Insecure Read online

  Insecure

  Ainslie Paton

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Insecure

  Ainslie Paton

  They have one night stand written all over them until they discovered love was worth the risk.

  Jacinta is the CEO-in-waiting, with an office suite on the top floor. She has power, influence, her life mapped out. Mace is the geek from IT, working in cubicle hell. He has big dreams, no patience for crap, and an appetite for risk. Jacinta could have Mace sacked quicker than taking her next breath. He could ruin her reputation with an email.

  The city conspires against their one hot night and provides a whole weekend, secret, private, and deep. But real life returns on a Monday, and with it reason and distance.

  Will their connection be enough to bridge the space between, when fortunes reverse and dreams are lost and found, or will the weight of expectation and the burn of insecurity drive them apart?

  About the Author

  Ainslie Paton is a corporate storyteller working in marketing, public relations and advertising.

  She’s written about everything from the African refugee crisis and Toxic Shock Syndrome, to high-speed data networks and hamburgers.

  She writes cracking, hyper-real romances about women in control and the exciting men who love them.

  Acknowledgements

  They read, and they read, and they read for me. And I’ve no idea what keeps them so entertained. Perhaps it’s the opportunity to flog me with my mistakes, weird typos and obscure literals. Not sure if this says more about me or them.

  To the BTA and associated readers. Wind, wings, that stuff. I can’t do it without you.

  Insecure is dedicated to Pippa. Because like she’s so not. And that’s so wonderful.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  1: City on Fire

  2: Girl on Fire

  3: Half Light

  4: Locked Out

  5: Locked Down

  6: Man on Fire

  7: Detente

  8: Arrogance

  9: DNA

  10: Jealous

  11: Turn Back

  12: Responsibili

  13: Crack

  14: Plan B

  15: Deadline

  16: Seconds

  17: Loved

  18: Perspective

  19: Flamethrower

  20: Security

  21: Call Me

  22: Waiting

  23: Damage

  24: Plan C

  25: Words

  26: Expectation

  27: Afraid

  28: Different

  29: Penalties

  30: Quit

  31: Throb

  32: Thunderdome

  33: Drift

  34: Brutality

  35: Fantasy

  36: Loyalty

  37: Open and Shut

  38: Insecure

  39: Forget

  40: Ambushed

  41: Status

  42: Speechless

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  1: City on Fire

  “I. Want. You.”

  She said those three loaded words in a dirty low whisper that made a shiver flicker up the back of his neck. She’d waited till Nolan was distracted and lent in quickly, uncomfortably close so her breath brushed his check, so he wouldn’t misunderstand.

  Then she walked away. The heels, the legs, the black suit and the no-nonsense hairstyle that should’ve made her look sexless, forbidding. She was so freaking gorgeous she couldn’t hide it in all that stiff expensive tailoring. She glanced over her shoulder once to check he’d follow.

  He laughed, louder than was sensible, and earned a sharp look from Nolan.

  She didn’t want him for his ability to code a program or provide IT support. This was a bad idea, but the city was burning, so if the girl was on fire, he had a duty to put her out.

  He followed her across the empty hotel conference room that should’ve had hundreds of happy shareholders in it, Nolan’s eyeballs stuck to his back. She made sure no one could interrupt or overhear them. She wasn’t in a socialising mood.

  “Look Mason, you either want this or you don’t.” She spoke softly in that you will obey me voice, looked him dead in the eye, daring him to misinterpret.

  He was hooked. He’d been snagged by her from the moment she’d stood at the front of that meeting room back at the office, explained the game plan and called him on not paying attention in front of nineteen other people. She didn’t care if she’d embarrassed him. He didn’t care enough to be embarrassed. But if he didn’t find his tongue now he’d lose his chance with her. And it wasn’t the most disciplined organ. It sat thick in his mouth and refused to move, or said inappropriate and ill-timed things that irritated people.

  “Mace,” he said.

  She frowned. “What?”

  There it was, irritation—and he’d only said one word. “No one calls me Mason except Nolan, and he’s an idiot.” Which she was smart enough to know.

  “Get too cute and I’ll start thinking this is a stupid idea.”

  No point not saying it. “It’s a monumentally stupid idea.”

  She let out a sigh, noisy with attitude. “That’s all you had to say.” She stepped around him to leave.

  If he wanted her, he’d have to suck up the tough bitch programming. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

  She stopped. She was so straight-backed, so crisp in her movements, there was little left over for loveliness. She was military, her own parade. He was cannon fodder. If he did this, he’d get to see her without the armour, without the authority that kept her separate, like another species of woman, one without warmth or softness. He’d get to see her stripped of all that made her a corporate machine, the heiress apparent.

  That alone was worth the snark.

  She turned back, fixed him with a hard stare. “Changed your mind?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Not good enough.”

  He tried again. Used his words. “Maybe the world will end tomorrow.” Yesterday that comment would’ve earned him too cute points and he’d be going home alone. After what happened, the explosion, fire still raging outside, the cause unknown, police and emergency service workers using the hotel foyer as a briefing area, he’d scored a break.

