Page 31 of A Little Moore Action
I leave him there, standing with his arms and jacket still in front, his posture rigid. I can feel him watching as I stride out of Moore’s, trying very hard not to waver on my new Jimmy Choos.
Chase
I’m trying veryhard to remain unaffected. I mean, other than the unyielding hard-on I’m packing. True, getting caught dry humping by our employees isn’t the best way to make a good impression, but we’re adults, damn it. And I’m pretty sure only Raymond saw.
Remind me never to play poker with him.
Back in that elevator, I had to keep my fists clenched against the cold metal wall to keep myself from shooting off in my Tom Ford slacks. If I’d caved and touched her, my orgasm would’ve been a foregone conclusion.
That is one stain I’d rather not have to explain to my dry cleaner.
But why did she say sorry? That I don’t understand. She should’ve said you’re welcome, because I may still be standing here like I’m about to set up camp with the tent I’m pitching in my pants, but that was by far the hottest moment of my life, and no one was even naked.
Someone coughs.
I blink, coming out of the trance I’ve been in for the past few minutes, staring at the door Campbell just exited. It occurs to me that I’ve been doing that a lot lately.
The night security guard, Jeff, eyes me warily. Great, now my employees think I’m a pervert, staring after women while sporting a cock-stand.
Shaking my head in disgust, I head toward the side entrance and the employee parking area. As I drive home, I barely register the city passing by, my head filled with waves of auburn hair and sparkling brown eyes. Luckily, I’m in one of those ninja modes where I can’t remember the ride from work into my parking garage, but somehow I got there safely. Well done me.
Up the elevator and through the door to my bachelor pad I go.
I drop onto my sofa and contemplate the last few days of my life and how everything has changed.
What is it about Campbell King? Why does it feel as if my life has been rebooted, far more so than when my brother showed his douchey colors and I took over the helm of our family’s legacy?
Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family” sounds from my pants pocket. I fish out my phone and answer. “Hey, sis. What’s up?” Guilt creeps in, knowing my time with Campbell is exactly what my father would use against Liz.
“Ooooo, you are in trou-ble!” Liz sings into my ear.
“Great. What now?” I prop my legs up on my coffee table. It can’t be that bad if she’s using a sing-song voice.
“I’m really not sure, actually. Obviously, Dad ranted and raved before he set out to ambush you at work the other day. But when he came home, he was pleased. And we both know a pleased Stan does not bode well.”
I frown. “What are you doing at their house?” Liz has her own apartment while she finishes grad school. But whereas I stayed gone after I left, Liz often spends her weekends at home. Stan’s words about Liz being devastated if cut off echo in my mind.
“Mom and I are going to a charity lunch tomorrow. I finally got her to branch out and donate to the children’s art project. Dad, of course, said it was nonsense, but I think it’s important that underprivileged kids have access to art.” Her passion comes through in her voice, and I smile. “Plus, it’s a great opportunity to spy on Dad for you. Show some appreciation for my sacrifice, why don’t you?”
I really freaking love my sister. “I’ll buy you a pony.”
She laughs, which has me thinking of Campbell. They both have first-rate laughs.
“No need for a pony, bro. But you could spare a wad of cash for the children’s art project as well.”
“That is more than doable.”
“Sweet.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, the humor is missing from her voice. “Just know that even though Dad is happy, he isn’t.”
“When is he ever?”
“That’s just it.” It’s her turn to sigh. “I just… don’t you ever want to fix things? Have us be a normal, happy family?”
Damn it. I close my eyes and sigh. “You know that won’t happen, Liz. It would take more than just us wanting that. We can’t change him.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Another pause. “Maybe instead of the check for the children’s charity you could do me a favor and try to get Thomas out to dinner sometime? Now that he isn’t heir apparent, maybe he’ll be less of a douche.”
Liz’s eternal optimism is something I cherish about her. I do. But sometimes even she doesn’t know a lost cause, even when it grew up with her. So I do the only thing I can think of—I answer her without answering her. “You would keep my money from the children just so you could go to dinner?” I deepen my voice and scold, “For shame, Liz. For shame.”
