Nothing Personal: A Standalone Romantic Comedy Read online

  “God I want you inside me,” she manages to say before she kisses me with everything she’s got. “I need you.”

  Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about hearing those words.

  Those words have been fueling so many fucking fantasies.

  Not just in the last week or so.

  But the last years.

  “I am inside you,” I murmur into her mouth. “And I’m about to make you come so fucking hard, you’ll think you’re drowning.”

  I kiss her, violent and rough.

  My fingers work her into a frenzy.

  Before long she’s opening wider around me, her head going back until her hair dips in the water and her bare breasts and arched neck sparkle in the moonshine.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she cries out, breathless, and I’m sure her voice is carrying over the water, or maybe it’s swallowed by the waves.

  She comes hard, pulsing around my fingers, milking them like a vice and even though I wish it was my dick inside her, my dick that’s so fucking hard it might shatter if provoked, I’m glad I had her come this way. To see her in the wild like this, free and bare and open. See her vulnerable and real and raw, just for me.

  No matter what happens between us after this, I know this is a memory that will sustain me for a lifetime.

  But even as Nova comes and starts to right herself, shaking off the satiation and stupor of the post-orgasm bliss, she’s already slipping through my fingers.

  It was the one thing that used to bother me after I slept with her. How much of a man she acted, for lack of a better word. How after she’d come, she’d wipe away all sense of vulnerability and go back to business like nothing happened.

  It’s happening now, right before my eyes.

  “We better go back,” she says, pulling away from me and haphazardly tying her bikini behind her neck. She gives me a small smile. “Loan will kill us if we’re late for dinner.”

  I smile right back, grateful that at least I’m not getting the deep freeze. “You got that right.”

  And so we don’t talk about it while we step out of the surf and onto the shore. My legs are almost shaking for some reason, like it took more out of me to keep from drowning out there.

  And we don’t talk about it while we walk down the street back to her house, either.

  And we don’t talk about it when we go our separate ways to get ready for dinner.

  And we don’t talk about it during dinner.

  Or after.

  The only thing I say is, “Are you okay?” while she’s heading to her bedroom to sleep.

  For a moment there’s a look in her eyes that says she’s not okay.

  It’s not in a bad way.

  It’s not that I’ve ruined her.

  Or that she feels ashamed.

  It’s that she needs me.

  Wants me.

  In her bed tonight.

  She doesn’t have to say it but I can read it off her, just like I saw a raw glimpse of her in that water, when I was thinking about how I dreamt about this, how she was thinking the same thing.

  But it wouldn’t be Nova if she didn’t nip that in the bud.

  “I’m fine,” she says, giving me a quick smile that signifies whatever happened out there in the waves was meant to stay there. “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget me this time.”

  I nod and hope my smile looks more carefree than it feels. “I won’t. Good night Nova.”

  “Good night Kess.”

  And to think I could ever forget about her.

  Not when she’s across the hall.

  Not when she’s across the office.

  Not even if she’s across an ocean.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NOVA

  “KESSLER SAID you were upset about missing yesterday’s meeting, so we figured we could hold another one.”

  I blink up at George who is standing in my office doorway alongside Andy Walters, the VP. Both of them are staring at me expectantly and I’m not sure if it’s planned or not but they’re both wearing the exact same Hawaiian shirt. “I’m sorry, Kessler said what?”

  “Yesterday, he said you were upset you weren’t here,” George said with a knowing smile. “I told you to stay away from those drinks in the City of Sin, they aren’t much better here on Waikiki.” I stare at him. “Anyway, meeting in the office in five minutes.”

  And then they’re gone.

  What the actual fuck?

  Kessler said I was upset?

  I pick up my phone and dial Kessler’s extension, but of course he’s not picking up. He never seems to pick up when I’m calling.

  How convenient.

  So I sit back in my chair and stew for a moment.

  Everything is way out of control right now.

  It was bad enough when Kessler kissed me the other day in my bedroom, bad enough when I got drunk and he had to drive me home.

  Bad enough when he finger-banged me in the ocean last night.

  Now he’s told the upper-ups I was upset that I missed the meeting?

  Calm down, I tell myself. Kessler might have been trying to do good. He was probably trying to make you look proactive, that you care. He was probably trying to help.

  Yeah, but by telling them I was upset that I missed it? That makes me sound like some crazy emotional female!

  You are a fucking crazy emotional female.

  Oh god, now my thoughts are turning against me. I don’t need this right now.

  There’s a rap at my door and I look up to see it open with Kessler grinning at me. “Are you ready?”

  My eyes blaze at him. “Did you tell George that was upset that I missed the meeting?”

  “Uh yeah. You’re welcome.”

  My lower jaw wiggles as I try vainly to dissipate the anger. “Do you know you made me sound like some crazy woman?”

  “Isn’t it good to be upset about that kind of thing?”

  “Okay, how would you like it if I said the same about you? That you, Kessler Rocha, were upset because you missed a meeting because you were hungover.”

  He thinks about it for a moment, then says, “Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

  He walks off down the hall to the boardroom.

