The Stopover (The Miles High Club Book 1)

Emily

“What about this one?” Aaron smiles. “Hot firefighter rescues kitten from a drain.”

I shrug. “I’ll do that story for sure.”

He smirks. “Me too.”

“What are you guys doing over the weekend?” Molly asks as she works.

“Nothing,” Aaron replies. “Hopefully seeing Paul.”

“Me neither.” I sigh.

Molly looks up. “I thought you were going home to see your boyfriend?”

I shrug. “Well, I was supposed to, but I’ve spoken to him for four minutes in total in ten days, and he hasn’t called me once.” I swivel on my chair as I consider my depressing situation.

“God, you need to dump him and move on to Ricardo.”

I roll my eyes. Ricardo works on this floor, and for the last few days he’s been loitering around my desk and making idle chitchat.

“He’s into you,” Molly mutters. “He’s hanging around your desk like a fly.”

“It’s a shame.” I smirk as I watch him talk to someone at their desk. “He’s actually very good looking.” Ricardo’s Italian and has the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing perfected to a tee. Unfortunately, his personality isn’t half as pretty as his face. He’s either making fun of someone or talking about himself in the third person.

“Yuck.” Aaron widens his eyes in disgust. “What would you even talk to him about?”

“You wouldn’t talk to him—you’d stick a ball gag in and fuck him stupid,” Ava says as she watches him. “I bet he’s hung like a horse,” she whispers.

We all burst out laughing. “What are you doing this weekend?” I ask Ava.

“She’ll be chasing rich boys,” Aaron says.

“Damn right.”

My eyes flick to her. “What does that even mean?”

“I hang out at clubs where the men have money.”

“Why?” I frown.

“I am not ending up with a broke loser.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “So . . . you would marry a guy just for money?”

“No.” She shrugs. “Maybe.” She looks up. “Oh no, here he comes,” she whispers.

Ricardo comes over and sits on the corner of my desk. The floor manager has gone home for the day, so he’s not even bothering to pretend to work anymore.

“Hey there.” He smiles.

“Hi,” I reply flatly. Please go away—you’re embarrassing.

“Ricardo wanted to come and check on his favorite coworker.”

I stare at the stupid human being in front of me. “Why do you speak about yourself in the third person?” I ask.

Aaron snickers as he pretends not to listen.

“Ricardo wonders why you never come to his desk to see him.”

“Emily likes to get her work done,” I mutter flatly.

“Oh.” He laughs as he points at me. “Ricardo likes your style, Emily.”

I begin to work, and he stays sitting on the corner of my desk while he rambles, hardly coming up for air. Every now and then the four of us exchange looks, unable to believe what a tool this guy is.

From the corner of my eye I see the elevator doors open, and then I see somebody run back to their workstation. Huh? I look up to see Jameson Miles striding down the carpeted corridor toward my desk. His jaw is clenched, and he is glaring at Ricardo.

People are standing up in their cubicles to see who it is, and when they see him, they immediately drop into their chairs in fear.

What the hell is he doing here?

I watch in slow motion as he comes to a halt in front of my desk. Ricardo glances over and then nearly swallows his tongue and stands immediately. “Mr. Miles,” he stammers. “Hello, sir.”

“What are you doing?” Mr. Miles growls.

“I was training our new employee,” he splutters. “This is Emily,” he says, introducing me.

Aaron’s eyes meet mine in horror.

“I am well aware of who Emily Foster is and how often you frequent this desk. This is your first and final warning,” he growls. “Get back to work, and do not let me catch you here again.”

The blood drains from Ricardo’s face. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.

Mr. Miles glares at him and clenches his jaw in anger. “Go. Now.”

Ricardo practically runs back to his desk, and I stare at the gorgeous creature in front of me.

Gray suit, white shirt, paisley tie. He really is the epitome of suit porn.

“Emily, I need to see you in my office. Now,” he snaps before he turns and strides back toward the elevator, not bothering to wait for my reply.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stand.

Aaron’s, Ava’s, and Molly’s eyes are wide with fear. “What the fuck?” Aaron mouths as he squeezes my hand in sympathy.

I exhale heavily and turn and follow the office god into the elevator as everyone watches. The doors close behind us.

Jameson glares at the doors, and I twist my fingers nervously in front of me as we fly up through the floors. Oh man, he’s going to fire me. That stupid fucking Ricardo has gotten me into trouble. This is all his fault.

I wasn’t even talking back to him . . . you know.

When we get to the top floor, the doors open, and once again he strides off. I hesitate. Does he expect me to run after him? I’m not a fucking puppy.

Who in the hell does this asshole think he is?

