How to Have Your Boss's Secret Baby - London Casey Page 0,25
didn’t.
I knew what I had secretly packed in the bottom of the suitcase.
There was one dress I owned that would fit the part for what Cole wanted.
It was my little black dress.
I didn’t remember when I got it, why I got it, or the last time I wore it.
The last part was a lie. I wore the dress a year ago when I was on a bit of a dry spell and I needed to get some. So, I wore it out, met a guy with blue eyes and a nice smile, then went back to his place for some fun.
The dress was my last resort dress.
Even Bev knew about the dress.
She called it my fuck dress.
I wore it to have sex. As simple as that.
It was the only dress I had that hugged my curves. The neck was low cut but not too low. At the same time, I didn’t need a very low-cut dress to show off. The straps were thin and moved on my shoulders freely. Again, it gave the sex appeal vibe.
A hot guy sliding those straps down…
Except there was no hot-guy situation tonight.
Mr. Pickle was not a hot guy.
And Cole…
Never.
Elevator Guy stood a chance. But never Cole.
I checked my phone.
I was now down to ten minutes.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
I grabbed the black dress and a strapless bra and ran to the bathroom.
I refused to look at myself in the mirror as I got dressed.
I felt the heat burning on my cheeks when I knew I had to turn around to check myself.
When I did, I shut my eyes.
I groaned.
My hair was still a mess, but that was fixed with a hair tie. I had zero time to care about hair.
Sorry, Cole.
And knowing this Mr. Pickle Perv, he wasn’t going to be looking at my hair.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
The dress fit as perfect as it did last time.
That to me was a win.
I touched my sides and my hips.
There was no turning back now.
All I needed was a set of heels, which were tucked away in the suitcase, and I was done.
As I slipped the heels on and stumbled like a newborn giraffe for a few seconds, I heard Cole enter the cabin.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself why I was here.
I was getting paid by the hour. Score.
I was able to write. Score.
I was getting paid to write. Score, score.
All I needed to do was endure a dinner with Cole and Mr. Pickle.
I stepped out to the living room and when Cole saw me, he froze.
“Holy fuck, Maya,” he said.
“What?” I asked, fearing I had a tear in my dress or maybe a boob popped out without me knowing.
Cole just stared. “You look fucking beautiful.”
Chapter Twelve
Cole
Holy fuck.
She was stunning.
There were more than a few times I tried to picture Maya in a dress. Thinking about what the dress would look like on her body. How she would look wearing it. My brain could not compute an accurate image.
Now I had one.
Beautiful didn’t seem like a good enough word to describe her.
Her feet and legs… her hips. Good Christ, her hips…
She had an hourglass shape that had been hiding from my life all this time.
Not to mention her chest.
I had caught mild glimpses before. Depending on the shirt she wore, I’d sometimes catch her chest pushing out a little, wanting to show itself off.
Was I the horny, asshole boss eye fucking the hell out of his secretary?
You’re damn right I was.
Maya deserved it. And honestly, she probably needed it.
I wasn’t sure I had ever met a woman who could go from jeans and a hoodie, looking tired and ragged, to this.
There was even a second or two where I wondered if Maya had someone come stand in for her.
But the color of her cheeks and insecurity behind her honey eyes told me this was definitely Maya.
“I’ll be ready in five,” I said to her.
I swiftly moved by her and hurried down to the master bedroom.
As I changed into my suit, there was a moment when I caught the sight of the bulge between my legs and actually paused, wondering if I should… take care of myself…
First off, just to relax a little.
Take the tension out of my body so I could stay loose at this dinner.
The plan was to have Mr. Pickle get dead drunk and feel like he was king of the world. I needed to be on my game to pounce and get this deal done. My secret weapon was Maya, of