Kiss and Miss
Jake
The ‘scandalous’ joke was supposed to be funny.
I mean I found it funny and I rarely find things funny and even she can admit it amused her a little bit.
But during the drive from the bar, her face is taut with a small frown and she spends the time adamantly staring out the window.
That’s also a first. I’ve never seen her angry before much less having that anger directed at me.
“Are you mad?” I quip.
“No.”
“Why you mad.”
She blows out a breath. “I’m not.”
“The frown on your face says otherwise.”
She finally looks my way, “Fine. I’m a little bit mad.”
“I couldn’t let you be there.”
She is silent for a few seconds before she speaks up again. “It’s not your place, Mr. Jake,” she mumbles softly.
I feel my jaw tightening. It’s not my place to do a lot of things but I do them anyway.
“Also,” she continues, “it is the fact . . . ” she trails off and even in the darkness of the car, I see her blush, “there’s a kind of assumption going on that we are y’know…” she gestures between us.
I’m not the least bit surprised. “Who started it?”
“My bet will be on Monique from finances.”
Good. A name. “Position and surname.”
She looks at me horrified. “Mr. Keaton, you can’t fire her for starting a rumor.”
“Why not? It’s my company, I can get rid of whoever I want.”
“Yes but… I kind of gave her that impression.”
Interesting. “Mmm.”
“The day I took a shower in your house? Yeah, I sort of used your stuff—”
“All of them?”
“Most of them.”
“And now she thinks you’re fucking me?”
Anastasia visibly gulps. “Mm-hmm,” she agrees, “And you coming there for me didn’t help my case either.”
“Fair enough,” I stop at a red light, “that doesn’t change anything Anastasia.”
She bites her lips and looks away but not before my eyes drop to them.
I don’t know why I came for her in the first place. She is right, it is not in my place to want to keep her away from the things she wants to do, especially when she’s off working hours, but the words ‘bar’, ‘Anastasia’ and ‘some guys from work’ in the same sentence, didn’t mix well in my head.
I was in the middle of a conference call when her text came in and besides the absurdity of the text, it intrigued me to know what she meant. A shortened conference call and an hour later and I’m en route to drop her home because I couldn’t stop myself.
The ride is silent again for ten to fifteen minutes before out of nowhere Anastasia mutters, “The city is pretty at nights.”
She is still looking out the window so I don’t see the expression on her face.
Eyes on the road, mind trying to focus on anything that is not the woman beside me, I choose to leave her statement hanging.
“Thanks for the ride, boss,” she says, sparing me a look, “I would’ve had to take the bus because Shawn couldn’t make it.”
If I fire the dude would it because he stood her up or because he was probably the only reason she went to the bar in the first place. Interesting thought.
“I’m sorry I was mad earlier,” she chips.
“Shut up, Anastasia.”
“Uh . . . okay?”
“Still talking.”
“I was just trying to have a conversation.”
I stop at another red light and give her my full attention, “Yet, you’re still talking.”
She sighs, defeated and murmurs, “Why you always this grumpy.”
What?
“I’m not grumpy, Anastasia.”
She smiles, a soft light hearted smile that seems to light up the interior of the car, “Thus says Mr. Grumpy.”
Thankfully, the light turns green and I don’t have to reply to that.
I hear her soft sigh, “I guess I’ll just go work for Adam then.”
Automatically, fueled by her words, I slam my foot down on the brakes stopping the car right in the middle of the road.
She lurches forward and slams back on the passenger seat, “What the –”
“What did you say?”
She looks around us, her eyes going wide. There are honks and bonks around us as vehicles go around the car to get access to road. “We are in the middle of an express, Jake!”
It’s one of the first times she has called me by my name but the roar in my head is preventing me from acknowledging it.
“You’ve gotta learn how to answer a damn question, Anastasia.”
“It was supposed to be a joke.”
“Obviously, I didn’t fucking get it.”
She sighs deeply like I am the cause of all the problems in her life, “He asked me to come and work for him instead.”
“He said that?”
“I don’t think he really meant it.”
Oh, he meant it all right. “What was your reply?”
“Nothing. He asked me to think about it.”
“And are you?”
“Am I what?” she asks irritably.
“Thinking about it.”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
I feel a growl emanating from my throat, “Don’t fuck with me Anastasia.”
