by Lee, Nadia
David goes still, then pulls back.
Oh God. This is my chance to regroup, because my head is too jumbled to think straight. But at least I don’t have to worry that I made it weird by ending it first. “I should, um…”
Closing his eyes, he lets out a small, shuddery breath. “Yeah. Okay.” He pauses, and the moment seems to stretch into forever. “See you on Monday, Erin.”
Chapter Nine
David
Erin and I are standing outside her apartment door. She looks gorgeous in the red dress. I make a note to buy one like it and have her wear it to work. But wait, that won’t do. Don’t want all the assholes in the office seeing her like this.
She’s looking up at me, her blue eyes wide and bright. Soft and sweet, she seems to beckon me closer with that singular gaze.
“David,” she whispers.
Damn. She could be calling from the fiery depths of hell and I wouldn’t be able to resist the summons. I tilt my head and swoop down. She lifts her chin, her neck stretching beautifully. Our mouths fit perfectly, as though the entire history of the universe has been leading to this one moment. Her lips are softer than I imagined, and she tastes like sugar and dreams.
Blood roars in my head, drowning out all sounds. She fumbles with the lock behind her, and the door opens like magic, welcoming us.
Our mouths still fused together, we spill into her apartment. Kicking the door closed with my heel, I spin us around, pin her against the wall. She’s so hot. My skin is tight, and I’m burning from the inside out with desire.
Somewhere, her phone is ringing.
Wait… That’s not right, because the sound is coming from behind me.
“Oh no, I left the oven timer on,” she says.
“What are you making?” I ask, not that interested in her cooking. But it seems like the polite thing to do.
“I was baking a pie.” She smiles. “So we could have it after… You know…”
The alarm is still going. Before I can tell her to forget the pie, she slips out of my arms like a wisp of smoke.
But she doesn’t seem to know how to operate her oven, because the alarm is growing louder and more annoying. Should I help?
The beeping sound is piercing my skull like an ice pick…
“Argh!”
My eyes snap open. The alarm clock next to my bed is screeching, obviously furious that I’m not giving it the proper attention. So I smack it into silence.
Shit. It was a damn dream. Knowing that doesn’t help, though. My dick is pushing the sheet upward, forming a distinctly convex shape over my crotch.
God damn it. I can’t believe I had a porno dream starring my assistant. If that isn’t bad enough, my cock’s refusing to deflate. Erin didn’t even really seem to be into the kiss last night. She held herself so stiff, like her entire body had turned into oak. And I shouldn’t have been carried away by…who the hell knows what…and tried to taste her.
It’s just that she smelled so damn good, and I loved her new sexy side in that dress, and when she looked at me with those wide eyes in the hall, I lost my head. I can’t even blame alcohol, because I didn’t drink that much. It was all on me. One hundred percent.
Come on, dammit. This erection needs to go away. I need all my blood in my skull to figure out what I’m going to say to her tomorrow. I still can’t believe I left her, saying, “See you on Monday.” I’m sure she’ll be expecting an explanation. She certainly deserves one.
Sighing, I turn and see the giant portrait of pregnant Jan and Matt staring down at me. My libido dies instantly.
Groaning with relief and annoyance, I reach for my phone to check my email. Maybe there will be a miraculous message from Erin, saying we should try that kiss again. I blink a couple of times at the number of texts, but none of them are from her.
–Matt: So who’s the woman?
Then there’s one from Luke, another friend in Virginia.
–Luke: Who’s the chick?
–Derek: Mom’s excited. Shoulda been more discreet. You look like a feral dog with a piece of meat. Possibly in the early stages of rabies, because your eyes got that crazy gleam. She was your date, right? Not the other guy’s? Just checking…
Thanks for the imagery, bro. And when did you start thinking I steal other men’s women?
–Mom: I thought you were going to get back together with Shelly. What’s going on? Is this blonde girl the one? Is she making you rethink your life choices over the last two years?
–Dane: Sophia wants to know everything. And you owe us.
