Her Best Friend's Dad Read online

  Lia gives me a bright grin, one rich with more than a little mischief. “I know about your lunch. The chef called up to see if I wanted a grilled chicken salad when he sent up yours, or if I wanted something else. I’m going to go see what they are serving everyone else. It would probably be good for me to meet the factory employees while I’m at it. Second floor, right?” she asks me. “If your tray is ready, I’ll see if I can just bring it up with me to save the kitchen staff the effort. See you in a bit.”

  I wave as she disappears, and then I turn my attention to the woman in front of me. “How can I help you, Jean?” She’s dressed in a short suit dress, one considerably shorter than what I would consider professional. Her shirt has a low neckline, and she leans over my desk, daring me to look at what her husband likely paid to have enhanced. I don’t take the bait.

  Jean is beautiful, but she is far too greedy for prestige and money aside from her being married. She toys with her necklace, a red fingernail dropping below my peripheral vision.

  “I am busy, Jean. Is there something wrong?”

  “No, Beck.” I hate the way she purrs out my name. “I just wanted to check in and see how Lia is working out for you.” She comes around and leans against the corner of my desk, one toned leg stretched out only inches away from me. Her act could be seen as innocent flirtation by anyone else. I know the truth.

  “She’s great; thanks for recommending her.” I keep my eyes on hers or on my computer as I type in an order sheet for inventory to get moved from one warehouse to the factory for additional work. “Did you manage to fix that error with how the generator converts the solar powered energy?” Jean is excellent at her job most of the time, but when she makes a mistake, it’s a big one. Even before she married Lia’s dad, Jean had pursued me to the point of it being laughable.

  Jean nods, her chin rising and falling like one of those bobble heads lined up along a car’s dashboard. “Weeks ago, Beck. Really, I don’t have any problems. It’s my lunch break, so I thought I would come up here, see if Lia’s doing okay, and if there’s anything I can do for you.” One fingertip dances across my desk and touches the side of my hand.

  It’s too much, and I’m done with the conversation. I can only be polite for a short time in the face of such blatant disregard for my boundaries. A swift keystroke triggers my own security protocol, and my phone rings five seconds later, appearing to be from the main reception desk downstairs instead of being a fake proxy call through the computer.

  “Sorry, Jean. I have to take this.” I pick up the receiver and hold it to my ear as a recorded voice begins questioning me about our upcoming releases. “This is Beck. How may I help you?” This truly was one of my more brilliant additions to my phone system. I’ll have to come up with something like this for Lia’s computer, too.

  I listen for a few more seconds. “Hold on just a moment. I’ll be right back.” I place the fake call on hold. “I really am sorry, Jean. This call is about my upcoming trip. I leave in the morning for several weeks. I’ll drop by Research and Development later today when I give Lia a full tour of the site. I want to introduce her to all the department heads before I leave in case she needs anything for me while I’m gone. We can catch up when Lia and I are down there. Okay?”

  Sour-faced and sulking, Jean shows herself out. She knows she can’t complain about me having her step-daughter there when talking to me, not without admitting to ulterior motives.

  I hang up the phone once she’s past the security door. Thankful for her departure, I make a few quick calls to wrap up loose ends before I start packing up my desk for my trip. Being gone for several weeks at a time is a normal part of my job. I can work from virtually anywhere as long as I have a Wi-Fi connection or remember to pack my portable satellite access. Video conferencing keeps me close to Tasha no matter the distance. Not seeing Lia, however, is going to be painful. It has barely been twenty-four hours since she came crashing back into my world, but I’m not sure I can envision my life without her.

  I’ve got to get this boner in check.

  3

  Lia

  It’s nearing the end of my first day at Huntsworth Industries, and I find myself happy with how it went. Behind a desk is not exactly how I saw myself, even as a temporary financial solution, but all the staff I’ve met are friendly. Having Beck visible from the edge of my monitor is quite a job perk, too. He’s even gorgeous when deep in thought with his work.