  Fuckity fuck it doesn’t matter.

  I grumble to myself and follow him.

  My main problem is I was totally ready for this meeting the other day. But now, my brain has been so obliterated by Kessler and his magic fingers, that I don’t even remember what my game plan was.

  It doesn’t help that when I enter the boardroom, Kessler is already sitting down with George and Andy and they’re all laughing, obviously some joke that I’ll never know.

  “Hi,” I say to them, pausing by the door before I close it, making sure they know I’m here. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Not at all,” George says, as the three of them exchange a knowing look and it’s then that I realize it’s me versus three rich white men, and there’s no way I’m going to come out on top.

  But I still flash them that genial smile and take a seat beside Andy, across from Kessler and George. Jesus, it’s like Kessler’s already become his right-hand man.

  “Nova, we were just discussing Kessler’s winning idea from yesterday. Kessler, did you get a chance to run it by her yet?”

  Kessler shakes his head but when he makes eye contact with me, I swear I see a triumphant smirk.

  Please let me be looking too hard into things. That smirk doesn’t belong in this meeting.

  “No, I don’t think he did.”

  The only thing Kessler has run past me in the last twenty-four hours were his fingers.

  But god, even though I regret it this morning, at the time it was worth it.

  That fucking man is way too talented for his own good.

  Something glimmers in his eyes and his smirk widens and I realize I might be an open book right now.

  Before I can look away, George says, “Well, Kessler, do you want to fill
her in? Heck, let me do it. As you know Nova, the meeting yesterday, and by default today, was to try and come up with some new ideas for the new year, once this holiday Christmas crap blows over. Originally we wanted to focus on Valentine’s Day, but Kessler had the brilliant idea of making every day Valentine’s Day when it comes to the Kahuna Hotel. Inject a little sex appeal, if you will.”

  Oh god no. We don’t need Kessler’s kind of sex appeal. He hits you over the head with it. Kahuna Hotels is all about subtle sensuality. If that!

  These are all the things on the tip of my tongue along with my ever familiar warning, courtesy of the singer Banks: Try to look smart but not too smart to threaten everything they say.

  “Sex appeal?” I manage to repeat.

  “Condoms,” Andy says, slapping his palm on the table. “Pineapple-flavored condoms on a stick.”

  “Like a lollipop,” George offers with a grin.

  My jaw had become unhinged and I’m having a hard time closing it. “Condoms?” I eventually say, looking at Kessler.

  He grins at me. No, it’s that smirk again.

  “I thought it would be a good idea,” he says. “You never know when you might need one.”

  He holds my gaze even though I know what he’s referencing.

  Last night.

  As if that’s not completely inappropriate right now.

  George goes on, “We figured putting the pineapple-flavored condom-pops in every hotel room would be an easy way to say, hey, come spend your sexy times with us.”

  “But at the same time,” Andy continues, “protect yourself from STDs.”

  “Safe sex is cool now,” George adds.

  Oh my god. Get me out of this fucking room.

  I look at Kessler and he’s grinning at them and I am watching carefully to see if I see a hint of embarrassment, like he gave this idea as a joke and now they’re running with it and he’s Canadian so he’s too polite to tell them otherwise.

  But no. He’s just grinning.

  Like a rat bastard.

  “So what do you think, Nova?” George asks, and it’s then that I notice how pink his cheeks are and oh god, this is hell because he’s actually embarrassed to be talking about condoms with me.

  I swallow all the bile and resentment and try to put my most fake smile on.

  “I’m not so sure that’s the right approach,” I say.

  Immediately George and Andy glance at each other and then look at Kessler and it’s never been so apparent that this is one big boys’ club. I mean it was always a given, but this is the first time I feel like they’re not bothering to hide it.

  This is the first time I feel like I can’t compete.

  It’s these men against me.

  “So, Nova has had some excellent ideas too,” Kessler offers as he clears his throat. “That’s why she couldn’t wait to hold this meeting again.”

  Now, I’m not sure if Kessler is honestly trying to help or trying to throw me under the bus. As much as I hate our relationship at the moment, I have been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don’t want to think the worst of him, it just naturally happens. And so when last night he said we were equals, I felt his sincerity.

  I just don’t know if he knows what being equals means.

  I mean, he’s a man. How can he? The idea he throws out there gets all lapped up, but could you imagine me doing the same? Coming into a meeting with the CEOs and pitching fucking pineapple-flavored condoms on a stick? They’d all think I’m a whore and then they’d laugh me out of the room. To get the respect that he gets, I have to work three times as hard.

  Thank fuck I’m a hard worker.

  I sit up straighter and give Kessler my most pleasant smile, which he immediately balks from because that motherfucker knows what it means.

  “Coconuts,” I say and when everyone stares at me with blank expressions, I go on. “Coconut helmets.”

  “Coconut helmets?” George repeats.

