“Multiple Sclerosis?” I asked.
“Yes. My mother was crippled with it for years. Her suffering ended a year ago when she passed away from a heart attack.”
“Wyatt. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. This is the third annual MS fundraiser. I want a cure found so people who have it don’t have to suffer like my mother did. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my first meeting of the day. We’ll talk later.”
“Okay.” I smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
After he walked out, I went over to the large dark cherry wood bookcase that filled one wall and examined all the books that sat upon it. Most of them were books about business, but he had a few that caught my attention. Moby Dick and The Great Gatsby sat in between the works of Shakespeare, William Blake, and Charles Dickens. His degree was from Harvard, framed in a dark wood that sat one shelf below.
I walked out of his office and stood at Tamara’s desk, waiting for her to get off the phone.
“I’m sorry, Miss Jones, but I’ve already told you that Mr. Coleman is in a meeting. I have no idea why he hasn’t called you back. Yes. I will give him the message as soon as he returns. Goodbye.” She sighed as she placed the phone on the receiver.
“I take it Miss Jones is a pain in the ass?” I arched my brow.
“Seems that way.”
“Scorned lover perhaps?” I gave a cocky smile.
“To be honest, Laurel, I have no idea. She kind of sounded like it. She’s called about twenty times over the past few days.”
“Do you deal with these situations quite often?” I asked as I took a seat on the edge of her desk.
“More times than I’d like to.”
“And what does Wyatt say?”
“He tells me to ignore them. But that’s kind of hard to do when they keep calling the office because he doesn’t return phone calls or text messages. God, please don’t tell him I told you that.”
“No worries. I’m not surprised anyway. Since he’s in a meeting, I’m going to go grab some coffee and then get a dress for the fundraiser tonight.”
“Oh. That reminds me.” She opened her desk drawer. “Mr. Coleman asked me to give this to you.”
“Perfect.” I grinned. “Who am I to turn down a free dress?”
I hailed a cab to Nordstrom. I know. I was in New York, fashion capital of the world, and I chose one of the most basic stores. The truth was, if I ever needed a formal dress, Nordstrom was my go-to store. I didn’t want to spend all day shopping and I knew I’d find something there. As soon as I entered the store, I went straight to the women’s dress section, and low and behold, the perfect dress was beautifully displayed on a mannequin. A black embroidered fitted long dress with spaghetti straps that crossed in the back and a princess-seamed bodice with gold beads and embroidery. I finally found the rack where the dress hung and anxiously slid each hanger across the steel bar trying to find a small. Shit. All they had left were mediums. Glancing over at the mannequin, I stood there biting down on my lower lip, knowing damn well that dress was the size I needed. I looked around for a sales associate. No one seemed to be around, so I took it upon myself to get the dress.
As I was standing on the platform, undressing the mannequin without a care in the world, I heard a voice.
“Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?”
“This is the size I need and you didn’t have any on the rack,” I spoke as I successfully removed the dress and the arm of the mannequin along with it. “Oops.”
“Customers are not allowed to do what you just did. We have a policy.”
“If you’re talking about breaking the arm off, I apologize. It was an accident. But if you’re talking about removing the dress from the mannequin, then maybe one of you sales associates should have been available to help me. I looked around and no one was to be found anywhere. Now, I would like to try this on, please.” I smiled at her.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. The dress is for the mannequin. If you need a small and we don’t have any on the floor, I will be happy to order it for you. Free of charge, of course.”
“I need this dress for tonight, so ordering it won’t be possible. May I ask your name?”
“Becca.” She glared at me.
“You seem like a really nice woman, Becca, and I know you’re following policy. Which, by the way, is a stupid policy and I’d like to see it in writing. I’m the customer, this dress is my size, and I would like to try it on.”
“And your name?” she asked.
“Laurel Holloway, reporter for the Seattle Times. Gosh, my head is just spinning right now with words for the article I feel the need to write about this store and my experience. Plus, I’ll have to tell Mr. Wyatt Coleman about my experience here since he sent me to buy this specific dress. Wait,” I pulled out my phone, “let me call and tell him that you’re refusing to let me try this lovely dress on.”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Holloway.” She took the dress and led me into the fitting room. “If you need anything else, please let me know.”
“Thank you.” I smirked.
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and the dress was perfect. Picking up my phone from the chair, I facetimed George.
“Hello. Whoa, sexy dress!”
“Do you love?”
“I do. What’s it for?”
“I’m attending a fundraiser tonight put on by Mr. Wyatt Coleman himself for MS.”
“It’s perfect, Laurel.”
“Thanks. I have to run now and get back to Wyatt’s office.”
“When are you coming home?” He pouted.
“Soon. I promise. Love you.”
“Love you too. Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks.” I blew him a kiss and ended the call.
After changing back into my regular clothes, I grabbed the dress and took it up to the sales counter.
“Will this be all?” Becca asked.
“Yes.”
She handed me the dress, and as I was walking out of the dress area, I saw Sammi, Wyatt’s sister, standing there with a smile on her face.
