Everything You Need To Know
HelenKay Dimon
Guess who I’m temping for this week: Forest Redder. Yes, the Forest Redder, millionaire commercial real estate powerhouse (whatever that is…) There’s nothing on this guy in the Need to Know database, but the man is seriously HOT! There’s no way someone this tall, dark and delicious is sleeping alone every night—women probably hand over their panties the first time they meet him. Other women, I mean, not me–I’m so over his type (I’ve dated enough of D.C.’s “eligible bachelors” to know they’re mostly lying scumbags. Or married. Or gay. Or…Well, you know.) But maybe I can do a little “hands-on” research and write up a report on him myself? You know, for the good of our members… ;) There’s just one problem. I think he knows. And I think he knows I know he knows. And if he exposes me as the woman behind Need to Know, I could lose everything I’ve worked for… – Other Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon & Cosmo include: Afterburn by Sylvia Day (August 2013), Fearless by Tawny Weber (September 2013), Cake by Lauren Dane (September 2013), Naked Sushi by Jina Bacarr (October 2013), Aftershock by Sylvia Day (November 2013)
Welcome to Need to Know—Because a Woman Can’t Be Too Informed
Dating in D.C. is like navigating an apocalyptic wasteland populated by men in expensive suits with zero mating potential. Need to Know provides all the information a savvy single woman like you needs to avoid dating disasters.
By night, Jordan McAdam is the proprietor of a popular website that rates D.C.’s hottest bachelors—everything from how quick they are to email you back, to their skills in the sack. She’s been burned once too often to accept any man at face value. By day, her job as an office temp puts her in the perfect position to do a little fact-checking on her rich and powerful subjects. When her latest assignment brings her face-to-face with the sexy but mysterious Forest Redder, Jordan decides to do a little “hands-on” research of her own. To Jordan, he seems like the perfect man—but she knows there is no such thing. Moreover, there’s a big problem: Forest knows Jordan’s the woman behind the scandalous site—and Jordan knows he knows. Will he expose her secret—or find his own posted on Need to Know?
Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women.
Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon
www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo)
Dedication
For my beautiful, smart and fierce niece, Jennifer.
Welcome to the working world. This one’s for you!
Dear Reader,
I’m so excited to be a part of the new Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon! The collaboration of Mills & Boon and Cosmopolitan is the perfect place for my sexy couple, Jordan and Forest.
Starting a new job and new life is rough for all of us, but for Jordan, creating an anonymous website to help other women manoeuvre the rough Washington, D.C., dating game is her dream. But nothing prepares her for Forest. He’s the man who changes everything, and we’ve all met one of those. He’s a smart and successful businessman who wants to know her secrets. She has to outrun him, but truth is, she’d much rather he catch her.
Thank you for picking up Everything You Need to Know. I love Forest and Jordan, and hope you do, too! You can visit me at www.helenkaydimon.com (http://www.helenkaydimon.com) to learn a little more about them and get a peek at what (and who) inspired the book.
HelenKay Dimon
Everything You
Need to Know
HelenKay Dimon
Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women.
Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon
www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo)
Contents
Chapter One (#ud2c3f3b2-10ea-5c16-a1d3-8a404f6ab9e5)
Chapter Two (#u5455be1d-d9ff-57aa-8b88-842739b7a29b)
Chapter Three (#ua0d2de74-e06a-59d2-b301-284d33595b92)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Subject Report on Ryan Peterson: Spent entire date talking about Ryan—yes, he refers to himself in the third person. When he drove me home and I refused to sleep with him on the first date, he urinated on my front porch. Run from this blowhard. —Member 121
Need to Know admin staff: Confirmed blowhard.
JORDAN MCADAM LOOKED across the conference-room table at Ryan Peterson and fought the urge to roll her eyes. An “oh my God, shut up!” comment begged to escape her lips whenever he opened his mouth, which was every ten seconds.
The guy’s personality consisted of being pompous, loud and loaded. That last one appeared to be his only positive attribute. Not to Jordan. No, she’d dated enough powerful Washington, D.C., types to place the entire metro area in dating lockdown. She’d limit her choices to a pool of males from at least two states away from now on.
Day Four in Ryan’s presence. She’d confirmed the major complaints about him by the end of the first afternoon, but had yet to find one redeeming quality to include in the follow-up report for her website. When she’d started Need to Know, she’d known the dating world could be physically and emotionally dangerous for women. She never dreamed it resembled an apocalyptic wasteland populated with guys in business suits who possessed zero social skills when it came to handling strong women.
After reading the comments website members had posted about their dates, Jordan no longer worried about her relatively solitary existence. If her choices came down to Ryan, or that guy Ted who one member said spent most dates sending hate texts to his ex, or if she had to pick any of Ryan’s or Ted’s businessmen friends, she’d continue to limit her bedroom activities to Mr. Fancy, her bright purple vibrator.
Ryan leaned back in his chair and tapped his gold pen against the lined legal pad in front of him. When he exhaled, his stomach relaxed, pushing over the top of his black belt, which was never a good look on a man, money or not, and certainly not on a thirtysomething. “The meeting this afternoon is important.”
