Perfect Kiss by Lacey Black
Chapter 3
Malcolm
I’m intrigued.
And have no idea why.
As I watch her little Altima drive away, I am overcome with a sense of interest, which still shocks me to the bone. It did last night after she made her hasty escape and I wanted to follow her. It reappeared just a few minutes ago when I looked up and saw her beside her car, about to be run over by that teenage driver.
Clearly, deciding to take the long way around the square to get back to my office was the right decision.
Except, it probably wasn’t.
Sure, I may find Leni Abbott attractive, but I shouldn’t. She’s not my usual type, but also there’s the big factor of her son. I’ve dated a lot of women in my life, but never a single mom like that. Divorcees, yes. Kids go to Dad’s for the weekend, and Mom is looking to unwind. That’s where I come in.
Then there’s the physical differences. The women I’ve dated in the past are model thin. You know the ones who barely eat a few bites of their salads and proclaim themselves full? I’ve never understood it, personally, but whatever. Lenora isn’t overweight. Not by a long shot. She’s got that perfect hourglass figure that drives men wild, me included. All I thought about last night was gripping onto those hips and thrusting into her from behind. It made for an uncomfortable night’s sleep.
And morning.
I was determined to forget all about the pretty woman who apparently now cleans City Hall, but then fate dealt me a cruel hand, and minutes ago, I found her again.
At least this time I was wearing pants.
I snicker as I return to the sidewalk, recalling her comments about me dropping my drawers and the look of mortification that appeared on her pretty face moments later. Talk about opening mouth and inserting foot.
Oh, the things I could do with her mouth…
Clearing my throat, I head down the walkway and round the corner, my recently tailored suit pants thrown over my arm. I turn where Plumbing Solutions sits and pass the laundromat in the middle of the block. Something niggles at the back of my mind, and I find myself stopping in the middle of the walkway.
I glance through the windows of Squeaky Clean as realization sets in.
Lenora Abbott owns this place and lives above it. I recall when the previous owner retired a few months back and sold it. I heard mention at one of the Chamber of Commerce gatherings that the woman who bought it had just returned home after being away for several years, and also cleans houses and businesses in town.
My family’s law office and City Hall included.
As I keep walking, I realize how incredibly brave it was for this woman to open a business in a town she hasn’t lived in for a while. Especially one as young as twenty-nine, six years my junior. But I imagine it gives her a steady income with the flexibility she needs to raise a child alone.
At least I think she’s doing it alone.
I’ve not heard anything about a boyfriend or ex hanging around, and usually all gossip makes its way past my desk at some point.
I worm my way back to City Hall, prepared to put in a few hours of work before the public works committee meeting later this evening. As I pass Shana’s desk, I can’t help but stop. “Hey, Shana. Can I ask you a question?”
The woman in her mid-forties gives me her full attention, pushing her chair away from her computer desk. “Sure, Mal. What’s up?”
“The woman who cleans this place, she’s fairly new, right?”
The woman I hired right after taking office nods her head. “She is. Been cleaning three weeks now,” she informs, though I already knew that. I signed off on her hiring. “She comes highly recommended by several businesses around the square. Why? Is something wrong?” she asks, a look of worry crossing her face.
“No, of course not. I was just curious. I’ve been considering having my place cleaned at home every week or so and thought maybe she’d be a good fit.”
“Leni’s fabulous. She cleans Jim’s mom’s place, as well as Hazel’s sister’s neighbor’s condo. Heck, she could probably give you a whole list of references around Mason Creek. Everyone uses her.”
I nod. “Okay. I’m pretty sure that’s who Dad uses at the law office. Do you have a contact for her?”
“I do,” she states, pulling open a desk drawer and grabbing a Rolodex. You know, like a good, old fashioned business card holder and contact keeper. “Do you want me to email it to you?” she asks, stopping on a small card with bold lettering across the top.
“No need. I’ll just program it into my phone,” I say, glancing over her shoulder and inputting her name and cell number into my contacts.
Not that I plan to use it.
“Thanks, Shana.”
