Broken Boundaries (The Debonair Series Book 1) Read online

  Dedication

  Heart and Dreams…Never be afraid to follow them both.

  For all the inspiration, support, and love…I thank you.

  Copyright © 2017 TC Matson

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permissions of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected].

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, whether living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

  Cover Design by: Sara Eirew

  Editing by: Amanda Brown

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright © 2017 TC Matson

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  More From TC Matson

  To My Readers

  About the Author

  Connect with TC Matson

  Easton

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “You and about four other women.” I dig my palms into my forehead, sick to death of hearing this lame shit. “Nice try, sweetheart, but I’ve heard this line too many times to count.”

  Hell, I can’t even recall who this chick is. The name doesn’t ring a bell, and if I really did sleep with her, well, she was a shit lay and not worth a second thought. Besides, I wrap up my junk with the protection I bring. I’m not sheathing my dick with anything someone could have tampered with. No damn way. I’ve heard way too many horror stories of women trapping men. I’m a smart asshole, not an idiot.

  Why the hell do women feel the need to trap a man with pregnancy anyway? That’s a desperate stoop for dire measures. How many “I’m pregnants” are indeed accompanied by a real pregnancy? Those words aren’t a magical spell that will have us changing our minds from a one-time fuck to a forever marriage. What kind of voodoo do you have to perform in six or seven months when you’re not sporting a baby bump? A conveniently planned miscarriage? That’s fucked up on so many different levels and a red flag to get the fuck away from the psycho. Trust me. Don’t fake it to keep it.

  “Need another try with something better?” I ask, but the line remains quiet.

  I hang up and immediately dial HR’s extension.

  “Yes, Mr. Langley?”

  “Tanya, please be my hero. When is my new secretary starting?”

  Her giggle is breathy but crisp and always pleasant. “She just finished signing all the non-disclosures, sir. She’ll be on her way shortly.”

  “Thank you.” I close my eyes, almost moaning in relief.

  Hanging up, I crash back into my chair and stare at the phone, daring the sonofabitch to ring again. It’s been a constant hum for three days.

  Three.

  Do you know what that does to me? Annoys the fuck out of me while halting all my business endeavors.

  My last secretary, Chrissy, dealt with all this with finesse. She was brilliant, never allowing these types of calls to knock her out of her cheery mood or make it to my ears. Chrissy could’ve recorded the responses to save time. They’re always the same damn line and never anything clever. But Chrissy was a sweet woman with a gentle heart. She always had to hear them out even though she knew they were spewing lies.

  She’s only been gone a week and I miss the hell out of her. I’d kiss her toes, buy her a new house, and pay her husband a pension just to have her move back. He took a promotion at his company across the damn country, and of course, his wife followed. Unfortunately, that was a week ahead of schedule, which is why I’m stuck manning my own damn phone.

  My cell vibrates and it grates my spine. I snatch it up.

  “I’m giving you a reminder of our business meeting this afternoon since your assistant smartened up and ran the hell out of there.” Zach laughs.

  “I know, you dull-witted ass,” I say with a chuckle.

  “I bet you make a pretty secretary.”

  “Tell me you’re not flirting with me,” I jest.

  He laughs off the joke. “Valorie took the liberty of ordering a lunch for us.”

  The elevator dings in the distance. “Good deal. I’ll see you then.”

  Shrugging back into my blazer, I adjust my collar and straighten my cuffs just before making my way to the door to greet my new assistant.

  Long, straight blonde hair descends between her shoulder blades and sways back and forth as she surveys her new office. My view trickles down her lithe hips and round ass to her bare calves and her black heels just seconds before her body shifts and she whips around toward me.

  Round, apprehensive hazel eyes land on me and the ground beneath me shudders when she smiles.

  Well, hell…

  Her skirt clings to her hips, stopping just above her knees. It shifts with her steps. Her blazer is buttoned on top a black and white floral blouse.

  “Mr. Langley?” she asks, her voice warm and dulcet. “I’m Zoey Campbell.” She sticks her hand out.

  I shake the clammy palm. “Nice to meet you,” I say, releasing her hand. “Did they fill you in on your duties?”

  Strictly business.

  She moves a strand of her silky hair behind her petite ear as she nods. Her eyes shine as they smile at me. “The gist of it, yes.” She bounces her head from side to side.

  Her perfume slaps me. She smells of fresh flowers—invigorating, sweet, and delectable. I fight off the urge to step closer and inhale deeper.

  I shift on my feet. “Follow me,” I say and lead the way to her new desk. “Chrissy, my last assistant, left everything the way she had it. She did things her own way, but you’ll be able to find everything you need here.”

  She sets her purse on the corner of the desk. “Thank you. Is there anything you need from me right now?”