As if she cared. She’d taken the temp job to double-check the website reports on Ryan, since they seemed so out there for a grown man. “Yes, sir.”
“I need to make a good impression.” He made the comment while he coughed without covering his mouth. “Nothing can go wrong.”
As far as she could tell, the only chance for success hinged on Ryan skipping it. “I understand.”
The rumors racing through the employee cubicles over the past few days hinted at management problems. Something about a silent partner wanting out and money being tight, despite Ryan’s bright red might-as-well-advertise-you-have-a-small-penis convertible parked in the coveted space right by the elevator in the downstairs garage. Then there was the expensive office suite on K Street, D.C’s power-broker row.
Ryan sure did like to play the game.
He spun his chair around and stared out the eleventh-floor window to the busy street below. “You’ll need to stay late this evening. Ryan needs this deal done.”
There was the third-person thing again. In her view, Ryan needed medication. And a reality check...and maybe a few hours with a financial planner before he dragged his daddy’s once-successful construction firm into bankruptcy. “Of course, sir.”
Ryan grinned at her over his shoulder. “Maybe you can find us some dinner.”
Right, because that was within her job description as a temporary office assistant. No wonder his regular administrative assistant quit two weeks ago. From what Jordan could ferret out during coffee in the office kitchenette, the woman, Victoria something, ran from the building after being asked to send yet another morning-after “we’re over” email to a woman Ryan managed to date more than one time.
The guy was a raging dick, but Jordan had to deal with him only through the end of the day. He’d asked her to remain on next week. She’d lied and said she had another temp job lined up.
“I can order something for you to eat.” As in, for him only, or him and the two businessmen who were due any minute. She’d rather choke up stomach lining than sit across a table and listen to Ryan talk about Ryan. Because, really, how sad was that little act?
The low rumble of voices in the small reception area outside the conference room and near her desk grabbed her attention. Anything not to look at Ryan another minute.
She moved closer to the doorway and glanced out. There, by the love seat and looming over the bad-bachelor glass coffee table and the stack of six-month-old magazines, were two men in matching dark suits. The black-haired, broad-shouldered one with his back to her suddenly turned around and met her stare for stare.
She didn’t need a member’s report from the Need to Know website or a business degree to identify him. Forest Redder, millionaire businessman and commercial real-estate powerhouse...whatever that was...and an integral part of every business and political power circle in town. Objectively good looking, all six-foot-whatever of him but—thanks to the rich-boy affect—not her thing.
The blond with him, Wendell Strong—Wen to everyone who knew him—had a could-sell-yachts-to-the-poor smile. That was even less her thing.
After seeing the names on Ryan’s schedule that morning she’d done some investigating on both men. Their friendship stretched back through private schools and country clubs and wherever else rich people congregated. Neither man’s name had made it onto her website yet, but being two of the city’s most eligible bachelors in their thirties, reports and requests for information from the Need to Know community were inevitable.
Her goal for one year in business was a thousand active members paying monthly dues and, in return, getting the dating information they needed. She had eight months to go and with or without those two on the website, she was almost halfway to her membership goal.
She stepped into the reception area and closed the conference-room door behind her. “Gentlemen, may I help you?”
“We’re here for a meeting with Ryan Peterson.” Forest didn’t break into a smile or even move. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Something about the commanding tone and presence made her feel as put together as an unmade bed. She tugged down on her pencil skirt, then stopped, because letting this guy throw her off stride was just not going to happen.
“Mr. Peterson needs a few more minutes.” She had no idea if that was true, but she doubted this Forest guy had to wait for much, so she thought experiencing a little delay would be good for him.
“Are you his assistant?” His gaze dipped down and traveled over her for the briefest flash.
The last time she fell for a look like that, she ended up dating a guy who was about to get married. Not to her—not that she knew that going in. Funny how he’d forgotten to mention the fiancée and expensive wedding, complete with pre-nup and newspaper notice. Thank goodness her friend and web assistant, Elle Parker, saw that little gem or Jordan might still be the unwitting other woman to an idiot who deserved a nasty case of bedbugs.
“I’m just the temp.” She stepped farther into the reception area. Next came the awkward gesture in the general direction of the floor lamp. “Have a seat.”
“We’ll stand.”
Of course they would. Heaven forbid this Forest guy do anything to stop the circus show dancing around in her stomach. “You’re early.”
Forest glanced at his watch. His eyebrow lifted a second later.
Yeah, that wasn’t annoying or anything. “Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me a second...”
Before he said anything else, she bolted back into the conference room. Ryan sat in his big black leather chair, spinning the seat back and forth like a spoiled child. No wonder the business his family had built for decades had been flushed into a downturn only two years after Ryan took over the reins.
“Your appointment is here.”
He waved a hand at her. “Send them in.”
She turned around when he started the tie straightening and hair combing with his fingers. Pulling the door open again, she peeked into the reception area and saw Wen and Forest. They hadn’t moved at all. No talking. No shifting. They just stood there staring at her. Wen also smiled, but Forest skipped over that part.
“Mr. Peterson can see you now.” She stepped back and gestured for them to step inside the conference room.
Wen gave her a nod as he passed. He really did have the six-foot all-American-boy thing down. She could imagine him in khakis on a polo field as his two perfect blond-haired children ran by.
