Read Online Field of Pleasure by Farrah Rochon - Free Book Online

door.
    â€œMr. Dawson?”
    â€œIn here,” Jared called. “And if you don’t stop calling me Mr. Dawson, you’re fired.”
    She waved off his threat. “Oh, Mr. Dawson.” Four years and the woman still refused to call him by his first name. “I’ll have your protein shake ready in a few minutes,” she said, taking the dark brown jacket he’d been mulling over from his hands and replacing it with a bone-colored Oscar de la Renta.
    â€œMuch better choice.” Jared nodded. “Don’t worry about making dinner tonight. I have a date.”
    Maggie’s head popped up from the laundry she’d begun sorting through. “With Ms. Miller?” she asked.
    â€œNo, not Sam,” he said.
    â€œThank God,” she breathed.
    â€œTell me how you really feel,” Jared snorted.
    Maggie crumpled the sweatpants in her hands, a sad smile on her round, peach-colored face. “I know it is not my place to say anything, Mr. Dawson, but I’ve been worried about you ever since she left. You haven’t been yourself.”
    â€œI know, but I’m fine now. Really,” he said when Maggie raised a skeptical brow. “Besides, I don’t pay you enough to worry about me,” he teased. They both knew it was a joke. He paid Maggie a generous salary, so generous that he’d become her sole client.
    â€œYou need to have someone to worry over you for a change,” Maggie said. “And now that my youngest boy has left for college, it frees up space in my worry bank. Now, out of my way so I can get these in the wash and mix up your shake.”
    Having been dismissed from his bedroom, Jaredambled around the apartment, trying to figure out what to do with himself for the next two hours. He plopped down in front of his iMac and tried catching up on what the sports bloggers were saying about the Sabers’ upcoming Organized Team Activities, but there was nothing more than the usual chatter. There wouldn’t be much to say until the off-season OTAs actually began in a couple of weeks.
    His cell phone rang just as he was pushing away from the computer. Jared frowned at the unfamiliar number.
    â€œDawson,” he answered.
    â€œHello, Mr. Dawson, this is Jackson Phillips from Fidelity Bank and Trust. I’m calling about your business loan.”
    â€œDammit,” Jared cursed. He’d forgotten about signing the papers for the Red Zone, the high-end, sports-themed barbershop venture he’d entered into with one of his old college buddies. “We had a four o’clock appointment, didn’t we?”
    â€œYes,” the man said. “Your business partner was here this morning. Your signature is the only thing that’s needed to close.”
    â€œYeah, I know.” Dammit. It was just after five o’clock. Even though the bank wasn’t far, getting there and back would be pushing it, especially since he still had to shower, dress and get all the way to Brooklyn before seven.
    But he had to get those papers signed before the weekend. The grand opening of the Red Zone was next week. If the bank didn’t sign off on the loan, the city couldn’t go through with the final inspection and the building might not be ready in time. Patrick was counting on him.
    Dammit!
    â€œI can be there in a half hour,” Jared said, leaving hisoffice and heading for his bedroom. “Can I meet you at six?”
    â€œThe bank usually closes at six, but for you I’ll make an exception.”
    Jared thanked him as he declined the protein shake Maggie tried to hand him on his way to the master suite. He jumped in the shower and was out of his apartment less than twenty minutes after receiving the call from the bank. Jared walked out of the building and groaned at the bumper-to-bumper traffic clogging the street. It would be a miracle if he made it to the bank by six o’clock.
    On the bright side, by the time he was done