Big Shot ~ Kim Karr Read online

  Big Shot

  Copyright © 2017 by Kim Karr

  ISBN-10: 0–9976194–8-1

  ISBN-13: 978–0-9976194–8-5

  All rights reserved. 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 permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover designer:

  Michele Catalano-Creative

  Cover model:

  Mitch Wick

  Photographer:

  Wong Sim

  Editing:

  Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services

  Interior design and formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting

  Contents

  BIG SHOT

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Enjoy a special bonus novel: SEXY JERK

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  AND NOW: A LOOK INTO NO PANTS REQUIRED

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOKS BY KIM KARR

  TO THE READER

  Present Day

  Jace Bennett

  LUNCH WAS A bore.

  Despite the fact I was at one of downtown’s finest dining establishments, and in the company of a beautiful woman, my disinterest was still plunging with each passing minute.

  Attempting to wine and dine the head of a local software company turned out to take more focus than I had to give. Much to my dismay, the woman was having none of that.

  Before our meals were even served, she’d taken the meeting to a physical level by opening her blouse so wide I could all but see her nipples. When that stunt failed to grab my attention, she ramped up her seduction by placing her hand on my thigh beneath the table.

  Not only was her assertiveness for the midday hour overkill, but what she didn’t know was that with the state of mind I was in, it was useless, or at least it had been.

  The white tablecloth served as more than a functional piece of linen. She was using it as a shield to hide her strident advances as she began to run her fingertips slowly up the fabric of my slacks.

  Within seconds of her inching her hand up the inside of my thigh, something started to tingle inside me—a wisp of lust. It was something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. In fact, it was enough incitement that for a moment I considered taking her up on her advances.

  Astonished, I sat there contemplating the feeling. In the end, her aggressiveness was too much of a turnoff to truly turn me on. Putting an end to it, I pretended to need my napkin from my lap and gently pushed her hand slightly lower.

  Attempting to brush it off, she put her hand to use by grabbing her wine glass. With each sip of wine she took, and every unanswered advance she made, my hopes of convincing Amanda Woodward to let me buy the software application she had just launched dwindled further and further, along with the little attention I had to give her.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t good looking.

  She was.

  It wasn’t that her body wasn’t smoking hot.

  It was.

  It wasn’t that her lingering touch didn’t make me hard.

  It did.

  It was more that I hadn’t been interested in having intercourse with anyone since my wife died nearly three years ago.

  Experience told me the woman was accustomed to getting what she wanted, and I tried my best to pacify her. I didn’t move her creeping hand off my thigh or look away from her double d’s.

  We’d danced this dance a few times over the years, and usually our meetings ended before they had gotten too far into the physical interaction part.

  This time though I really wanted that app, so I didn’t fake a reason to leave, instead I toughed it out.

  Hey, I was doing what I had to do.

  But when I didn’t respond to her advances, my lack of reaction only seemed to fuel her fire.

  Despite that fact, I kept my eye on the prize, and continued to bring the conversation back around to the purpose of our meeting.

  To the purchase I actually did want to make.

  The software application.

  Her software application.

  By the time we’d finished our meals, she had yet to agree to the sale, but I was fairly certain she wanted me to fuck her in the restroom. No, not fairly certain. Certain. She’d whispered the idea in my ear.

  Like I said though, I wasn’t interested in a quick lay, and that was one thing I couldn’t fake.

  I was there for the app, and the app only.

  The app’s name might have been simplistic, but the idea was brilliant. I’m Here allowed for a person to pin themselves to locations, and once they did, those following that person would be updated every time their location changed.

  My business would benefit greatly if I could add that newest technology to its platform.

  And by my business, I’m referring to Flirt Enterprises. The Fortune 500 company I built from the ground up.

  Flirt is a hub of social media applications targeted toward those looking to connect with someone. Its features are diverse and well liked. Think of it as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat all in one place.

  What makes Flirt different from all the other dating sites out there isn’t only the unique platform it’s housed on, but the fact that it’s not targeted to only finding the one.

  The truth is, people wanted a less complicated way to find one-night stands, companionship, fake fiancés, and even arranged marri
ages.

  In fact, they wanted it so much that they were screaming for it. Check out Craig’s List circa 2010, and you’ll see what I mean. Recognizing this niche, I happily obliged by providing the technological platform to allow for them to connect, both conventionally and unconventionally, without judgment.