Then Forest slipped past her. His shoulder brushed against hers and the fresh scent of soap fell over her senses. He had the cleaned-up-businessman look, but underneath she sensed something rougher. Something not so proper.
Now that was her thing and the surprise kick of interest did not make her happy at all.
“Excuse me.” His bright-eyed gaze drilled into her as he walked by.
At five-eight, she was hardly ever in a situation where men towered over her, but he did. All firm and lean and...
“Ms. McAdam?”
Something about Ryan’s smarmy tone and stupid smirk sucked all the sexuality right out of her. She could feel her body dry up with every syllable he uttered.
She plastered a smile on her face and swallowed back the icky taste that filled her mouth whenever she glanced in Ryan’s general direction. “Yes, sir?”
“Join us and take notes.”
Wen waved her off. “I’m not sure that’s necessary.”
Jordan took that to mean this meeting was not exactly going to go as Ryan hoped. That almost made her want to stick around. “I can wait outside, and if you need me—”
“I want her to stay,” Ryan said, as he looked at the other gentlemen. “I’m sure neither one of you will have a problem with that.”
Never mind that she did.
“Fine.” Forest delivered his command and sat in the seat directly across from Ryan. “For now.”
Looked as if she could add bossy and demanding to the list of characteristics she silently compiled about this Forest guy. Usually the gruff, commanding type turned her off, but there was something about him. Something half annoying and potentially half interesting. She didn’t intend to investigate either half any further.
Ryan nodded to the chair to his right and she dropped onto it. His smile stayed in place as he slid a pad of paper over to her. She started taking notes, even wrote out a nice header and remembered the date. Then she had to fight off the urge to doodle.
“We have a problem,” Forest said as Wen joined him on that side of the table.
Ryan nodded as he leaned back in his chair, trying to give off a sense of security and failing badly when the sweat collected on his forehead. “I understood you had all the information you needed to move forward with our partnership on the new waterfront deal.”
Jordan’s head popped up. She listened, because information was her real business. She didn’t care about dictating or notes or commercial real estate, but anything that brought money into D.C. connected to power and politics. If new players moved in, she needed to know them and be prepared to see their names appear on her website.
After Forest nodded, Wen started talking. “We thought we owed you an in-person meeting, mostly because of our historic relationship with your father and this firm.”
“A very positive relationship.” Ryan sat up again. “One I intend to continue.”
Forest cleared his throat and all movement in the room stopped. The clock ticked on the wall behind Jordan, but she didn’t dare turn around and glance at it. Not when every inch of Forest, from his straight back to the slow way he moved his fingertips across the tabletop, commanded attention.
“And therein lies the problem,” he said.
Therein? Jordan knew that wasn’t a good sign. Whenever the “’twas” and “furthermore” comments came out, all hell was about to break loose.
Ryan must have figured that out, as well, because the skin around his mouth tightened and the sweat raced out of him now. “What do you mean?”
“You are not your father.” Forest put a beat of air between each word.
And that certainly stopped the collective breath of the room. Her pen dropped against the pad with a soft thud. The tick in Forest’s jaw mesmerized her. So did his long, lean fingers and the way he braced them on the table in front of him.
Wen took a white envelope out of his inside jacket pocket and slid it across the table to Ryan. “The financial audit raised some concerns.”
Ryan glanced at it, then at her, then back to Forest. “Clearly, we’ve all experienced some negative cash-flow problems over the last few years in this financial market.”
Forest didn’t even blink. “I haven’t.”
As far as comebacks went, Jordan thought that was a pretty good one. As someone who got laid off from her job when the financial world went wacky and the large law firm she worked for—the same one that everyone said could never go under—broke apart then shut its doors, she had some empathy for job loss and rough times.
But she’d picked herself back up again. Worked exactly three days at a department-store fragrance counter until she accidentally sprayed a wealthy regular customer in the face with some rancid-smelling perfume. Yeah, it had nothing to do with the lady directing Jordan to clean up after her little yapping dog who’d pooped in front of the luxury-night-cream display.
But now Jordan had Need to Know. She’d come up with the idea and made it happen. As fast as she’d predicted, it was making money and she was determined to keep it that way.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Ryan swallowed hard enough to make his throat bobble. “I thought we had a deal.”
“We said we might be able to make a deal work and enter into a contract, pending an audit and other reviews of your management style and compatibility with our structure.”
Jordan was pretty impressed with Forest’s statement. He’d managed to use all those words and barely say anything. The man could be a lawyer. Then she remembered that was one of his degrees. Score one for overeducated people everywhere.
Forest pushed up to his feet and Wen joined him. “I don’t see a partnership happening.”
“Wait... I...” Ryan’s sputtering continued for a good thirty seconds. “What other reviews about me?”
Oh, Jordan could think of some. No fewer than four women had filed reports on Ryan and not one of them had a decent thing to say about the spoiled-kid-turned-businessman. Thanks to his father’s heart attack, he sat in the Big Boy office chair, but it was clear the company’s management staff was pressuring the family to put someone else in charge, which was why Ryan needed this deal. Which also explained why his face had turned an odd shade of purple.
Instead of answering, Forest turned to her. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to leave us.”