There are more, but all in pretty much the same vein. What the hell is going on? Since Matt was the first one to text me, I reply to him.
–Me: What woman are you talking about?
A few moments later Matt sends me a picture, and I tap on it to blow it up. Oh shit. It’s a shot of me and Fordham with Erin stuck in the middle. Fucking paparazzi. They’re everywhere in this city. Thankfully, the shot is from her back, with her face hidden. I would’ve felt awful if the asshole got her from a recognizable angle. The tabloids never write anything truthful, much less flattering.
But the picture is very unfortunate nonetheless. He snapped the shot just as Fordham and I both had a hand locked on one of her wrists. It looks like we’re playing tug of war. And it’s very obvious who we both are.
–Matt: That poor woman. Like a fish bone between two starving cats.
I scowl. I want to argue, but I can’t think of anything clever to say. Besides, Matt is a lawyer, a master of twisting innocent words. Anything half-assed won’t work.
Derek said I looked like a dog with rabies. Did I seem that crazed to Erin?
Is that why she was so stiff outside her apartment…?
My head hurts. Can I go back to yesterday and do it over? I should’ve at least kicked Warren Fordham in the shin if I’m going to appear deranged anyway.
–Matt: Thank God you guys weren’t frothing at the mouth. That’s from Jan.
I can’t argue. Fordham and I both look ridiculous. But he’s worse because he’s a dick and a politician.
–Me: We don’t look that bad. At least I don’t.
–Matt: So who is she?
–Me: My assistant. My intended date told me that she was a lesbian yesterday evening, so I had to get a substitute.
–Matt: Is that a first for you, turning a perfectly nice hetero woman into a lesbian?
I roll my eyes. I should’ve known he’d say something like this.
–Matt: Or do you make a habit of causing women to join the other team?
–Me: Clearly, I’ve ruined her for other men. Don’t know if it’s the first time.
–Matt: Oh, bra-VO. Slow claps all around.
–Me: Fuck you.
–Matt: Jan wants to know why she’s being yanked around by the two of you. Isn’t the other guy Warren Fordham?
–Me: Yes. He’s an Asshole.
Hey, look at that. Even autocorrect knows “asshole” should be capitalized if you’re talking about Fordham.
I continue typing: I’m gonna make sure he loses his next election. And also when you talk to my mom and everyone else, tell them not to get too excited. There’s nothing between us. No grandbaby coming anytime soon from my side.
I hit send.
–Matt: Lose? I find that hard to believe. He’s the best thing since sliced bread for his party.
I make a face.
–Me: Why? He’s a dick!
–Matt: Maybe, but still a popular guy. He has a great social media presence and image. Study him; you’ll be impressed. At least with his team. They’re excellent. They even turned his father’s scandal around to win him points.
I heard about the whole disgusting affair, but I don’t know too much about the rest because I wasn’t paying attention. Politics isn’t my jam, especially when I’m busy working and playing hard.
–Me: How?
–Matt: Warren IV was the one who took care of his mom the entire time. And h
is team made sure everyone heard about it, which is why he got so much support and love from the voters. There’s something sympathetic and likable about a guy who takes care of his mom so sweetly. And he’s smart enough to make Twitter and Facebook posts that get shared a lot. Media mentions, everything. Some are saying he’s going to be president when he’s old enough.
The fact that this is coming from Matt isn’t making me feel better. He’s not easily impressed. But I tell myself that a man as phony and manipulative as Fordham is bound to trip up. It’s no coincidence that he sat back and watched his father’s career crash and burn for his own political advancement.
I toss the phone on the bed and lie back, sighing. Forget Fordham. What I really want is another chance at last night. Not the whole thing, just the kissing part. I’d do it more smoothly, for one. Maybe put out feelers to see if she was receptive before barging in.
Or just not kiss her at all. She’s an employee. I’ve never allowed myself to get attracted to anybody who’s working for me before. It’s better and cleaner that way.
