Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I’ve met him a couple of times. I wouldn’t say we’re friends.”
The man between us chimed in. “If I had someone offering me a job at a company like that, I’d take it in a heartbeat. I’ve heard they pay great. Buddy of mine did an IT consulting gig there and said it was sweet.”
“Shipping’s not really my thing,” I said with a shrug before sliding his business card into my pocket.
But Locke himself? Fucking Christ, was he my thing. My mouth had filled with saliva when I’d realized his was the body I’d fallen onto. Every cell had begged to stay right there in his lap. Thankfully, reality had come screaming in very quickly, and I’d snapped back into my Jethro Davis persona after a few moments of feeling suddenly tongue-tied around him.
Locke Maris had taken on superhuman qualities in my memory. For three years, he’d become my secret crush. My hidden obsession. Yes, Brenda, I had seen the interview he’d done on the Atlanta television station yesterday, not because I’d been in Atlanta, but because I had a fucking Google alert set on the man. I’d watched it on my phone this morning while boarding my flight from Biloxi, Mississippi, where I’d finished up my most recent assignment.
I’d also seen the New York Times op-ed last month about the “positive global impact” of the “exciting new face of leadership” at Maris Holdings now that Locke’s grandfather was gone.
I should have told him I was sorry about his grandfather’s death. The news had hit global media outlets when I’d been home last Christmas with my family. We’d come in from spending one of those magically warm winter days out on the beach to discover Reynolds Maris dead of a sudden heart attack.
My heart had gone out to Locke. He’d spoken reverently about his grandfather, and I had to assume the loss would have hit him hard. In addition to losing someone he loved, the death of Reynolds Maris had suddenly thrust Locke into a position of leadership for a global monolith with multiple billions of dollars in revenue and the expectations of high-level financial stakeholders around the world.
Do you think you run the entire world? I’d asked him. Because you sure act like it sometimes.
Feel like it sometimes, too, he’d said.
Locke was only thirty-four. But then again, he’d had the bearing of a CEO even at the age of thirty or thirty-one when we’d originally met. Powerful, capable, and driven.
Men like him were catnip. It was one of the reasons I’d requested a transfer back to New York six months ago. The scene in Miami had been too different. Too… easygoing for me. The men there hadn’t been as focused or as driven as the men I’d hooked up with in New York. It had been too much like where I’d grown up, with chill vibes that better suited my dads than me.
I shook off thoughts of Locke Maris and focused on the upcoming meetings back at the office. While my reports on the most recent case were completed and had been submitted, I needed to prepare to answer questions during our team debrief, as well as consult with the legal team regarding the arrests made in Mississippi.
As I started my music again and returned to the coded notes I’d been taking in my phone, the casual reference to human trafficking and other horrors in my notes struck me. This kind of shit had become commonplace for me over the past five years. My almost jaded acceptance of it all was one of the reasons Rocky continued to suggest I take some time off.
I’d had ten assignments in two years and had only taken a little time off to visit my family in all that time—a weekend home at Christmas and a week the month before that for my cousin Mattie’s wedding in Napa. Working hard suited me just fine, especially when I had cases like a recent one in Spain, where I’d had my evenings and weekends free to find satisfying company.
The sex had been plentiful enough in Spain—and at my cousin’s wedding—to make the dry Sahara of Mississippi survivable, but I was definitely looking forward to some time back in New York.
While none of the men waiting for me in the city could hold a candle to Locke Maris, there were plenty of sexy guys to take my mind off him and everything else.
I spent the rest of the flight finishing my notes. By the time I deplaned, he was gone. Locke’s business card burned a hole in my pocket, so I pulled it out and studied it while waiting for the train. The cream card stock was velvety thick and engraved with bold, gold foil lettering.
J. LOCKE MARIS
Chief Executive Officer
Maris Holdings International
A Maris Family Enterprise Since 1872