

“Maybe we can work together,” I suggest, my hand on the car roof. I’m leaning down and talking to her through her open car door. “I’ll do the client facing stuff. You can be the backseat driver.”

Her brows knit. “What?”

“We can split the bonus,” I offer.

Her rosebud lips form a little ‘o’ as she exhales heavily. “I’m not a charity case. It’s fine. Roman’s made his decision. I’ll work on something else.” She waves her hand, as though to dismiss me.

My phone buzzes. I look down at the screen and sigh, because it’s rare that I go an hour without a call from a client. The one that demands most of my attention – Celine  – is the CEO of a makeup company in London. She’s as needy as my inner child. But I have to take this call, because that’s my job. If she calls Roman, he’ll be pissed that I didn’t pick up first.

Plus, I know we’re hemorrhaging clients, thanks to them all believing that they no longer need a PR firm when AI should take up the reins very nicely, thank you very much.

“Sorry. I have to take this.”

“Sure.”

She slams her car door shut, and as I accept the call and put the phone to my ear, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to make her smile. To make her laugh. She’s been married, she has a kid. Her ex-husband must have made her smile at least once.

“Celine,” I say, my eyes still on Carmichael as she starts her engine and the car pulls away. “How are you today?”

* * *

TESSA

I end up taking Zoe out for dinner – because there’s still no sign of Jared or Melissa and I don’t want to drop her off at their apartment until at least one of them is there. Not because I don’t trust her alone, but because I don’t trust them to actually come home. And if she’s home alone all night I’ll have to drive back over and pick her up. So, we’re at a diner near their apartment.

Zoe has a manga on the table in front of her, using one hand to turn the pages while she eats her burger with the other. She’s obsessed with anime, has been for the last two years. She laughs at something on the page and I smile.

Damn, I love this girl.

Her phone rings. She licks some ketchup from her hand before answering. “Hey Dad,” she says. “Where are you?” Her eyes catch mine and she rolls them.

I try not to listen in to their conversation. I’m not even mad that he was late picking her up anymore. I got to spend more time with her which is fine by me.

“Actually, I just ate a burger,” she says.

And then his voice becomes louder that I can hear it from across the booth.

“I was hungry. And I didn’t know when you were coming home,” Zoe replies. She looks at me and I shoot her a smile but say nothing. She’s a strong kid and can handle her dad for the most part. I only step in if I’m needed. “Okay,” she says to him. “Bye.”

“Why can’t I come home with you?” she asks when she hangs up the call. “I want to help choose the colors.”

The paint samples for the living room walls have arrived. I need to choose the color before we refinish the floor, which will happen after the electrics are rewired. Trying to juggle everything at the house is a full-time job.

“Because it’s your dad’s week,” I remind her.

“He’s never home. I have to sit with Melissa and we have nothing to talk about.” Zoe frowns at me. “Did you know she’s only eleven years older than me?”

“Yes,” I say patiently.

“She’s almost twenty years younger than Dad,” Zoe continues. “Isn’t that weird? That she’s much closer to my age than his?”

“Very weird,” I agree, motioning to the waitress to get the check.

Ten minutes later we’re at Jared’s apartment. It’s a four-bed condo with a view over the river. Zoe hits the buzzer at the entrance and the door opens and we head toward the elevator, pressing the eleventh floor.

Jared is waiting for us as soon as we get there. He pulls the door open and motions Zoe inside. Then he looks at me.

“Go on then,” he says. “Tell me what a terrible father I am.”

I let out a low breath. So today he’s playing the martyr.

“Anything could have happened,” I tell him. “She’s a kid alone in the city. If you couldn’t make it to her appointment, why didn’t you call me?”

“I thought I had it covered,” he says, looking petulant. “I don’t understand why you keep criticizing me. I’m doing my best here.”

Melissa comes to the door, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She’s not wearing any makeup – her face is glowing and I assume she’s just had a facial. Either way, she looks absolutely gorgeous.

“Hi Tessa,” she says. “Sorry about Zoe.”

I give her a tight smile. “Not your fault,” I say.

“It’s my fault,” Jared tells her, his voice saying the opposite. “The man who can’t do right for doing wrong.”

