Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of Stephenie Meyers. Yeah, she's the chick that wrote Twilight and all the other books. Edward, Bella, and Jacob all belong to her; however, I'll be borrowing Leah for a couple of chapters. I am not associated with the owners, creators, or producers of this franchise; although, I would love to be. No copyright infringement is intended.

Playlists:

Disturbia by Rhianna

Broken by Lifehouse

I Used to Love Him by Lauryn Hill

Chapter 1: Daydreaming

***

"It feels really nice out today," he whispered, while nibbling gently on my earlobe. I couldn't help but shiver with desire as his arms snaked seductively around my waist.

"Yeah, it is beautiful out. I haven't seen a day like this on the reservation in a long time."

Our fingers slowly, softly intertwined connecting as perfect pieces to a jigsaw puzzle behind my back. How could a man's hands be so soft; yet, so masculine? I leaned into him, rubbing my cheek against his and then down his strong jaw line.

Yes, this man is definitely Alpha material, I thought to myself. I delighted in the thought that despite everything we'd been through, he was my alpha. I nestled myself more securely into his warm embrace- placing one soft kiss to his neck before wrapping my arms around his waist. Am I in heaven? I must be, I thought, as he rested his chin in my hair. The waves crashed languidly along the shore as his smell enraptured my senses and completely enveloped me in fresh sandalwood and warm caramel.

"Natalie!" he yelled, looking across the opaque shoreline to a small girl dancing lazily across the gray sands. "Stay where we can see you, baby!"

She looked about six years old, maybe younger. Her skin, lightly kissed by the sun, glistened as its sporadic rays bounced off the waters and caressed her little cheeks. She had long, black hair that flowed in a sheet of silk down her back. It was tied back with a bow and she reminded me so much of my mother in the many pictures she'd hung around the house.

"Okay, Daddy, I will!" she sweetly countered.

"Mommy, you should come and play with me." Her soft voice caught me by surprise. Mommy? "We could try to bury daddy in the sand again," she said.

"Let's go honey. It should be fun. Let's see if these tiny arms…" his voice trailed off as he wrapped his warm hands around my wrists "…have the strength to bury me in the sand." I couldn't move. I was bewitched- simply mesmerized- by the young child's beauty. She had called me mommy?

He placed his hand on my chin and slowly turned my face so that it was only inches away from his. I closed my eyes instantly as his breath washed across my skin; sweet and deliciously succulent. "Honey, are you ok?" he asked, sending shivers up my spine as those four words flowed so gently from his lips. I simply could not take my mind off her, the angel that referred to me as mommy.

"She called me mommy?" I could barely speak through the onslaught of my emotions. I closed my eyes even tighter. For so long I had wanted to have a child and now this little angel, this little person had just called mommy.

"Leah, what's wrong?" he asked, and I heard the worry pique in his voice.

"I…I…" stumbling and unable to continue, my heart began to beat triple time in my chest. I turned slowly to meet his gaze. It seemed that everything around me came to a sudden halt when our eyes met. "Sam?"

"…Sam!" I snarled, jumping up from my desk groggily, taking a defensive stance, and spilling the remnants of my Chai Latte all over my paperwork. How long had I been asleep? I hastily turned to see who in the nearby cubicles could have heard my daydreaming escapade, and what all had I said. Maybe two…no, I saw three sets of eyes now peering at me over the wool covered walls that separate our close-knit workstations.

I sighed in embarrassment. "I have to get out of here," I whispered. Pace yourself. Leah, it's normal. You'll get through this. It'll be ok. I encouraged myself while snatching a few napkins from the doughnut bag I had left from breakfast to clean up what I could of my wasted latte from the desk.

Once I finished with the mess, I slowly grabbed my purse from my desk drawer, and putting it under my arm, I eased out of my cramped workspace. Just get to the restroom, I thought, as I walked expeditiously down the hallway.

Slow down, they're starting to stare. My body refused to act in accord with my thoughts. Just get to the restroom and throw some water on your face. You'll be just fine. No problem. The voice in the back of my mind spoke to me as it always had. I heard it more frequently now than I did when I was constantly on reservation, but I had little room for its assistance then.

