Surrender to Love

9

The office was curiously quiet, Jon decided. He sat at his desk, tapping his pen to a disjointed rhythm. He’d been busy all week handling business and scrounging for things to do to keep his mind busy.

It was not an easy task.

In the mornings, Jon jogged, taking his usual route around his neighborhood. He delved into his work, actively discussing contracts and accounts, which turned out to be far more interesting than he’d imagined. He never cared enough to bother with the details before, but now that he was forcing himself to pay attention, it was informative, and dare he admit it, mildly entertaining.

Every afternoon Jon spent his lunch hour with his best buddy, Travis. They ate great food, discussed women, and hit a few balls out on the range, but none of it could distract him from his own mind when it came to the lonely evening hours waiting for him at the end of a long day.

Jon glanced at his cell phone, an act that had become habit since leaving Patricia’s house last Tuesday night. He found the screen dark and lifeless, unchanging. When would she call? Would she call? He asked himself that question too many times to count over the last week. Even his own brain was becoming annoyed with its repetitive thoughts.

Just to be safe, he swiped his finger across the screen and pulled up his messages. Nothing.

Was this what the women he promised to call felt like, he wondered?

If so, it sucked balls.

There wasn’t one second that ticked by that wasn’t consumed with thoughts of her. Even the best distractions were weak. What was it about her that held his attention so steadfast? She was beautiful, but no glamor model. She wasn’t tall or stick-thin, but short and healthy looking. Absolutely nothing about her save her straight white teeth and contagious smile bore any resemblance to the women he usually dated. Or fucked, rather.

Perhaps that was the draw, Jon pondered.

All he knew was that he found himself smiling every time he thought about her, and that had to be a good thing…depending on the angle you viewed it from, anyway.

He twisted around in his chair to face the impressive view of the Chicago skyline. Visions of Patricia’s face, cast in shadows as she writhed in pleasure that he had inflicted on her, replayed in Jon’s mind. He could still feel the vice-like grip of her thighs around his hips and her fingers digging into his scalp.

Looking down at his hands, he flexed his fingers, recalling the way her inner muscles felt as they clenched around them. His cock jumped, straining against his pant leg. More than anything, he wanted to know what it would feel like to be buried in her succulent body, feeling the walls of her pussy milking him dry.

She was like no woman he had ever met before. Funny, witty, sexy, smart, and she knew her way around a car—she had it all. The total package.

He glanced at his phone again, willing it to ring. Again, it sat there in silence.

“Mr. Bradshaw? Knock, knock.” Jon looked up to see Poppy entering his office wearing her trademark friendly smile.

“Ms. Montgomery,” Jon said with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

Poppy strode across the room with confidence. Taking a seat in the chair across from him, she regarded him with frank, assessing eyes. “I want you to know that, while I appreciate you believing in my abilities enough to want me to find you a new accountant, I can’t accept the added responsibility at this time.”

“Well, you certainly don’t waste any time,” Jon commented. He pulled his chair closer, tucking his legs under the desk. “I like that about you, Ms. Montgomery.”

“Poppy, please.”

Jon tipped his head in acquiescence. “Poppy. While I appreciate your situation, I’ve seen how well you multitask and feel that you would, in fact, be capable of maintaining your responsibilities to Mr. Sinclair while also finding a smidgen of time to allocate to finding a much-needed accountant.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m sure I don’t need to impress upon you why having a capable accountant on the payroll is necessary.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Poppy said through gritted teeth. Jon had to hand it to her, though. As pissed off as she was, her smile never faltered. “But with all due respect, I have a lot on my plate and I don’t think I could give this the attention it needs and deserves.”

“With all due respect,” Jon returned stiffly, “I never asked. The fact is, this company needs an accountant, one that is knowledgeable and a trusted member of their field, and you are the person I want on the job. Besides, I’ll be the one interviewing them. You just need to find them.” Through with this conversation, Jon stood. “I have utmost faith in you, Ms. Montgomery.” He led her to the door and followed her out.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” Poppy protested in a final effort to sway him.

Jon held up his hand, stopping her in her tracks. “The job is yours. Handle it how you see fit, Ms. Montgomery. I trust your judgment, but understand this, there isn’t a soul here I trust, nor any that have the time to take on this responsibility, aside from you. If you refuse it, you’ll be costing many people their livelihood. I don’t like being wrong, so don’t make me regret my decision.”

He stared at her pointedly, making sure she got the message loud and clear. He didn’t want to have to fire her, but he would. There was no room for softies in this business, only sharks.

“Whatever you want,” Poppy said. Pivoting on her heel, she stormed toward Felix’s office.