I look at my phone then start typing up a text for Erin. I just want to get in touch with her. Just to make sure she’s okay and isn’t freaking out over the picture, if she’s seen it—although I’m sure she hasn’t, because she would’ve called or texted. Even though I told her to ignore my texts, maybe she’ll see them and feel better.
–Me: Erin, I just thought I should check and see how you’re doing.
I stare at it without hitting send. It’s sort of blah. Anemic. I can do better.
I hit delete until the screen’s blank again. Then…
–Me: Hey, Erin, I hope you’re doing well this morning.
Ugh. No. That’s even worse.
I glare at the shiny screen, but I can’t think of anything clever to say. I want to know if she’s okay and everything’s okay between us. But she’s probably going to consider quitting if I ask so clumsily.
It’s unexpectedly frustrating to be floundering like this. I always know what to say. Maybe I’m the only one who felt the spark between us, which is what’s putting me at a disadvantage. Regardless, I’m supposed to be the marketing genius here. I’m slicker than this.
I’m still thinking when Mom calls. My gut clenches. Shit. I tell myself I’m still asleep—in spirit, anyway—so I can’t answer her.
The ringer finally dies. A text pops up on the screen.
–Mom: David Francis Darling, I know you’re awake. Jan told me.
Damn it. Jan and her big mouth—or more like, busy fingers!
I call Mom. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom.”
“Is that what smooth-talking marketing executives say to their mothers when they’re caught trying to evade them?”
“It’s the truth! I don’t mind texting Jan from the toilet, but I would never do that to my mother.” I slurp water from my nightstand, making sure she can hear it. “See? I’m having coffee now.”
“Fine. I’ll forgive you if you tell me about this woman. Who is she? How come you never mentioned her to me?”
So Mom didn’t recognize Erin. Good. “Just a date to a charity auction. Don’t get too excited. You know how those paparazzi can be.”
“Yeah, but it’s you and a woman! It’s been so long since you were serious about anyone. Ever since you broke with up Shelly—”
“Only two years,” I interject before she becomes overdramatic.
“You looked fierce and competitive, like you were determined to win her!”
I wasn’t going to let that asshole drag Erin to his car when she said no. He’s probably a serial killer. Actually, he’s worse—a politician. “It’s just the angle of the picture.”
“I guess that means my dream for you and Shelly is ruined,” she says lightly.
My stomach performs a stress-induced triple twist. Doesn’t stick the landing. “What dream?”
“She’s single. So are you. Besides, do you know she quit her job and moved to L.A.? So she’s in the same city as you, too! If that doesn’t feel like destiny, I don’t know what does.”
Shock blooms in my chest, then almost immediately bitter pettiness streaks through it. When and why did Shelly quit a job that she said meant more to her than me? The one she slept with the interviewer to get?
And is her move why she thought we could pick up where we left off? I hope she isn’t holding her breath. Self-induced suffocation probably sucks.
“I thought you two could have one of those second-chance love affairs. It’s a popular trope in romance novels.”
“Life isn’t a Harlequin book,” I say with a groan. Shelly could move next door, and I still wouldn’t take her back. We could be roommates. Hell, we could be sleeping in the same bed. The only thing she and I are destined for is to be completely out of each other’s lives.
“Everyone deserves a happy ending,” Mom says sternly. “For a marketing VP, you’re awfully negative. I always wanted to be in-laws with Jade.”
“Just because you and Shelly’s mom are—”
“We could spend our holidays together, exchange gifts… It’d be amazing. We’d be like sisters! And Shelly is pretty and smart, so you’d have smart, attractive children. I’d love some nice grandbabies to cuddle.”
My time is too precious to waste on discussing an ex I don’t wish well, especially when Mom’s doing her best to let me know that she wants us to not only get back together, but marry. If she says any more, I’m going to barf. “I gotta go. I have to work. And stop dreaming about some BS second-chance romance. Life is a one-shot deal.”