  “What’s it like working for my dad?” The words pop up in my chat messenger, and I minimize the window quickly. I know I’m allowed to chat online a bit, and even use the desk phone for personal use if needed, but wasting work time does not sit well with me. It feels like stealing from Beck when he’s paying me to be productive.

  My tour of the facilities has already blurred in my memories except for the sensation of Beck’s hand on my waist or at my elbow to guide me. Always the gentleman, he opened doors for me and answered all my questions with patient enthusiasm instead of making me feel stupid when I did not understand a division’s responsibilities. Some of the signs seemed more likely to be from a sci-fi film than belonging in a company, but they mostly made sense by the time we finished. By the time Beck is back from his trip, I hope I know my way around without guidance.

  Near the end of my tour, as he showed me the gym as well as his favorite escape route from our wing of the building, I could feel myself falling for him. He doesn’t take for granted the position he has here, nor does he hold the responsibilities lightly. The pride in Beck’s eyes as he showed me the location of the time capsule we had buried here when I was just a kid…

  I open my computer’s web browser and Tasha’s message, replying to her about my afternoon. “Do you think your dad will give us back the things we hid in the box before it was sealed?” I type. My favorite charm bracelet went in there along with Tasha’s teddy bear. We hadn’t thought that out too well. There are still seven years to wait before the time capsule will be dug out and opened.

  “Doubtful.” I watch as the cursor blinks, letting me know Tasha is typing more. “Going to text you. Don’t want my dad to see this…”

  My phone pings quietly from the top drawer of my desk, and I grab it to read Tasha’s message. A picture of Tasha with Chris fills the screen. Like I had told Tasha in the garage, he is cute, and the way he is looking at her gives me hope for them. She is the light of his world; it shows in his eyes and the easy way he grins at her.

  With Beck leaving for a work trip, Tasha is having Chris over for the weekend and wants my help in setting up the house for a romantic rendezvous. She is so excited about their time together that it is hard to feel jealous over their relationship, and I’m genuinely happy for her. I text back that I would love to help, but only if I get to meet him before they lock the door and forget about the world.

  The hot tub under the gazebo would be beautiful with lights strung for a bit of ambiance, and I know I can figure out something to decorate the path from the patio to there as well. “Budget and colors?” I type before tossing my phone back into the drawer. I don’t want to chance Beck coming out and seeing the plans. Even though Tasha is an adult, she is still his daughter. I know my dad would not want to hear about me planning to spend a weekend in bed with a guy.

  Of course, the only guy I’m interested in is Beck. A weekend away with him, or even a weekend in but offline and completely unplugged from everything except each other, would be heavenly. Waking up in his arms, making love in the afternoon, and spending early dawn hours swimming laps together in his heated pool… I know he is a morning person, or at least he always was. I’ve had boyfriends—lovers—but none have affected me like this. Working for Beck has the benefit of forcing me to focus on my job so that I can impress him. I can’t imagine what I could accomplish at home today or even in his garage.

  The phone in his office rings, and I jump from how loud it is. Tomorrow, when I start taking most of his calls and forwarding messages as needed, I will have
a new concept of cacophony. Without Beck here, though, I think the call volume should be manageable. Mostly, I’ll be redirecting calls where they need to go or typing up messages that Beck will grab online when he can deal with them. The most urgent ones will be forwarded to his cell.

  I jot down a note to make sure I get his personal number just in case. I pull off the sticky note from its pad and affix it to my monitor. “Ask Beck for his number” sounds much more personal than I mean it to. Thoughts of calling him, maybe even having phone sex to prevent him from being lonely, infect my brain.

  “It’s already in your electronic directory,” Beck whispers from beside me, making me jump. “But if you give me your phone, I’ll program it in for you.” I hadn’t heard him come out of his office, and I try not to look at the muscled forearms flexing where he’s gripping my desk.

  “B-Beck, hi. I didn’t hear you.” I fish around in the desk drawer for my phone, and I close out of my messages before handing over the device.