The pack mindset was always a communal cesspool of latent fantasies, and desires. "Safety of the rez and of our people," they'd say was the reasoning behind their tell-all theories.

Did I care whether Kim's new stepsister's tits were hot? How in the hell would her tits be an asset to our cause as protectors? Or even Paul and Rachel's intimate smack down pow-wows? I shuttered at the images that flooded my already dazed mind. How immature and insensitive they had been at times. They knew that I saw and heard everything they did while we were in wolf form, but they never thought to censor themselves for my sake; so, in fair reciprocity, I neglected to censor mine.

I braced myself on the restroom counter, splashing cool water in my face, as I stared into the mirror. I am beautiful. I am intelligent. I affirmed to myself as my thoughts again began to shift, becoming more negative than positive. I am the only female shape-shifter. A forsaken genetic dead-end! "Who fucking cares?" I outwardly, and unintentionally, responded to my own reflection in the mirror.

I turned to take a towel from the sensored dispenser. "I hate these damn things," I said, aggressively snatching a paper towel and wiping my face vigorously. It seemed the cool water had not been successful in making me more alert. I was still fatigued. I was still me.

"Hey Leah, I've been looking all over for you," Karen spoke with a sense of urgency. "Are you okay? I saw you practically run out of the office." Sometimes this girl could be a true thorn in my ass, but I had to admit that she's loyal.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I replied as I balled my paper towel up and tossed it into the trash can. "Y'see Kobe Bryant has nothing on me," I teased, attempting to make light of the situation. Karen had a way of reading between the lines, and I knew by her sardonic expression that she was on to me.

"You've had another one, haven't you?" she asked and I saw the crease forming between her brows as she attempted to place the palm of her hand on my shoulder.

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way I don't need your pity, Karen. I'm perfectly fine. I haven't been getting much sleep lately. That's all."

I get more than my fair share of pity back on the reservation, which is why I decided to find a job off the rez in the first place.

Karen's look turned annoyed. "Look, I'm just…worried about you Lee-Lee. I mean…you've been falling asleep at your desk a bit much lately," she said, as she stepped closer to me and continued in a whisper. "Listen, Mr. Castillo is beginning to notice."

Agh! Mr. Castillo! "Did he say anything to you about me? And don't lie to me, Karen."

"No. He didn't say anything to me, but I did see the way he looked at you when you sprinted out the office- again." I couldn't help but notice the emphasis she put on the word again. I really couldn't afford to lose my job. Not now. Not over senseless daydreams about Sam.

The Seattle Times hadn't been an easy gig to snag. I had to really prove myself. How difficult could answering phones, getting mail, and typing correspondence be? I could read for God's sake. I wondered had my college degree counted at all.

Mr. Castillo, the slave master, as he's known secretly around the office, had to be my superior. I think it's because everyone else refused to work for him.

"Leah, you still love Sam. If you'd just admit it and maybe-" Karen started, but I shook my head adamantly before she could even continue.

"I don't love Sam! I had loved him once upon a time, but not anymore! Why am I even talking about this with you again? We've been through this before, Karen," I said, turning to retrieve my purse from the counter.

I wasn't about to dig up painful memories from my past. Karen and I had been through this too many times already and frankly, I'd expended enough energy trying to convince this girl that I am not in love with Sam Uley anymore. If she wasn't such a good and loyal friend I would've told her to fuck off a long time ago.

"I'm not going to do this again, Karen. Just let it go, why don't you?" I said as I brushed past her and headed towards the exit. "Please, just let it go."

Once I'd reentered the office area stacked full of congested cubicles, I immediately noticed Mr. Frederick Castillo as he leaned against the doorframe to his office. Oh. My. God! What did he hear? As I was his assistant, my cubicle sat directly adjacent to his office; therefore, it was impossible to circumvent his constant observation.

He wasn't the typical executive. He was much more fashion forward than the other department heads. He looked dapper today, dressed in a chocolate brown button-down shirt, a mocha Armani blazer, and sleek, dark jeans. His clothes were always tailored to perfectly accentuate his trim and muscular physique.

