5. Jake

5

JAKE

I 'm in the depths of reviewing a contract when the intercom on my desk buzzes. Keeping my eyes on my computer screen, I reach out to punch the button. "What?"

"Mr. Magnuson, I'm sorry, I know you said you didn't want to be disturbed for the next hour. But there's someone here who is insisting on seeing you."

"Have him make an appointment."

"Er— she is being very insistent that she sees you right now."

That fully pulls my attention away from the contract. "If by she , you mean Miss Jones, let her in."

I'm not surprised that Leta is here. I made no effort to hide where the donation was coming from when I initiated it late last night. I am, however, surprised to see how upset she looks as she storms into my office.

"I'm not here to take up your time," she says, coming toward my desk in a t-shirt and wide-legged jeans. This is the first time I'm seeing her in something other than a dress, and it strikes me how good she looks even when she's not wearing something that clings to her curves. "I'm just here to give you this."

She thrusts something out over the desk. I take it and see that it's a screenshot of a cancelled, refunded donation. My donation.

"I thought you needed money," I say, tossing the paper onto my desk.

"I can't accept such a generous donation from you."

"The reason being?"

"Given our arrangement, it doesn't sit right with me."

"This doesn't have anything to do with our arrangement. I saw how stressed out you were, and I chose to do something to fix the problem."

Also, this is my roundabout way of saying I'm sorry.

"It's not your problem to fix."

I study her, befuddled by her stubbornness. "The donation is beneficial for both of us. The company gets to write it off, and you get to let go of that stress you've been dealing with. There's no downside here."

"No, there is. Accepting the money will make me feel like I owe you something."

I lean back in my chair. "Would you feel comfortable with a lower amount? What about five thousand?"

"We aren't doing this."

"Fine. This is what I'm going to do. Every day, a hundred-dollar donation will be made to your non-profit. If you want to go through the trouble of canceling and refunding each donation, that's up to you. But I believe your time will be better spent tutoring kids."

She opens her mouth, then closes it. Folds her arms across her chest and looks adorably flustered.

"I'm sure there's a way I can block your unwanted donations."

"You'd really do that, Leta?"

She sighs, seemingly letting go of some of her resistance. "What does Thorne Industries even do?"

"Many things. Mergers. Acquisitions. Real estate development. So on."

She squints at me. "Does your company own The Belmont?"

"We acquired it a few years ago. Renovated it last year."

"So that's why you know it inside and out."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," she says lightly. "I'm just beginning to get a better picture of you."

The amusement in her eyes sends something hot surging through me. I have to fight off the image of bending her plump ass over my desk and giving her the pounding she deserves. She deserves a little punishment, storming into my office like this in the middle of the day. Not to mention being so damn stubborn about my efforts to do something nice.

Okay. So I might have made that ten thousand dollar donation because I felt like shit last night after we went our separate ways. It never had anything to do with benefiting the company. But the end result is the same, so who cares about the reason?

"Are you free tonight, Leta?" I ask.

She gives a teasing smile with her answer. "Nope. I'm busy. Maybe tomorrow night, though? I'll have to get back to you."

I would bet a large sum of money that she doesn't have anything going on tonight. She's just making a point.

"Fine," I say. "The ball's in your court. You want to meet up, you let me know."

"I will." Her eyes flash with playfulness. "Now I'll let you get back to work."

I can't keep my eyes off her as she walks away. That pretty peachy ass of hers…goddamn it, she's making me hard.

She disappears out of my office, closing the door behind her. I scrub a hand over my face and try to sink back into reviewing the contract on my computer screen.

No more than a minute passes before there's a knock at my door. For a fraction of a second, I get my hopes up that it's Leta. But then the door pops open and Diego, the CFO of Thorne Industries, thrusts his head in.

"Hey, man," he says. "You got a minute?"

The slightest nod on my part causes him to step in. As usual, he's smiling and relaxed. I swear, nothing seems to affect this guy's cheerful mood. Some people are just built that way, I guess.

"Are you free this Saturday?" he asks as he perches on the arm of the chair in front of my desk.

"Why?"

"Marian and I are having a get-together at our place. You should come."

I've attended a few gatherings at Diego's over the years. He and his wife are natural hosts. They're both warm, welcoming, social creatures who seem to genuinely get enjoyment out of hosting—something that's foreign to me.

I've never felt comfortable as a guest in those kinds of environments, but I force myself to go to just enough of them to avoid becoming the guy who doesn't ever show up.

"I'll try to make it," I offer.

"Cool. I hope you can. I'll be breaking in my new grill." He raps his knuckles against my desk as he stands up and starts to walk out. As he leaves, he turns and walks backward while he speaks again. "By the way, if you want to bring someone, you're welcome to. The more the merrier."

"Right," I say. "I'll keep that in mind."

I don't think anything of Diego's comment at first. I'm just glad to get back to my work. But as the day goes on, his words keep popping up in my head, echoing.

If you want to bring someone, you're welcome to.

If I were to bring someone, that someone would be Leta.

But why would I ask Leta? That's not what we are.

But I do enjoy spending time with her. She brings out…a different side of me. Having her there would be…well, nice.

Would she even say yes?