  “You looked pretty focused on the screen.” He leans over me, and the scent of his cologne is as inviting as the body heat emitting from him. “The history of solar power, huh?” Beck gives me a wink. “Fascinating stuff if I didn’t know you already are pretty up to date on engineering, Lia.” He inputs his number and then crouches down, holding my phone out in front of us. “Smile for the camera.”

  Beck’s cheek is inches from mine, and we are looking at each other—not my phone—when the camera app clicks. “That’ll have to do, I guess,” he teases. He hands back my phone but not before his own vibrates. “There. Now I have your number and a contact photo for you.”

  He stands up straight, stretching his arms overhead and cracking his neck and back in turn. “What have you thought about your first day so far?”

  “So far?” I question. I’m supposed to be on my way to Jean’s office for a ride home. If I’m not there when she leaves, I’ll have to wait for the bus.

  He steps back and shrugs, burying his hands in his pants pockets. “So far as in I really need you to stay late, if you’re available. The call that just came in was one of our distributors. I thought I had everything wrapped up for the trip, but apparently I don’t.” Beck runs down a list of copies he needs, emails sent, travel plans adjusted. It’s overwhelming, and I’m only given the tasks he is delegating to me. “Do you have a hot date or something that you need to escape for? I know this is short notice for overtime, and on your first day at that…” He trails off and gives me a hopeful smile.

  More time with Beck and getting paid for it? Sign me the fuck up right now.

  “No hot dates tonight.” When he visibly relaxes, I wonder if he was trying to find out more about me, not just give me an out for the work. “I was planning on having an exciting dinner of grilled cheese or whatever Jean and my dad are making. It would have been epic.”

  Beck reaches for my phone and taps out an extension before I can try to remember who it goes to. “This is Beck. Hey, Jess, what are the dinner options in the cafeteria tonight?” He taps a finger on my desk a few times before asking me if sushi is okay. When I agree, Beck orders two plates of assorted sushi, some fried rice, and whatever dessert the evening chef on duty wants to send up. “Charge it to my office tab, Jess. Thanks!”

  We work side by side in his office, me running across the hall to our printer and copier to grab what he needs, and then proofreading documents before he sends them off to be notarized. There’s so much that goes into his job, and Beck’s ability to do it all with such ease amazes me.

  “Lia?” Beck is in the bathroom washing ink off his hands when he calls to me. “Do you remember the office at the opposite end of the hall I showed you? The one with the roses on the glass pattern?” It belonged to their accountant, or something like that. I would have to go through the security checkpoint to go out. “There is a yellow file folder on the bookcase against the window. It has all my printouts of today’s financial documents. It needs to get dropped off in the mail slot there before we eat. Can you do that for me?”

  I bite back the response that I want to say. “I’ll do anything for you.” Instead, I say that I know where it is, and after finding the yellow folder he described, I head for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  A young man, perhaps a year or two older than me, exits the elevator by the security desk and heads toward me. “You must be Lia; I’m Jess.” He shakes my hand in greeting. “It’s nice to see we have someone not old enough to be my mom working here at last!” The guard uses a handheld scanner to capture the barcode on the guy’s badge and buzzes Jess in, and the door to my office area opens on automatic hinges. I wish they could have done that for Jean instead of making me look like an idiot earlier.

  I peer at the guard’s name badge. In the dim light of the overhead it’s hard to make out until my eyes adjust. “Michael, can I ask what’s probably a silly question? I see that Jess swiped his badge, and you were able to let him in from here. Why couldn’t that happen for Jean from Research when she came up earlier today?”

  The guard coughs, disguising a bark of a laugh. “Umm… You mean Scientist Barbie? She does not have proper clearance for the offices on this floor. Jess has clearance for almost every room in the complex. I cannot disclose additional information, but if you ask Mr. Huntsworth, he may tell you.”

  Knowing that would likely be a futile effort, I smile and thank Michael for his help. It can’t be fun to sit at the desk for a twelve-hour shift with nothing to do but press buttons and watch security monitors. It will be even less interesting with Beck gone starting tomorrow. The office will be lonely; that much I know already.