  “Why me?” Jacinta Wentworth could choose anyone she wanted, but it was risky choosing someone she worked with, even if two office towers and fifteen layers of authority separated them.

  She raked his face with eyes so stunningly certain, so sure of what she wanted, he didn’t need her answer, but he got it. “Because you’re seriously hot.”

  He laughed, too loud again, those words didn’t seem right coming from her mouth, and across the conference room Nolan scowled at him, a thousand censures radiating from under his monobrow. Mace was fraternising way above his pay grade and for that there’d be a slap on the wrist.

  She stepped closer. “Because it’s been a long campaign, an awful day, we failed and I’m pissed off.” She gestured towards the street outside. “We don’t know what’s going on out there, an accident, a terrorist attack.” She shook her head at the horror of the idea. “And maybe an asteroid will smack down, cause a tsunami and the world will end tomorrow. If that’s the case, I’d like to go out with a bang. You look like you know how to handle that.” One hand went to her hip and he couldn’t stop his eyes going there too. “Good enough?”

  He nearly laughed at her phrasing, but she was fierce with it, so he checked it in time. “Almost.”

  “What do you want—a contract?” She’d lowered her voice and upped her sarcasm.

  “I want to hear you say this is no strings, we go our separate w
ays afterwards and we—”

  “Can work together without it being weird.” She eye-rolled her impatience.

  He grinned. It was said she was always wound tight. He could see her awful day, the failure of the shareholder meeting, the collapse of the takeover bid and the wrath of the CEO, had her pulled taut like a muscle about to snap. “It’ll be weird.”

  She slapped a hand on her thigh and looked down at the carpet. “This is over.”

  “You have no sense of humour.”

  Her chin jerked up. “And you have no sense of self-preservation.”

  That wasn’t news. He wouldn’t be in this conversation if it was. He leant towards her, a little too close to be collegial, definitely in her space. “And that’s exactly why you hit on me.”

  She didn’t step back. She wasn’t the type to. That’s what they said about her. But this was a step somewhere deeply unexpected. “You can trust me to be cool, and I won’t trust you at all.”

  He frowned, “Then—”

  “That’s the whole point.” She closed that leftover politeness between their bodies, coming so close her breath ghosted his throat. “I don’t know you. I don’t trust you. I’m in the mood to tear things down. I want the danger.”

  “I’m not dangerous.” So many things, so many people were, like very large explosions that closed off city blocks, and cops striding around in riot gear as if they expected hand to hand combat. Ninety-nine point five percent of the time Mace was the quiet guy; the one who hugged walls at parties, and left early. He so was perfectly safe, he was almost in a sweat thinking about what he was about to agree to.

  “To me you’re dangerous,” she said.

  He shook his head, he didn’t understand her game. The asteroid might be en route, but if it wasn’t, he still needed a job Monday. If they did this, the rules had to be clear. “I don’t role play. I can’t be your rough trade.”

  She rocked back on her six inch stilettos. “God, don’t be so literal. Isn’t it enough I want you?”

  “No.” It was, but shit she was cold, and he was out of his depth, drowning in the tsunami.

  “You’re built for sex. Look at you, the most unlikely geek in the server room.” She made a vague hand gesture at him. “You don’t get to look like you from testing software.”

  He swallowed a mouthful of seawater and coughed.

  She laughed. “Am I scaring you?”

  “Fuck, yes. You’re Princess Severe and I’m...”

  She took a full step back, tugged her suit jacket down as though he’d ruffled it. “Princess Severe.”

  Shit. Why didn’t he remind her she was his boss’ boss and then some? Instead he’d gone one princess fantasy grade too far; one snappy comeback above an appropriate risk factor. He sighed, the conversation—the longest he’d ever had with her that wasn’t about this shareholder meeting and takeover gone bad—was closed.

  He’d put her fire out all right, just not the way he’d anticipated.

  “I drive a silver Merc SL. It’s in the car park, level two. I’m leaving in forty minutes.”

  What? No way. He was in. He got to watch her walk away again. He had to keep his act straight; to look like she’d given him a dressing down, but the next time he saw her, he’d be sitting beside her in her roadster, wondering how the hell this was going to play out. He shook his head. It was too wild. Too much like something that’d happen to someone else. But as a random cataclysmic event preparedness strategy, it beat anything else he could dream up.

  He went back to the temporary desk and annoyed Nolan some more by avoiding his explain yourself glances and sticking close to Gina, Karen and Trish while he finished packing up. They wanted him to go for an explosion survivors’ drink. It’d give him a decent cover. He could leave with them and slip away at the last moment. He was zipping his own laptop bag when Nolan approached.

  “What was that about with Jacinta?”

  He tried a dodge. “You know how she gets.”

  “She gets that way with me, not you. Why was she talking to you?”

  She got that way with anyone she wanted to. “Wasn’t happy with the way I set up the shareholder vote registration.”

  “The keypads?”

  “No, the, ah.” Crap, this is what he needed a cover story for. “The pre-vote polling.” The whole pre-meeting polling was his idea. Nolan was only going to want to own it if it was successful.

  “Yes, well that was perhaps a little too innovative.”