Mr. Castillo was handsome and looked as if he were in his late-thirties or early-forties. His tawny complexion was flawless. He'd had to been using moisturizers, I thought to myself.

His hair was like smooth obsidian that fell to curl slightly below his earlobes. I had noticed –on many occasions- how he'd sweep it behind his right ear when he was stressed. His deep-set chestnut eyes, and pronounced cheek-bones screamed of his Latin ancestry. If it weren't for his last name, I'd swear he was Antonio Banderas' twin brother.

"Ah hum, Ms. Clearwater," he called with apparent agitation in his voice. "Can I speak with you for a moment please?"

The look in his eyes appeared as though I needed to pack my shit in the little box I kept under my desk for special moments like this. After all, he had been the third department head that I'd worked for during the four years I'd been here. It was a wonder that I hadn't been fired after the verbal altercation between myself and the director of News Media. To my dismay, it was even rumored that Mr. Castillo had personally requested that I'd be transferred to his department.

My temper had the tendency to consume me at times. If it weren't for the yoga and meditation classes that I had promised Jacob I would take- when I'd joined his shitty little pack- the wolf would've been out of the bag a long time ago. It most certainly wasn't my fault that people couldn't seem to handle my assertive personality. I'm a strong and very competitive woman.

Well, at least I had been- until recently. As the years turned into months, and the months into weeks, my resolve began to weaken in the face of Emily's impending wedding. I wish that they'd married years ago – as they had originally intended - when my wounds were fresh. Instead, they'd decided to wait, save money, and have Emily's facial features repaired; inadvertently, causing the gaping holes in my chest to again fester with the betrayal I'd harbored over their union. What is wrong with me? I should be over this. It's been almost eight years now.

"Um. Yes, Sir."-fumbling carelessly through the papers on my desk-" Let me just grab my notepad," I said, attempting to give myself enough time to say a little prayer at my desk before I entered the corner office that I often referred to as Hell.

"Ms. Clearwater, you won't have a need for your notepad. I would just like to speak with you briefly in my office."

Damn. I'm definitely getting fired this time. I've worked too hard to get to where I am- only to be brought down because Sam insists on haunting me in my dreams. I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath as I turned and watched him walk back into his office. The man was as bad as an ingrown toenail, a definite pain in my ass, and hard to get rid of. Yes, he was insanely gorgeous, but he could be a micro-managing bastard at times. I'd often wondered had he requested me as his assistant because he knew that I could handle his hyper-critical bullshit; that my skin was thick enough to not go running for the hills after one of his coldhearted critiques.

"Yes, sir," I replied while dragging my feet to his office wondering what I'd say to him. Yes Sir, I often dream about my ex-boyfriend during working hours. No Sir, he fell in love with my second cousin when she came to visit me one weekend. I could feel the acid begin to boil in the pit of my stomach. Yes Sir, I can handle being the bridesmaid in a wedding, where I should actually be the bride. No Sir, I'm okay, can't you tell dammit!

"Please, have a seat, Ms. Clearwater," he said, gesturing to the plush, leather chair in front of his beautiful desk. As I nervously sat down, I couldn't help but notice that he didn't have a wife and kids displayed in any of the many photos on his desk. Our relationship didn't extend beyond our professional quarrels, but I had always assumed he had a wife or a girlfriend at the least. I wonder if he's gay, I thought as my eyes appreciatively scanned around his lavish office, noting the way the chrome and mahogany accented furniture complimented each other. However, it was the wall of glass behind his desk that really drew my attention. He had a breathtaking view of Lake Union and the Seattle skyline.

"Ms. Clearwater," he began hesitantly.

"No, please…call me Leah," I blurted out in a nervous anticipation that radiated from the core of my being. Obviously sensing my anxiety, he immediately averted his eyes to a post-it, which he began folding with his right hand. I felt a twinge of humiliation wash over me. "Or…Ms. Clearwater, it doesn't matter." I found myself rescinding my invitation of informality as quickly as it was given.

"Leah. Okay, Leah," he began with a nod and chuckle; he attempted to disguise it as a cough as he straightened himself in his chair.