I’m exhausted. I haven’t even thought about the Exuma project since leaving the office. I need to go home, drown my sorrows in a home that’s full of holes and life-endangering bare wires, then work out what I’m going to do about my career.

“Just call me next time,” I say.

He opens his mouth to say something, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be salty bullshit, but then he closes it, saying nothing. Sensing conflict, Melissa wisely lifts her hand in a goodbye and walks back inside the apartment.

“Whatever.” Jared shrugs.

“I’m going, Zoe,” I call out. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

She runs to the door and hugs me. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear.

“Any time.” I kiss her soft cheek, and revel in the smell of my only child. It’s funny, no matter how old she is, she still smells the same way she did as a baby. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I whisper. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She walks back into Jared’s apartment and I try not to feel sad. Every time she’s gone I miss her. It’s like my right arm has been cut off.

“Goodnight Jared,” I say.

“Yeah.” His eyes won’t quite catch mine. “See you around.”

* * *

Even though it's half falling apart and half put back together, I absolutely adore the condo Zoe and I chose after the divorce was finalized. It’s tiny, set in the lower floor of a larger house with four stories, each with a condo inside it. But it’s mine, or at least it’s mine and the mortgage company’s.

When we heard our offer was accepted, Zoe and I did a happy dance. Her room is the only one that’s fully decorated. Not that you can see much of the pale blue walls beneath all her manga and Kpop posters.

Our next big job is tackling the living room. And right now I’m standing in front of the fireplace wall with Angela, my best friend, who arrived at my door carrying a bottle of wine and three giant size bars of chocolate after I told her about the shitshow at work.

“This Salinger guy sounds like an asshole,” Angela says. “I can’t believe he stole your project.”

Like Gina, she’s always on my side. Angela and I have been friends since we collided into each other – literally – on our first day at college. She was carrying an enormous cup of coffee, I was wearing a white blouse. It could have gone either way, but we both found it hysterically funny.

She’s been with me through thick and thin. She was the maid of honor at my wedding, she held me while I sobbed after I found out about my husband’s affair with his boss’ daughter.

 “He’s not an asshole,” I say begrudgingly. “He’s just…” I sigh, trailing off. It’s hard to put into words. “I don’t know, he just gets all the breaks you know?”

“That’s because he’s a guy,” Angela says, passing me a glass of wine. “They always have it easy.”

“His dad and Roman are friends,” I say. And I hate this. I feel churlish not liking him. It’s really not like me.

“You think that’s why Roman gave him the project?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But everything just seems so easy for him. He charms everybody.”

“Except you,” Angela points out. “I think that middle one is best.”

“Which middle one?” I look at the chessboard pattern of green squares in front of us.

“That one.” She points to a square that is to the left of the middle.

“Isn’t it too grassy?” I ask her.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means. Can something be too grassy?” She looks at me and we both laugh. “Does anybody look at a field and say ‘that’s beautiful, but it’s a little too… grassy for my tastes.’?”

I love the way she’s more sarcastic than anybody I’ve ever met.

“This is stupid,” I say. “I need to just choose a color.”

“Yes you do,” Angela agrees. “What about the one at the top? It’s more mossy.”

“How’s that different to grass?” I ask her, genuinely confused.

“Moss only grows on north facing areas,” she says, as though that explains it. If you hadn’t guessed, she studied environmental biology in college. But now she works in an investment bank.

“I’m going to buy the grassy one,” I tell her, making the decision because I want a room Zoe and I can relax in after work. Once it’s painted, I’d hoped to fully furnish it, but I may need to divert that budget to the kitchen.

I guess we’ll be sitting on boxes for a while longer.

“Maybe you’re just triggered,” she says. “Because he’s friends with the boss.”

I take a minute to realize we’re back on the subject of Lincoln Salinger again. And for a moment an image of him flashes through my mind. His tall, strong body, clad in a designer charcoal suit. His dark, perfectly styled hair. And that jawline that could launch a thousand crushes.

“Why would I be annoyed because he’s friends with Roman?” I ask her.

“It could be a trigger,” she says. “Jared is also friends with his boss.”

I try not to laugh at the way she spits out my ex-husband’s name. It’s like she can’t bear it to be on her tongue. “It’s his boss’ daughter who was the problem,” I say lightly. Because I’m over it.