  Flirt Enterprise’s number one app might be Date Me, but the number two position will no doubt surprise you. It is Fake Me, a place people go to find a fake fiancé or spouse for an upcoming occasion. Seriously, the amount of people looking for someone to take to a high school reunion or wedding as their soon-to-be spouse or spouse would astonish you.

  Marry Me also has a huge number of members, and comes in third by a landslide to Friend Me, the companionship connection.

  After the waiter took our plates, I slid back in my chair. “The offer is above market,” I said, trying to keep the constantly derailing conversation on track.

  “Jace,” she purred as she scooted her chair closer and pretended to straighten my tie. “I think that’s enough business talk for one lunch. What do you say you come to my place tonight and then we can talk some more?”

  Did she think I was born yesterday? “Look,” I said, matter-of-factly, “are you interested in selling or not?”

  Stunned by my tone, she sat back. “I’m not certain. Like I said, I think we need to discuss it further.”

  “Okay, I can understand that.”

  “Good, I’m glad.”

  My tone softened. “What are your concerns?”

  “Oh, Jace,” she waved a hand, “I’ve had way too much wine, and I don’t feel comfortable discussing something as big as this under the influence.”

  Ignoring her attempt to avoid the reason we were meeting, I opened my briefcase and removed the contract my best friend, college buddy, and attorney, Ethan Miller, had drawn up. “I think you’ll find the terms of my offer very favorable, and I doubt once you read it, you’ll have any concerns.”

  Tucking a piece of her dark wavy hair behind her ear, she leered at me in disbelief.

  That didn’t bother me, and I handed her the papers anyway. When she refused to take them, now that bothered me.

  “Jace,” she smiled, “I think you know I’m interested in more than just the sale of a downloadable app.”

  I blinked. Shit, she was bold. “Yes, Amanda, I do, but I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m not interested in anything at this time but purchasing your app.”

  Her face tightened, and yet her exotic features still somehow remained soft. It had to be an art perfected over time. “Everything has a price, Jace, you know that.”

  “I do, and that is why my offer is more than fair.”

  “Stop with the offer,” she scowled in irritation.

  Christ. Enough was enough. Having wasted way too much of my time, I started to gather my things. “Too bad, this could have been a win-win for both of us.”

  She looked stunned. “Are you really going to walk away?”

  I nodded. “I am.”

  “Screw you,” she whispered before throwing her glass of water in my face.

  Lunch was over.

  Like I said, the woman was used to getting what she wanted, and obviously not getting it was a deal breaker.

  Fuck me.

  Or in this case . . . not.

  Present Day

  Jace Bennett

  NO WASN’T A word I was used to being told.

  The events at lunch had put me in a foul mood, and I decided walking back to the office would be a great way to burn off some steam.

  Besides, it was a decent day, and the early September breeze would certainly dry my shirt. The weather wasn’t something I typically noticed or paid attention to, but this morning I had checked it for a reason.

  After all, September fifth was a day I knew I’d remember forever, and not because it was a day when I’d been groped under a table. Rather, because it was my daughter’s first day of Kindergarten.

  The memory of getting her ready was still ingrained in my mind. Plaid jumper. Auburn hair in ringlets. And a smile that lit up my world. That’s how I would remember this day—forever.

  Fast strides brought me to the thirty-six-floor skyscraper located in the Near West Side of Chicago much quicker than I had anticipated. With my temperament still in brooding mode, I wasn’t ready to go back to work. That’s when I decided to circle around to the river. Something I never did without my daughter.

  Near the water there was a slight nip in the air, which hinted to summer descending into fall, and I breathed it in.

  With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I stopped and stood on the concrete walkway. Leaning against the railing, I scanned the area. Around me, people sat on benches and at chairs circling tables, drinking coffee and talking.

  It was something Tricia loved to do—just sit around and talk.

  Why hadn’t I done that with her more?

  My wife was beautiful. Petite. She might have been short and curvy and sexy as hell, but it was her zest for life that I never could resist.

  Unable to watch the people enjoying themselves any longer, I averted my eyes upward, and stared for the longest time.

  When I should have been in my office answering calls and typing emails, I instead was standing down below it, lost in my thoughts.

  What was wrong with me?