Great! Not only does this man think I'm crazy, but I've just given him a reason to add high-strung to his list- if he's compiling one.

"Leah, I am concerned about you," he continued and I was determined to keep my mouth shut to avoid appearing any more foolish. "I have noticed that you've…" looking up to meet my gaze "…seemed to be exhausted for the past two or three weeks. We pride ourselves in providing a healthy work environment," he said, again returning to his now crumbled, yellow post-it. "I thought it best that you take a three-day personal leave of absence."

Just nod, Leah. Give him a sign that you haven't completely lost it, I thought to myself after several moments of silence and then nodded in accordance wide-eyed.

"Ms. Clearwater? Leah, are you okay?" he asked and I looked at him, immediately shaking myself from my lethargy to answer him.

"Yes, sir. I'm okay. I'm fine. I don't need a ...leave of any sort," I replied and found it difficult to look him directly in the eyes. He had evidently witnessed my fruitless reveries.

"Three days," he insisted as he walked around to sit on the desk directly in front of me. I had no need for my preternatural abilities in order to recognize how good he smelled. Sexy and smells good.

"It's only three days, Leah. Look at it as an extended weekend to enjoy yourself in whichever way you deem," he paused as his eyes perused my body, "pleasurable."

"Umm..." I was stunned, and unable to articulate my next sentence as he placed one smooth thick finger to my lips effectively shushing me.

"Your position here is safe, Leah. Trust me."

I forced myself to fight back my natural libidinous desires as I gently grabbed his finger and removed it from my face. Did this man, really, just touch my lips? I thought to myself unable to stop the little flutters that began to form in my achingly deprived core. It's been an extremely long time since I've been with anyone other than Sam. However, his actions were inconceivable. Did I miss a memo? Are we able to touch each others' lips now?

He slowly reached down and took my hands in his, bringing me so close to himself that I felt the gentle breeze of his breath swish across my forehead.

"Don't worry about it. You're a dedicated worker…with great potential," he continued as he gently caressed my shoulders turning to escort me to his office door.

I couldn't decipher exactly how I felt. My mind and my body were at war. My sexually impoverished body wanted him-wanted it-but my mind really wanted to kick his ass. This has got to be an 8.0 of the Sexual Harassment Richter Scale. Should I be thankful that he decided to allow me to keep my job? Or should I be offended by his attempts to seduce me, which were working like a charm?

"In fact," he continued, "how about we make it four days? Finish your work for today, and your leave will be effective as of tomorrow."

I couldn't think straight. This encounter was completely surreal. What could I have possibly done to deserve this treatment? Mr. Castillo and I were constantly in disagreement.

"Thank you, Mr. Castillo. I really appreciate the gesture, but there's no way I can afford to miss three, let alone, four days of work," I said, remembering my little house back on the reservation. I had decorative plans in the works and I couldn't be hindered. "As much as I would love to take you up on your offer, I really need the money."

Nonchalantly retrieving a small phone from the liner of his blazer, Mr. Castillo began typing a text and as his fingers tapped so gracefully over the key pad. I couldn't help but wonder what those fingers would feel like tapping on me.

"Okay. Miss Clearwater," he said and closed the phone with an audible snap as he extended his hand to shake mine. "I've contacted my payroll liaison and informed them that I have authorized a four-day leave with pay for you. So, I believe you're set now," he said giving me a wink. "So enjoy you're extended weekend, and please do get some rest. I expect you back here bright and early Monday morning- fully alert."

All I could muster was a nod of my head in agreement, and acceptance of his generous offer. I hope he's not expecting something in return for this, I thought, turning to walk back to my cubicle.

"And if you don't mind me saying Miss Clearwater…I'm sorry. Leah," he paused not yet releasing my hand. "…whoever this 'Sam' fellow is…believe me, he doesn't deserve you."

Thanks for taking the time to read my first fanfic! Please review and leave thoughtfully constructive critcism and/or comments.

** A very special thanks goes out to my rocking beta cfmom. I love ya, Mama Hen! A super shot-out to KariAnn and all my fellow DHGs for your support! You ladies ROCK!