Shaking his head in mild amusement, Jon turned his attention to the young, blonde receptionist posted at the front of the office. “I’m heading out for the rest of the day. Hold all my calls and forward any important messages to my cell.”

“Will do, Mr. Bradshaw. Enjoy your evening.”

Jon rode the elevator down to the first floor. It was blazing hot when he stepped outside, and he hurried to his truck. Sweat had already begun to dampen his skin, making his suit cling to him. He tore off the blazer, tossing it into the passenger seat, and rolled up his shirtsleeves to get some relief from the heat.

With the air conditioning on full blast, he pulled out his cell phone once more. Finding no new messages, Jon tucked it away and pulled on to the road with determination. If the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammad, Mohammad would come to the mountain.

As it turned out, Jon didn’t have to go to the mountain. He’d passed through two traffic lights when his phone buzzed. Reaching across the seats, Jon retrieved the phone from his suit jacket and put it on speakerphone.

Expecting it to be another business call, he answered in his usual gruff manner. “Jonathon Bradshaw speaking.”

“Hey, it’s me. Patti. Is this a bad time?”

Jon’s stomach dropped and his heart sped up at the sound of her sweet voice. “Patricia,” he drawled. “I was beginning to wonder whether I should start considering recasting my line.”

“Only been a week and already you’re thinking about fishing,” she teased.

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a very fruitful venture. I’ve never been much of a fisherman.” Now that he had her on the phone, relief swelled in his chest. Abandoning his original mission, Jon began to head for home.

“Is that so?”

Jon’s grin turned devilish. “It is. You see, I’ve never had much need to learn. The fish always just jumped into the boat.”

“Lucky man,” Patti said, playing along.

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Silence passed between them and Jon could practically hear her mulling over her words. Pulling into his reserved parking spot outside his condo, he waited patiently. “So, I was wondering…were you still interested in going out on another date?”

“Hmm,” Jon hedged. He stared blankly at the brick building in front of him, enjoying the moment where he held her in suspense. “You did make me wait an awful long time, but I guess I can let you take me out. Assuming you promise to make it up to me,” he tacked on.

“Oh, I think I can manage something,” Patricia said. “Pick you up at ten on Saturday?”

“Are you sure you’ll be ready in time?” he asked, referring to her state of undress when he’d gone to pick her up for their first date.

“It’ll mean keeping my distance from heavy machinery, but I’m sure I can arrange something.”

“Mm, what a shame. I kind of enjoyed the grease monkey look,” Jon admitted. “And where will you be taking me, Ms. Jacobs?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, Mr. Bradshaw,” she said coyly.

Jon rubbed two fingers over his smooth chin. “What’s the attire?”

She hummed, pretending to think. “Very casual,” she decided.

“Jeans and T-shirt casual or business casual?” Jon had plenty of clothing hanging in his closet, but his dresser drawers came up short to an almost embarrassing degree when it came to anything less than top of the line. That was the danger in being wealthy. Everywhere you showed your face required nothing but the best from the cut of your hair down to the shoes on your feet. He longed for the casual style of his roots when he didn’t mind getting dirt on his knees or tears in his clothing. It sounded like Patricia was going to give that to him.

“Definitely jeans and a T-shirt,” she confirmed.

“Noted.”

“See you Saturday morning, then?”

“Count on it. Oh, and Patricia?” Jon said before she could hang up.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night on your porch.”

“Me either,” she confessed.

“I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

“I can still taste you on my lips,” Patricia said.

Jon felt himself getting excited and decided it was time to cut it off before he lost control and drove to her place to finish what they’d started. “I’ll see you Saturday, and, Patricia?”

“Hmm?”

“Wear something short. If we’re going to be in public, I want those sexy legs at my disposal.”

“Okay,” came her breathy reply.

Jon ended the call and gathered up his jacket. His cock pressed firmly against his thigh as he climbed down from the truck and headed inside. If he were going to get through the next two days, he was going to need an ice-cold shower and some hard liquor.

Jon didn’t have hard liquor, but he did have ice-cold beer. Slumping down on the couch, he flipped on the television and settled in for some mindless evening programming. He’d made it halfway through an episode of Road Rules when his phone rang.

Leaning forward, he snatched the phone from the table, glanced at who was calling, and swiped the screen. “Hey, Mom,” he answered, “what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” she replied. “Just calling to check in and see how life is treating you.”

“Life is treating me great at the moment,” he said, grinning ear to ear as memories of Patricia in his arms came flooding back.

“I’m glad to hear that. And what about work? Have you found a new accountant yet?”

Jon’s lips thinned and he swallowed down a gulp of his beer. He was still a little bitter over that particular wrench, but there was nothing he could do about it aside from finding a suitable replacement. “No, nothing yet, but I have Poppy on the job so I can’t imagine it will take very long.”

