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Heath:
Audra:
Even with the warm, luscious skin of the naked woman nestled against his side, Heath Crawford didn’t feel… much. He knew why he wasn’t quite all there, but he also wasn’t a man to look back on the past and dwell. Instead, he let it hover over himself like the looming gray cloud that it was, threatening not his being but every relationship he’d had for the past six years.
A relationship, this was not.
She was undoubtedly beautiful, though. She, too, had some damage. Surely sometimes they would pry, to ask each other hard-hitting questions for the hell of it, whether out of boredom or mutual fondness, but neither folded. They had a fun way of hiding their little gray clouds, though. Audra was one hell of an attorney, born into wealth as he had been, and she was a playful, astute firecracker. Heath, the CAO of the Crawford Hotel chain, was the son of the CEO, billionaire Jack Crawford.
Whereas Jack ruled with an iron fist, Heath relied on leniency and compassion. After working his ass off to get to the top, Heath had proven himself worthy of the position he held. A sociable man from Johns Creek, Georgia, he worked behind the scenes and communicated with the workers. He checked in, saw to it that they had what they needed, and listened to their concerns. What his father saw as a waste of energy, Heath saw as a necessity. Happy workers made for a happy business. Unlike his father, getting what he wanted through intimidation was never his style.
Audra shifted beside him, then moaned as she rolled over to face him, her palm resting on top of his chest. “Morning, Mr. Crawford.”
He chortled. “You know I hate that.”
She grinned and dragged her fingertips idly along his skin while her other hand rubbed her eyes. His alarm clock had gone off earlier than usual. The morning sun hadn’t yet had a chance to shine through the windows of his loft, illuminating the vast space that Audra herself had helped design. The brickwork, the light bulbs that hung suspended from the exposed wood beams, and the rustic blend of natural browns and deep reds all added to the industrial style décor she’d been going for when he’d asked for her help in fixing up the place. It wasn’t polished, nor ritzy, and damned if it wasn’t perfect. She knew him more than he wanted to admit. “Working early today?”
“Yep.” He gazed down at her and grabbed a lock of blonde hair, tucking it behind her ear. “The old man didn’t elaborate on why.”
Audra stretched and yawned and kicked off the blanket covering her body. He took advantage of the view, unashamed. Their little arrangement had been going on for more than seven months, after all. There wasn’t an inch of the woman he hadn’t touched, teased, or tasted, and for a friend with benefits, she was a solid ten. If it weren’t for those little gray clouds, that stubborn blockage in his otherwise healthy heart, they’d have made a hell of a couple. The sex was phenomenal, anyway. “I say we renegotiate the terms of our deal.”
For a split second, Heath stopped breathing. He did his best to hide his apprehension with a casual smile and a lift of his brow. “Oh yeah?”
Audra laughed. Loudly. “Don’t worry, Tin Man. I’m not head over heels for your country boy charm.”
He let out a breath and relaxed a bit. “Carry on, Ms. Fitzgerald.”
She cleared her throat. “We add a day.”
Heath smirked. “Can’t get enough?”
Audra poked him in the chest. “We meet Mondays and Thursdays. I propose we throw Saturdays into the mix, provided neither of us has anything scheduled.”
In a second, he was no longer on his side of the bed. He hovered above her, his hands resting on either side of her head, blue eyes boring into hers. “So professional. Should I start a spreadsheet?”
Audra smiled up at him, then down between their bodies, the evidence of his agreement pressing against her belly. “Stipulations still apply,” she reminded him. “No lovey dovey bullshit, and I promise not to melt too much over that sexy accent of yours.”
He didn’t quite have the time for an entire conversation, nor did he really have time for what he was about to do, but it was hard to step away when her hand reached for him. “Sexy accent, huh?” He had a slight Southern drawl that rolled off his tongue in a deep, husky timbre and spoke with a simple, unrushed cadence that the city people seemed to love. Audra had been keen on it more than most, from the moment they met at his father’s charity function to the two hours afterward, ending the evening with a bang from within the empty supply closet on the first floor of the Crawford Hotel. He’d admired her spunk from the get-go. That, and her outrageous breasts.
