Page 12 of Stood Up
Chapter 6
Aiden
Another day, another problem.
Normally, I’m perfectly fine with solving businesses problems, but today I’m off my game. Why? Because of one simple email that I keep staring at, wondering what the hell is going on.
Ms. Porter,
I am in need of your services. I have a very large problem that I need your assistance with. Please meet me at my office at three-thirty pm today.
Mason Dean
Four daysand not a word from him. Not that I expected one because I didn’t leave the man my number. But then all of the sudden bam, Tuesday morning rolls around and this pops up in my email. He sent it to the work email I have listed on my website, but the words don’t sound professional at all. Or maybe I’m just thinking the wrong way and feeding more into it.
Ican still feelMason in my body even though it’s days later and have thought about him constantly. He was always in the back of my mind no matter what I tried to do to make it stop. I slept with the man—it was phenomenal, but that doesn’t constitute him haunting my thoughts. I run my fingers through my hair, giving it a frustrated tug.
I already have a stack loaded with issues from several companies. I really shouldn’t take on anyone else, but the thought of seeing Mason again sends a spark through me. I miss his touch, his laugh. Listen to me. I slept with the guy one night. I don’t even know his favorite food for goodness sake. Yet, I do know what he feels like inside me and running out of me.Shit. Shit. Shit.
This is business. I can handle business and keep it professional. I hit reply.
Mr. Dean,
Thank you for contacting me for my services. I’ll be happy to meet with you to discuss your problem.
Aiden Porter
Ihitsend right before I reread it and groan.My services?It sounds like I’m talking about sex. Maybe subconsciously I am. Hell, who am I kidding, there’s no maybe to it. Not two seconds later, I get a reply.
Ms. Porter,
Your services are much needed. I look forward to seeing you. Don’t be late.
Mr. Dean
Ican hearthe demand in the last sentence as if he were right in my ear whispering low. My arousal picques, and I dampen. I slam my head to my desk.
This should be interesting.
* * *
My heart hammersin my chest as the elevator doors close in the sleek Excel building. With each tick of the numbers, my nerves threaten to overtake me. Mason is waiting for me up there. That shouldn’t make me feel good, but it does. Well, and scares me at the same time.
I’ve never slept with a client before. So, I’m not sure the protocol here. Where’s the how-to book when you need it?
Just be professional and act like the other night didn’t happen.
The elevator stops, and the doors open just as I scoff to myself because I could never forget Mason’s touch or the way his weight felt to top of me. A woman with honey blonde hair and a meticulously pressed suit enters and pushes the button then turns her back to me dismissively.
My clothes are nice and professional, considering what I normally wear to the office, but by some divine intervention, I wore a skirt and blouse today. The pencil skirt hugs all my curves, and the gray color brings out the blue in my hazel eyes. My white button-down shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and a couple down, but my boobs aren’t out there on display. When I woke up, I felt the urge to dress a little nicer for some reason. This is my reason—Mason Dean.
My dark brown auburn hair streams down my shoulders in a subtle wave, and my heels make my calves look awesome. That’s not being cocky, that’s being real. I feel good in what I’m wearing, therefore my confidence comes out. Well, professionally. Seeing Mason again kind of nulls the point.
The doors slide open as the bell dings for the twenty-seventh floor. The woman on with me steps out as do I. She turns, going directly to the bank of doors on the left and entering. The space is modern and very well lit. An older woman sits at a reception desk, a wide smile on her face. Her hair is a dark brown and cut very short but enough to curl.
“May I help you?” she asks, and I move to her. She has a sense of calmness that allows me to feed on, and I’m thankful.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Dean.”