She bites the corner of her bottom lip and my gaze is forced to drop to it again. “I mean,” she starts softly, “is it such a stretch to think I’m not gonna want to work with you anymore?”
Adam’s words from earlier this week floats back to me,
“… and with you acting like a jerk all the time I’m sure as hell that it isn’t gonna be you.”
Letting go of Anastasia is probably a great idea. Kill before you get killed. Stop her before she gets wholly under my skin.
Maybe some other time I’ll consider that thought but right now . . . right now all I can think about is wiping that thought from her cute little head.
“I’m not letting you make that decision, Anastasia,” I snarl.
“Mr. Jake you do realize that once again, it is not your place to make that dec—”
“It’s not your place to tell me about my place Anastasia,” I snap, “I decide who works for me and who doesn’t and you Anastasia Wells are gonna work for me until I say otherwise, now pull out you phone and send him a reply – ‘Not gonna work, not while I still breathe,’ – now!”
“I –”
“You what?” I am beyond pissed at this point.
She blinks at my tone, all the fight from earlier gone from her body. “I – don’t have his number.”
“Well great, I’ll do it myself then.”
I start the car again and zoom off, making a mental note to make a trip to my father’s mansion immediately I drop her off.
Adam and Anastasia in the same building five days in a week is not a good idea in my books. I’ll do anything I have to, to make sure it doesn’t happen.
In twenty minutes or less, I am slowing down to a stop in front of her apartment, my hands hard on the steering and my thoughts shooting daggers at Adam for reasons I can't begin to fathom.
Without sparing me a glance, she grabs her bag and opens the door herself, “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Keaton.”
“Anastasia.”
It occurs to me that she is mad about earlier so without thinking, I open my side of the door and step out just as she rounds the car.
“Anastasia…”
She swivels around to stare questionably at me and I clamp my mouth shut before any words escape.
What was I going to do? Apologize? When have I ever apologized to a person before? When have I ever felt the need to justify my actions?
I quench down the apology that was on the tip on my tongue and return her pissed look with a stern one of mine.
“No more bars in the future,” I warn, “I prefer my assistant to be of sound mind every single hour of the day.”
I see the urge to roll her eyes again on her face again before she wipes it off with a calm inhale of air. “Goodnight, Mr. Keaton.”
She turns to walk away.
My hands yanks her wrist and tugs, “I didn’t hear you give an assen—”
My words are cut short because when I tugged at her wrist, I underestimated just how light-weighted she is, so she jerks back to me in that single move and her body presses flushed against mine.
My hand involuntarily flies to her waist to keep her steady.
I should probably take off it because that is the proper thing for a boss to do but she is staring up at me and I am slowly watching color seep to her cheeks like a flower unfurling itself in the spring.
Her breath is shallow against the base of my neck and her hands are balanced on my chest to steady herself.
Yeah I should probably step back.
But there’s a look in her eyes, a look I recognize all too well from years and years of experience and there’s only so much a man can resist.
But still, there’s too much to lose with Anastasia, too much to prove to myself, and so I must do the gentlemanly thing and step back even though all I want to is to wrap my hand around her tighter and . . .
I’m just about to step when her lips moves slowly and like a breeze on a feather she whispers,
“Jake,” like my name is the only thing on her mind.
It seals the moment.
The logical part of my brain shuts down and in one swift move, I pin her against the side of my car and crash my mouth against hers.
She releases a soft moan before her lips moves on mine rhythmically and enticingly, her body pressed between mine and the car.
I kiss her like I wanted to the first day I saw her, like I am lost and she is the only key to finding myself. I try to keep my hands modest but I can't stop myself when my hands go around her body, grabbing her ass and pressing her stomach flushed on my groin.
Her hands slides into my hair—
And I pull back.
Breathing hard. The both of us.
Her eyes are round, like she can't believe what we just did. Can't believe the line we just crossed even if it lasted for only a few seconds.
Honestly, she isn’t the only one in that boat.
But I can't face that right now. Not when her lips are looking raw from being kissed by me and her eyes are pulling me in to their green pools again.
I look away from her. “Goodnight Anastasia.”
She mutters something and steps away from the car and I don’t wait a second before I climb in and zoom off.
There is only one thought in my head.
I cannot get obsessed with Anastasia Wells.
But then … what if it is already too late for that?