“Clock is ticking,” she said, and as soon as he situated himself between her thighs, his phone rang. “Fuck,” she cursed, throwing her head back amidst the pillows. “Daddy dearest?”
She already knew the answer. He reached for his phone and slid his finger across the screen. “Mornin’, Dad.”
His father’s drawl wasn’t as subtle as his. He was a Georgian through and through. “I’s just calling to make sure you remembered today.”
Heath gazed down at Audra with a devious grin on his face. “Absolutely. I’m just about to hit the shower.”
“Well, I guess I ought to tell you the reason before you come in. I’m gettin’ a little held up at the moment.”
Held up more than likely meant that Jack was grabbing breakfast and hadn’t checked the time. It was rarely ever anything but the old man being rich and accomplished and doing what he damn well pleased. To a CEO, punctuality only applied to the ones beneath you. “What is it?” he asked, trying his best to ignore the grip Audra was applying below. He gave her a warning look and she covered her laughter with her free hand.
“There’s a lady, uh, Baccino. Gina… Baccino. She’s works in the housekeeping department.”
Heath knew the drill. He hated it, but it was part of the job. “I’m letting her go?”
“I did it for you, actually.”
That gave him pause. He sat up, leaning away from Audra’s touch. Firing people was a bit of a boner killer, not to mention the shock of his father being the one to do it. “Pardon?”
“She was taking too many sick days, calling in all the time, barely there. Thought I’d take it off your hands. Look, I’m pressed for time. Her last check is sittin’ on Fitzgerald’s desk. I need you to hand it off to her daughter. Uh, Rachel’s the name, I think. Something with an R.”
Weird. “Her daughter’s dropping by, then? We don’t usually-”
“Yeah, I know. I thought I did you a favor, Son. Listen, I gotta jet. Unless you’ve got a problem?”
Heath knew better than to argue. He worked hard, but he couldn’t say his father hadn’t helped nudge him toward success. “No, sir.”
“Good. Now, tell Fitzgerald’s daughter goodbye. Of all the women in New York, you’ve just got to knock boots with my business partner’s pride and joy. Damn mystery Roy ain’t caught on yet.”
Jack was cold, but he wasn’t stupid. Heath wasn’t about to respond to that. “Got it, Dad.”
Judging by the look on Audra’s face when he hung up, she had heard every word. For a moment, there was only silence, and then they laughed. “Rain check, then?” she said after a minute had passed. Heath nodded. “I think that’s best.”
Both stood up from the bed, bare feet padding toward the bathroom. One glance at her ass had him doing some mental calculations. He could swing it.
“Never mind,” he said, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into the shower with him. She let out a squeal when he spun her around and pressed her body against the glass of the open, spacious shower, and gripped her by the hips. She bent forward without any prompting while he turned on the spray.
“He’s right, you know,” she said, and Heath stopped in confusion, watching as she tilted her head back to look at him.
“About what?”
Her devilish grin was infectious. Her eyes danced with humor. “It really is a fucking mystery.”
Their laughter echoed throughout the bathroom, her cackling making way for moans when he began to move behind her.
Within seconds, the strange call was gone from his mind.
Clad in his nicest chukka boots, button-up shirt and suit pants, Heath strode into the Crawford Hotel and was instantly greeted by everyone there. He asked Frank, head of security, how his son's graduation had gone. The ladies behind the desk he greeted by name. He asked Mary how her husband's leg was healing. He checked in with the cleanup crews and everyone in-between. He was not his father, and it was important that they knew that. He respected the man scrubbing toilets just as much as the big man in the corner office. Perhaps his heart wasn't quite where it had been in the past, and perhaps he held a large part of himself back in a way he hadn't years ago, but he did care. He cared to make the jobs bearable for everyone involved, and he knew enough to smile big and proud and to crack the right jokes. If you didn't feel it, after all, you could always fake it.
While he spoke with Edith Matthews about inventory, doors down from Fitzgerald's office, he heard it. A woman, and an angry one at that, was ranting to someone about something. He hadn't a clue what was being said. It sounded... Italian?