“Yeah, well. It’s still hurtful, right? These guys who get over friendly with the boss. Then before you know it they’re tearing families apart.”

I can’t help it. I laugh again. And this is why I love Angela so much. She’s my biggest fan. My biggest protector.

“It’s just a bit of pop psychology.” Angela shrugs. “But I still don’t get why you don’t like him.”

“Maybe I’m a little envious of how much everybody likes him,” I muse.

“Everybody likes you.” Angela looks at me, and from her expression I can tell she’s being completely honest.

“No they don’t.” I shake my head. “I think we both know that.”

“They do. You’re kind. Caring. A nice person. Why wouldn’t they like you?” Angela asks. “And I like you better now that you’ve decided about the wall.” She pauses, tapping something down on her phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, hoping she’s on that dating site again. Her dates are legendary. In an awful way. The last guy she met ordered the most expensive items on the menu and then escaped out of the bathroom window.

She’s tried to get me to sign up, and I keep telling her I’m not ready.

“I’m writing the paint name down. I’m going to order you five gallons of it.”

“I’ll order them,” I say.

“No, you won’t. You’ll dither and second guess the choice and it’ll take you at least two weeks to pick up the phone and do something about it.”

“Okay then,” I say, grinning, “I’ll order it in two weeks.”

“You won’t be here in two weeks,” Angela tells me.

“Of course I will.” I shoot her a strange look. “And I’ll order the paint.”

“No, you won’t,” she says, turning to face me. And I know that expression on her face. It’s the same look she gave me when Jared asked for a second chance. The same one she gave me as she held my hand while I was giving birth because Jared had decided to go away on business at the end of my third trimester.

“You’re going to Grand Exuma,” she says.

I laugh. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re going to ask Jared if he can have Zoe for the week.” She holds her hand up when she sees my mouth open, ready to protest. “And if he can’t do it, I’ll come here and stay with her. I can move some work around. Make sure she goes to school. And don’t look at me like I’m an idiot.”

“I’m not looking at you like that. I was just going to remind you I’m off the project.”

“Then get back on it.” She rolls her eyes.

“How?” I’m genuinely curious because she seems to have all the answers. Not that I’m going to go.

“By telling Roman that you’ve changed your mind and you want to go to Exuma.” She says it like it’s so simple. “You need to go. You’ve already told me it’s a tropical paradise.”

It really is. Blue skies, even bluer seas, lush trees that form a canopy to block the hot rays of the golden sun.

“I don’t know…”

She pouts at me. “Either you go to Exuma or you sign up for this dating site. It’s time for a new beginning.”

I look around the living room, taking in the peeling walls – now complete with green squares – and the holes in the floor. Maybe she’s right.

A few days in paradise – even for work – could take me away from all this.

“And you’ll also be able to get one over on this annoyingly sexy guy,” Angela says, a sly look on her face. “Salinger, was it?”

“Yeah.” I nod, not bothering to correct her. Because he is annoying. And sexy. He exudes appeal if you’re into that kind of thing, which I’m so not. Because there’s one thing I know, men like Salinger are dangerous. I don’t need sexy and annoying, I need nice. There has to be somebody out there like that. “I’m going to do it,” I tell her, because I’m not going to let Salinger win. It’s time to start making a stand and be the woman I want to role model for Zoe.

“Yes!” She fist bumps the air and then hugs me tight. “That’s my girl. Back in action.”

3

​

LINC

I wake up covered in a cold sheen of sweat. My skin is overheated, my muscles tensed, and my breath is coming way too fast. I reach up and swipe the damp hair from my brow, sitting up and looking around.

I’m in bed. That’s good at least. Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I plant the soles of my feet on the floor and lean forward, closing my eyes as I try to recapture my breath.

That damn nightmare again. It doesn’t come often anymore. Not like it did when I was a kid and I was scared to go to sleep at night.

But when it comes, it’s a doozy.

I’d think about it, but that would just make me feel worse, so I pad to my bathroom and turn on the shower. It’s a double size one. Like the rest of the bathroom, the shower walls are clad with marble tiles, and within moments water droplets are clinging to them as the air steams up and I step into the hot stream raining down from the shower head.

God, I need to get laid or something.

