Chapter One
T here are many reasons not to have sex with your boss. Out of all of them, I think I’ve got the best. The two times I did give in to Connor Edge— the billionaire playboy who happens to own the Rosemont property in upstate New York where I tend the grounds— he’s conveniently forgotten it’s happened. The first time was after he found me swimming in his pool, in my birthday suit. I didn’t know who he was then, so maybe that one can be excused.
It’s the second instance that’s hanging over me like a big dark cloud as I stride across the estate to the sound of buzzing cicadas. Last night, aforementioned billionaire playboy let himself inside my cottage—uninvited—and seduced me out of my anger and my pajamas. Maybe I allowed it because I’m lonely, or weak-willed. But I think I gave in because he’s so tempting and he coaxed me with the sweetest, kinkiest and most alluring words I’ve ever heard. Then, he held me as I drifted to sleep, feeling safe and cherished.
And when I woke up with sun streaming through my blinds, Connor had vanished.
“Morning, Baily!” Greg the UPS driver waves at me from the closed gate.
Plastering a welcoming smile on my face, I disengage the electronic locks and pull one side of the wrought iron gate back. “It certainly is. You’re here early.” Greg usually didn’t deliver out to Rosemont until late afternoon.
“This came in overnight for Mr. Edge. Is he here?”
“No, I saw him leave about twenty minutes ago.” The son of a bitch didn’t even wave at me as he’d sped away in his black convertible with the top down. Even if he hadn’t sent a good portion of the night making me come unglued at the seams, he could at least acknowledge his staff. Tool.
Greg studies me for a beat. “How’s your granddad doing?” Since his mother is in the same nursing home, Greg is one of the few people who knows where Thomas Sinclair is and why I’ve taken over his job.
“Not so hot. He had a fall yesterday and spent the night in the hospital.”
Greg curses low under his breath. “Sorry to hear it. Keep me updated on him, okay?”
“Will do.”
He hands the package to me. “I’m off at six. Do you want to catch a drink at Lady Liberty?”
Lady Liberty is a dive bar in town where all the working stiffs congregate to knock back cheap booze and commiserate. I hardly ever drink, so I can count the number of times I’ve been to the bar on one hand. “Thanks, but I’m probably gonna spend the evening with Pops.”
Greg fishes around in his pocket and comes up with a tattered business card. “Gimme a call if you change your mind. Or, you know, just show up.”
He’s blushing a little, embarrassment staining his cheeks. Suddenly his invitation didn’t sound quite so casual.
I open my mouth to respond, though I’m not sure what to say, but a loud honk blares out. We both jump. Peeking around Greg’s brown uniform, I spy Connor sitting in his convertible. My heart rate kicks up as he lowers his sunglass down his nose until he stares at us over the top. “Your truck is blocking my driveway.”
His tone is cool and borderline rude. It shouldn’t cause my blood to heat to near boiling.
“Sorry Sir, we were just talking.”
“Are you almost finished?” Connor’s icy blue eyes fix on me.
How dare he look at me that way after the liberties he took with my body last night! I may not be his social equal, but I’m not about to let him treat me like I’m not worthy to lick his boots. No more basking in his illustrious presence for Baily Sinclair. So what if he’s smokin’ hot and has more money than God? He’s a dick and has mad issues. No thanks.
“See you later, Greg.” Whirling on my heel, I stride away from the gate and the man I want to smack across his handsome face.
I’m barely a quarter mile away when the purr of a well-tuned engine is dogging my steps.
“Would you like a ride?”
“No, thank you.”
He doesn’t drive
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