He looked toward her - what could only be all five feet and two inches of her - as she flung about random curses he understood from the rest, her vitriol making him a tad nervous. He glanced back at Edith, and to his surprise, she frowned, as if she understood what was going on.
"What?" he prompted, jerking his head toward the small, fiery woman with her back turned to them. "You speak Italian?"
Edith shook her head. "Oh, no, but I know her. That's Remi. Gina is her mother. She sure is mad about something."
Heath opened his mouth to speak when it came to him. Ah, crap. Gina Baccino. He squeezed Edith's shoulder and offered her an apologetic smile. "If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Matthews."
He ducked away, knowing that there was no way to get to Fitzgerald's office without brushing past the little spitfire named Remi. The more he thought, the more perplexed he became as to why his father had taken it upon himself to let the woman go. Heath was well versed in softening the blow and letting them down gently. Jack Crawford was about as comforting as a root canal.
Resigning himself to defeat, his cheeks growing hot, he slid past Remi, and because she stood directly before Fitzgerald's door, she had no choice but to notice the man sneaking into the office in front of her. Too embarrassed to return her gaze, he offered her a nod, his eyes focused on the check sitting on top of Roy's desk. Kill me now.
She had ceased her conversation entirely, and now he was faced with a cold, agonizing silence while he picked up the envelope. From the corner of his eye, he could see Remi, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he approached, the check raised between them.
Finally, he returned eye contact. It was the least he could do. He wasn't normally a coward, but fuck, this was a terrible ordeal, and all he could think about was decking his father the next time they crossed paths. Worst of all was the fact that she was so goddamned beautiful, and so incredibly angry. At him.
"Ms. Baccino," he said, his voice gravelly, the words rumbling out as if he hadn't spoken in years. Big, brown eyes stared up at him, her lips pursed and trembling. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I apologize. This isn't normally..." He stopped himself. He may have wanted to point all ten fingers at his father, but it wasn't professional in the slightest. "I'm very sorry."
Audra:
Even with the warm, luscious skin of the naked woman nestled against his side, Heath Crawford didn’t feel… much. He knew why he wasn’t quite all there, but he also wasn’t a man to look back on the past and dwell. Instead, he let it hover over himself like the looming gray cloud that it was, threatening not his being but every relationship he’d had for the past six years.
A relationship, this was not.
She was undoubtedly beautiful, though. She, too, had some damage. Surely sometimes they would pry, to ask each other hard-hitting questions for the hell of it, whether out of boredom or mutual fondness, but neither folded. They had a fun way of hiding their little gray clouds, though. Audra was one hell of an attorney, born into wealth as he had been, and she was a playful, astute firecracker. Heath, the CAO of the Crawford Hotel chain, was the son of the CEO, billionaire Jack Crawford.
Whereas Jack ruled with an iron fist, Heath relied on leniency and compassion. After working his ass off to get to the top, Heath had proven himself worthy of the position he held. A sociable man from Johns Creek, Georgia, he worked behind the scenes and communicated with the workers. He checked in, saw to it that they had what they needed, and listened to their concerns. What his father saw as a waste of energy, Heath saw as a necessity. Happy workers made for a happy business. Unlike his father, getting what he wanted through intimidation was never his style.
Audra shifted beside him, then moaned as she rolled over to face him, her palm resting on top of his chest. “Morning, Mr. Crawford.”
He chortled. “You know I hate that.”
She grinned and dragged her fingertips idly along his skin while her other hand rubbed her eyes. His alarm clock had gone off earlier than usual. The morning sun hadn’t yet had a chance to shine through the windows of his loft, illuminating the vast space that Audra herself had helped design. The brickwork, the light bulbs that hung suspended from the exposed wood beams, and the rustic blend of natural browns and deep reds all added to the industrial style décor she’d been going for when he’d asked for her help in fixing up the place. It wasn’t polished, nor ritzy, and damned if it wasn’t perfect. She knew him more than he wanted to admit. “Working early today?”