“You’re welcome, Mal. Oh, don’t forget, you have that meeting request with Aqua Solutions, the company who manages the water treatment facility. They’re still hoping to get in this week.”
I sigh, having put off this request for almost a week. I know why they’re calling. They want to negotiate new rates for this next contract, and I’m not looking forward to playing hardball with them. The owner is a bastard who tries to cut corners at all costs, including how they monitor our water treatment facility. “I’ll email them back shortly. It’ll have to be next week, though. My schedule is already full.”
It’s not.
She knows it.
I know it.
But I’m not in a hurry to deal with them right now.
I slip my phone into my pocket and head to my office, hanging up my trousers on the hook behind my door as I go. I boot up my computer and take a seat, just as my phone vibrates in my pants. A part of me hopes it’s Lenora, but then I realize how silly I’m being. She doesn’t have my number, and why the hell would she be texting me anyway?
Spying the name on the screen, I sigh. It’s Jessa, and there’s only one reason she’d be texting me on a Wednesday evening.
Jessa:Hey, darling. I was hoping you’d be free later this evening. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. *winky face*
That’s code for too long since we hooked up. It’s probably been about two months since her last text message invitation arrived on my phone, and the last time since I arrived on her doorstep. Jessa Donaldson is a recent divorcee, as well as a widow. When she was in her mid-twenties, she married a wealthy politician old enough to be her grandpa. When he died unexpectedly a few years later, she was left everything in his name, including vacation houses and a stake in a transportation company.
Then, she moved on to another older man, though the second one only about twenty years her senior. When he found out she was sleeping with everyone and their brother—including his own brother—he filed for divorce. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have a prenup, so he had to give half his net worth to his cheating wife. She walked away with a cool 7.5 million bucks and relocated to the biggest estate in Mason Creek.
I met Jessa a year ago when she showed up at our law firm to meet with my dad. Later that night, I was balls-deep between her thighs and we’ve had a casual arrangement ever since. No commitment. No relationship. No strings.
Sex.
Whenever, wherever.
My finger lingers over her message, trying to figure out how to reply. Do I want to meet up with Jessa later? My dick says yes, but my head tells me I’m busy and it’s not a good time. I have a committee meeting later, plus some paperwork on a new custody case that landed on my desk I need to review.
Me:Sorry, doll. Busy. Another time.
I can almost hear her pout all the way across town.
Jessa:You know you can drop by anytime. I’m always available for you.
Me:I do know that, but I have meetings.
Jessa:Tomorrow then. I have an appointment with my cosmetologist to get things waxed.
I almost groan. Jessa’s a fan of going bare and not afraid to show it.
Me:Maybe another time.
Jessa:Fine. I suppose I could find someone else to entertain…
She’s used jealousy on me before, but it’s not going to work this time. In the very beginning, she mentioned someone else, and I went running with my tongue hanging out, like she knew I would. Now, I don’t even feel a bubble of envy or anything at the thought of her hooking up with someone besides me. I’ve known all along I’m not her only friend, and that’s never bothered me much. Still doesn’t.
We just don’t have that kind of relationship. When I’m seeing someone else, I don’t respond to Jessa. Even if I don’t do the whole long-term dating thing, I’m still a one-woman man. We’re casual, and that’s all.
Me:Have a good night, Jessa.
I click off the texting app and set my phone down, ignoring the alerts of messages that follow. Instead, I focus on my work and prepping for the meeting later. Of course, my thoughts are still invaded by a sexy brunette with alluring hazel eyes. I picture her shocked expression last night when she found me standing naked in the bathroom and the stunned look on her face when I kept her from falling today. As much as I try to push all thoughts of her aside, I can’t. I’m intrigued, and I don’t know why. I’ve never been so curious about a woman, especially one with a young kid, but here I am, wondering what she’s doing tonight. Is she working? At home with her son? Out on a date?
And why does that last one bother me so much?
* * *
“How’d the meeting go?” my dad asks when he answers the phone.
“Fine. We prioritized a list of roads that we’ll repair this year. Six are considered top priority, with another four to be done next fiscal year.”
“Good,” he replies, knowing what it’s like to prioritize projects based on the budget. “That’s a start. I know there are several that need some patch work too.”