Fine with her. She had a date with a glass of wine and a pair of pink fluffy slippers. Her plan was to grab the few things off her desk and keep walking until she hit the metro. “Of course.”
Ryan stood with a jerk, and his chair crashed to the floor. “She doesn’t work for you.”
She actually didn’t work for anyone but herself, and that’s just the way she liked it. No strings. No crappy boss.
Forest slowly turned to face Ryan. “I doubt you want a temp hearing the rest of this conversation.”
With that, the air visibly rushed out of Ryan’s chest and he leaned hard into the table. “Right.”
That was her cue to take off and she was grateful. Without another word, she headed for the door. She hesitated when her fingers touched the knob. A quick glance over her shoulder clued her into the reason for the tickling sensation at the back of her neck. Wen and Ryan talked in hushed tones with bowed heads. But not Forest. Nope, he stared right at her. Green eyes, dark look and concentrated focus.
Her hand shook as she fumbled with the door. There were few certainties in life, but she knew without any doubt that Forest Redder could mess up her plans. She ran out before that could happen.
Chapter Two
Subject Report on Cam Matthews: When check came, he said dinner was on me. Then he said, “that’s real equality for you.” —Member 14
Need to Know admin staff: Confirmed payment.
FOREST CLAMPED HIS back teeth together to keep from shouting. He still thought about making a lunge for the keys jangling in Wen’s hand. After the messed-up excuse for a meeting with Ryan that lasted forty-five minutes longer than planned, Forest’s patience had expired.
He’d voted for delivering the bad news via conference call. Wen was the one who’d insisted they visit Ryan in person. As far as Forest was concerned, that meant Wen was solely to blame for the wasted work time and having to listen to a grown man swear, grovel and cry. The last part made Forest’s head pound. It also got him up and out of the conference-room chair in about two seconds. He didn’t need to be a part of that sort of nonsense.
He and Wen made it off the elevator and halfway to the guest spot in the underground parking garage before Wen started talking again. “That went well.”
Leave it to Wen to try to find the positive in a heaping pile of negative. “Not for Peterson.”
“I meant for us.”
“Then, yes.” But Forest wasn’t convinced that was true, either. Now they had to double back and restart the process with a new construction team. He wanted the project moving. The preparation meetings were pissing him off.
Their shoes clicked against the pavement as they snaked through the lines of parked cars. The steady beat echoed around them. Forest tried to concentrate on the hammering, but the face of Ryan’s temp kept edging into his mind. He’d caught only her last name—McAdam.
Not that he cared.
Sure, the long wavy brunette hair was hot. The slim skirt and pink shirt that skimmed her body all worked for him. And the face, round and pretty with big brown eyes... Okay, maybe he cared a little, but no way was he making a play for her.
He’d have to know her name. He could find it out easily enough. A few well-placed questions and a call or two to temp agencies would do it. But he vowed to let it go. Last thing he needed was a fling with a woman who made a living working in offices where he might have business meetings. That promised a bunch of awkward post-sex conversations.
No thanks. He’d settle for some heavy-duty sex fantasies about those spiky high heels and what she hid under that black skirt instead, then move on.
Wen stopped at the driver’s side of his sleek two-seater. “Word is, without our business, Ryan could be out of his own firm.”
A topic that didn’t involve Ms. McAdam’s long legs or high, round breasts. Yeah, Forest could handle this. “Last I checked we weren’t a charity.”
“He might have bigger troubles anyway.” Wen clicked a button and the locks chirped.
“Such as?” Forest got in, checking his cell and barely listening as he mentally planned the rest of his day. A quick dinner, then back to the office to plow through the stack of paperwork on the corner of his desk.
“Need to Know.”
It took a second for Forest to realize his second in command had gotten into the car and stopped talking. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the engine. He just sat with one hand balanced on the wheel and stared.
Forest stared back. “Excuse me?”
“Need to Know.”
Forest wondered exactly how many minutes of conversation he missed while unlocking his cell. “Repetition isn’t helping.”
“The website.”
The last threads holding Forest’s patience ripped apart. He turned in his seat and sent Wen a get-to-it-now scowl. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you hear the guys at the club talking?”
His least-favorite place. Forest didn’t fit in with the “in” crowd and he was more than fine with that. “I go there for business lunches because I have to. The rest is pure bullshit and not how I ever want to spend a day.”
Wen smiled as he put the key in the ignition and the sports car roared to life. “Because you suck at golf.”
Something else that didn’t bother Forest. “I wear that as a badge of honor.”
“Anyway, it’s a website.” Wen put the car in gear and eased out of the spot.
At this point in the post-meeting process Forest usually dove into his work emails or his schedule. Small talk during car rides was one of the many things he had no interest in. Just like golf and charity events and Monday holidays.
But Wen acted like whatever he was saying mattered, so Forest didn’t turn off his attention just yet. “What is?”
“Need to Know. Stop frowning at me and take a look.” Wen slipped his cell out of his suit pocket, hit a button and handed it over.
“You’re showing me a member-login screen.”
“For an anonymous site where women post information on their dates with D.C.’s business and political elite.”