Seriously, it’s been way too long. I blame my brothers. We all used to go out together. You’d be surprised how easy it is to find good company when you’re one of six good-looking men. Women used to flock to us like we were the Hemsworths.

Now all but one of them has settled down and they’re all disgustingly content. Sure, I’m happy for them.

But I miss the old days.

Squeezing out a palmful of the shampoo my stylist insisted I buy at my last haircut, I lather it into my hair, rinse it out, then add the conditioner I also had to buy – mostly because I’m a chump – and then I clean myself, tidy up the loose hairs, because nobody loves a bad manscape, and finally get out of the shower.

Usually I head down to the gym in the complex’s basement on Saturday mornings. I try to go most days. My way of decompressing. But today I’m meeting my brothers for brunch because they all happen to be in Manhattan at the same time and we have some things to plan. So I pull on a pair of expensively ripped jeans and a gray t-shirt, then grab my phone and check every cab app I have, choosing Uber this time, because there’s actually a car around the corner.

By the time I make it down to the street level, the car is waiting. I lift a hand at him and he nods at me.

“Hey Linc,” he says as I climb inside.

“Hey Adi, how are you doing?” I ask him. Sure, we’ve never met before, but we know each other's names through the beauty of technology. We’re practically besties.

“All good,” he tells me. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” He pulls away from the curb and the car behind us immediately blasts their horn at him. The smile doesn’t waver on his face. You have to be a special kind of person to drive for a living on this island. The same kind of person who’d happily fight a lion with their bare hands in eras gone by.

Still, I’m relieved that he doesn’t give a damn about the other cars, because I’m late – as always. It’s one of my faults, or at least that’s what my previous girlfriends have told me. Along with my inability to commit, my selfishness, and the way I always laugh every problem I have off.

Which probably explains why I don’t have a girlfriend right now.

I five star Adi, then add a big tip and thank him before climbing out of the car and walking toward the Carter Hotel – my big brother Myles’ nest of choice whenever he has to tear himself away from his family in West Virginia and visit the big bad city for business.

Though this time isn’t about business. It’s about Holden, who has also traveled up from West Virginia. In fact, four of them traveled together – Myles, Liam, Eli, and Holden. They chartered a plane last night, because that’s the kind of shit my brother loves.

Okay, I love it too. Why travel first class when you can travel without anybody else to mar the view?

Of course, all five of my brothers are sitting around a large circular table when the Mâitre D’ shows me to my seat. They stand as one – like they’re at school and I’m the teacher, which is kind of laughable, then one by one they give me a huge hug.

I secretly like it. Mostly because our relationships weren’t always like this. There was a time when my four eldest brothers kind of hated Brooks and me. Brooks is the youngest brother. And we all have a very complicated relationship.

Myles, Liam, Eli, and Holden all have the same mom. Brooks and I have a different mom. We share the same dad, but there’s a lot of evidence that his relationships with our moms overlapped a little.

And for a while, our four eldest brothers kind of blamed me and Brooks for taking their dad away from them. Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

But then we all grew up, and those kind of stupid resentments got pushed away. Nowadays, we all have a great relationship. Since the four of them moved out of New York, I miss their faces. So when I tell them it’s great to see them, my words are genuine.

“How come you live the closest and you’re the one who’s late?” Myles murmurs, slapping my back a little too heartily.

“Because I still have a life,” I tell him. “One that isn’t taken up with two point four kids and a dog.”

“What was her name?” Brooks asks, grinning.

I shrug. “Can’t remember.” I’m not going to tell them I slept alone last night.

“Can I bring you a mimosa?” the server asks me as I finally take my seat.

“Yes please. And a coffee. Black.”

“Certainly, sir.”

There’s about ten minutes of small talk before we get down to business. Myles tells us how his kids are – he has two now. Charlie is the oldest, and he’s the funniest kid you’ll ever meet. Myles and his wife, Ava have recently had a second child, Laura. She doesn’t do a lot except scream and shit, but I have high hopes for her.

Liam joins in, along with Eli and Holden because all of them have kids or, in Holden’s case, a nephew in law that they’re absolutely obsessed with. I smile and nod when they talk about swimming lessons and some TV show with animals that save lives, but really I’m thinking about Tessa Carmichael.

