It's Friday, and how better to start a weekend than with a good book?
As you know, Surrender to Love released earlier this week. Yay! Thank you to everyone who has purchased a copy. I hope you enjoy every sexy, sensational, sizzling, seductive second of it! Jon and Patti sure do spice things up in this 3rd edition of the Night Calls Series. Frankly, I'm not sure how much hotter I can make it when the next book comes out without setting fire to your ereaders. A thousand apologies in advance!
Whether or not you have read Jon and Patti's story yet, I want to share the first chapter here with everyone. If you've read it, this is the perfect time to share with me your thoughts. Love it or hate it?? If you haven't read it yet, maybe this will give you a little incentive. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!
*Fair warning: The following chapter includes strong language and sexual activity. If you have a heart condition, asthma, or fall in love/lust easily, this may not be for you.*
Chapter 1
“Patti? Shit!” Kyle flew off the bed,
scooping up a pair of discarded jeans and stumbling out of the bedroom as he
tried to dress himself. “Patti, wait!”
Charging into the living room,
Patti scooped up her purse as she blew through the front door. She fumbled for
the right key, unable to see clearly through the red haze covering her eyes.
“Screw you, Kyle!” she shouted over her shoulder. A couple leaped out of her
way as she stormed down the stairs, and cut them off on the sidewalk heading to
her car.
“It’s
not what you think!” Kyle called after her, even as he struggled to hoist up
his jeans. He jogged up behind her and slammed his hand down on the door of her
car, just as she began to open it, forcing it shut.
“Then
what is it?” Patti shouted, rounding on him. She felt the heat of her fury
boiling in her blood as she fought with everything she had in her not to
slaughter him like the pig he was. “Was that not a woman I just caught you
ramming your dick into? Huh?” She shoved him, momentarily satisfied when he
stumbled back. It wasn’t an easy feat to manage considering he stood several
inches taller than she did and outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. Hell hath no fury, she laughed to
herself.
“Baby,
come on,” Kyle said as if he were trying to calm a vicious animal. “You know I
love you.” He stepped into her and encircled her waist. “She means nothing to
me, baby doll. It was a mistake.”
Patti
silently fumed as Kyle drew her up against his bare chest and kissed the top of
her head. She didn’t have to close her eyes to envision Kyle’s bare ass flexing
as he pounded into the faceless woman. Every detail was clear as a damn bell. The
only thing notable about the woman was the glimpse Patti caught of her long,
lean legs wrapped firmly around Kyle’s hips before Patti grabbed the only
weapon available to her—a pair of tacky stripper heels—and whipped them as hard
as she could at the back of Kyle’s head.
She stayed only long enough to
make sure she hit her target before getting the hell out of Dodge. The last
thing she expected was to have the lying cheat run after her. Putting in overtime at the office? What
an idiot she was.
Balling
her hands into fists at her sides, Patti squeezed her eyes shut as Kyle
continued to feed sweet nothings in her ear. Fuck, she could smell the bitch’s
perfume on his skin, and it was designer knock-off. Talk about adding insult to
injury.
Unable to take it anymore, Patti
jolted back. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled. “Don’t you ever put your hands on
me again.” She shoved against his chest once more, and he allowed her to set
him back a few steps.
“What
the hell is your problem, Patti?” Kyle’s face screwed up in disgust.
“Is
that a serious question? You’re my problem, Kyle. Catching you between another
woman’s legs is my problem!”
“I
said it was a mistake! What more do you want from me?” he shouted and held out
his arms, his wrists facing the sky. “Do I need to give you a bucket of my
blood for you to understand that I didn’t mean it? Shit, I’m sorry!”
Patti
rolled her eyes at his dramatic display. “Oh, please. You love yourself too
much to bleed for anyone, much less me. And don’t for one second think I
believe that you’re sorry about a damn thing.” She pointed her finger in his
face and glared. “You showed your true colors today, buster. You’re lucky I
didn’t go Lorena Bobbitt on your ass.”
Kyle
took another step back, eying her warily. “You’re fucking crazy. You don’t
threaten a man’s dick, ever.”
Patti
couldn’t hold back her laugh. “There’s not much there to threaten.”
Kyle
glared and threw up his hands. “Whatever, bitch. Consider yourself dumped.”
