2. Beckett

2

BECKETT

W hat the fuck had I been thinking? I'd just signed the divorce papers but hadn't been able to miss my company party. The invite wasn't mandatory. Part of me thought maybe the festivities would distract me from the finality of the end. I'd tried so hard to pretend. Practicing a perfect, carefree smile to ease everyone else while I was melting down inside. I'd taken it as long as I could.

Watching all those happy couples had driven me outside to have a minute of privacy to just cry. Something I hadn't really done since the divorce proceedings had begun. Tanner, my ex, had done the most clichéd thing. He'd cheated with a younger man—his personal trainer, no less. The year I'd discovered his infidelity, he'd sworn he wanted to get into shape as he was getting older and softer. He'd asked me to go with him with an insulting pat and squeeze of my belly.

My build was a family trait. All my male relatives were the same, and all were healthy and active no matter what society said about them and their weight. I'd been so confident in how I looked. Accepted the fact I was aging, that my hair had naturally turned silver, and the laugh lines beside my eyes were a bit deeper. People were meant to age and change; I'd never seen anything wrong with it. Until my ex had suddenly made me insecure about everything, and then the night of the party happened.

I'd hidden in the dark when the patio door of my boss's home had opened and then closed. I'd backed up to hide between two ornamental trees along the wall. All I could see was a man, one I didn't recognize, but he was beautiful and young. He'd had his head tipped back to look up at the sky. Carefree with no worries, the way I used to be, and when the thought hit me, a sob slipped free, alerting him to my presence.

Damn, when he'd pivoted on his toes, I'd thought his profile was flawless, but seeing him full-on had hit me in the center of my chest. His blond hair was neatly, yet artfully styled, and he'd worn an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit but had set his jacket aside. He didn't quite reach six-foot, and he was trim. His clothing choices highlighted a classically perfect form. The fact I'd frozen when he neared infuriated me, but what had pissed me off the most after I'd thought about it was what he'd said to me.

"Such beautiful eyes should never have a tear in them."

"Oh, baby, you going to let me kiss you? Yes or no?"

"Open for me, baby…"

How many other men had he said those words to? How many had fallen for them just as I had? Yet I hadn't felt a kiss like that in… I didn't know how long. The soft sweetness of it was comfortable, but also sort of seductive, but it hadn't felt like he wanted to fuck me. Once I'd arrived home after leaving the party early, I'd cursed myself as I'd raised my fingertips to my lips wondering if any of it had happened.

Back in the day, when I'd go to clubs to find hookups for a few hours or a night, I'd never had someone approach me like the stranger had. And with my luck, I was probably thinking about the boyfriend of one of the employees of the company I worked for—I'd been at a company party, after all. I kept trying to tell myself he'd just tried to have some fun while his distracted partner partied inside. The mess of a crying man was an easy target for him.

"I heard someone had a weakness for caramel lattes with three shots of espresso."

I jerked my head up so quickly I made myself dizzy to find the stranger in question leaning in my doorway with a large to-go cup of coffee. The same seductive smile he wore the night he kissed me arched his full lips.

"How did you find me?" I almost shouted the question and felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"Aw, baby boy, have you been thinking about me?" he asked as he stepped into my office and approached until he could set the cup on the file I'd been trying to study for the past hour. "I'm Stanton Sanderson."

My blood froze in my veins at hearing his name. Stanton was fodder for gossip around the building. His antics were legendary. Stanton was the only child and in line to take over the Sanderson Empire, and I'd kissed him. No, he'd kissed me. I hadn't asked for that.

But don't tell me you didn't enjoy it. That asshole voice in my head I'd learned to ignore decided to make a reappearance at the worst possible time.

"And you're Beckett," he continued. "Do you know how hard it was to track you down? I had to search every floor for you, baby. I started to worry your partner worked here and not you. My heart would've been broken." That sexy smirk of his never left his perfect lips. His raspy tone sent a pleasurable wave over my body. Again, it was the same voice he'd used that night.

What the hell was his game?

"I don't have time for your games today. I have work to do. Thanks for the coffee, but no thank you." I picked up the cup and moved it to the edge of my desk .