Now, that sounded a bit more interesting than anything Forest had heard today. He rested his cell on his thigh and reached for Wen’s. Forest tried the site’s home link and contact screen. It all struck him as some big puzzle that led nowhere. “You can’t access it without signing in.”
“But word is getting around. Some of our business associates are being named on it, and not in flattering ways.”
“It sounds like tattling, more in line with something a preteen girl would do than an adult woman.” Forest glanced up and realized the car hadn’t moved. They sat idling in the middle of a lane, a good thirty feet from the security gate at the parking exit. “Drive.”
“You’re not getting this.”
Not for lack of trying. He used his own phone to search for information about the site while he poked around, but after a quick check he couldn’t track it back to a name. “Enlighten me.”
“The women have to be approved for membership. They’re vetted and then once online they post about their dates, rate the sex, even comment on a guy’s body and breath. They talk about whether a guy is financially viable or known for cheating.” Wen lifted his hands off the wheel and smacked them down again. “I’m telling you, nothing is sacred.”
Forest tried to imagine the whining the men at the clubs must be engaged in over this. Now, that made him smile. “Cheating isn’t sacred. Any man who is stupid enough to do it should get caught, but I get your point about the rest. Question is why anyone is paying any attention to some random site.”
“Because women can’t be too careful.”
Forest shot his friend a sideways glance. “Come again?”
“It’s the site’s motto or tagline or whatever you call it.” Wen drove up the ramp and handed the ticket to the attendant in the booth. “You know what I mean.”
Forest bookmarked the site on his cell and handed the other phone back. He vowed to investigate the site further. Kick back at his desk at home and pry into Need to Know’s inner workings. Just for a bit of fun and distraction. There was something about taking the pieces apart, examining them and putting them all back together again that intrigued him.
Talking about it didn’t. “I’m ready to end this conversation and get out of here.”
“Sure, because you’re not on the website.”
Forest shook his head. Clearly he was alone in wanting to end the discussion. Still... “How can you know who’s on it and who isn’t if you can’t get access to it?”
“I asked Bernadette.”
“Jay’s secretary?” The thought of his chief financial officer’s assistant spending hours of valuable work time talking about a guy’s size and bank account sent the temperature in Forest’s head spiking.
“I overheard from my assistant that Bernadette is a member of the website and appears to be sworn to secrecy, but she confirmed that neither of us is on there.” Wen snorted as he drove over a bump and out into the bright sunshine. Light pounded on the front window and the summer heat filled the car. “Some of our associates aren’t so lucky.”
Forest ignored the steady stream of cars on the street in front of them and the honking of horns as some moron tried to make an illegal left in the middle of rush hour. “I think you need more work to occupy your time. I’ll get on that tonight.”
“It doesn’t bother you? The site I mean.” Wen glanced over at Forest, then away again. “And I’ve got enough work. But thanks.”
Everything about the day bothered him. Ryan’s idiocy. The way Ms. McAdam’s hips swayed when she walked, and the fact he kept noticing. “No.”
“What if one of your dates posts something negative on there? Do you understand what that could do to your social life?”
That was just about the last thing on Forest’s mind. “I’m fine.”
“I know you well enough to know you’d tear the city apart if your name goes up on the site.”
“You assume the information would be negative.”
Wen barked out a laugh as he turned right and moved into the flow of traffic. “Two hundred bucks says it is.”
Pissing away money didn’t make sense to Forest, but this was a bet he could win. “Five hundred says it’s not.”
“Of course, you may get to hold on to your money anyway even if I am right, since we won’t be able to verify what’s on the site to know who wins.”
“I’ll handle that.”
Wen’s attention left the traffic for a second only. “You think you can get in?”
Forest found his first smile of the afternoon. “I know I can.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Jordan stood at the breakfast bar separating her kitchen from the small family room of her condo. She kicked off her high heels and nearly groaned in relief when her bare feet hit the cool tile floor. Working from her couch in her yoga pants qualified as the best part of being self-employed. She cursed every minute she had to slip on a suit and three-inch pumps and head outside.
But she was home now, having dragged her body through waves of humidity on the four-block walk from the metro to the condo. She glanced through the window at the far end of the open room and spied the top of a building on the George Washington University campus two blocks over. She loved living downtown and ten floors up. The lights and the steady hum of life below worked for her.
When the sun finally went down and the traffic below slowed, she’d throw open her balcony door and plop down on the chair she set up out there. The space spanned only a few feet, but was wide enough for her to lounge with her feet balanced on the metal railing as the D.C. summer heat enveloped her.
A face appeared in front of her. Blond-haired and entirely too cute to be believed with those big blue eyes. Elle stood there, dressed in comfortable shorts and a sweatshirt, thanks to having the air conditioner cranked up on this hot early-September evening.
She reached across the counter and grabbed a wineglass and a bottle before taking off for the couch. “How was your day with the urinator?”
Jordan followed with a glass of her own, because this definitely was a red-wine night and no way was she letting that bottle out of her sight. She also brought the cell phone, because heaven forbid she be without it or not check the site’s stats for more than ten seconds at a time.
“Ryan refrained from peeing on my desk before I cleaned out and left, so I guess that was a triumph.”