When
he started to walk away, Patti felt her face heat and her body vibrate. She
turned to face his retreating back. “Consider this, Kyle. The next time you
find yourself walking across the street, be sure to look both ways. You never
know when a tetchy ex-girlfriend might suddenly develop a lead foot.”
“Fucking
crazy,” Kyle shouted back at her, but Patti was already sliding in behind the
wheel of her car. Firing up the engine, she revved the motor a few times, the
aggressive purr of her ’68 Pontiac GTO drawing attention from a few admiring
passersby, and then peeled out into traffic.
Evil,
murderous thoughts flipped through her mind as she took hairpin turns that her
more subdued Toyota would never survive. Once she hit the expressway on-ramp,
she pressed the pedal to the floorboard, opening the engine up. Some people
turned to cigarettes to calm their nerves, some alcohol. Patti’s drug of choice
had always been speed—ever since her father towed home the rusted out hunk of
metal and set it down in their driveway, declaring it a father-daughter
project.
It
took the better half of her formative years, literally putting their blood,
sweat, and tears into bringing it back to life, but by her sixteenth birthday
they’d finally gotten the clunker up and running. It was a time she looked back
on fondly, and after her father passed away a few years later, driving the car
had become the only way she could find relief from whatever crap the world
tossed her way. When she fitted herself behind that wheel, listening to it roar
to life, feeling the powerful engine rumble beneath her, she could almost
imagine her father sitting beside her, enjoying the ride, too.
For
old time’s sake, Patti flipped on the radio and popped in her favorite CD. As
she coasted toward her exit, the first strains of the piano started and she
began to sing her favorite Whitesnake song. She nodded and hummed along as she
slowed at the stoplight. When “Here I go Again” reached its hook, her fingers
tapped out the drums and her heart beat a tempo that matched the mood set by
the music. Not only did she love her 80s hair bands, they were her feel good,
heartbreak remedy.
By the time she made it into the
office her mood was a little less dark than it had been. She took a moment to
serve herself a cup of coffee before settling in behind her desk. She spent the
bulk of her morning getting lost in numbers, one of her favorite things to do,
and before she knew it, it was time for lunch.
Leaning down, she pulled her sack
lunch from the bottom desk drawer and unwrapped the flattened bologna and
cheese sandwich. Halfway through her meal, Mr. Peterson cracked the door to his
office and leaned his head out.
“Patricia, good. I’m glad you’re
still here.” His expression was pinched. “When you’re finished with your lunch,
I’d like to see you in my office.”
Patti nodded, sucking bits of
cheese and bread from the backs of her teeth. “Sure thing, Mr. Peterson.” It
wasn’t unusual for her boss to ask her to his office, but the look on his face made
the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.
Rushing through the rest of her
sandwich and washing it down with the last of her Diet Coke, Patti balled up
her garbage and tossed it in the trash as she crossed the office. Pausing
outside the closed door, she inhaled a steeling breath, rapped on the door once,
and let herself inside.
Mr. Peterson sat hard at work at
his desk, the pen in his hand working feverishly across the stack of papers
laid out before him. “Have a seat.” He didn’t bother to look up from his task.
Easing down on the stiff chair,
Patti sat almost rigidly upright while she waited for him to begin. Nerves
began to settle in and when Mr. Peterson cleared his throat, she jumped.
“Patti,” he started, setting his
pen aside and folding his hands in front of him. “You’ve been with Peterson and
Wendle for a long time. Your record here has been great, your work phenomenal.
I’m not sure you’ve ever even taken a sick day. What I am trying to say is
that, we appreciate everything you have done to help the company grow in
today’s market.”
A proud smile spread across her
face. “Thank you, Mr. Peterson. That means a lot to me.”
Mr. Peterson shifted in his
chair, his hands finding the lapels of his blazer and smoothing them down his barreled
chest. He cleared his throat. “What I have to tell you is difficult, and I’m
afraid there is no easy way to say it, so I’ll be blunt.” He looked up, fixing
dark, serious eyes on her. “Patti, we’re letting you go.”
Eyes widening in shock, all Patti
could do was look down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her fingers
were turning white. “But you said…” Her brows pulled down. “I don’t
understand.”
Mr. Peterson pulled open one of
his desk drawers as he spoke. “I know this comes as a shock. However, as the
company grows and expands and we search for new ways to streamline its core
structure, we find there are certain areas where we could stand to cut back.”