  Her eyes—hazel, but rich with emerald green and honey—grab me. They’re captivating and guileless. The type you could stare into for days and never give a damn about the time missed around you.

  I grin, pulling myself out of the trance. “Familiarize yourself with everything and make yourself comfortable.” I nod and retreat, desperate to get away and take a breath of fresh air. Nothing with her fragrance.

  She’s beautiful—more than the girl next door, less than model material, but attractive nonetheless. Fuckable.

  “Phones,” I state, stopping short and pivoting back toward her. “I don’t make a good receptionist. Start answering them and you will be my life saver.”

  Her faint giggle is laced with hesitation. “It’s my job, sir. I’l
l take over now.”

  Hope she’s prepared to hear this. “I haven’t knocked anyone up. Those phone calls may be handled however you wish, but I don’t need the messages, nor do I need to talk to anyone claiming so. They’re all bogus.”

  Even when I lace it with a smile, surprise slacks her face.

  I smirk. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Learn your way through the bullshit calls,” I say and then disappear behind my door, pushing it shut.

  I suck in a deep breath. “Holy shit,” I say on the exhale.

  Stunning with a smooth oval face, high cheek bones, and a dainty little nose. Her body is banging. Those lips…that sexy as fuck mouth…This is going to be a challenge to keep it cordial.

  Everyone knows the rule. Never mix business with pleasure. Don’t ever bag a coworker, and for fuck’s sake, do not ever fuck your damn assistant.

  I follow that rule extensively. Never once have I screwed an employee. Not even sloshed at a Christmas party. Let’s hope my dick continues to follow that rule.

  But we all know the saying about rules…

  I’m hammering away on some plans and paperwork when I’m interrupted by a light knock on the door. I call out and Zoey enters.

  “Sir…” she trails off as the view behind me illuminates her face and her sultry lips part with awe.

  I spin my chair around and take a glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the staggering view of the Rockies. “It’s remarkable. Isn’t it?”

  “Astonishing,” she says on a sigh. “I’ve always wondered what it looked like up here. Top floor, you know? It’s more than I imagined. Simply breathtaking.”

  I turn back to her and shyly, she drops her view to the notepad in her hand. When she looks back up, she’s wearing a nervous smile.

  “This might not be the most professional way, but I’d like to get a head start on some of the smaller details if you have a moment,” she says.

  “I’ve got a few to spare,” I tell her.

  “Do you like coffee? If so, how do you prefer it? How often? And what are your afternoon drink preferences?”

  I rest back in my leather throne, amused at her level of enthusiasm. “I do. Black. Normally, two cups. Rough days call for the pot to be placed on my desk. Water, which I have in the dorm-fridge in the closet. I can handle getting them.”

  As I speak, she jots.

  “Any one or certain people in particular who get a straight line through to your phone?”

  I raise my brow, hiding the smile ticking on my lips. “Zachary from Calloway’s and Max from Lauder Winery.”

  I watch her throat work as she swallows, continuing to scribble furiously on the paper.

  “Miss Campbell, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I assure you it will all fall into place.”

  She snaps her head up, her eyes wide. “I know. I…” She straightens her shoulders and stands a little taller. “Although I’ve been with Langley Security as a receptionist for many years, you’re…well, you’re Mr. Langley. The owner. I take this job seriously and I’m not going to allow myself any errors, sir.”

  I can’t fight the smirk any longer. “Committed to being precise will leave you tripping over your toes if you don’t dip them in first.”

  Her enticing lips part, giving way to a remarkably beautiful smile. “You have a two o’clock meeting with Mr. Calloway.”

  “I’m aware.”

  She shifts. “Do I call you a taxi? Chauffeur? Valet?”

  Mirthfully, I laugh. “To Zach’s meetings, normally I drive. I’ll also walk to my car in the parking garage on my own two feet. Not sure you’d be able to lift almost two-hundred pounds and give me a piggy back ride.”

  Her cheeks rosy up and it’s the most alluring, cutest thing. “Yes, sir.”

  She begins to retreat, and I call out stopping her. “Miss Campbell?” When she flicks her gaze back to me, I continue. “Breathe. I have good and bad days just like anyone else. Although professional, I try to keep it light up here. I understand downstairs is more demanding, but you’re not there any longer. You’ll do fine.”

  Her shoulders relax. “Thank you, sir.”

  “One more thing,” I stop her again and hold up my empty coffee cup. “I need a refill.”

  I’m such a dick, but with an outstanding ass like hers—taut and round, complementing her hips—I need all the excuses to see her come and go again. Her saunter…

  I need to get my shit together.

  Zoey

  Just as I unlock my door and push into my apartment, my effervescent best friend, Britney, comes bounding out of hers. Each floor of our apartment complex is the same—two identical apartments just flip-flopped so the doors are at the opposite ends of the hall. Mine just happens to be the first on the way to the elevator.