“Poppy is such a nice girl,” his mother said passionately. “I really like that one. Is she dating anyone?”

Jon laughed. “Mom, don’t try to set me up. You don’t have the matchmaking gene. Besides, I’m pretty sure Poppy is spoken for.”

His Mom sighed. “Well, what a pity. I think she would have been perfect for you.”

Jon knew exactly who would be perfect for him, and it wasn’t Poppy.

“So your sister met someone,” his mom said, steering the conversation away from his love life. “He seems nice. I think he went to school with you,” she said, her voice rising in excitement. “Mike Sawyer?”

Of course he knew Mike. “Yeah, I remember him,” he said incredulously. “How could I forget? The guy used to spend the night damn near every weekend.” What he opted to leave out was the amount of trouble the two of them used to get into together. Even ten years later, he knew his mother well enough to know she’d have a fit if she ever found out about some of the things they used to do when the rest of the town was fast asleep.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure how he felt about his old pal dating his little sister, but he suspected that no matter what guy she brought home, they would never be good enough in his eyes. Although, he would be more than happy if she died a virginal old maid.

He voiced his concerns to his mother. “Tell Dad that when I come over for our next family dinner, he and I can team up on the guy and see what he’s all about.”

“Jonathon Michael Bradshaw,” his mother scolded, “don’t you dare! Your sister is as happy as a clam and I won’t have you boys trying to ruin it for her. Just let her be.”

“I promise not to ruin it,” Jon said whole-heartedly, “but you know as well as I do that this guy needs to go through the Bradshaw test. It’s tradition.”

She sighed in resignation. “Fine, do what you have to do, but keep it simple. Nothing too extreme, got it? I think she really likes this one.”

That was the last thing Jon wanted to hear. Casey was too good for any guy, especially any guy he had ever hung out with, but he wasn’t her warden. The best he could do is subject Mike to the best torture he could come up with and see if he had the wherewithal to stick around. “I’ll do my best to rein it in, but I can’t speak for Dad.”

“You let me worry about your father. So, what’s this about a new woman you’re dating?”

That threw Jon for a loop. “I don’t recall saying anything about dating anyone,” he said, confused.

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t have to. It’s a mother’s job to know these things.”

“Are you spying on me?” He looked around the room, only half-joking. Still, temptation clawed at him to draw the curtains and shut off all the lights to check for any red, blinking lights hidden in the potted plants.

“Are you kidding? Where would I find the time?” she squeaked in protest. “Besides, that’s what the private investigator I hired is for.”

“I can totally see you doing that,” Jon said, somewhat serious. His mother loved her children so much, she’d probably move in with them if given half a chance just to make sure they had on clean underwear each day.

“You make me sound like such an ogre, Jon, seriously,” she complained.

“Then tell me how you simply knew I was seeing someone,” he challenged.

“It was the way you said life was treating you well. I could hear that dopey smile all the way through the telephone. So, who is she and when do I get to meet her?”

He did not have a dopey smile. Sometimes, Jon thought to himself, mothers could be just plain cruel. “Her name is Patricia Jacobs, and I don’t know. We’ve only been out the one time. It’s all very new still.”

She shrugged his excuse off. “New is good. New is exciting. So where did you take her for your date?”

“Just to dinner. She’s great, Mom,” Jon said softly, a hint of sadness seeping into his voice.

His mother’s tone softened to match his. “If you picked her, then I know she is.”

“I’m worried I’ll mess it all up,” he croaked. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat.

“Oh, honey, as long as you don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, you won’t.”

The problem with that was that Jon had no idea how to step out of his own way. He wasn’t sure he even deserved to.

Clearing her throat, his mother switched gears. “You should bring her with you,” she chirped.

“What, to the dinner?” Jon asked, his brows pinching as he tried to keep up with her.

“Sure, that too! But I meant to the yard sale. Bring her along. Your dad and I would love to meet her.”

Jon let loose a boisterous laugh. “Um, no. I have enough problems holding onto the women in my life as it is. The last thing I need is to have her frightened away by my family before I get to know her myself.”

“You’re so dramatic,” his mother accused. “It’s not as if we’d do anything to embarrass you.”

“Not on purpose, no,” Jon agreed.

“Fine, I’m throwing my hands up,” his mother said in exasperation. “At least promise me you’ll consider it.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Okay, I promise I’ll consider it.”

“Good, I’ll see you two then. Love you, sweetie, bye!”

Jon’s mouth gaped open. “That little trickster,” he muttered. No matter what, his mother always found a way to get what she wanted, and she’d just locked him into not only bringing Patricia along to a family gathering, but to a block sale that was bound to be nothing short of eventful.