“Sammi, what are you doing here?”
“Some last-minute shopping. I think I officially love you.” She grinned.
“Why?” I laughed.
“I was across the way when I saw you undressing the mannequin and that sales associate walked up to you. I heard the whole thing. You’re good, Laurel.”
“Thanks.” I smiled.
We rode back to Coleman Enterprises together, and when I approached Wyatt’s office, I found him sitting behind his desk sipping from a white mug.
“Is that coffee in there or something stronger?”
“Coffee.” He grinned. “You found a dress.”
“I did.”
“Can I take a look?”
“Sure. When it’s on me tonight and when you come to pick me up.” I smirked.
“I was thinking about that. Since you’re going to be here a couple of more days and your boss is throwing a tantrum about the hotel bill, why don’t you stay free of charge at my place?”
“Seriously? You want me to stay with you?” I raised my brow.
“Yes. You’re writing an article about me. Why not? I have several spare rooms, but you’ll be staying in mine.”
“So free of charge really isn’t the deal. You expect sex as payment?”
“I don’t look at it that way, but if you do.” He shrugged.
“Fine. I’ll stay at your place.”
“Good. I’ll have Ryan take you to your hotel, so you can collect your things.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Yeah. I have two more meetings today and I’m not sure how long they’re going to last. You’ll just be bored here.”
“Okay, then I’m off. Is Ryan downstairs?”
“Yes. I’ll let him know you’re coming. I’ll see you later.” He winked before planting a kiss on my forehead.
?
??Oh, by the way, you better call Miss Jones back and stop putting your secretary through hell with your douchebag man ways.”
He stood there with a smirk on his face and slowly shook his head.
A tingling sensation invaded my entire body, my belly flipped about a hundred times, and my heart rate was up. I took in a deep breath as I walked out of his office.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryan pulled up to 425 West 50th Street, grabbed my luggage, and took me up to Penthouse D on the top floor.
“Fancy.” I smiled as the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside the foyer. I didn’t expect anything less from Wyatt.
“Mr. Coleman instructed that I put your bags in his room.”
“Yes, he did insist I stay with him. Listen, Ryan. How many other women has Wyatt done this with?”
“Done what?”
“Temporarily moved a woman into his place.”
“Never. You’re the first.” A smile greeted his lips.
“Really?”
“Yes. I will say that I was quite shocked when he called and told me. This is something Mr. Coleman doesn’t do.”
That tingly feeling invaded me again.
“It’s just because I’m writing that article on him.”
“If you say so.” He nodded. “Laurel, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I don’t want to see you get hurt. I like you, but Mr. Coleman—”
“It’s okay, Ryan. I know all about Mr. Coleman, and to be honest, he can’t hurt me. I’m the same as him. I don’t get involved. I just like to have a little fun.”
“Very well. Mr. Coleman said to make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, just call.”
“Thank you, Ryan.”
“You’re welcome.”
As soon as he left the penthouse, I explored. The kitchen featured Smallbone of Devizes cabinetry with solid European oak frames. How did I know? They were the same cabinets my mother put into our house and wouldn’t stop talking about for the first year. Polished concrete countertops fit in perfectly as well as the Waterwork fixtures and Miele appliances. The windowed kitchen led directly to a massive great room with two balconies, one facing east and one facing west with a wood-burning fireplace. The walls throughout the house were a light gray color with furniture in a darker gray. The dining room housed a table that seated six with an elegant fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows.
I went upstairs and took the long hallway to the master suite. A mixture of light and dark grays saturated the space. He sure did love his grays. Who was I to judge since my apartment was filled with grays as well. After my shower, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror wrapped in a towel and applied my makeup. Suddenly, my phone rang, and Eric’s face appeared.
“Hello, Eric.”
“Did you just get out of the shower or something?”
“Yes. Hence the reason why my body and hair are wrapped in towels.”
“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be with Wyatt Coleman? Wait. Where are you? That’s not your hotel room. Laurel, I swear to God.”
“Chill out, Eric. I’m at Wyatt’s penthouse and I’m getting ready to attend the fundraiser with him tonight.”
“Why are you there?”
“Because he asked me to stay with him a couple of days for the article.”
“Good. Less expense on the company’s part.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re sleeping with him still, aren’t you?”
“So, what if I am? He’s single. I’m single. No harm.”
“Don’t get attached, Laurel.”
“Please, Eric. Do you not know me by now?”
“Just be careful. I don’t need you coming back here all out of sorts.”
“Are we done? You caught me in the middle of makeup.”
“Two days, Laurel, and I want you back in Seattle and sitting behind your desk writing that article. It’s not up for discussion anymore.”
“Fine. I’ll be back in two days.” I hit the end button.
A funny feeling erupted in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I didn’t like. After my hair and makeup were done, I slipped into my new dress.
“Look at you.” Wyatt smiled as he walked into his bedroom. “Damn. You’re going to be the sexiest woman there.”
“Stop.” I pretended to blush. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” I put my hand out and he grabbed it.
