I just always thought the bully in question would behisasshole son, notmygrown-ass neighbor.
Chapter Two
Hayden
I was just about to leave for the day when Sonya told me an angry woman on the phone was demanding to see me right away.
To be honest, I don’t have many angry women demanding anything of me. In order for that to happen, you generally need to haverelationshipswith women, and I stick to casual encounters. Unless we work together—in which case there will be no romance—I am a one-episode guest star, and I have no interest in reappearing in anyone’s life.
I’m not sure what I visualized when I was preparing to meet the angry woman in question, but it was decidedly not the doe-eyed redhead who jingles as she storms gracefully into my office wearing the garb of abelly dancer.
It takes a lot to surprise me, but I’m so stunned at the sight of her, I sit behind my desk with my jaw hanging open.
She stops just inside my office, the sheer gauzy fabric of her purple skirt an endless wave as she moves. It stops and stills when she does. I’m tempted to tell her to keep moving, but while she’s standing there, I let my gaze move up over her toned belly to the beaded purple bra encasing her lovely tits.
She looks a bit like a genie.
Are you here to grant me a wish?
The thought crosses my mind as my shock eases, and a faint smile slips into place.
This is a joke. It has to be.
I’ve been working too hard lately—long hours with no breaks. Sonya has been telling me I need to blow off some steam, and while I never expected her to call in a dancer—she has worked for me long enough to know I have a soft spot for dancers—I am impressed with the one she picked out. She’s not at all the generically hot Barbie doll blonde with plump lips and seductive eyes that I might have imagined.
No, she’s beautiful, but not in a generic way. There’s almost an innocence about this woman, which is a ridiculous thought to have given she’s probably close to thirty.
Maybe it’s because she’s standing there looking likeI Dream of Jeannie.
I hope she calls me master.
I smirk at the thought, folding my hands over my abdomen and leaning back in my leather office chair, waiting for the show to start.
Since the dancer seems to be waiting for me to say something, I play along. “What can I do for you today, Miss…?”
“Cane,” she provides, and even her voice is lovely. “Gemma Cane.”
Gemma Cane.
Sweet like a stick of peppermint candy.
That has to be made up. Hell of a stage name, though.
Her skirts sway like ocean waves as she moves closer. “I’m having a problem with my neighbor.”
“Oh, yeah? Is her lamp too close to yours?”
A frown flickers across her face. “What? No, it’s not a female neighbor, it’s—well, he’s married, somehow. I can’t imagine the desperation one would have to feel to marry a man like that, but I suppose she’s cut from the same cloth. I don’t like her, either,” she informs me.
I nod patiently, waiting for this bit to end and for her to dance her pretty little ass over here and sit on my lap.
“It’s the husband. He’s… well, forgive my language, but he’s a real bastard.”
I nod, trying to skip ahead to the good part. “Ah, so you need a knight in shining armor to rescue you? I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place, sweetheart.” This is taking up too much of my time, so I pat my thigh to let her know I want to move things along. “Then again, who knows? Maybe if you’re really sweet, I can be persuaded.”
Her mouth forms a little O of shock, her big brown eyes impossibly going even wider. “If you’re insinuating what I think you are, that—that is… incredibly inappropriate.”
I’m ready to get even more inappropriate.