I fake a smile at his receptionist and storm in after him. He holds the office door open for me, and I brush past him. He closes the door and flicks the lock.

“What are you doing?” he snaps.

“Is that a trick question?” I hold my arms out wide. “I’m standing in your office. What does it look like?”

“I mean, why the hell are you openly flirting with that idiot from downstairs?” he demands.

My mouth falls open in horror. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Bullshit. I saw it with my own fucking eyes.”

“What?” I snap. “Don’t tell me you dragged me all the way up here to chastise me about talking at my desk while I work.”

“I am not paying you to get hit on, Emily,” he growls.

I put my hands on my hips as fury begins to pump through my bloodstream. “Listen here, you.” I hold my finger up. “Firstly, I’ll get hit on by whomever I want.”

He narrows his eyes and puts his hands on his hips, too, mirroring my stance.

“Secondly”—I put my second finger up—“as my boss, you do not get to comment on my dating life.”

“Ha,” he huffs as he rolls his eyes in disgust.

“Thirdly”—I hold three fingers up—“I’m new in town, and I have no friends, so if he’s being nice, I’m not going to be rude, am I?”

“Not on my time,” he growls.

“Did you really drag me all the way up here just to say that?” I frown.

“No,” he barks. “I want to know why you won’t go out with me.”

My face falls. “Are you serious?” I whisper.

“Deadly.”

The mood between us changes and turns from anger to something else.

“Because I can’t risk losing my job if we don’t work out.”

He stares at me for a moment. “That job interview you were going for twelve months ago. Was it here?”

I pause for a moment. Now I’m going to sound like a loser. “Yes.”

“How long have you been trying to get a job here?”

“Three years,” I huff. “So forgive me if I don’t want to throw it away for a one-night stand.”

“Why would you think I would fire you?”

“Isn’t that what CEOs do when they have finished with their secretaries? Throw them to the side?”

He frowns as he watches me. “I wouldn’t know—I’ve never been attracted to someone I work with. And besides, I think this place is big enough that we could stay out of each other’s way.”

“You’re still attracted to me?” I whisper.

“You know I am, and it’s just dinner,” he snaps. “Nobody would even know, and I most certainly wouldn’t fire you in the morning.”

“So . . .” I frown as I try to work out what the hell it is that he wants. “You would keep me a dirty little secret?”

He steps forward so that our faces are only an inch apart; our eyes are locked.

Energy begins to spark between us, and I feel my arousal sweep in. “Were you in a relationship when we spent the night together?” I ask.

“What makes you say that?”

“You never asked for my number.”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile as he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Does everybody ask for your number, Emily?” His voice has dropped to a deep, sexy tone.

“Pretty much.”

“I wasn’t looking for anything back then, and I most definitely don’t tell people I’m going to call them if I’m not.” He dusts his thumb over my bottom lip as I stare up into his big blue eyes.

“Tonight,” he whispers.

I smile softly as his breath tickles my skin. He really is quite . . .

“I’ll pick you up. Dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant . . .” His voice trails off as if he’s imagining something else.

Oh, that sounds good. I smile as he leans closer. His lips tenderly touch mine as he holds my jaw in his hand. My eyes close as my feet lift from the floor.

Robbie . . . what the hell am I doing?

Damn this man. What is this spell that he has over me that makes me do the most random things? Like one-night stands and forgetting I’m in a committed relationship . . . and breathing.

Oh my God. I have a boyfriend. Shit. “I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” I take a step back from him. “I have a boyfriend,” I blurt out.

His face falls in horror. “What?”

“I know.” I wince. “I . . . I . . .” I shake my head because I have no words that can get me out of this. “I have a boyfriend, and I can’t go out with you.”

“Dump him,” he fires back.

“What?” I croak.

“You heard me. Dump him.” He reaches for me.

I step back to create distance between us. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t dump a boyfriend for one night of sex.”

“Yes. You can.”

“Jameson.” I drag my hands through my hair. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Quite possibly.” He hands me a business card. “Call me, and I’ll come and get you.”

JAMESON MILES

MILES MEDIA

212-639-8999

I stare at the card in my hand, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. My eyes rise to meet his. I know what this is to him—it’s just another one-night stand.

One night that could ruin every plan I’ve made for myself and jeopardize my career. I’ve worked too damn hard to get to New York to throw it away now for one night with a player. It’s the weirdest thing—I never picked him as a player when we were together, but the more I get to know him, the more I realize I never knew him at all.

The worst part about it is that I know Jameson Miles is the kind of drug that I don’t need an addiction to.

