Stumbled into Love

By L.P. Maxa

NOW, IT'S PERSONAL

If Brice Huntington had lived in another time he would have been called a debaucher, a scoundrel, a libertine, and a man leading a profligate life. Holland Baxter has a few choice modern words for him, and effin' jerk is the nicest one she can say here. But... When she finds herself without a home, it turns out Brice can be a good friend. And, as time and proximity give her an up-close look at who he really is, and who he can be, she's intrigued. Yeah, she knows this is a slippery slope, but there's something about him that makes her want to stay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
• Release date: Feb 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781948029704

L.P. Maxa

L.P. lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, daughter, three rescue dogs, and one adopted cat. The first group of chickens met with a sad and unexpected death. They have been replaced. The dwarf goats are a story for another day. And now there are ducks. Writer, business owner and office manager, L.P. says she loves to read as much as she loves to write. Reading a good book is her reward after writing one. In her spare time—ha!—she fosters puppies for a rescue organization based in Austin. Connect with L.P. – lpmaxa.wordpress.com facebook.com/pages/LP-Maxa/1442560722667127 twitter.com/lpmaxa instagram.com/lpmaxa

Book preview

Chapter One

Brice

I climbed out of my Tesla, slipping the valet a sizeable tip, and then buttoned my suit jacket. It was good to be best friends, and now brother-in-law, with the owner of my favorite post-work hangout. Cueva was like my home away from home.

The large wood-and-iron double doors opened on their own, as if by magic, and I was greeted with the sinfully gorgeous, yet forever out of my reach Holland Baxter. Her white silk shirt showed off her perfect rack in a tasteful way, and her tight skirt made me want to drool. But her gorgeous face really took the cake. Her steel blue eyes and blonde hair were paired with a jawline you could cut glass on. I wanted to put some massive angel wings on her back and demand that she put on a show for me.

Mr. Huntington, so glad you could join us this evening. Hollie gave me her tight, annoyed smile, letting me know that she was anything but glad to see me.

I could charm the panties off any female in the world, except Holland Baxter. It didn’t matter how much I smiled or winked or flirted… She never budged an inch.

Hollie, baby, please don’t call me Mr. Huntington. I hated to be called Mr. Huntington. That was my dad, not me. And Hollie damn well knew it. That girl enjoyed nothing more than trying to bust my chops any chance she got. But fuck, if it didn’t turn me on something fierce.

Brice, douchebag, don’t call me Hollie. She walked by me, then threw out over her shoulder with a sneer I found all too tempting, Or baby.

I grinned as I followed her down the long hardwood-floored hallway, watching her perfect little ass in her tight black skirt. I’d known Hollie since her first day working at Cueva. This was my best friend’s flagship location and I’d been in here more times than I’d been in my own house. Feeling feisty today, Hollie baby?

Actually, Brice, I am in a fantastic mood. Would you like to know why?

I smirked. Of course I would.

Holland sat me at my usual spot, next to a bay window in a large brown leather chair with a small mahogany table next to it. I got a promotion. She sent me another questioning look. Do you know what that means?

I narrowed my eyes. Yes, Hollie, I know what getting a promotion means.

She laughed lightly, the sound going straight to my already-on-its-way-to-hard dick. I don’t think you do. She poured me two fingers of Chivas. "Declan gave me many new duties, including the power to fire any and all girls who decide that sleeping with you is a good idea." She clasped her hands behind her back, sending me a wicked smile.

"Well, lucky for me there is more than one Cueva location in the DFW area." I picked up the crystal glass, taking a sip and winking at her over the rim. Driving to Arlington for some prime grade ass wouldn’t be too much trouble.

She leaned down, close to my ear, and whispered, "I’m in charge of both locations, baby." And then she calmly sauntered away.

I refused to appear ruffled. I wouldn’t give that gorgeous girl the satisfaction. Which was why I didn’t reach down and adjust my fly. This semi was going to have to deal with being pressed up against my zipper while I calmly enjoyed my drink.

My best friend, Declan Preston, staffed his private men’s club with only the crème de la crème. And Hollie was proof of that. No, Cueva wasn’t a brothel. It was an exclusive members-only executive club where business deals were made and million-dollar transactions were brokered all while sipping the finest scotch and oldest whiskey. And up until a few weeks ago, I’d also been able to use it as my own personal little black book.

Fucking Declan.

Chapter Two

Brice

A year later

I leaned back in my black leather office chair, swiveling to face the magnificent view outside my corner office window. I’d been at the advertising firm of Boston & Klein for over six years now, and I’d earned my place. I traveled more than anyone else and put in more late nights. Contrary to what my younger sister would tell you, I worked fucking hard.

And the current scenery out of my sixteenth-floor window was proof of that fact.

Mr. Huntington, sir, Mr. Klein would like to see you in his office.

The husky sex phone operator voice of my current secretary, Sasha, came through the speaker on my desk. I hadn’t slept with her, yet, but man did she make my dick hard. Her voice was the reason I hired her. I swear every time she spoke to me through the intercom my balls tingled a little.

I swirled around and punched the blinking red button. Tell him I’m on my way, sweetheart.

This was it, this was the day they made me vice president of my department. My parents would weep with joy, and my best friend Declan would send me an insanely expensive congratulations gift.

I made my way through the sixteenth floor, smiling and waving at everyone who called out a quick hello. I felt like I was fucking walking on sunshine. I rounded the corner, coming to a stop in front of the large double doors leading to Mr. Klein’s office. His secretary raised a haughty eyebrow in my direction, discreetly mouthing fuck you as she buzzed me inside.