With an expertise that was impressive for a twenty-two-year-old English-literature grad student, Elle had the bottle open and the wine poured in one grand sweep. “Are you done at that office?”
“Definitely.” Jordan cradled the glass in her hands and let the rich scent of red wine wind through her and relax each muscle. She sank back into the overstuffed chair and balanced her aching feet on the oversize ottoman that sucked up too much of her eight-hundred-square-foot condo but was too comfortable to give away.
“Did he play a game of chase you around the desk?”
The very idea of that made Jordan’s lunch curdle in her stomach. “He was too busy getting his butt handed to him.”
The glass stopped halfway to Elle’s mouth. “Is that code for something?”
“Forest Redder.”
Those blue eyes went all soft as her look turned gooey. “I’ve seen pictures of him in the paper. That guy is delicious.”
Jordan was withholding judgment and ignoring the fact she’d performed a lengthy internet search on him on her phone on the commute home. “You should meet the live version. Very potent.”
“Holy shit.” Elle’s voice took on a breathy quality. “You saw him in person?”
“Saw, talked to.” Jordan dropped her cell on her lap and tipped her head back. Closing her eyes felt good until Forest’s face swam in front of her and she had to open them again. Last thing she needed was a movie of that guy, X-rated or otherwise, running in her head. “Anything on him in the database?”
“You know there’s not. You have every last scrap collated, double-checked and memorized.”
And that’s what bugged her. There should be reams of reports on Forest. “There’s no way he sleeps alone.”
“If not, no one is talking.”
Jordan sat up a bit straighter and shifted to face Elle. “How is that possible? I know about the guy a building over who likes to wear Spanx under his suit so his stomach looks smaller, so—”
“How exactly?”
“—how can I not know about one of the most visible bachelors in the city?”
Elle swished the liquid around in her glass and shot her wine a naughty little smile. It took a minute for her to run through her entire he’s-hot facial expressions, but she finally got around to her point. “There are rumors.”
Wait a second.
Everything inside Jordan stopped. She doubted she had measurable blood flow at the moment. “No way is that guy gay. I’d bet most women hand him their panties when they first meet.”
Not that the comment applied to Jordan.
Elle was a neighbor and best friend, despite the four-year age difference. She was also the only person on the planet who knew what happened behind the scenes at Need to Know and about Jordan’s ownership of it. Elle reviewed everything that came in on the site and took care of coding and proofreading. She also did some background checks.
Right now she looked two seconds away from launching into a serious cross-examination. Elle may have dropped out of law school in favor of something she termed “more Arts and Science-y,” but those killer questioning instincts appeared to be alive and well.
She curled her legs up under her and leaned on the couch’s armrest. “I think I’m unclear on what kind of meeting this was with Forest. Explain.”
“The kind where Ryan tried to negotiate, but got outmaneuvered by Forest. The guy barely spoke and still led the discussion and demanded attention.” But Jordan knew that part. It was the private intel on Forest she wanted. “Now back to the rumors.”
“Confidentiality agreement.”
Jordan downed a healthy portion of the wine with a hard swallow. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you trying to wow me with your legal knowledge?”
“The rumor is he has his dates, the ones that stick around for anything longer than a few nights, sign a confidentiality agreement.”
“I... Wait...” Jordan wondered if maybe she drank too fast. “What?”
Her gaze searched Elle’s face for any sign of amusement, but all Jordan got was a raised eyebrow. When the discussion was just between the two of them, Elle tended to spit out any information she had as fast as she could. She loved the gossip-oriented part of the site. Thrived on it. And Elle had never gotten her facts wrong. Jordan depended on that.
Still, this sounded insane. “Oh, come on. An agreement?”
Elle reached for the bottle and refilled Jordan’s glass. “I’m just repeating what I’ve heard.”
“That’s a level of control bordering on crazy. Like, I want to call him a therapist right now.” Well, maybe take a second to strip him out of that suit jacket first, just to see what he hid under there, but then straight to a therapist. Jordan was comfortable with that order. She wasn’t as happy about how every crumb she collected about Forest intrigued her more, even this bit of weirdness.
Elle shrugged. “The rich do strange things.”
“Testify, but what woman would sign an agreement for a dinner date? Is he that special?”
Elle smiled behind her glass as she rubbed the rim over her lips. “Well, are you still wearing your panties or not?”
Jordan intended to keep them in place whenever Forest was around, but... “Good point.”
“Word is he’s dark and mysterious. Maybe a woman is willing to do some out-there things to climb between the sheets with him.”
Jordan decided her dear friend had a point. “But hire a lawyer to review a legal document?”
“I guess he likes full command over mattress time.”
Forest. Bed. Naked. Shoulders.
Interesting. “Now you’re just trying to make my head to explode.”
Elle held up her free hand. “Hey, just passing it on. I heard he likes to be in charge in the bedroom.”
“From?”
Elle’s glanced drifted toward the television. The same one that was turned off and had been ever since Jordan got home. “Just here and there.”
Ignoring her vow to forget about Forest almost as soon as she made it, Jordan set her glass down in the coffee table with a clink. “Let me get this straight. We run an anonymous website with hundreds of members, and our sole job is to collect and verify information on the eligible and not-so-eligible but possibly cheating males in the city, and somehow you have information on Forest Redder but no verification to put it on the site.”