"Have you had lunch yet? You're a bit cranky. I can order you something." He lowered into one of the two chairs in front of my desk and crossed his legs.

I looked past him to see if there was anyone in the office. Just one person I could use for an escape strategy, but it was lunchtime, and everyone had cleared out for an hour. Which left me alone with the too-handsome man who was currently appearing as if he were about to make himself at home. Shit . What had I done in a past life to deserve the annoyingly confident young man?

"I'm not hungry or thirsty. I'm busy."

I focused on my files while pretending I wasn't checking Stanton out from under my lashes. He was inappropriate before, but even more so since I'd discovered who his parent was. My life was falling apart, and my job was all I had left. I didn't need the much-younger heir to the company throne showing an interest in me.

I knew I was exceptional at my job. Other than my success, I hated attention. There was an uncomfortable tingling at the base of my skull. A flush heated my cheeks. My mind was a maelstrom of chaos as I attempted to formulate a plan to get rid of him. Yet nothing came to me because I was too focused on the way he casually relaxed in the chair. His suit was impeccable. Everything about him screamed riches and confidence. But maybe arrogance was a better word for Stanton Sanderson.

"Haven't thought about me once since the party?" he asked.

"No, not once." I lied, but deception hadn't ever been my strong suit. My face always gave me away.

"Why don't I believe you? Because I've done nothing but think of you. I'd love to pick up at the point where we were interrupted."

"Mr. Sanderson?—"

He shook his head to cut me off. "Stanton."

The calmness in his voice while I melted down inside irritated me, or maybe it was the fact his poise showed me how much I lacked. Once I'd believed myself a handsome man, maybe not irresistible like some, but vain enough to not compare to other men I encountered. My marriage had ruined that for me. Tanner had taken so much from me. Even a year after the separation, he still possessed the power to make me doubt myself.

"Stanton, I'm sure you're a great person, but I don't date younger men. I refuse to be an amusement, and that especially means I'm not going to get involved with my boss's son. I don't do casual."

As soon as I said I didn't do casual, his smirk transitioned into a wide, gorgeous smile. When I realized I began to shift in my chair, I forced myself to still. I cursed as I felt a slight tightening in my groin. A hard-on for Stanton would be completely inappropriate. Once more, I lowered my gaze to stare sightlessly at my files and notes.

"Good, because I was never really great at sharing. I'm not affiliated with the company in any way other than my family name on the building. So, there's no conflict of interest at play here. I simply want the chance to buy you dinner. What could be the harm in that?" He paused, and I was about to answer until he started speaking again. "And you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

A bitter laugh slipped free as his bullshit finally came fully to the front, and when I raised my gaze to look at him, he wasn't smirking or amused in any way. He looked… not mad, but disappointed.

"Beckett, one thing you'll learn about me is when I say something I mean it. In no way was me telling you you're beautiful a joke. Drink your coffee."

My eyes widened as Stanton stood to circle my desk until he pinched my bearded chin and tipped my head back. And just like the night of the party, the press of his lips onto mine was soft and sweet, the tiniest nip to my lower lip. His lips curved against mine in a small smile.

"Just as sweet as I remembered," he said, dropping one more kiss onto my upturned lips. "Have a good day, baby."

When he stepped away, it was like there was no more oxygen in the room. My chest ached as I watched his slim form disappear through the door. I couldn't look away until he stepped into the elevator. He gave me a small wave as the doors closed, and I collapsed back into my chair, scrubbing my hands over my face.

Damn. I'd never felt anything like it. This attraction to Stanton was seductive and odd—the need I felt for him scared me. I couldn't even remember a time in my past where another man, not even my husband, had kissed me so lightly.

Stanton was assertive, I'd give him that, there was also an edge of pushiness, but it wasn't overpowering. His disappointment when I laughed at his compliment made me uneasy, almost as if I wanted to apologize for the insult. I was of a school of thought men who looked like me and were my age weren't beautiful. Men and women had called me handsome on occasion, good-looking, but never beautiful, and I'd reacted like I'd assumed I was supposed to.

