Damaged Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

As annoyed as I am with myself, I can’t be sharp with her.

“You’re invaluable, Wanda,” I say. “That’s exactly why I need you to stay in Chicago, holding down the fort while I’m gone. Who else can keep these children in line?” I joke.

“Is that why you’re taking Miss Landry instead? As my stand-in?”

Damn, what?

Do I detect a hint of professional jealousy?

“I’m taking Miss Landry because this digital media conference will give her critical insights into how our operation works. Then she can tailor Just Vibing into the Osprey Media family without needing constant hand-holding. It’s business, plain and simple.”

There’s a skeptical, but amused sound from her.

“Very well, boss,” she says.

Then the click of the intercom shutting off.

Yes, I know.

I’m not sure I believe it’s business myself.

Regardless, I need to get my head on straight and stop crossing lines—even if most of those lines are all in my head, where Callie bewitches every wicked fantasy.

I keep myself withdrawn behind my usual wall as I pack up my laptop and leave with a nod for Wanda and a wave for the staff huddled over their workstations.

Downstairs, I step into the parking garage and spot the Rolls waiting in the closest parking spot.

One glimpse at the car turns me to stone.

Fucking professional. Keep it that way, I warn myself.

Easier said than done. It only takes a feminine silhouette through the shadow-tinted windows to shatter me.

Not now. I’m too close to the finish line.

I can’t afford a distraction like Callie right now.

Distractions make me weak.

Distractions could let Vance Haydn wriggle through my grasp.

I realize Dominick has the door open for me, waiting. I slide in and set my laptop bag down, offering the woman who’s driving me stark-raving insane a polite smile.

“Caroline.”

She’s settled on the driver’s side of the back seat, looking out the window with a pensive quirk to her full lips.

She smells like spring and looks the part, too.

It’s her white A-line dress with a thin lime-green belt that screams fresh, hemmed in a narrow ribbon of white-and-yellow checks. Her cute neck scarf and lime-green jacket match.

Her lips are just as green today—like she’s gunning to be my own lucky charm, damn her—vivid as polished emerald against the fire of her hair.

Her eyes are shaded in sparkling colors that make her look like a mermaid breaching the waves.

Her mouth always makes me greedy, though.

Like a sweet green apple wedge that would be so delicious to bite, its ripeness sinking beneath my teeth, giving up a moan instead of its juices.

Yeah. This woman has given me an oral fixation for life.

As she glances toward me, though, with a faint smile on those saucy lips, I look away.

I settle into the plush seat as Dominick shuts the door, wondering how long we’ll make it through this shit show without incident.

I swear for the thousandth time I won’t entertain these half-cocked desires—not until I’ve done everything I can for Barry.

Callie’s dead silent for a few seconds, watching me carefully before she says, “I could have flown coach, you know. You didn’t need to bring me on your private jet.”

“It’s more efficient to keep everyone together.” I prop my ankle against my knee and fold my hands, turning my gaze out the window as we exit the garage and drive into the blinding midafternoon light. “We’re all going to the same place, staying in the same hotel, operating with the same press credentials. It’s just common sense.”

“Okay. I bet your jet’s seats aren’t as nice as the chairs in the first-class lounge, though.”

Don’t fucking look at her.

Of course, I fucking do.

I can’t fall for her teasing, and I don’t answer save for a smirk.

Where’s that damn distraction when you need it? Anything but Callie and her mouth.

Swallowing a frustrated snarl, I pull out my laptop, pointedly transferring my focus to the screen with the reports I should’ve read this morning.

Anything to keep me from looking at those lips.

Anything to avoid her sass that makes me want to suck the soul right out of her lips.

The silence between us is pained. She’s still watching me.

After a few seconds, she looks away, leaning against the door on her side and looking out the window.

The faint click of my typing is the only sound.

We’re just as quiet for the rest of the drive to O’Hare. At least there’s no uncomfortable wait in the lounge since we arrived in time to board.

Then there’s an amusing moment when Callie tries to take her own luggage from the trunk and engages in a brief tug-of-war with my driver before letting go, puzzled, while Dominick passes our belongings to the attendants.

“Never flown private, I take it?” I say, quirking a brow.

“More like I’ve never had my butt kissed this much just to get on an airplane. Is this what it’s always like?” The cutting look she gives me says, Is this how you travel? That explains a lot.