“What do you want me to do? No one is willing to write a status report or file a request for information on him.”
And that was the key. “Yet. But they will. We’ll get him.”
Jordan regretted the phrase as soon as she said it. Probably had something to do with the way the light in Elle’s eyes flared. Or the knowing smirk.
“Are you saying you want more information, maybe for a personal connection?” Suddenly Elle seemed to have no trouble giving her boss-slash-friend full-on eye contact.
“He’s not my type.” Not totally true, but Jordan hoped it would fly.
“Hot and sexy with bedroom skills to make a grown woman moan and beg for more is not your type?”
So, no flying. “I started the site because I wasn’t exactly finding that type of guy.”
“Burke Landow is an ass.”
Her most recent ex. Now, there was a subject guaranteed to suck the sexiness out of any conversation. It also had Jordan reaching for her glass again. “Oh, hell yeah. Agreed.”
“Most men don’t lie about being engaged. He’s not the only type of guy out there.”
Jordan shot Elle her best are-you-kidding-me frown. “I’m wondering if you’ve read over the Need to Know site lately.”
“It’s one of my favorite ways to spend an evening.”
“What about that professor? He had solid reports on the site for charm, but no word on sex. Can you fill in the blanks?” The lack of information on something so vital, the fact no member had made it past a few dinners with the guy, raised Jordan’s antenna. But Elle thought he was cute...never mind that’s how the truly weird ones lured you in.
“Yeah, there was nothing on sex.”
“You made it to date three, right? I would think that means you have better things to do at night than read.” When Elle had gone out on the first date, Jordan had felt a tiny kick of jealousy. She wanted to be attracted to the scholarly buttoned-up type, but she had the misfortune of loving a bad-boy streak.
Now, combine buttoned-up and naughty, and her control went on the fritz. She didn’t know how any sane woman walked by that type without giving a second look.
Of course, the seeds for her feelings on men were not a secret. She hadn’t spent time in therapy, but she knew. Not that she couldn’t use an expert now and then, but she feared after a few hours of talking about her upbringing she’d need a lifetime pass.
Her mother liked men. Liked men the way little kids liked cookies. To say mom overindulged would be an understatement. The way Jordan figured it, her front seat to her mom’s dating life should have made her prim or promiscuous. It was a miracle she didn’t head for either extreme.
“There will not be a fourth date with the professor.” Elle kept her head down and her focus on the stem of her wineglass.
No eye contact, cryptic—not good signs, so Jordan poked around a little. “Why?”
Elle smacked her lips together and made a strange sucking sound. “Shaved.”
Between the noise and the word Jordan decided she missed a sentence. Maybe more than one. “Excuse me?”
“He doesn’t have any body hair.”
“You’re saying—”
“None. I thought he didn’t have hair on his legs because he was a runner, like it was some athlete thing. But, nowhere.”
The visual image that flashed through Jordan made her a little dizzy in a forget-about-eating kind of way. Also made her wish for a temporary case of blindness. “Wait, you mean, not anywhere on his body? Like, really none.”
“Yep.”
And—boom—there was the weirdness thing.
But for some reason Jordan couldn’t let it go. “Legs, arms and—”
“Nothing around his dick, either.” Elle started nodding and didn’t stop. “He shaved or waxed his private parts. Head-to-toe smooth like a baby. Try to imagine that.”
Jordan doubted she’d be able to stop thinking about it. “So, he basically looked like a Ken doll?”
“With a tiny dick. Exactly.”
Figures. “How tiny?”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
Jordan understood that. She had a line of forgettable dates behind her, but at least they all had the normal amount of body hair. She never dreamed she’d have to worry about that. Now she would. “Well, congratulations. He tops the guy I dated who stole my underwear.”
“Since that guy took your bikini bottoms only and a pair at a time, then stored them in a baggie in his freezer, no you still win the Creepy Dude prize.”
Jordan had blocked the freezer part. Huh, it all came rushing back now. “He was one giant nut bag.”
“One of many.”
“You do realize the last three guys I dated can be described as the guy-who-only-talked-about-his-dog, the guy-who-stole-my-underwear and the guy-who-lied-about-being-single.” And how depressing was that list of potential mates? “Maybe I should spend a little more time reading the site before I say yes to a date.”
“Or maybe a few nights with someone like Forest ‘Hot Between The Sheets’ Redder is the answer to your troubles.”
No way was Jordan diving into that conversation. She decided to start a new one and hope Elle somehow uncharacteristically came along. “So, did you get all the new status-report information entered?”
“Are we done with this topic?”
“I’m not sure how we even started it.”
Elle nodded in the direction of Jordan’s lap. “Did your mom text today?”
Jordan scooped up her cell and entered the unlock code. The thing had buzzed three times during the commute home. Jordan tensed as she read the most recent text. The stiffness eased out of her shoulders when she realized this one was G-rated. “She’s going dancing and will text tomorrow with a report.”
“Lucky you.”
Not that Jordan had a choice but to hear the after-date tale. Her mom texted every day and overshared. This week the topic was a guy named Lin. He’d taken her to the Bahamas to relax, though why her mom needed rest was a mystery. She didn’t work, unless you counted hunting down new men to marry as a job, which her mom did.