I straightened, and my focus instantly locked on the cup I'd moved to the edge of the desk. Picking it up, I leaned back and noticed writing on the side. I almost ignored it, thinking it was just the order, but then I noticed the neat, elegant scrawl.

Call me, beautiful—Stanton , it read, and there, below it, was his number.

Why did I suddenly feel as if I'd done the wrong thing by sending him away? Shouldn't I feel flattered a man like Stanton would bother searching me out after a brief interrupted kiss? There were so many questions, and none of them were easily answerable. I didn't want to give into seeing him just because my ex-husband had destroyed my confidence, and I was starved for the attention of someone who made me feel the self-worth I'd once had.

But I couldn't use someone like that. That didn't seem fair if the young man wanted to see me again. Yet suddenly, I missed things I hadn't had in years. Intimacy and affection. There was a time when my husband had called me his boy, too, but one day, it had just stopped, and then no more endearments at all. How had I become such a sad old man at barely forty-five?

"Mr. Asher."

I stood up from my desk too quickly, seeing Mrs. Sanderson, and almost spilled my coffee. Carefully, I set it back on my desk.

"Mrs. Sanderson, what brings you to my office today?" I asked as I motioned to the chair her son had just sat in.

What was she doing on my floor? If we ever had to meet, she always summoned me to her office. A panicky flutter filled my chest. She didn't appear upset, and if anyone knew anything about Mrs. Sanderson, she wasn't a person who minced words or coddled your ego. At least you always knew where you stood with her.

"No, Mr. Asher, I won't be here long, and please call me Clora."

I knew very few people dared to use her first name to her face. That wasn't a privilege she allowed to anyone other than her most trusted team.

"You've worked here since my husband was still sitting in the president's office, so you're allowed a bit more familiarity than a new hire. I've been informed my son has been hanging around… I hope he hasn't been bothering you."

"No, of course not, he's been very?—"

She held up her hand with a knowing smile. "You don't have to defend him. That son of mine is a menace on a good day, but he's a sweet young man. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't being a nuisance."

"He isn't. "

She didn't seem convinced. "Why aren't you at lunch with the rest of your team?"

"I was distracted this morning and needed to get some work out of the way. I'll order something later."

"We set up lunch and break times for a reason, Mr. Asher. Making yourself sick or exhausting yourself won't help with your productivity. My late husband, Lucifer rest his soul, didn't have the same belief, but he's no longer at the helm, as they say. Take your break. Files can wait. Yet if you wait about ten minutes, my son will probably be back with lunch for you. He's… tenacious, if I do say so myself." She smiled and winked at me as she backed up and gracefully turned to make her way to the elevator.

The whole exchange had been so unexpected and strange it took a minute to hit me. Had Stanton told his mother, my damn boss, that he was coming to talk to me? What else had he told her? Had he mentioned I'd been hiding outside her home, crying like a fool in the dark? Had he mentioned the kiss we'd shared or how I'd gotten scared and run off afterward?

That wouldn't be embarrassing at all. I rolled my eyes as I decided to take Mrs. Sanderson's advice and left my office with coffee in hand. Crossing through the rows of cubicles, I stopped and pushed the elevator button. There was a small café in the building next door where I could get something to eat quickly.

I was forgetting to take care of myself recently—not eating enough and lacking sleep. Most nights, I didn't fall into bed until a few drinks relaxed me enough to drift into a restless sleep. The elevator doors slowly slid open, and I started to step inside but froze as the lean, gorgeous young man reclined against the back of the elevator car.

"I was disappointed in you for not believing me when I said you were beautiful, not mad. We'll just have to work on your confidence issue." He stepped forward and held out a bag to me. "Eat, baby boy," he whispered as he lifted onto his toes and pressed his mouth to mine. My heart picked up pace. "Be a good boy for me, and I'll reward you later."

I unconsciously grabbed the bag. As he backed up, he winked at me, and then he was out of sight as the doors closed. Mentally shaking myself, I tried to move forward, but I seemed rooted to the floor. What the hell was Stanton doing to me? And was I ready for it?