“Yep.” He gazed down at her and grabbed a lock of blonde hair, tucking it behind her ear. “The old man didn’t elaborate on why.”
Audra stretched and yawned and kicked off the blanket covering her body. He took advantage of the view, unashamed. Their little arrangement had been going on for more than seven months, after all. There wasn’t an inch of the woman he hadn’t touched, teased, or tasted, and for a friend with benefits, she was a solid ten. If it weren’t for those little gray clouds, that stubborn blockage in his otherwise healthy heart, they’d have made a hell of a couple. The sex was phenomenal, anyway. “I say we renegotiate the terms of our deal.”
For a split second, Heath stopped breathing. He did his best to hide his apprehension with a casual smile and a lift of his brow. “Oh yeah?”
Audra laughed. Loudly. “Don’t worry, Tin Man. I’m not head over heels for your country boy charm.”
He let out a breath and relaxed a bit. “Carry on, Ms. Fitzgerald.”
She cleared her throat. “We add a day.”
Heath smirked. “Can’t get enough?”
Audra poked him in the chest. “We meet Mondays and Thursdays. I propose we throw Saturdays into the mix, provided neither of us has anything scheduled.”
In a second, he was no longer on his side of the bed. He hovered above her, his hands resting on either side of her head, blue eyes boring into hers. “So professional. Should I start a spreadsheet?”
Audra smiled up at him, then down between their bodies, the evidence of his agreement pressing against her belly. “Stipulations still apply,” she reminded him. “No lovey dovey bullshit, and I promise not to melt too much over that sexy accent of yours.”
He didn’t quite have the time for an entire conversation, nor did he really have time for what he was about to do, but it was hard to step away when her hand reached for him. “Sexy accent, huh?” He had a slight Southern drawl that rolled off his tongue in a deep, husky timbre and spoke with a simple, unrushed cadence that the city people seemed to love. Audra had been keen on it more than most, from the moment they met at his father’s charity function to the two hours afterward, ending the evening with a bang from within the empty supply closet on the first floor of the Crawford Hotel. He’d admired her spunk from the get-go. That, and her outrageous breasts.
“Clock is ticking,” she said, and as soon as he situated himself between her thighs, his phone rang. “Fuck,” she cursed, throwing her head back amidst the pillows. “Daddy dearest?”
She already knew the answer. He reached for his phone and slid his finger across the screen. “Mornin’, Dad.”
His father’s drawl wasn’t as subtle as his. He was a Georgian through and through. “I’s just calling to make sure you remembered today.”
Heath gazed down at Audra with a devious grin on his face. “Absolutely. I’m just about to hit the shower.”
“Well, I guess I ought to tell you the reason before you come in. I’m gettin’ a little held up at the moment.”
Held up more than likely meant that Jack was grabbing breakfast and hadn’t checked the time. It was rarely ever anything but the old man being rich and accomplished and doing what he damn well pleased. To a CEO, punctuality only applied to the ones beneath you. “What is it?” he asked, trying his best to ignore the grip Audra was applying below. He gave her a warning look and she covered her laughter with her free hand.
“There’s a lady, uh, Baccino. Gina… Baccino. She’s works in the housekeeping department.”
Heath knew the drill. He hated it, but it was part of the job. “I’m letting her go?”
“I did it for you, actually.”
That gave him pause. He sat up, leaning away from Audra’s touch. Firing people was a bit of a boner killer, not to mention the shock of his father being the one to do it. “Pardon?”
“She was taking too many sick days, calling in all the time, barely there. Thought I’d take it off your hands. Look, I’m pressed for time. Her last check is sittin’ on Fitzgerald’s desk. I need you to hand it off to her daughter. Uh, Rachel’s the name, I think. Something with an R.”
Weird. “Her daughter’s dropping by, then? We don’t usually-”
“Yeah, I know. I thought I did you a favor, Son. Listen, I gotta jet. Unless you’ve got a problem?”
Heath knew better than to argue. He worked hard, but he couldn’t say his father hadn’t helped nudge him toward success. “No, sir.”