“Fine. Work on wooing the other woman, then. I don’t want to interfere. And blond grandchildren wouldn’t be bad.”
I drop my forehead into my hand. “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”
She laughs. “Love you too, baby.”
Chapter Ten
David
I get to the office extra early, a box of European chocolates for Erin tucked into my laptop bag. After two cups of coffee and quite a bit of thought on Sunday, it was clear that I should apologize in person.
The decision makes me slightly uneasy, though. It’s hypocritical to apologize when I’m not really sorry about the kiss. Part me knows it was unprofessional, but another part of me is reliving the feel of her softness on my mouth and getting somewhat…
Okay, I’m turned on. It’s weird. It wasn’t even a real kiss. Our lips didn’t part; our tongues didn’t tango. I had dirtier kisses in junior high. But I can’t seem to shove this chaste one with Erin out of my mind.
She isn’t at her desk yet. Not surprising, since I’m an hour early. The office is still mostly empty, except for a few people from the architecture and app dev teams. Those guys seem to think going home to their own beds is optional as long as they have an office they can sleep in.
I sit at my desk, boot my laptop and let it start downloading email. Despite Alexandra’s insistence on avoiding needless messages, more email than I’m ever going to want to read lands in my inbox every day. Many are just CC’d. I usually delete the whole batch. If any of them are actually important, they’ll be re-sent and CC’d to Erin.
The extra coffee I drank to offset the early rollout this morning necessitates a trip to the bathroom. A trio of shaggy guys in rumpled T-shirts and jeans are tearing into packets of candy like wolves as I come out. Sugar and caffeine high. Typical programmers.
And they’re talking way too fast and loud. I don’t mind, though. At this hour, nobody’s really around.
“Grow a pair, man,” one of them says. He has dark hair and a thick layer of stubble on his jaw.
“She’s worth it.” The second guy blows his own hair out of his bloodshot green eyes and adjusts rimless glasses.
“But she’s so standoffish,” the third guy says.
She might not be so standoffish if you got a haircut, I think, but don’t bring that up. I’m not one to advise geeks on their love life. Programmers are important to the company, but I don’t really get them.
> “Maybe she, you know…doesn’t like dudes,” the third guy says.
“No, no. She doesn’t go out with anyone here. Not even the other chicks,” the second guy points out. “She’s totally antisocial.”
“Face it, man, you gotta up your game,” the first guy says. “If you want to ask somebody as hot as Erin out, you have to have a foolproof plan. Foolproof.”
Erin? My ears perk up as my step slows. Are they talking about my Erin?
As quickly as the thought strikes me, I shake my head. Erin isn’t an unusual name. They’re probably talking about some other Erin.
“What kind of plan?”
“She seems to like doing training, so offer to train her. Right? In programming. Maybe she’ll transfer to app dev like the previous one.”
Okay, these assholes are definitely talking about my Erin. She’s the only one whose predecessor moved to app dev.
What the hell. Over my dead body they’re going to steal her from me.
Oh ho. Aren’t you possessive. When did she become your Erin? And…“steal from me”?
Whatever. She’s my assistant, so I can totally refer to her as “my Erin.” It doesn’t mean anything. I just don’t want other teams trying to steal my people. I spend a lot of time and energy training them. I’m entitled to keep the talent I’ve discovered and developed, damn it.
“She probably already has a boyfriend,” the third guy says. His tone is positively morose.
“Doubtful. She’s too cold and unknowable.”
“Like the farthest corners of the galaxy,” the first one says, gesturing to indicate the heavens.
If he thinks that’s clever… Well. What was I expecting? They’re programmers, not poets. They probably think Shakespeare would sound better in binary.
I clear my throat. “Good morning,” I say in my coolest VP voice.
They start. The third one smiles. “Hi.”
“Have a good day,” I say, then walk past. Realizing that Erin is an object of desire among the developers doesn’t really sit well with me, but I should’ve known. She’s quite beautiful. Why wouldn’t these guys want to get close to her?