She never talks like this about her daughter. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her mention any after-school activities or kids' tv. Hell, I don’t even know how old her kid is.

I wonder why she rarely mentions her. And now I’m remembering how she stood up to me yesterday, her eyes flashing with anger, her body tense as fuck.

My ex-husband…

I wonder what went wrong with them? And I ignore the little voice in the back of my head telling me she’s now available.

Not interested, thanks.

“So, what do you think?” Holden asks.

“Swimming lessons are great.” I shoot him a smile.

“I was talking about the wedding.”

“Okay…” Was he?

That’s why we’re here after all. Holden and his fiancée, Blair, are getting married. The ceremony will take place at our dad’s estate in Virginia. It’s the perfect location. Full of rolling hills and lakes. We spent every summer there growing up.

I try to get there when I can, but the truth is I’m constantly traveling. It’s gotten worse since I started working for Hampshire PR. They have a lot of overseas clients who need nurturing.

And that’s my job. I nurture.

“Well, about the bachelor party, actually.” Holden shrugs. He’s probably the brother I’m closest to out of the older four. Until last year he lived here in Manhattan. He’s a pediatric oncologist, and yeah, he’s pretty much superman.

And now he’s stupidly in love.

“I’d like you to organize it,” he says.

I blink. “Me?”

He nods. “Yeah. Eli’s the best man, but you know what he’s like. He can’t organize his own day, let alone an event.”

“I said I’d do it,” Eli sighs.

“No,” Holden corrects him. “You said you’d get Mackenzie to do it.” Mackenzie is Eli’s wife. She’s a fabulous organizer. But I wouldn’t want her arranging my bachelor party. I wouldn’t want any of my brothers’ partners doing that.

Don’t get me wrong, I love them all. But we don’t need a bachelor party at a spa.

“Sure, I’ll do it.” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant, but actually I’m pretty excited. Not just because I love parties. But because for once my brothers are trusting me to do something. And yeah, I kind of wanted to be Holden’s best man, but it was always going to be Eli. We kind of pair off in our family. Myles and Liam, Eli and Holden, Brooks and me.

Which makes me look at my brother – younger than me by just over a year. “Wanna help?” I ask him, because I always include him. Being the youngest sucks.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He grins. “I already have some ideas.”

“No strippers,” Holden says firmly.

Brooks and I exchange a glance. “Wasn’t planning on having any,” I murmur.

“It needs to be PG,” Myles intones, even though it has nothing to do with him. But that’s Myles. Always the leader. “Otherwise Ava will kill me.”

I stifle a laugh. “What exactly does PG entail?” I ask him.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, his brows knitting. “Just not… what you’re thinking.”

“It’s fine,” Holden says. “Just run things past me before you book anything.”

“Sure.” I nod. “Anything else? Want me to get us matching velour pant suits with our names on the butt?”

“Don’t joke about velour pant suits,” Liam says, wincing. “Remember when our moms got matching ones?”

Ugh, yes I do. Our moms are best friends. Which to most people sounds weird. They were love rivals at one point, but you’d never believe it now. They spend a lot of time together, go on vacations together.

Sometimes with my dad and his latest wife.

No wonder we’re all messed up.

“Okay then. One bachelor party, coming up,” I say. “Same date we agreed on before?”

“Yep.” Holden nods. It’s just under a month away.

“Cool. I’ll start booking things. I’ll keep you updated from Exuma.”

“You’re going to Exuma?” Brooks asks. “Why?”

“A work thing.”

Myles laughs. “Only you would go to a tropical island for a work thing.”

“Right?” Holden grins. “How’d you get to be the luckiest sonofabitch in New York City?”

“Because I’m good at my job.” I arch an eyebrow at him. And he has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. Because that’s the other thing about being the second youngest in our family, I rarely get any praise for doing what is actually a hard role.

Sure, it’s a dream traveling all over the world. But when I get there I’m often faced with angry clients threatening to leave, occasionally threatening to sue the company. And it’s my job – and only mine – to soothe them. To make them feel special. And nine times out of ten I come away not only with a happy client but also with a renewed contract and an increased budget.

Holden couldn’t do it. Eli couldn’t either. Liam could possibly, but Myles, he’d scare them off before he opened his damn mouth.