He stretched out his arm to her, a crisp white envelope clutched between his thick
fingers. “We just don’t need two accountants on the payroll.”
Patti blinked several times
before reaching out to accept the envelope. “But Lisa has only been working
here for a little over a year,” she said, baffled. “I thought cuts were usually
made according to last hired first fired.”
Mr. Peterson grabbed for his pen,
rolling it between his fingers. “That’s how some businesses operate, yes, but
in this case, it was a matter of who cost the company more. You’ve been with us
for five years, Ms. Jacobs. You’ve maxed out your raises, have full health
care, work overtime most days, and you don’t take any vacations. The fact of
the matter is we just can’t afford you.”
Patti couldn’t believe her ears.
They couldn’t afford her? “I thought you said the company was growing?”
“It is,” he stated simply. “But
the rules of the game have changed. We’re no longer required to hire in
full-time and the benefits we used to give no longer apply.” Standing, Mr.
Peterson made his way around the desk. “I understand this may be difficult for
you to absorb. If you’d like, you are welcome to take the rest of the day off.”
He held his hand out in a silent
plea for her to get moving. Patti rose stiffly to her feet, the envelope in her
hand burning her skin like molten lava, and allowed him to lead her to the
door. “Do I get to at least finish out the week?” she asked quietly.
“If you’d like,” he agreed.
“Okay.” She nodded solemnly. “I
think I’ll head home for the day, though.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Mr. Peterson observed from the
doorway as Patti cleaned up her desk, shut down the computer, and gathered her
purse. He nodded to her as she passed by on her way out. She couldn’t even muster a smile.
***
“Rise and shine.” Jon leaned over the
blonde who pretended to still be asleep and whispered in her ear. “I’ve got fifteen
minutes left before I’m late to work. It’s time to get up.” For the life of
him, he couldn’t recall her name, but it didn’t matter anyway since she
wouldn’t be sticking around much longer.
“Mmm.”
Rolling over, his after party snack from last night’s bar crawl raised her arms
over her head and stretched, pushing her bare breasts toward the ceiling.
“Can’t I just hang out here until you get back?”
Jon
gave her a placating smile. “It’ll be late when I get back.” Her lips pursed
out in disappointment, and Jon just couldn’t stand the idea of sending a woman
away unsatisfied. He had to uphold his reputation, after all. Lowering his
head, he wrapped his lips around one pert nipple and sucked.
“Ah,
baby, yes!” she shouted dramatically, grasping his head in her hands.
Tunneling
his hand under the duvet, Jon let his questing fingers slip between her legs
and into her slick heat. In no time flat, he had her writhing and praising his
name to the god above.
“Call
me?” she asked hopefully, as he guided her out the door.
He
glanced at the clock, noting he had five minutes to spare. Why couldn’t women
just have sex and leave it at that? It couldn’t just be a man thing, could it?
Opening the door for her, he took a moment to pull her up against him, enjoying
the feel of her firm breasts crushed against his chest for the last time.
Framing her face with his hands, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his.
It was a crying shame that he would never see this one again, because the way
she sucked on his bottom lip was making him have flashbacks to last night when
she had her mouth fitted around his cock.
He
felt himself get hard again and before he dragged her back into the bedroom, he
drew back, disengaging himself completely. She looked up at him with
heavy-lidded eyes and a drunken smile on her face.
“I
have to go,” he told her, pushing her outside and following behind her. After
closing the door and locking up, he led her to her car with his hand pressing
firmly against the small of her back.
Before
she got in, she turned back to him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his lips
once more. “Call me?” she repeated.
“Maybe,” he said with a playful
smile, one that he knew would get him off the hook and get her out of his
driveway. Apparently, his answer was good enough for her because she left
before she could realize that they’d never exchanged numbers. Oops.
He made it into the office ten
minutes overdue, but it didn’t matter anyway since he owned the place. He
wasn’t there but a couple of minutes before there came a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Jon barked as he
flipped through his stack of mail.
The door cracked open to admit
his favorite person in the world: his accountant. “Good morning, Mr. Bradshaw,”
Jenna said meekly as she crossed the room and took a seat in front of his desk.
