Catch

It took me a few minutes alone with Everett to realize that this isn’t the first time Keats has had to deal with a situation like this. In fact, this is the third time the world has seen the cock of one of his clients.

I don’t take nude selfies.

This is a reminder of why I never will.

Even though Pace’s face wasn’t in the picture, the woman who had the photo claims it’s him.

She has a screenshot of a text exchange to back that up.

Pace may have an impressive cock, but he’s not romantic. At least, he wasn’t when he was sending out dick pics to a stranger. The gist of that exchange was that he was interested in hooking up and willing to share a preview.

“Maren!” Keats calls from where he’s sitting behind his desk. “Do you have a minute?”

I have all the time in the world. I spent most of my day saying “no comment,” to people calling Keats looking for a statement about Pace.

I’ve worked in public relations for years. I’ve dealt with scandals, including the exposure of extramarital affairs and political wrongdoing. I’ve never had to step into a situation like this.

I stand up and make my way to Keats’s office. I don’t close the door.

“Pace fucked up.” Keats laughs. “How many people have called asking about his dick?”

He says the word so effortlessly that it sets me back a step. I skim my hand over the black pants I’m wearing so I can have a moment to catch my breath and chase away the blush I know has settled on my cheeks.

“A few,” I say quietly. “I handled them.”

“I knew you would.” He pushes back to stand. “I’m going to take off for the rest of the day to deal with this. I’m heading over to Pace’s loft.”

I hold my breath, hoping he won’t invite me to go with him. The last thing I want to do is sit in on a conversation focused on Pace Callahan’s cock.

“How do you feel about the Newmans’ party?” He asks in a low tone. “Our conversation from yesterday felt unfinished.”

“Going to the anniversary party is important for work.”

That sounded robotic.

Keats tilts his head. “It’s very important for our business.”

“Your business,” I correct him.

A smile slides over his lips. “You still haven’t read your contract, have you?”

Dammit. I meant to do that last night, but Arietta wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies, and I pulled clean up duties.

Arietta is many things, but a tidy baker isn’t one of them. She used almost every bowl and measuring cup in our kitchen.

“I’m planning on doing that today.”

“I’ll save you the trouble.” He rounds his desk. “Every employee receives a bonus if one of our clients signs a substantial deal.”

“A bonus?”

He nods. “Fletcher Newman will be on the roster of a major league team in a few months. That’s a given. If we convince him to sign with us, we’ll all benefit from that.”

I really should have read that contract through to the end.

This trip is way more important to me than I realized.

“If you’re curious, the bonus is ten thousand.”

I try to stop my smile with a bite to my bottom lip, but I fail. Keats sees it and smiles too.

“Let’s do our part to get everyone that bonus.” His gaze drops to the front of my red blouse before it shifts to my face. “Thanks for your help with the Callahan mess.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Maren.” He exhales. “Enjoy your evening.”

“I will.” I take a step back.

“Do you have plans?”

I’m taking Dudley to Donovan’s vet clinic for a consultation about the microchip, so technically, that’s a plan. “I do.”

I watch his eyes narrow. “I hope a good time is had by all.”

The tone of his voice makes my heart do a little flip in my chest. He’s jealous. I hear it. I see it in the way his lips part, and his eyes widen.

“Goodnight, Keats.”

He stays in place for a second, before he opens his mouth, only to slam it shut. A brisk nod is all I get before he’s out the door and headed to the elevator.Chapter 25KeatsAt some point, I’ll realize this is a hell of a bad idea. I’m not there yet, and that’s why I’m standing on the corner, keeping an eye trained on the double glass doors of Maren’s apartment building.

I hung out with Pace for a few hours after I left the office.

I ordered some food and sparkling water. Pace wanted beer, but alcohol and a phone with a camera, don’t go together in his world.

He’s blaming the dick pic on consuming too many tequila shots last night. I’m blaming it on his ego.

Both likely played a part.

After we wrote a statement that conveyed his genuine remorse for being so irresponsible, we posted it online. Then, we got to work rehearsing what he needed to say to his mother.