And sure, I couldn’t do their jobs either. But at least I give them credit for how hard they work.

Which makes me think about Tessa again. The way she looked when I waltzed into her meeting with Roman. Even worse, her expression when he told her I’d be going to Grand Exuma.

I rarely get stuck on things like this. Easy come, easy go.

But damn, there’s a feeling of guilt in my stomach I don’t like at all. It makes the mimosa taste weird. I much prefer being annoyed with her.

“So, about those strippers,” Brooks says, taking a bite of one of the pastries the server put in the center of the table. “Can we have maybe just a couple?”

* * *

TESSA

It’s late on Monday afternoon and I can’t put it off any longer. So I hold my hand up and rap on Roman’s door. His executive assistant has left for the day. In fact, most people have. Zoe is at a friend’s house for dinner, and I don’t have to pick her up until eight, so I took the opportunity to finish up some work while I had the time.

And I can’t leave until I’ve spoken to Roman. Otherwise Angela will kill me. She’s been calling all afternoon to ask if I’ve met with him yet.

Of course I’ve ignored her calls. But I know her well. She’ll come to the house if I don’t pick up soon. So I’ve pulled up my big girl panties and I’m going to get this project back even if it kills me.

“Come in,” Roman calls out after I’ve knocked twice.

When I push the door open, I see him on the treadmill in the corner of his expansive office. He’s wearing jogging pants and a t-shirt, with one of those thick headbands with speakers built-in that all the runners seem to be wearing at the moment.

He pulls one ear down. “Tessa. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just wondered if I could have a word.”

He looks at the display on his treadmill, then at me again. “Sure. Let’s walk and talk.”

This would be fine if he had two treadmills. But he only has one so I have to kind of stand next to him, around a foot lower than he is, and pretend to walk while he does the real thing on the rubber belt of his machine.

And yes, this is weird. But this is Roman. And I have bigger fish to fry than worry about looking like an idiot while I walk in place.

“So how can I help you?” he asks me. He’s out of breath. And I can smell his sweat. It’s not pleasant.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Grand Exuma project.” I glance over at his face. Am I supposed to be looking at him? Or are we supposed to both be facing ahead?

I’ve no idea.

“I know you’re disappointed. But there’s nothing we can do. We need somebody who can travel there.” He tries to shrug but it puts him off his stride. He slips back on the rubber belt and has to grab the rails to steady himself. “Damn, this is a tricky course.”

“I can travel there,” I tell him. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. There’s no need to send anybody else. I can still take the lead.”

“What about your little girl?”

“Zoe,” I remind him. Again. I don’t bother pointing out that she’s not little anymore. “Her father will watch her.” I spoke with him on Sunday. He huffed and puffed but finally agreed to swap our dates. Or rather Melissa did, because she was the one who told me they’d do it.

Roman leans forward to hit the off switch, as though I’ve finally grabbed his attention. When he turns to look at me I can see how red his face is. I let out a sigh of relief because I can finally stop pretending to walk too. It’s harder than it looks.

“Have you spoken to Linc about this?” Roman asks me.

“No. I wanted to speak to you first.”

“Call Linc. He’s probably already made his flight arrangements.” Roman presses his lips together. “Actually, I’ll call him now.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I follow Roman to his desk, where he grabs a towel to wipe his face. Then he takes a long swallow of mineral water. He hits the intercom button. “Can you get me Linc Salinger?”

“I think your assistant has left for the day,” I tell him. He screws up his face.

“Damn.” He grabs his phone and it takes him about a minute to actually find Linc’s contact details and hit the green phone button. Within a moment, I hear Linc answering.

“Hey. Good to hear from you. Ignore the wind sounds. I’m on a boat.”

Of course he is. Probably in a pair of swimshorts and nothing else, his stupidly toned chest looking bronzed in the sun. I try to keep my face neutral.

“No problem,” Roman says, as though he constantly has to track his staff down on expensive floating devices. “I was wondering, have you booked your flight to Grand Exuma yet?”

“Your assistant booked it. Why?”

“Turns out Tessa can make it after all.” Roman clears his throat and looks at me. Then a big grin pulls at his lips and his eyes widen, like he’s just discovered the meaning of life. “Hey,” he says, slowly, blinking those same eyes like he can’t believe his luck. “I have a great idea. I’m going to send you both. The dream team. Between the two of you, you’re sure to get the deal closed.”