Now, I had slept with that one a few months back, and she didn’t take my kicking her out the next morning all too lightly. Some people say you shouldn’t shit where you eat. I say fuck that, I’ll shit wherever I damn well please.

Ah, Brice, please have a seat.

Douglas Klein’s office took up half the floor, windows spanning the length of the large room. He had oriental rugs and aged leather furniture, and the place always smelled like lemon Pledge. Mr. Klein, how are you today? I smiled, unbuttoned my Ralph Lauren suit jacket, and took a seat in one of the two chairs facing his desk.

Well, Brice, I’m going to be honest with you. He crossed his arms over his chest. I could be better.

I hated that. I hated when you asked people how they were doing, you know, as a formality, and they answered with something other than Oh I’m excellent. But Douglas Klein was an advertising legend, and the partner directly in charge of my position at Boston and Klein. So I pasted a concerned expression on my face. I’m sorry to hear that, sir.

Maybe he was sick? Maybe he was dying? Oh my god, maybe they weren’t going to make me VP, they were going to make me a partner. I mean, someone would have to replace the old bone bag.

Brice, it’s come to our attention that you’ve slept with over half our staff.

Shit.

He sighed, shaking his head sadly. The women around here are talking, and it’s your name on their lips.

I couldn’t help the chuckle that came out of my mouth. Forgive me, sir, but is that necessarily a bad thing? My smile fell away when Klein’s frown turned into more of an outraged sneer.

"Is that a bad thing? Hell yes, it’s a bad thing. He scowled as he stood and then started to pace. This is 2019, Brice, you can’t go around pissing off the women you work with. He threw his hands in the air. Never mind how you treat them, which is horrendous, by the way, the firm cannot abide sexual harassment in the workplace, and we sure as hell aren’t going to fork out millions of dollars because you can’t keep your pants zipped."

Yep. He was ripping me a new one, and even I could admit he had a point.

They are pissed. He jabbed a finger toward his office door. They are pissed enough to want you gone.

My jaw dropped open. You can’t be serious, sir. Was he about to fucking fire me because I’d had my dick sucked too many times? I shook my head, collecting myself and brushing some lint off my pants. There was no coercion, there were no false pretenses. They knew the score when they decided to hop into my bed. It was not my fucking fault if they couldn’t handle meaningless sex. If they wanted a fairy tale, that certainly wasn’t my problem.

I’m not going to say this again. What you do with your personal life, outside this office, is your business. But under no circumstances are you to engage in any behavior that can be construed as sexual while you are at work, and you are not allowed to have a relationship with any of the women at the firm…unless it’s one hundred percent professional and kept at the office. Have I made myself clear?

So this was what being verbally beaten to a pulp felt like. Yes, sir.

Look, you’re an asset to this company and what we don’t want to do is let you go. For heaven’s sake, we were about to name you VP of mass market.

Are you telling me these women are costing me my promotion? Now I was pissed. I’d worked my ass off to get where I was professionally.

They aren’t costing you your promotion, but they are sure as hell delaying it. Mr. Klein leveled me with a hard glare. Our hands are tied, Brice. There have been complaints and we can’t consider your promotion while all this is going on.

So what are you saying?

I’m saying we need to see a change in you, in the way you conduct yourself. He puffed out his chest and told me in no uncertain terms, If you can’t prove that you can be a decent human being, then we’ll have to name someone else as VP of mass market.

A decent human being? What the hell did that even mean? I was a decent human being. I gave to charity, I FaceTimed my nephew. I had dinner with my parents once a week. I didn’t litter, and I never lied to anyone I fucked. Ever.

You can’t act the way you have been if you want that promotion. Your employees can’t be gossiping about you in the ladies’ room. It’s not the way a business should run, and we can’t put someone with such a morally corrupt reputation at the helm.

Morally corrupt? Was he serious? It was sex, not murder. As Mr. Klein continued to give me chapter and verse about the firm’s liability for my behavior, my mind started to drift. I needed to figure a way out of this mess. I had to prove that I could keep it in my pants. I had to prove that I was capable of change. At least until they named me VP. I would not let this promotion slip out of my grasp and go to someone else simply because they didn’t get as much ass as I did.

I was a smart guy. I was clever like a fox. Hell, I’d tricked my best friend and sister into getting…married. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Although I wouldn’t go as far as a fake real marriage. Let’s not get too crazy people.

I took a deep breath and put a wicked smile on my face. They wanted a decent human being? Well, I’d shove my decent ass down their fucking throats. Sir, you have nothing to worry about.

Are you sure? Because it seems like I absolutely do.

I stood, buttoning my suit jacket. "It so happens that I’ve recently started seeing someone, exclusively." I said I didn’t lie to anyone I fucked, but I wasn’t banging my boss. It’s new, but it’s getting pretty serious.

His face lit up and I could hear the champagne bottles popping in celebration. They wanted wholesome? They’d fucking get it.

I nodded, pulling my cell out of my pocket and smiling down at it like I was looking at my fake girlfriend’s picture. She’s something else, she makes me want to be a better man.

Brice you have no idea how thrilled I am to hear you say that. Douglas Klein got out of his chair, coming around to shake my hand. I’d like you to join Boston and myself for dinner in a couple of weeks. I’ll have my secretary set it up.

Dinner with the partners? Yes please. I’d love that, sir.

He clapped me on the back as he walked me to his door. "And,