The memory of our night together is bad enough.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t.” I turn to walk out of the office. My body screams for me to go back, and then I stop as a thought crosses my mind. I turn back toward him. “How did you know?” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He lifts his chin as my eyes search his.

I walk back toward him. “How did you know that Ricardo has been at my desk?”

I glance around the room and see nothing but a mirror on the wall. “Are there cameras in here?” I ask.

“Never mind.”

“Oh, but I do,” I sneer. “I think I have a right to know, if it concerns me.”

He picks up a remote from his desk and pushes a button. “Give me level forty, please,” he commands.

The mirror turns into a television screen. It rolls a few times, and then a vision of my office floor appears. I see Aaron and Molly and . . . my desk.

What the hell?

“You’ve been watching me?” I gasp. “Why?”

His dark eyes hold mine. “Because it turns me on.” He grabs my hand and puts it over his crotch, and I can feel his rock-hard erection in his suit pants.

The air leaves my lungs as I stare up at him, and unable to help it, I wrap my hand around his hard length.

We stare at each other as our bodies’ desires take over. “I just can’t,” I whisper.

His hand cups my face. “I want you.”

“You don’t always get what you want,” I breathe.

“I do.” His mouth drops to my neck, and in slow motion, he licks from my collarbone up my neck and then whispers in my ear, “Get rid of him.”

Goose bumps shoot up my spine, and I step back, overwhelmed by the physical effect he has on me.

He grabs the erection in his pants and rearranges it as we stare at each other.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” I breathe.

He glares at me, his face cold, and my chest rises and falls as I fight my arousal. It’s taking every inch of my self-control not to jump on him, right here, right now.

He’s so hard under that suit . . . such a waste.

No.

I turn and walk out, take the elevator, and before I know it, I’m back down to my floor. My heart is beating heavily in my chest, and I’m in complete and utter shock. That may just be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.

I fall into my seat, visibly shaken.

“Oh my God,” Aaron whispers.

Molly slides her seat over to me. “Holy shit, what happened?”

“I have no idea,” I murmur as my eyes go to the ceiling. Where are the cameras?

I think back to what angle I saw on his screen, and I look in that direction and see it. A small black glass dome. I glare at it, and I know he’s watching me.

I can feel his eyes on my skin. What’s he thinking about as he watches me?

An unwelcome wave of excitement rushes through me as I imagine him up there, hard and watching me.

I feel like taking off my clothes and lying back on my desk and opening my legs to give him something to really look at. Can he hear what we’re saying? Is there audio on that thing?

“What happened?” Aaron whispers.

“I can’t talk now. There are cameras,” I murmur with my head down. “But we need to have some seriously strong drinks after work.”

“Jesus,” Molly whispers as she turns back to her computer.

“Stupid fucking Ricardo,” Ava huffs. “He’s going to get us all fired. Why didn’t he get hauled into the damn office?”

“I know.” I open my email and stare at it for a moment as I try to calm myself down.

I know exactly why. Because Jameson Miles doesn’t want to fuck Ricardo—he wants to fuck me.

I bite my bottom lip to keep my slutty smile from escaping onto my face.

New York is so fun.

It’s five thirty, and we’ve just left work and are standing on the curb outside the Miles Media building while we decide where to go for dinner. It’s the weirdest thing; it’s as if along with this job, I was gifted three friends and unlimited options. Every night is Saturday night in New York.

We’re all different ages, with different lifestyles, but somehow we get along famously. Ava has a date and isn’t coming with us, but Aaron and Molly are by my side.

“What do you feel like eating?” Molly says as she scrolls through her phone.

“Something fattening and greasy. Paul hasn’t called me.” Aaron sighs. “I’m off him.”

“Oh God, will you dump him already?” Molly huffs with an eye roll. “I swear he’s seeing someone else on the side, and besides, he’s nowhere near hot enough for you.”

The front door of the building is opened by a man in a black suit, and the three of us turn. Jameson Miles walks out with another man. The two of them are deep in conversation and oblivious to anyone else.

“Who’s that with him?” I whisper.

“That’s one of his brothers, Tristan Miles. He’s in charge of global acquisitions,” Aaron whispers as his eyes stay glued to them. “I swear to God, these men are so fucking hot it’s unbearable.”

They have this charismatic air about them, their stances the epitome of power.

Everyone around them stops and stares.

Fitted expensive suits, handsome as all hell, cultured, and wealthy.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch in silence.

In slow motion, they walk out and get into the back of the waiting black limousine. The driver shuts the door behind them, and we watch as it drives away.

I turn to my new friends. “I really need to talk to somebody.”

“About what?” Aaron frowns.

“Can you two keep a secret?” I whisper.

They exchange looks. “Yeah, of course we can.”