  “Coconut bike helmets,” I elaborate. “Because I think that Kahuna Hotels should start implementing a bike program. We’ve all seen it take off in major cities, including Honolulu. People want to be responsible citizens. They don’t want to call a cab or an Uber and use harmful emissions if they don’t have to. In cities around the world, bikes and scooters are taking over, providing a cheap, fun and environmentally-friendly way to travel. I think if Kahuna Hotels started providing free cruiser bikes to their guests—with coconut bike helmets with our logo—we’ll appeal to the hip and environmentally friendly traveler. It’s sexy these days to do what you can to stop climate change.”

  I sit back in my chair, trying not to feel proud of myself for completely pulling that out of my ass.

  I glance briefly at Kessler and see that even he looks impressed.

  “Hmmm,” George says. “That’s not a bad idea. Hey, it might work well with the free condoms, Kessler. Think about it. During the day you go for a ride and at night you go for another ride.”

  Oh. God.

  Stop.

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” Kessler says with one of those jovial I’m one of the boys laughs and I don’t think I’ve ever hated him more.

  Kessler goes on, that smirk returning. “It works perfectly, Nova. Travelers these days want their finger to be on the pulse of everything new. They want to feel things from the inside out. They want to be knuckle-deep in tomorrow’s promises.”

  This motherfucker is feeding me straight-up innuendo during a meeting.

  That’s no accident.

  I lash out and kick him under the table.

  George leaps up in pained surprise.

  “Ow!” he cries loudly. “What the—?”

  Oh shit.

  Wrong shin.

  “I am so sorry,” I exclaim, “I was just crossing my legs.”

  “Holy moly, Nova,” George says, practically weeping at this point. “Do you wear the pointiest shoes in the world?”

  “I am so sorry,” I say again, getting to my feet, because if I stay in this god damn meeting one minute longer, I’m going to burn the whole room down with me in it. “I think I need more potassium or something. Leg spasms. I’m going to go talk to Teef about it, he always seems to be eating bananas.”

  “Nova,” Kessler says but I don’t even look at him. I’m out.

  I walk out of the boardroom and down the hall, right to my office.

  I probably should have gone to the elevator and headed out for lunch, or gone to the washroom where I could dab myself with a cold towel and calm down these rage flashes, but instead I go in my office and slam the door.

  I’m pretty sure the whole office shook.

  I’m about to go Supernova.

  My door flies open and Kessler barges in, doesn’t even knock.

  “What is going on with you?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

  I’m speechless for a moment and can only gesture wildly with my hands. “Am I okay? No!”

  “What happened? Why did you kick George?”

  The idiot actually looks confused.

  “You happened. Finger on the pulse? Knuckle-deep?”

  “I thought it was funny.”

  “It wasn’t funny!” I yell. “Those are my bosses.”

  “They didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re my boss too.”

  “So I’m being inappropriate?”

  “Hell yes you are. This is exactly why yesterday was a mistake.”

  He flinches like I’ve backhanded him. “Look, I know you’re mad and I’m sorry I made a joke. We always joke about sex.”

  “Not this time! This time it’s personal!”

  “Why?”

  “Because of what you just said. You’re my boss now. Letting that happen yesterday was…”

  “A mistake. I know. But we can act like adults here.”

  “Okay let me know when you plan on starting.”

  He raises his palms in surrender and I notice the s
weat starting to bead on his forehead. “I’m sorry, okay? I was inappropriate and I especially shouldn’t have hinted at anything between us or said any innuendo because I’m your boss. But just so we’re clear here, you’re not innocent in this at all, Demi Moore.”

  “Demi Moore?” I say incredulously.

  “Yeah. Disclosure. I know you’ve seen that movie.”

  “Oh my god,” I say, stomping over to him, waving my arms. “Just get out. Go.”

  “Fine, fine,” he says and I’m pretty much shutting the door in his face.

  I lean back against the shut door, running my hands through my hair, trying to regain my temper. He’s not being professional at all but maybe he’s right with his Demi Moore comment. I’m not exactly professional either, trying to kick him under the table and all that.

  He at least deserved it for the condom idea, the voice in my head says.

  God, that’s right!

  I whip open the door and storm down the hall to his office and I can feel heads poking up over the cubicles watching me as I go but I don’t care.

  I barge right into his office, slamming the door behind me. “I’m not done with you yet!”

  He’s sitting down at his chair, aiming the AC remote at the unit and stares at me in a mix of surprise and fear as I storm over to his desk.

  “Condoms!” I yell at him. “Your idea was condoms?”

  He blinks at me. “Uh, yeah.”

  “What is wrong with you!?”

  “What? Don’t pretend that you’re some prude suddenly. Believe me, I know you’re not a prude.”

  “I’m not being a prude, you’re just turning this company into a joke. We can’t give condoms to our guests!”

  “Why not, at Rockstar we had condoms available, along with a little sex kit they could buy from the mini bar.”

  “This isn’t Rockstar. We don’t stoop to that level.”

  “Hey I’ll have you know the sex kits were my idea.”

  “Of course they were your idea,” I tell him. “Who else would think of such a thing?”

  He gets out of his chair and takes off his blazer, hanging it on the back of his chair. “You’re just upset that the bosses liked my idea best.”

  “Best?”

  “Better than yours. Coconut bike helmets? Like that’s sexy?”