“That and pipe work. We’re going to have to upgrade the water pipes for the entire south side of town within the next four to five years. We’re looking into grants and bond options.”
“That sounds like a solid plan.” Dad takes a drink from a glass, most likely scotch. It’s part of his nightly routine after a long day in court. “So, why did you call me after nine? Not that I care, because you know I’m still up, but I’m sure it wasn’t to discuss the public works committee meeting.”
“I’ve been thinking,” I start as I drive through the streets, heading for home, but don’t finish my sentence.
“About?”
“I’m thinking of hiring a cleaning service. For the house.”
I’m met with silence on the other end of the line. It drags on for so long, I check the screen on my dashboard to make sure we didn’t lose our connection. After what feels like the world’s longest pause, he finally says, “Okay? You work a lot of hours, so a cleaning service would probably be beneficial.”
“Yeah, yeah. I thought so too.” This is going swimmingly well, I think to myself as I reach my driveway and press the button to raise the garage door.
“Malcolm, what is it you want to know?”
“How well do you know the woman who cleans the office for us?” I ask, parking my car in my garage and lowering the door. Once it’s down, I turn off my car, but leave it in accessory so I can keep the Bluetooth connected.
“Not super well, but I’ve heard a lot about her. She cleans Debi’s house, and she recommended her,” he says, referring to our office manager. “She seems very professional and efficient. I know the Abbotts, Lisa and Lewis. Lived in town as long as our family has. Plus, your mother loves that bookstore the younger daughter owns. Spends all my money there.” He snickers at his comment, even though I’m sure that’s not true.
“You’ll make more,” I tease.
Dad barks out a laugh. “That I will. Now, something tells me that’s not the real reason you were asking about the Abbott girl, is it?”
I sigh, turn off the car, and put my cell phone to my ear. My long legs carry me into my laundry room, where I kick off my shoes. “I met her in an official capacity last night.” I leave out the part about how. “She was…fascinating.”
I can practically hear him thinking, and before I can tell him not to look too much into my words, he replies, “I hear she has a son.”
My throat is dry. “Yeah.”
“Well, I think if you need to be careful if you hire her. You don’t want to give her a job and then do something that causes her to quit.”
I read his unspoken insinuation loud and clear. He’s telling me not to sleep with her after I hire her to clean my house. She has a son to take care of, and if I’m just going to hump and dump her, I better think twice.
But the truth is, no matter how much I want to hump, I can tell it’s more than that. I’ve never been this captivated by a woman. Ever.
That’s exactly why there will be no humping.
I’ll offer her a job, cleaning my house, and that’s it. End of story.
“You’re right, Dad. Thanks.”
His low chuckle accompanies me into my kitchen. “Well, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be interested. I’m saying you need to be careful if you are.”
“I’m always careful,” I state, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.
He snorts a laugh. “I’m sure you are,” he replies dryly. “Anyway, I should get back to this deposition. Why don’t you come over later in the week for dinner? Your mom will cook.”
“Sounds good. I could use a good homecooked meal.” Surprisingly, my mom is great in the kitchen, considering she grew up with a small staff in their house to help with the day-to-day aspects.
“She’s come a long way since those early days of burnt dinners and failed meal plans. There were a lot of tears the first few years of our marriage, but that’s one of the things I love the most about your mother. She’s resilient and won’t stop until she accomplishes her task,” my dad replies quietly.
“I know. She’s the best.” And she is. My mom stayed home with me but would never trust my care to a nanny like her parents insisted. She wanted to do it herself and was hands-on my entire childhood.
“We’ll see you in the office tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Goodnight, Malcolm.”
“Night, Dad.”
When we hang up, I mentally run through tomorrow’s schedule. I have a few cases to work on in the morning, but I’ll be back at City Hall in the afternoon. And maybe I’ll make a phone call. I mean, my house is probably dusty, and my dirty dishes are definitely piled up. It would definitely help to have someone who keeps this place clean, right? And if the woman who does it happens to be a stunning, beautiful woman?
That’s just a bonus.
What’s a single guy to do?