“Let’s get to the bar.” I sigh as I link my arms through theirs and begin to drag them to cross the road. “You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you.”

Molly arrives with our drinks on a tray and drops into her seat. “So go. Did he give you a warning letter?”

I sip my margarita. “Hmm, this is good.” I frown as I inspect the icy yellow fluid.

Aaron sips his. “Ew, I hate this bartender.” He winces.

“Will you stop whining?” Molly snaps. “It’s like hanging out with my fucking kids.”

“This drink is too strong,” he chokes. “I notice you didn’t get one.”

Molly’s attention comes back to me. “Anyway, what’s this secret?”

I stare at them. God, I don’t even know if I should be saying anything to anyone, but I need someone to talk to.

“Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. Not even Ava,” I ask.

“Yes.” They both roll their eyes.

“Okay,” I continue. “You know how I told you I have been trying to get a job at Miles Media for over three years?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, just over twelve months ago I went to a wedding in London, and I was flying directly back to New York for an interview here.”

Aaron frowns as he concentrates on my story.

“At the airport in London, this fruitcake man behind me in the line was having some kind of episode and started throwing my bag around.”

They both stare at me, confused.

“Anyway, the security guard ushered me to the check-in counter and told the guy to look after me. I was given an upgrade to first class.”

“How cool.” Aaron smiles and raises his drink happily.

I brace myself for the next part of the story. “I was seated next to this man, and we began drinking champagne and . . .” I shrug. “The more we drank, the more inappropriate we got, and we began talking about our sex lives.”

“Did you get kicked off the plane?” Aaron says, with wide eyes.

“No.” I sip my drink. “Could have easily, though.”

Aaron puts his hand to his chest in relief.

“Then there was a blizzard in New York, and we had to fly on to Boston for an overnight layover. This guy was like . . . ridiculously hot.” I smile as I remember him. “He was so not my type, and I wasn’t his, but somehow we ended up fucking like rabbits all night long. It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

“I love this story.” Molly smiles. “Go you.”

“I never saw him again.”

Her face falls. “He didn’t call?”

“He never asked for my number.”

“Ouch.” Aaron winces.

“I know; so you can imagine my horror when I saw him at work this week.”

“What?” they both gasp.

“Oh my God, it’s fucking Ricardo, isn’t it?” Aaron frowns as he takes a big mouthful of his drink. “I can’t handle this story. Please don’t tell me you fucked him, and he gave you an STD. I won’t be able to cope.”

“It was Jameson Miles.”

Molly’s eyes nearly bulge from her head. “What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Aaron gasps and accidentally snorts his drink up his nose and has a coughing fit.

They both stare at me, wide eyed.

“When I went to his office on the tour, he asked to be left alone with me.”

Molly shakes her head. “Is this real?”

I nod.

“I have no words for this story,” she whispers.

“I do—oh my fucking God.” Aaron hits her on the arm in excitement. “What happened?”

“He asked me out to dinner.”

“What the actual fuck?” Molly cries really loud.

“Shh,” I whisper as I look at the people around us. “Keep your voice down.”

“Are you serious?” she whispers.

“I said no.”

“What?” Aaron cries this time.

“Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” I demand. “I can’t go out with him. I have a boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend’s a dick. You even said so yourself,” Molly stammers.

“I know, but I’m not wired like that. I would never cheat on somebody.”

Aaron shakes his head. “Jameson Miles could wire me any way he wanted to.”

“Right?” Molly agrees. “What happened today?”

“He marched me up to his office and accused me of getting hit on in my working time.”

Their mouths fall open in horror.

“And . . .” I pause. I probably shouldn’t tell them we are being watched. I’ll keep that one to myself. I dig out his card from my wallet and slide it across the table, and Molly picks it up and stares at it. “Even his name is hot.” She reads the card out loud. “Jameson Miles. Miles Media. 212-639-8999.”

“I told him he couldn’t have everything he wanted, and he said he does, and then he licked my neck,” I blurt out.

“He licked your neck?” Aaron shrieks. “Oh Lord have mercy.” He picks up the menu and begins to fan his face. “Please tell me you’re going out with him tonight.”

“No.” I shrug. “I can’t, and besides, it’s the fastest way I know how to get fired.”

“No job is that good,” Aaron snaps. “I wouldn’t turn him down to be the fucking president.”

We all giggle, and then my phone vibrates across the table.

“Oh . . . my fucking God,” Molly whispers as she stares at my phone. “It’s him.”

“What?” I stammer as I look down at the number lighting up the screen.

She holds up the business card in her hands, and we compare them.

“The number calling you is fucking him.”

My eyes widen. Holy shit.