My jaw drops.

What? He can’t be serious. There’s no need to have two of us traveling to Grand Exuma. “Roman,” I whisper. “I can deal with it alone.”

“Sorry, the wind is terrible.” Linc is shouting now. “What did you say?”

For a moment, the only thing that’s keeping me going is the thought that he’ll be as horrified as I am at Roman’s suggestion.

The thought of us spending a week together on an island makes every drop of my blood run cold.

“I said you and Tessa are going to Exuma together,” Roman shouts back. I’m pretty certain the entire office could hear him, if any of them are still at their desks. “You’re my dream team. Gonna bring that baby home.”

“Still can’t hear you,” Linc says. “I’ll call you back.”

It doesn’t matter. Because I heard him. And I’m pretty sure that Roman will make sure that Linc does, too.

And my eyes widen in horror. This is worse than not going to Exuma at all. I don’t want to go to the Bahamas with Linc Salinger. Yes, he’s pretty. Okay, stupidly handsome with a smile that lights up cities whenever he walks into them. And yeah, every woman in the office would be fighting to take my place if they knew I was about to spend five days in paradise with Hampshire PR’s very own panty-melting god.

My skin is tingling right now at the thought of him being that close to him for days on end, but I’m putting it down to early-onset heat rash at the thought of a trip to Exuma with him.

How did this happen? How did I think I was winning and yet I’m walking out of Roman’s office feeling like Linc’s just got one over on me without even trying.

I close my eyes, trying to center myself, but all I can see is his slow sexy smile. I hate every perfect tooth in Linc’s imaginary grin.

And now I have to share paradise with that ass.

* * *

LINC

“This is pointless,” I say to Roman when he finally tracks me down the next day. I’m on a video call in Paris and he asks me to stay behind so he can talk to me. There’s no pretending it’s windy or that I can’t hear him.

Hampshire PR has state of the art videoconferencing tools. We use them so much, Roman invests a lot of money in them.

“Why send both of us to Exuma? It’s expensive and I have a ton of work to do. Send Carmichael in on her own, she’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want fine, I want us to win that account. I need you both there. This isn’t negotiable, Linc.”

I loosen my tie, because it’s getting hot in the conference room. And yeah, I might have caught the sun a little too much on the boat with our European clients yesterday. “Tessa and I don’t always see eye to eye on things,” I tell him.

“Then get yourself some glasses or something. I’m sick of you two sniping about each other. You’re supposed to be my two best employees so start acting like it.” He lifts a brow, letting me know there’s no arguing with him. “Think of it as a chance to bond. Get to know each other outside of work. I have plans for both of you, but I need you to play on the same side here.” He drops his voice. “Charm her like you do everybody else. I need you to rub off her hard edges. Come on, Linc, this is why I employ you. To bring home the bacon.”

“And in this case the bacon is… Carmichael?”

“No, the account. Tessa is the farmer. You’re the butcher.”

I shake my head because I’m not liking this analogy. First of all, why do I have to be the bad guy butcher? I want to be the farmer.

And second of all, I’m picturing Carmichael in a milk maid’s outfit. And fuck, she’d look good in it. She’d look good in anything.

If she wasn’t such a she-devil, I’d actually be looking forward to spending time with her. Truth be told, she’s the most interesting person at Hampshire PR. And yes, I mean interesting in an attractive, bitchy kind of way. But she’s also prickly and has made it clear she hates my guts.

“Okay,” Roman takes my non-answer as an answer. “Great, I’ve already booked Tessa on your flight. Don’t let me down, Linc.”

Before I can say anything else the screen flickers to black and I sit back in my chair and groan.

Roman wants me to rub off her hard edges. And now all I can think about is Carmichael all soft and pliant, her eyes dazed with the pleasure I know I could give her.

Fuck. Why are Carmichael and sex sharing the same thought space in my head?

Because you’ve always wanted what you can’t have. Since you were a little boy.

I blink that thought away. Not true at all. Maybe it’s just that I only know one way to soften a woman.

And the thought of doing that to Tessa Carmichael is making every part of my body feel as hot.

Fucking Exuma. This might be Roman’s worst idea ever.