Before Martina had a chance to counter, Carrie interrupted. “I’m leaving you two to duke it out. Don’t get her too riled up, Ames. I don’t want her water breaking on the new carpet.” She chuckled and headed toward the door.
“Say hello to your sexy piece of man meat for me,” Amie yelled, turning her attention away from the daggers Martina shot her way. “Tell him we have a session this week and not to forget.”
“I won’t forget, but he might. He’s majorly stressing about the hand fasting ceremony. He keeps wanting to tie me up.”
Amie wiggled her eyebrows.
“Not that kind of tying.” Carrie giggled.
“Is he not prepared? Lord help me if he screws this up.” Martina’s hard-core expression turned to worry. As a holistic practitioner, Martina believed in the power of energy forces that flowed through the universe. Or as Aleks liked to call it–voodoo. Everything about her screamed ‘nontraditional’ and her marriage would follow in the same fashion. She had chosen a hand fasting ceremony to solidify her bond with Rob. And Aleks had gotten himself ordained over the internet in order to perform the ceremony.
“Marty.” Amie rested her hand on her shoulder. “Aleks is going to be fantastic. The best minister ever.” She hoped.
“He keeps asking to tie my hands together so he can practice the binding. Don’t worry. He’s taking this very seriously.” Carrie hooked her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door. “But he is starting to annoy me.”
Funny, Amie would give anything to be annoyed by the man she loved. “He’ll do fine. Tell him if he needs my help, all he has to do is ask.” Amie gave Martina a reassuring look.
“Will do.” Carrie sauntered out into the night, closing the door behind her. No doubt she would plop right into the arms of her gorgeous man, and they would fuck until the sun came up. Amie wasn’t jealous of the fucking, it was the fact of having someone around when the sun came up that made her heart ache. She was ecstatic for her two best friends Carrie and Martina.
“I’m going to keep bugging you.” Martina glared.
“I know you will.” Amie reached over and laid both hands on Martina’s belly. “Let me feel my niece.”
“We don’t know it’s a girl. And don’t change the subject.”
“I do.” Amie smoothed her hands over the cotton fabric of Martina’s maternity top. “It’s a girl for sure.”
“Why does this scare you so much?”
Amie let out a sigh. There were just some things she didn’t want to talk about and going into business for herself was one of those things. Amie was a worker bee–good to the customers, loyal, a model employee–but she was also flighty. A wild child to the core, she had no business being someone’s boss. At least that’s what she’d been told by her father. Her disinterest in the family business was all the evidence she needed that the time-consuming stress of running a business just wasn’t her cup of tea.
“I’m not the boss type, Martina. Please let it go.” It looked as though she took the hint.
“For now. I’ll let it go for now.”
Amie had always been the pusher in her circle of friends. She pushed Martina into pursuing a casual relationship with Rob. She pushed Aleks into Reiki, knowing that it would fix him. But now Martina was doing the pushing, wanting Amie to take a leap she wasn’t ready for, might never be ready for.
“You going to put some clothes on?” Martina asked, her warm smile beaming, lighting up the room.
“I’ll be right back.” Amie turned on her heel and headed to the dressing room.
She loved her friends and family, she loved her job, but deep down, Amie knew she was coasting. There was something missing, but she couldn’t pinpoint the problem. Jumping from man to man and yoga studio to yoga studio wasn’t giving her any clarity, but she hoped one day she would find what was missing and wouldn’t have to jump anymore.
“Do you need help getting off that bustier?” Martina called as Amie disappeared into the room.
Amie poked her head through the doorway. “It stays on. I need something to wear out tonight.”
Chapter 2
The smell of paint and industrial cleaner flooded Milton’s nostrils as he stepped off the elevator into the vestibule of the downtown high-rise office building. The office of Gibson-Walker Recruiting, the most prestigious recruitment firm in the city, was on the thirty-second floor.
Before Milton’s company could break ground and build their newest commercial retail center, a few things had to be put into place. Namely finding a reliable office manager to handle the day–to-day administrative duties. Unfortunately, his original candidate wasn’t too keen on relocating from Vancouver to Toronto, which meant scheduling a meeting with the president of Gibson-Walker to find a prime candidate. Milton always worked with the best. In this case, the best was his old friend, Aleks Turko.
Milton walked through the double glass doors into a bright, open concept space. Windows lined the entire back wall. In the middle, behind the reception desk, was a grouping of low cubicles flanked on either side by offices.
“Can I help you?” The receptionist, blond and perky, greeted him quickly.
“Hello.” He approached the high desk and laid both palms on the wood. “I have a meeting with Aleks Turko.”
“Are you Mr. Campbell?”
He nodded. She turned and called to a woman at one of the cubicles. A brunette emerged, tall and thin, but with enough curve to draw your eye. Easily a nine. If Milton was the type to rate women.
“Mr. Campbell.” She smiled wide, showing off a set of straight teeth. “Right this way.” She motioned for him to follow.
They walked past the cubicles to the corner of the room. Of course, Aleks would have a corner office.
The brunette motioned toward the door but didn’t enter. Milton poked his head inside and saw his friend hunched over his desk, pen in hand, reviewing documents. He hadn’t aged a day in the eight years since they’d last seen each other.
“What kind of idiot would put Aleks Turko in charge of a company?”
He looked up from the desk, a warm welcome spread across his face. “The same kind of idiot who’d put you in charge of a multi-million dollar development firm.”
“Touché.”
Aleks vaulted out of his chair and walked around the mahogany desk. They wore the same color suit–dark gray–but Aleks wore his with a casual confidence. Milton had always envied Aleks’s laid-back demeanor.
Aleks held out his hand and Milton grasped it firmly. After two seconds of contact, Aleks tugged him forward and enveloped him in a man hug, chests touching, pelvises pushed back.
“You could have visited,” Aleks said as he tapped Milton on the back.
Milton
