Page 16 of As You Crave It

CHAPTER FIVE

WITHHERDARK sunglasses covering her red, tired eyes, Celia sipped her coffee. After Quin left, her friend, and coworker, Amy suggested getting brunch at a hip beach club. They’d met a month ago when Amy had started with Seacoast Prestige, and had become fast friends. They’d shared much, but the other woman had no idea the real reason why Celia had chosen to work for the company.

Without Jared Foster at the helm of the company, Celia’s position at Seacoast Prestige would have been a dream job. She got to do what she loved, for good money, in one of the world’s most beautiful cities. But in just her short time working for him, she had seen enough of Jared’s personality to know that he hadn’t changed, nor was he going to.

She knew of Jared’s propensity for cruelty and abusive behavior—she’d seen it firsthand years ago when she’d worked for him in New York. Celia had been young, and he’d taken advantage of her, propositioned her and, when she reported him, gotten her fired, and ruined her reputation within the industry, as she’d essentially been blacklisted. She’d struck out on her own and worked for herself, and been successful. But when she saw that Jared Foster’s company was hiring, she’d jumped at the opportunity. Things might be different, and if they weren’t, now that she had the confidence she needed, she would gladly take him down. The kicker, however, was that all it had taken was a change in hair color and he hadn’t even recognized her or her name. That was how little he valued the people who worked for him.

Working for Jared again was every bit the struggle she’d thought it might be, but at least she’d met Amy, who used the cubicle next to her, and with whom she had a standing Sunday-brunch date. Bottomless mimosas were on the menu, and Amy ordered one, but Celia desperately needed caffeine. Really, she probably should have just gone back to bed after Quin left. But despite her fatigue, she had an energy radiating through her—one that came from finally sleeping with him. She still couldn’t believe that it had happened. Even if they’d agreed to just be friends, she couldn’t help but think they would never get back to a place where they were just friends.

Amy put down her champagne flute and looked at her. “What happened to you at the club last night? You just disappeared. I tried calling you. And when you didn’t answer, I was worried.”

What had happened to her last night? She’d suffered a moment—okay, several hours—of insanity, beginning with what she and Quin had done on the beach. And then at her door when she’d invited him in. And then this morning when she woke up and almost crawled on top of him for another round.

“I ran in to an old friend,” she responded casually.

“Oh, really? That mystery guy who had the bottle of rum sent over.”

“Yeah. That was Quin. We used to be friends in college. We were catching up.”

“And what did you guys get up to that kept you up until the wee hours this morning?” She reached across the table and pulled Celia’s glasses from her face.

“Hey!” Celia protested, reaching for her glasses and putting them back on.

“With those dark circles under your eyes, you look like you didn’t even go to bed.”

“Thanks for that,” Celia said, rolling her eyes. She’d learned that Amy was always one to speak her mind. “Nice of you to say. Quin and I went to the beach. We talked. We caught up. It was nice.”

“And that’s it?” Amy asked.

“That’s it.”

Before Amy could question her further, Celia’s phone rang in her purse. She’d turned on the ringer after Quin had left. Not because she thought he might call. No, that’s stupid,she’d told herself. But still, as it rang in her purse, she quickly put her hand in to retrieve it. She frowned when she saw the name on the screen.

“Who is it?” Amy asked.

“It’s Jared.”

“Jared Foster?” Amy made a face. “Why’s he calling you?”

“I have no idea.” She knew it couldn’t be good. “Excuse me for a second.” The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him, but she knew if she didn’t answer it, she would face ramifications. Walking off the terrace, she found a quiet spot at the side of the restaurant. “Yes, Mr. Foster,” she said, answering the call.

“Pack your bags,” he said, skipping any traditional greetings. “I need you on a flight to St. Martin later this afternoon.”

“What?” she asked, not quite understanding him.

“Did you, or did you not, hear what I said?”

“I heard what you said. But why do you need me in St. Martin?”

“Why are you asking questions? Just get on that plane.” He disconnected the call before Celia could say anything else. She looked, stunned, at the phone in her hand, and jumped when it chimed again, signaling an email notification. She clicked and saw it was from Jared’s personal assistant. It was a detailed itinerary for a three-day trip on one of Jared’s yachts, where he would be hosting several of Seacoast’s top shareholders, and some other guests.

She wasn’t sure why Jared had requested her presence, but she had an idea. And it made her skin crawl.

When Celia walked back to the table, Amy was sipping on her mimosa. “What was that about?” she asked.

“Jared wants me to meet him in St. Martin.”

Amy shivered. “Seriously? Why?”

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