“Actually, I don’t.” He pressed his lips against my skin. “I heard you took it upon yourself to undress the mannequin at Nordstrom,” he spoke as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“Sammi told you?”
“Yeah. She said you were fierce with the sales associate.”
“She was being ridiculous,” I spoke as I put on my earrings.
“I get the impression you’re the type of woman who always gets what she wants.”
“I do ninety-nine percent of the time. By the way, nice place you have here. Very prestigious.”
He walked into the bathroom in nothing but his silk boxers and a roaring ache hit me down below. His muscular back was just as sexy as the rest of him.
“Thanks. My grandfather gave it to me when I started working for his company. He did the same for my sister. She lives one floor below. He was a firm believer that family needs to stay close.”
“He sounds like he was a good man.” I gently smiled.
“He was, and I miss him. I’m going to finish getting ready. I should only be about fifteen minutes. If you want, there’s a bottle of wine in the fridge.”
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
****
The moment we entered 360, a prestigious venue in the heart of Tribeca, Wyatt made his rounds welcoming the generous guests that had already arrived. This was impressive. I’d heard about this venue but never actually had been here. It was stunning. All thirty-thousand square feet of it. I excused myself from Wyatt and headed over to the bar.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a neat martini, straight up with two olives.”
“Coming right up.” The young and cute bartender smiled.
I pulled my phone from my clutch and dialed my father.
“Laurel, what a nice surprise,” he answered.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Where are you? It sounds noisy.”
“I’m still in New York at a fundraiser that Mr. Coleman is hosting.”
“Wyatt Coleman? I didn’t know you knew him.”
“He’s the man I was sent to interview for the magazine. I was hoping Holloway Capital could make a generous donation.”
“What’s the fundraiser for, pumpkin?”
“MS.”
“Ah. Of course. I’ll do it right now.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“How about coming home for a couple of days after you leave New York?”
“As much as I’d love to, I’m afraid I can’t. Eric wants me back in Seattle in a couple of days.”
“Alright. Well, take a weekend and come home soon.”
“I’ll try, Dad. I have to go. Thanks again for the donation.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Have fun. Oh, and by the way, don’t get too attached to Wyatt Coleman. He’s an excellent businessman who knows his stuff, but when it comes to women, he likes to play the field. He’s a charmer and I’ve seen women melt right before my eyes and get their hearts broken.”
“I haven’t melted yet and I don’t plan to,” I lied. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
After ending the call, I looked at my phone in disgust. Wasn’t he the pot calling the kettle black. Shaking my head, I put my phone away and grabbed the martini the bartender set on the counter.
“Hors d'oeuvre, miss?” A man dressed in a white tux approached me.
“Don’t mind if I do. I’m starving.” I grinned as I took several.
“You do realize you’re only supposed to take one or two of them, right?” Wyatt smirked as he walked over to me. “That’s proper etiquett
e. Something a woman of your stature should know.”
“I’m all about breaking etiquette.” I shoved a piece of shrimp into my mouth. “Been doing it since I was little just to piss my mother off.”
Wyatt chuckled. “I bet you were quite the little rebel back then.”
“Still am.” I grinned.
Suddenly, a woman with long black hair and dark eyes that sported way too much makeup approached us.
“What the fuck, Wyatt?”
“Adele. What on earth are you doing here?” he asked as he lightly took hold of her arm.
“I’m here in my father’s place. He’s taken ill and since you refuse to return my text messages and phone calls, I decided to take his place. Who the hell is this?” She glared at me from head to toe. “One of your whores you’re going to screw over next?”
“That’s enough, Adele.”
“Ah, you must be Miss Jones, the woman who was harassing Mr. Coleman’s secretary this morning.”
“Excuse me?” She placed her hand on her hip.
“Listen, sweetheart. First of all, I’m not a whore. Yes, I’m here with Mr. Coleman, but it’s strictly on a professional level.”
“So, you’re a prostitute? High-class call girl? What? Is he paying you to have sex with him?”
“Adele, I’m going to have you escorted out of here in two seconds if you don’t stop,” Wyatt scowled.
“Go ahead, Wyatt, and that means my father’s check goes with me.”
“It’s okay, Wyatt.” I placed my hand on his chest. “Miss Jones, I’m flattered that you think I could be a high-class call girl, but in reality, I’m a reporter for the Seattle Times and I’m writing an article on Mr. Coleman. This fundraiser will be mentioned in the article, hence the reason I’m tagging along. Now, I’m sorry that Mr. Coleman hasn’t returned any of your calls or text messages, but the truth is he just might not be that into you.”
“How dare you,” she growled.
“Listen, Adele. I know girls like you. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You’re used to getting whatever and whomever you want. Am I right?”
“Yes. Damn straight I am.”
“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, princess, but this is one man you’ll never get. He doesn’t get involved in relationships. He’s a fly by the woman kind of guy. He likes his garden full of a variety of flowers. Is that someone you really want to pursue? My God, woman, have some standards for yourself.”