“Good. Now, tell Fitzgerald’s daughter goodbye. Of all the women in New York, you’ve just got to knock boots with my business partner’s pride and joy. Damn mystery Roy ain’t caught on yet.”
Jack was cold, but he wasn’t stupid. Heath wasn’t about to respond to that. “Got it, Dad.”
Judging by the look on Audra’s face when he hung up, she had heard every word. For a moment, there was only silence, and then they laughed. “Rain check, then?” she said after a minute had passed. Heath nodded. “I think that’s best.”
Both stood up from the bed, bare feet padding toward the bathroom. One glance at her ass had him doing some mental calculations. He could swing it.
“Never mind,” he said, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into the shower with him. She let out a squeal when he spun her around and pressed her body against the glass of the open, spacious shower, and gripped her by the hips. She bent forward without any prompting while he turned on the spray.
“He’s right, you know,” she said, and Heath stopped in confusion, watching as she tilted her head back to look at him.
“About what?”
Her devilish grin was infectious. Her eyes danced with humor. “It really is a fucking mystery.”
Their laughter echoed throughout the bathroom, her cackling making way for moans when he began to move behind her.
Within seconds, the strange call was gone from his mind.
Clad in his nicest chukka boots, button-up shirt and suit pants, Heath strode into the Crawford Hotel and was instantly greeted by everyone there. He asked Frank, head of security, how his son's graduation had gone. The ladies behind the desk he greeted by name. He asked Mary how her husband's leg was healing. He checked in with the cleanup crews and everyone in-between. He was not his father, and it was important that they knew that. He respected the man scrubbing toilets just as much as the big man in the corner office. Perhaps his heart wasn't quite where it had been in the past, and perhaps he held a large part of himself back in a way he hadn't years ago, but he did care. He cared to make the jobs bearable for everyone involved, and he knew enough to smile big and proud and to crack the right jokes. If you didn't feel it, after all, you could always fake it.
While he spoke with Edith Matthews about inventory, doors down from Fitzgerald's office, he heard it. A woman, and an angry one at that, was ranting to someone about something. He hadn't a clue what was being said. It sounded... Italian?
He looked toward her - what could only be all five feet and two inches of her - as she flung about random curses he understood from the rest, her vitriol making him a tad nervous. He glanced back at Edith, and to his surprise, she frowned, as if she understood what was going on.
"What?" he prompted, jerking his head toward the small, fiery woman with her back turned to them. "You speak Italian?"
Edith shook her head. "Oh, no, but I know her. That's Remi. Gina is her mother. She sure is mad about something."
Heath opened his mouth to speak when it came to him. Ah, crap. Gina Baccino. He squeezed Edith's shoulder and offered her an apologetic smile. "If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Matthews."
He ducked away, knowing that there was no way to get to Fitzgerald's office without brushing past the little spitfire named Remi. The more he thought, the more perplexed he became as to why his father had taken it upon himself to let the woman go. Heath was well versed in softening the blow and letting them down gently. Jack Crawford was about as comforting as a root canal.
Resigning himself to defeat, his cheeks growing hot, he slid past Remi, and because she stood directly before Fitzgerald's door, she had no choice but to notice the man sneaking into the office in front of her. Too embarrassed to return her gaze, he offered her a nod, his eyes focused on the check sitting on top of Roy's desk. Kill me now.
She had ceased her conversation entirely, and now he was faced with a cold, agonizing silence while he picked up the envelope. From the corner of his eye, he could see Remi, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he approached, the check raised between them.
Finally, he returned eye contact. It was the least he could do. He wasn't normally a coward, but fuck, this was a terrible ordeal, and all he could think about was decking his father the next time they crossed paths. Worst of all was the fact that she was so goddamned beautiful, and so incredibly angry. At him.
"Ms. Baccino," he said, his voice gravelly, the words rumbling out as if he hadn't spoken in years. Big, brown eyes stared up at him, her lips pursed and trembling. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I apologize. This isn't normally..." He stopped himself. He may have wanted to point all ten fingers at his father, but it wasn't professional in the slightest. "I'm very sorry."