  “How was your day with the big dog?” she asks, walking in right behind me.

  “It was great.” I pull the leftover Chinese from the fridge and toss it in the microwave. I skipped lunch today amid trying to learn the ropes. I’m starving.

  She rubs her hands together excitedly. “Sooo…tell me.”

  Her fiery red hair dances as she drops to the couch, eager to hear what I have to say.

  I grab a drink and my food before making my way into the adjoining living room and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “He wasn’t there for too long today, so I didn’t get too extensive with him. I do know he sounds like a take-no-shit type of guy. Anyone who drinks their coffee black must have a heart the same color.” I laugh. “He was quick, to the point and laid down the law.”

  She fakes a yawn, bouncing her hand over her mouth. “You’re boring me. Is his ass pretty?”

  I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Of course it’s the only thing she’s interested in. “He’s definitely more gorgeous in person than in the pictures. He has these eyes that…”

  She fakes another yawn.

  “Yes, Britney. His ass was pretty. Everything about him is gorgeous as hell.”

  Right down to the outrageously charming and mysterious smile he gave me when he left for the day. I’ve seen it in the tabloids, the irresistibly winning smile, but today, in person, I got to experience the power it truly holds. It shot a burst of lust to blaze into my bones and I did my best to shake it off, blaming it on my nerves. It had absolutely nothing to do with my lack of sex-life or him.

  Easton Langley has a reputation along with his two best friends. It’s not unknown they enjoy fun, parties, and women. It was a worry of mine when I applied for the position. I didn’t know if I could do it or not because I tend to get tongue-tied around sexy men, especially ones who exude confidence and look edible.

  Easton Langley was named one of the city’s most gorgeous and eligible bachelors, known for his charming ways, wining and dining any woman of his choice. And here I am, some rinky dink chick from Timbuktu, Nebraska, working for Mr. Sexy himself. Talk about an interesting job.

  “Eye candy to push you through the day,” Britney grins. “Don’t get a good night’s sleep? No problem. An eyeful of him will provide an ample amount of sexual desire to power through an entire week.” She laughs as she stands.

  “He makes me nervous,” I admit.

  She shrugs, both shoulders bouncing. “Consider yourself lucky because Mr. Hot Stuff is your boss.” She claps her hands and throws her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to get back home. I DVRed all the seasons of Grey’s Anatomy so I could binge watch it without the cliffies.” She winks and blows me a kiss, skipping out the door.

  I puff a breath and take another bite of my food. She’s always ebullient.

  Tuesday, Mr. Langley left at lunch time and has been gone for a few days. It’s been easygoing. The phones haven’t rung and it’s given me the chance to familiarize myself with his schedule and all his ways. His schedule is intense, brutal even. Meetings. They consume him the most. One right after the other, different states with different companies. I’d be entirely worn out. I have no idea how he does it.
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  But today he’s due back in and my relaxed days will transform into nervousness.

  The elevator announces his arrival, and when he steps out, my heart skips a beat and my breath gets caught in my throat. He’s in a charcoal gray suit with a white shirt and a black tie, looking all types of handsome. Even with an intense stoic expression, he’s still easy as hell on the eyes.

  His hard lines soften and he greets me with a panty-bursting smile. “Good morning, Miss Campbell.” His smooth baritone voice fills my ears and my stomach dips with a thrilling zing.

  “Good morning, sir,” I say as he passes my desk. “You have a lunch meeting today with Donnelly Developers. I heard South Street has construction, so you may want to leave earlier than usual.”

  His feet stop dead in their tracks and he rotates toward me, shaking his finger. His eyes are narrowed, his lips forming a straight line. “Now that I’m not used to.”

  The amount of annoyance shrouding his eyes and lacing his tone sends panic pouring into my veins. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be beneficial to know,” I scramble out.

  His large chest expands as he takes a deep breath, stretching his jacket tight. “Don’t brownnose, Miss Campbell. I despise it.”

  Chagrin warms my cheeks and I tighten my lips. “Would you like some coffee, sir?” I ask instead of firing off that I just wanted to help.

  “Please,” he replies apathetically and then disappears into his office.

  Well, someone didn’t get laid last night.

  After pouring him a fresh cup of coffee, I take it to him, quietly setting it on his desk as he talks on the phone. I start to leave, but he snaps his fingers catching my attention and then holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait.

  “Yeah,” he says to whomever is on the phone. “Seeing that it’s a damn bank, you’d think they’d want to protect their assets by the best in the business.” There’s a short pause and he reaches for his coffee. “What time?” He abandons his cup and picks up his cell, tapping it a few times. “Yeah. I can do that.” Another pause. “Sounds good.”