“Morning, Jenna,” Jon said
brightly. He tossed his mail down with a slap and settled into his chair,
folding his hands over his stomach and swaying side to side. “What brings you
by? I trust the accounts are all in order. No sudden crash in the market I
should worry about?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said with a
soft smile.
That’s what Jon liked most about
Jenna. She was shy and timid, but she could crunch numbers like Shaun T
crunched abs. If not for her, he’d be a rich man living in a trailer with an
Escort parked outside on the curb, instead of the million-dollar condo with a
BMW parked out front. He admitted it. He wasn’t the best with money, but having
a team of experts to keep him in line definitely helped.
Jenna proceeded to place several
file folders on his desk and he leafed through them mainly for show, since he
had absolutely zero interest in whatever was inside. If she said everything was
good, he trusted it was good.
“Stocks are up two and a half
percent, which more than makes up for the recent rise in overhead costs,” she
explained, keeping it short and simple like she knew he preferred. “Our sales
rep reported to me this morning that Mr. Larson’s latest project has broken
through to the Times Best Sellers, which is already showing promising numbers,
but we won’t know how well it’s truly done until the last earnings report comes
in at the end of the month. And, I’m leaving.”
Jon was on such a high from all
the good news that he almost missed her little bombshell. His hands grasped the
armrests and he sat forward, his back ramrod. “Excuse me?” He laughed. “I’m not
sure I heard you right. You said you’re leaving?”
Jenna’s expression was full of
fear and uncertainty. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m getting
married this weekend—”
Jon held his hand up to stop her.
“You’re engaged?”
“For two years, sir,” she said,
her voice growing stronger.
“Why am I only now hearing about
this? I would have gotten you a gift or whatever they do for this kind of
thing.” He waved his hand through the air and grabbed for the phone. “I’ll tell
Poppy to pick something up for your wedding then.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jenna
rushed out. Jon set his phone down gently and stared at her, waiting for her to
continue. “I’ve really loved working here with all of you. It’s been a great
learning experience. But I am giving you my notice.”
Jon was not pleased. He was
actually pretty irritated, but he tried to keep his emotions under wraps so he
wouldn’t scare the poor thing. Already she looked like she might faint from the
stress. “Why not take a few weeks off,” he suggested. “Get married, enjoy your
honeymoon, and when things settle down, come back. Why quit? You said it
yourself, you love working here.”
“I do. I did.” Jenna sighed, as her
head dropped down so only the rim of her sophisticated glasses were visible
through the curtain of golden brown hair. “Tim is old school, you know? His
parents raised him to believe that the wife should stay home with the kids,
while he works to take care of them.”
Jon didn’t like the sound of
this, and he let her know it. “This is
the twenty-first century, Jenna. Women work to help contribute to the
household, too. Why go through years of school and training to get where you
are today only to give it all up?”
The
thin line of her lips and downcast eyes let him know he was getting to her, but
whether it was a good or bad thing, he couldn’t be certain. “I appreciate your
concern, Mr. Bradshaw, but I’m getting married and I respect my husband’s
wishes. I’m sorry you find that difficult to understand, but it is what it is.”
Jon
watched her silently for a moment longer, meeting her eyes dead on. No, he
didn’t understand it, nor did he ever want to. He was raised in a home where
his mother and father both held jobs and pursued their dreams outside of the
house and family, with the notion that a person needed to fulfill themselves before
they could be truly fulfilled in life. He had never been able to grasp the
nineteen fifties housewife ideal.
“So
that’s it? You’re leaving me?”
“Yes,
sir.”
With
a resigned sigh, Jon stood up and extended his hand. “Well then, Ms. Houseman,
congratulations on your marriage and good luck.”
“Thank
you.”
He
walked her to the door, pausing just inside of it. “If you ever need anything,
just call.”
Jenna
nodded. “Okay.”
“And
I trust you can cut your own severance check without robbing me blind?”
“That’s
a pretty tall order, but I’ll try.” She smirked.
“Good,
and make it double. I don’t want people thinking they’re working for a scrooge.”
He closed the door on her shocked face and plopped back down behind his desk.
It sucked royal ass that Jenna was leaving. He was just boasting to his parents
the other night about how well things were going for him and how much he had
planned for the company’s future. Now, he was out an accountant, and a damn
fine one at that. If he didn’t get another one soon, he’d be closer to living
in that trailer than he’d ever imagined.