  I scurry along the hallway, my footfalls loud in the empty corridor. It’s nearing seven, and even the assistants have gone home. It’s just Beck, the guard, and me. As busy as Beck is, I know dinner will be eaten either rushed, standing shoulder to shoulder while we work, or alone in the dark at my desk. I’m unsure which one I want.

  No. Being with him, even if we’re eating sushi like it’s popcorn between tasks, would be better than not having this time with him.

  I return to our office, but there’s no food and no Beck. The entire office suite is empty. “Beck?” I call his name and go from my desk in the lobby to his office. Louder this time, I call his name. A door, one I thought was a coat closet, has a light shining from beneath it. “Maybe it’s a meeting room,” I say to myself as I open the door. The food service cart is at the bottom of a set of stairs leading up, and at the top of the stairs is a door, propped open, revealing the night sky.

  Beck comes to the top of the stairs, a blanket over his arm, and calls down, “Yay! You’re back! The food’s here, Lia. I thought we could use a break from the office. Come on up.” He disappears from my view, but I soon see him as I crest the landing after the final stair.

  The space is huge; the roof of our building is connected to the others by slim walkways that make up the ceilings to the skywalks between the three towers. Our roof is mostly open with a garden diagonal from where I stand at the stairwell. To my right, Beck has a personal restaurant, or a close facsimile.

  Four patio heaters are beginning to warm the night air, shimmering with heat. Adding to the comfort, Beck drapes a blanket over the top of a wicker couch and pulls back a bit of mosquito netting to invite me beneath the spacious gazebo style tent. “Welcome to Chez Huntsworth. Tonight’s main course is a sushi sampler. May I interest the lady in the finest vintage of hot tea or chilled spring water? Sorry I don’t have sake or wine. I don’t drink on the job. Please sit, Lia.”

  I take the spot he points to and reach for a bottle of water. “This is amazing; thank you.” The moonlight and glow from the electric braziers illuminate his hair, giving Beck an otherworldly appearance. With Beck in his suit and me in a skirt and blouse, I can almost imagine this as a date. Hell, this is already nicer than most dates I’ve gone on.

  “You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?” The couch cushion dips as Beck sits do
wn beside me, his knee grazing mine.

  “Honestly? I was thinking that having dinner with my boss is nicer than all of the dates I’ve ever been on.” It’s hard to think with him so close, and blurting out my real thoughts is easier than trying to come up with a believable lie. I consider asking if this is his version of a date, but I don’t want to make it awkward.

  Beck picks up his plate of sushi, turns so that he’s sitting sideways to face me, and begins eating. His teeth bite through the first piece, and he arches an eyebrow at me in silent question. I can’t tell him I’d rather watch him eat, so I pick up my own plate and start with something I don’t recognize. It’s good, but I think almost anything would be with Beck for company.

  “I know we talked about what it’s like being back, and I could tell by your voice that you were hiding how much you miss your studio.” He skips the small-talk, going straight for the heart of it all. “What was your favorite part about art school?”

  I add sugar to my tea and blow on the steam rising from the cup in misty curls. “Not interacting with anyone before at least ten.” Most nights had me up until midnight working on various projects. “If you were unlucky enough to land an earlier morning class, even the teachers were hugging coffee pots.

  “Actually, I think it was wearing overalls and a faded, thrift store flannel shirt for like four days in a row without anyone noticing until I took a trip to the laundromat, washed it, and cleaned off the paint.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds richer as I discuss my life as an artist.

  “That reminds me of my first days of building Huntsworth. I ate, slept, and breathed my work, and I loved it.” Beck’s wistful tone echoes mine.

  “Beck, it was so damned refreshing being around other artists all day. I mean, there were the usual squabbles over best lighting and who stole somebody’s brush or welding gear…” My eyes catch on Beck’s throat as he laughs, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he throws his whole head back with the emotion. “But,” I continue, “we got each other. The peer groups we formed by discipline truly became family.”