Page 157 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 2

Olive

Why didn’t I get paid? All the other respondents got an envelope with a crisp hundred-dollar bill inside it. I must have messed up. Done something wrong. But all I did was follow instructions, giving my true and honest opinions. And reactions. Tears spilled from my eyes as I sat on a black leather couch in the big corner office belonging to the man who owned this company. I needed the money so badly. I was about to be evicted. Tomorrow I could be homeless. On the street. At the thought of being one of those many desperate people in LA, who held up a sign on a street corner begging for money and food, soft sobs wracked my body. I was a basket case. What did I do to deserve this fate? I was a good girl, so I thought. Taken care of my poor mama until she passed away…gone to church every Sunday…and had vowed to stay a virgin until I found someone to love. The latter—finding the right man—was unlikely. Men didn’t want a big girl like me. Maybe it was time to check into a nunnery.

“Why are you crying, Olive?”

A quasi-familiar deep baritone voice rung in my ears. But how did he know my name? And don’t even get me started on the way he said it. All breathy like a prayer. Startled, I looked up. A gorgeous monumental man loomed over me. My stomach flip-flopped as my heart skipped a beat. While he wasn’t wearing a crown and his royal blue cape or sporting a long beard, I recognized him in an instant. It was the Donut King! Maybe he was meeting with the owner of this company too.

“I-I’m sorry,” I spluttered, looking into his piercing sapphire eyes, which looked even bluer with his jet-black hair, dense eyebrows, and layer of dark stubble along his strong jaw. Holy cow. He was even more gorgeous in person. And so much bigger. At least six-foot-four, maybe even six-foot-six with endless long legs and broad shoulders that belonged on a movie star. In a word, he was dazzling. The most beautiful man I’d ever set eyes on. I tried to collect myself, but it was impossible. My tumultuous emotions mixed with a rush of hot tingles. My breath hitched in my throat, but I miraculously found my voice.

“I’m waiting for the owner of this company. I think he wants to yell at me and tell me how badly I messed up his focus group.”

A warm smile lit up his face, making the fine lines around his eyes and sexy dimple in his chin more prominent. Then to my shock, he brushed away my tears with the back of his large hand. Oh so tenderly.

“I am the owner of this company. Owen King.”

A loud gasp escaped my lungs. Flushing with embarrassment, I stuttered, “Y-you’re the Donut King? I-I thought he was an actor.”

He let out a husky laugh that came from deep down inside him. “Yeah. I’m the one and only Donut King. My acting sucks.”

“No it doesn’t,” I countered, gaining the tiniest bit of confidence and composure. “You’re an amazing actor.” Everything about him was amazing. My heart pitter-pattered as the tingles coursing through my body clustered between my legs. My temperature was rising as fast as bread in an oven and my panties were melting like a stick of butter. Even my breathing labored. Dear God. Was this love? Get a grip, Olive. This man was so out of my league, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he spoke.

“Thanks, but I find it hard to believe. The women in that group certainly didn’t seem to think so.”

I was about to giggle when the reality of messing up the focus group hit me again. More tears poured from my eyes. “I’m so sorry I screwed up the focus group.”

“Stop crying, Miss—”

“Cumming. Olive Cumming.”

“Olive Cumming.” He repeated my name, his rich virile voice making it sound so dreamy. “Mmmm…I like the sound of that,” he added, raking his eyes over me. “How did you get the name Olive?”

I sniffed. “My mother named me after her favorite cartoon character—Olive Oyl.”

He reacted with a belly laugh. It unnerved me. I was a fattie. Plain and simple.

“I know. I’m the furthest thing from Olive Oyl.”

He laughed again. Was he mocking me? While I’d come to grips with my size, the pain I’d endured from kids taunting me about my weight when I was younger came back to haunt me with a vengeance. The tears that were falling multiplied. The gorgeous scumbag. He was no different. I had to get out of here. And besides, I desperately needed to find a job so I could pay my rent to my landlord, mean old Mrs. Murphy. I attempted to stand up, but he gripped my shoulders with his large hands, holding me back. My size was no match for his formidable strength. His eyes burned a hole into mine while a cocky smile swept across his face.

“That skinny bitch wishes she had your beautiful curves. She would have done a lot better than that dickhead sailor.”

I let out a giggle while his hands roamed down my arms and his gaze fixed on my double D-boobs. Goosebumps popped beneath the warmth of his palms. Holding my hands, his eyes met mine again.

“Now, please stop crying and listen up.”

His voice was commanding and authoritative like the chief executive he was. It both intimidated and excited me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to jump away from him or jump him. The latter was winning by a landslide.

“Contrary to what you might be thinking, I actually asked you to be brought to my office so I could personally thank you for your focus group input. I loved everything you said.”

“You did?” I squeaked. He must have been sitting behind that mirrored window.

He nodded. “Yes, you’ve given me an exciting, brand new marketing direction. Something I never thought of. Nor did my brainiac marketing gal.” He bracketed the word “brainiac” with air quotes.

Before he got into more details, my cell phone rang. I dug it out of my bag and instantly recognized the number. My tingles instantly morphed into trembles. Anxiety filled every nook and cranny of my body. It was my landlord, Mrs. Murphy.

“I’m sorry. I have to take this.” My hands shook as I put the phone to my ear. I listened quietly and then burst into another round of tears. Big, fat ugly ones. The kind that came with a full-on snot storm.

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