Elle gripped the armrest now. “Back up a second.”
“I don’t want to think about the Ken doll, or my mom, or my mom with a Ken doll.” The last one made Jordan want to discontinue her phone service.
“Forest. You’re saying you’re never going to see him again?”
“Not unless I get a temp job in his office or otherwise need to confirm a report, which sounds like—with all his rules—can only happen with the approval of the Supreme Court.”
“Think of working with him as an opportunity for desk sex.” Elle smiled as she said it.
Jordan knew she’d have that on her brain all night now. “Back to work.”
“Did you bring me dinner?”
Finally, a safe topic. No men, no mom, no underwear and no hair. “Already ordered. After all, we’re celebrating.”
“What?”
That one was easy. “Me never having to work for, let alone think about, Ryan Peterson again.”
Chapter Three
Subject Request for Nick Asher: Rumor is he likes to get drunk and pick up bridesmaids, even if he’s not invited to a wedding. Anyone have any information? —Member 339
Need to Know admin staff: Pending.
EARLY SATURDAY EVENING Jordan stood at the open bar and drank a silent toast to the bride, the newly minted Elizabeth Savory-West. Jordan could almost picture the personalized stationery. It would probably be in the same bright pink as the bridesmaids’ dresses.
Jordan had a harder time figuring out the bride, since Jordan had never actually met her. She stood now and watched Elizabeth swish around in her fluffy white dress, surrounded by tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of pink and white roses and her thirteen bridesmaids. Because that was a rational number. Jordan could barely come up with thirteen people she’d want at her wedding, never mind acting as bridesmaids.
She scanned the Highwater Observatory, the fancy room housing the reception. It was one of three ballrooms at the tony hotel on the edge of Georgetown. Jordan had to fight the urge to grab her phone and figure out how much the room rental cost. Something with skylights and “observatory” in its name couldn’t be cheap. Add in the paneled mahogany ceiling, glitzy chandeliers and rich golden fabrics and you had a very expensive few hours of dancing and cake.
She didn’t know one person in the room. That’s what happened when you crashed a wedding to scope out a groomsman. Word was Nick Asher enjoyed sleeping with bridesmaids—any bridesmaid—and sometimes skulked around weddings looking for sex partners. Sex, as in having it, then sneaking out before the hotel-room bill was paid.
He was a real classy guy, this Nick. Just went to show money couldn’t buy manners.
Right now she watched him move, circling a petite brunette and following her as she walked out the towering doors to the terrace. Jordan guessed it was time she got some fresh air, as well. She pivoted around one of the fancy columns at one end of the room and came eye-to-mouth with a guy.
At least it was a hot mouth, and the rest of the face...well, damn.
“How do you know Bitsy?” Forest stood there, dressed like James Bond, all sleek in a tux that fit him as if some dude stripped Forest naked and measured him for it.
Jordan felt all the blood leave her head. It had to be a reaction to the impressive outfit. No way was she responding to him. “What?”
“Bitsy.”
Clearly the rushing sound in her ears drowned out part of the conversation. “Is that a person or a thing?”
“She’s the bride.”
Jordan decided this would teach her not to do more investigation on the bride and groom before crashing a wedding. She’d gotten a tip about Nick being a groomsman and showed up without any planning. It was a hotel, after all. Not exactly a security-protected event.
But none of that solved the six-foot-something problem in front of her. Damn, she couldn’t see anything past Forest’s broad shoulders. That couldn’t be normal.
She waved her hand and gave a chuckle. “Oh, sure. Bitsy.”
He shifted as he folded his arms over his chest. “No one calls her that.”
Shifty bastard. “Why did you?”
“To see if you knew her or were even invited to this event.”
“What makes you think I’m not supposed to be here?” Other than that being the truth, of course.
“You’re not talking to anyone.”
Jordan snorted before she could stop it. “So?”
He put his palm against the column behind her head and leaned in. “You were hiding behind the post and ducked when the bride walked by. You’re not giving anyone eye contact and I haven’t seen you talk or eat or even sit down, probably because you don’t have an assigned seat.”
“Yeah, that’s not creepy or anything.”
“What?”
“Your stalking problem.”
The corner of his mouth lifted but just as quickly flatlined again. “You’re not exactly engaged in normal wedding-guest behavior.”
“Clearly you don’t go to many weddings.” Jordan had been to seven for her mother alone, so she considered herself a bit of an expert. And, really, hiding was the only way to get through them.
He held out his hand. “Okay, let’s see your seat-placement card.”
He sounded ridiculous saying that, but she bit back a laugh, mostly because of the ball of anxiety racing up her throat to choke her. “Were you invited?”
A young girl barreled by them and knocked into Jordan. The girl was off with a muttered apology. Jordan’s balance took a bit longer to settle out.
With quick reflexes, Forest reached for her arm and pulled her closer to his side even as the fingers stayed wrapped around her elbow. “Elizabeth’s father works in my accounting department.”
“Well, of course he does.” All of these rich, powerful folks knew each other. It was some weird exclusive club where admittance required stacks of cash.
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