  Still staring at the structural system of the building where steel trusses were used to suspend the southwest corner in order to clear the Amtrak and Metra railroad tracks beneath it, I tried to figure out how the hell I was going to raise my growing daughter and keep my sanity.

  It was a common concern, and one that after nearly three years I had yet to overcome.

  The sound of an engine swung my glance downward, and it landed on the big, yellow boat. It was something Scarlett loved to look at. She said it reminded her of a giant rubber duck. With a smile on my face, I watched as the sightseeing tour passed by, thinking about my daughter and the milestones my wife would never be a part of.

  Scarlett was two when Tricia passed, and other than the pictures she had seen, she didn’t remember her mother. That was hard. Harder still was the fact that she’d recently turned five years old, and not only did she look so much like her mother, she also had her fiery personality as well.

  This morning my daughter debated with me the benefits of letting her wear her pretty sandals to school instead of the practical tennis shoes I’d recently purchased for her. As usual, she won the debate.

  Thank fuck for uniforms, or I would have been screwed. It would have been sports shirts, tutus, and jeans every Goddamn day.

  The Preston School in Lincoln Park was where Scarlett spent her days. She’d been attending the elite establishment since preschool. And it was close enough to our house that the nanny walked her to and from there, unless it rained or the temperature was extremely cold, then she drove her.

  For almost a year after I lost my wife, I had refused to consider hiring someone to help me with Scarlett. It felt wrong. Like I was trying to replace my wife. Therefore, every morning I dropped Scarlett off at daycare, and every evening I left work promptly at five to pick her up, and worked from home well into the night.

  Days when Scarlett was sick, my best friend’s wife would watch her for me. Fiona, who was married to Ethan, stayed at home with their son, Max.

  It was my other best friend, Nick Carrington, another college buddy, that I had to thank for pushing me toward hiring Mrs. Sherman. He knew I was burning out and took the time to convince me of that.

  The nanny I hired was a sixtyish woman with no children any longer at home and she loved Scarlett. Turned out, she had been what both Scarlett and I needed to round out the sharp corners of dealing with the loss of Tricia.

  Things were better with her.

  As much as they could be, anyway.

  A feeling of restlessness spilled over me, and I knew it was time to get back to work. I was on edge. That woman at lunch had opened something within me that I thoug
ht had long since died. It was a yearning that I refused to acknowledge.

  Shoving aside the whole stop and smell the roses routine I had somehow tiptoed into, I turned away from the river. Long strides had me in the lobby and boarding the elevator in less than five minutes. In no time, I was stepping out onto the twenty-seventh floor.

  “Mr. Bennett,” Simon called. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  I stopped and turned around to address one of the systems analysts who was filling in as interim Technology Manager. “What’s going on, Simon?”

  “I have an issue I’d like you to take a look at.”

  “Did you ask Perry about it?” Perry Reeves was the Chief Technology Officer and had been with me since I first pounded out the idea of Flirt.

  “I tried, sir, but he’s been in meetings all day. I thought, or I hoped,” Simon stumbled, “that I could get your opinion?”

  Perry had recently hired someone for the open position, but until that person actually started, I knew he was buried up to his balls in work. That’s why I nodded and followed Simon, despite the fact I knew my desk was probably overflowing by now.

  Simon was hired nine months ago, straight out of college, and in no way ready for the management position, but he was eager and always gave it his all. I liked that about him. He was a real go-getter.

  And his ideas were top notch.

  It was four before I made my way to my office, and as soon as I opened my email I saw a message from Amanda Woodward.

  There was also one from Perry, so I clicked on it first.

  * * *

  To: Jace Bennett

  From: Perry Reeves

  Re: New Hire

  Jace, attached you will find the resume of the new hire for the Technology Management position. I think she is perfect for the job, and as you know I went ahead and hired her already. Sorry for the delay in forwarding this to you. She starts next week. I really think she’s going to be a beneficial asset.

  * * *

  Amanda’s email was burning on my screen and without bothering to click on the resume, I typed out a quick response and closed Perry’s email. My hope was that Amanda had found her sanity and was going to agree to the purchase.

  It was my sanity that needed to be questioned for thinking that way, and that became evident when I clicked on the message and read it. Before even finishing it, my foul mood re-emerged. In fact, I wanted to throw something.