  Nolan hitched his pants. He wore a suit like it was a sack of cement. He managed to look dusty, and the pockets of his coat stuck out at odd angles. He didn’t wear the IT team’s usual jeans and shirt look any more sartorially, but he looked less awkward, less like he was his own father.

  “But what was her problem with it? She signed off on it.”

  Mace scratched his head. Nolan was a buzz kill at the best of times. He could probably blow him off, but that’d take more effort than humouring him. He knew he could do it by simply calling Jacinta a control freak—or a bitch. It’s what he’d have done fifteen minutes ago if she hadn’t looked him in the eye and told him she wanted totally out of the blue no strings sex that’d lit him up like hot neon. Now that felt wrong. Not that it’d ever been right to slander her, but now there was some kind of honour; the rough deference to a person he was about to one night stand with because she’d had a bad day, it was vaguely possible the world might end, and he was in the right place at the right time.

  “She read me the riot act over the permission sign-off.”

  Nolan jerked his head and added a sprinkle of dandruff to his shoulders. “Didn’t you have legal clear that?”

  “She wasn’t satisfied I disclosed all the detail.” Nolan had no way of knowing if this was true but it sounded like the kind of cowboy stunt Mace would pull. It had the merit of being entirely bogus should he decide to check up.

  “Mason, you can’t muck about with legal. They don’t like surprises.” Nolan scrubbed his face, his hair was natural electric shock and his five o’clock shadow was contributing to his just slept in look. “How many times have I stressed that? Good planning equals no emergencies.”

  Mace rubbed his jaw. He’d snatched a shower and shave after a quick gym session at lunchtime before he’d had to swap into his suit and be at the meeting venue. He’d love to switch the suit for his jeans again but he had less than twenty minutes to ditch Nolan, finish the pack-down and make it to the car park, or he might as well go home and work on Ipseity. He didn’t feel like working tonight. He felt like shaking the severe out of the Princess to see if she was just as tense when she was naked and underneath him.

  He wondered if she drank. God, he hoped so. He could do with a drink. Or two. It wasn’t only that weeks of work had gone to waste, it was why they had.

  The shadow shock of the explosion still rang in his ears. He was having trouble processing it. It was like a scene out of a B-grade action flick: an enormous blast they’d felt in their feet, an unearthly quiet, and then the screaming and the sirens.

  They said it was an underground gas main. Five killed, seven unaccounted for, scores hurt. According to the early news reports, the fire would wipe out a block of prime real estate before they got it under control. Half the city was cordoned off. It’d taken two hours for the cops to give the hotel the all clear to allow guests to move in and out. Two hours too late for the meeting to take place, too late to meet the takeover deal deadline. They were lucky they weren’t in the blast zone. It could’ve been so much worse. It could’ve been—yeah, best not to think about it. He needed to call Buster, and Jesus, he needed a drink.

  The flashing red and blue lights of the emergency services team were still reflected in the hotel’s glass walls. The sirens had stopped but you could smell the smoke. It’d happened right in their change pocket, too close to grasp.

  “Are you listening to me, Mason?”

  It was an evolutionary miracle Nolan existed.

  “Let it
go. She was upset about the meeting.” He didn’t know how much of Jacinta’s career was riding on the success of the takeover, but judging from the way the chairman and the rest of the board reacted, and the way Malcolm tore into her in public, Mace figured it was enough to make you feel like doing something stupid.

  Something monumentally stupid—with him.

  Nolan flapped an arm. “Do you think it’s safe out there? I mean, there’s no way the cops would let us leave if it wasn’t. Jeez, I still can’t believe how close we were.”

  Mace snapped the lid shut on the last packing case. The useful thing about Nolan was he excelled at answering his own questions.

  “Come for a drink, Mason.”

  “Let me stow this gear.” He’d stow the gear for courier pick-up Monday, but he wouldn’t see Nolan again till he had to, and by the time he did, he’d have earned firefighter status of a whole new kind.

  Or need a new job.

  2: Girl on Fire

  Jacinta leant on the hood of the roadster. She didn’t look up from her phone screen till Mace was in front of her. Without a word she pointed the fob at the car and the doors unlocked.

  He lifted both hands; he needed the boot opened for somewhere to put his laptop and bag. She had the car started before he got in the passenger seat. It was a sweet ride, worth a hundred times what he had in the bank. And for that you got two seats, and not enough leg room for someone who scraped up against six two.

  At the car park entrance, he got another look at the street. A kind of organised anarchy bathed in an orange glow, uniforms everywhere, police tape and barricades, foam, those flashing lights casting carnival colours. A cop in riot gear stopped them for no discernible reason then waved them on.

  Beyond the blast zone, the streets were deserted; though it was early, the usual Friday night crowds had disappeared as the smoke clouds rolled in. He took his tie off, pocketed it and opened his collar. She pressed a button on the dash and the car roof folded down, it took less than twenty seconds and they were part of the eerie glow of the night. He might’ve been in the Batmobile. She drove it like it was a heap of shit, throwing it around corners, gunning it too fast. He’d have asked her where the fire was except that was idiotic.