by Scott, S. L.
“What are you doing down there?” My stomach tightens. Justin’s voice alone makes my skin crawl. And he adds, “Looking for a snack?”
“A snack is all you have to offer,” I snap back.
I start to get up but halt on all fours when I hear Andrew’s assistant ask, “What are you doing, Ms. Jacobs?”
I look over my shoulder, my eyes connecting with Mary first and then Andrew. “Juni?”
Trying to push up, I get caught and sent back to my knees because today, of all days, I had to wear a pencil skirt. I drop my head, humiliation flooding my face, and try again.
Laurie joins in the party. Naturally. “What’s going on?”
Mary says, “Um . . . I think I hear my phone ringing.” I hear the sound of her hightailing it out of here through her quick footsteps. I don’t blame her. I wish I could do the same.
Andrew’s anger consumes the air, and I finally say, “I’m stuck.”
Justin stands, but Andrew demands, “Sit.” As if he’s a dog that’s been punished, he scurries back to his chair.
A pair of black designer Oxfords, Italian by the looks of the leather and stitching, appears before me. I know they’re Andrew’s because there’s nary a scuff in sight. He bends down. “Are you okay?”
I look up, my hair falling over my eyes. Through strands of hair, I see the anger I heard moments earlier now situated as ire in his eyes. He holds his hands out for me. When I slip my hands in his, an unfettered energy travels between us, a spark reaching his eyes.
He carefully helps me to my feet, where I brush the rest of my hair away from my face and straighten my clothes.
I dare to look into Andrew’s eyes, already missing the little gold flecks that have been replaced with embers of fire. He says, “I’d like to see you in my office, Ms. Jacobs,” and maneuvers around me.
He’s quickly covering the distance to his office, but I say, “I should probably—”
“Now,” he commands without breaking his pace.
I turn to see Laurie staring at me, a million questions surfacing in her expression. Shame fills me, and I start, “I can explain—”
“I think I should be present for this meeting.” She returns to her office, and when she comes back out, she walks right past me with a pad and pen in hand.
Once more, I make sure my skirt is straight and in place before I start walking. I’m not sure if this is a walk of shame or I’m a dead man walking, but either way, the entire office is staring at me as I head to my own beheading. The door to the office I’ve been so good about avoiding is wide open.
I can’t say I’m getting welcoming vibes from the inside when I approach, though. Taking a deep breath, I tug at the collar of my shirt and make sure the clasp of my necklace is at the back. I exhale and then walk in.
Andrew is staring at the TV on his wall like it’s going to reveal the secret of life. It’s not, just what the S & P 500 is at for the day. Laurie sits in a chair across the desk from him, leaving me to brave the fifteen feet by myself. I consider detouring to the couch because that looks like a better place to be fired. At least I’d be comfortable.
His eyes hit mine, freezing me to the spot. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Jacobs in private.”
Laurie says, “I don’t think that’s a wise idea. Per company policy, a human resources representative—”
“I’m okay with it,” I say. There’s a tremble to my voice that I’m not used to anymore. I hate it. I also hate the fear this situation inspires inside me. Tamping it down, I add, “I’ll be fine. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
She looks back and forth between us and then sets her eyes on me again. “It’s for your protection as well.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
Andrew’s eyes finally leave mine, and he says to Laurie, “If you must stay, I’ll allow it.”
“It’s up to both of you.”
“We’re fine,” we both say, the words rushing out at the same time.
Her gaze darts between us several times before she stands up and moves to the door. “Okay, then.”
I’m still standing in the middle of the room like a damn lingerie model when the door clicks closed behind me. When I turn back to Andrew, he says, “I’m going to need you to explain.”
“Can I sit down first?”
12
Andrew
That skirt.
Fuck. Doesn’t matter how mad I am at her; I’m going to be dreaming of that fucking skirt all fucking night. I scrub my hands over my face a few times before looking back up to find her staring at me.
Wide-eyed innocence is written all over her face, despite that damn skirt that says she knew exactly what she was doing by wearing that today.
I angle my chair toward the couch because Juni, being herself, went for the unexpected option—the one not even offered. “Enlighten me as to what you’re doing on the floor of my office in the middle of the day.”
“Would you rather it had been at night?” She grins, but it drops again. “Is this a no-joke zone?”
“This is a no-joke zone.” Resting my forearms on the desk, I have a thousand ideas running through my head, but not one of them makes sense. “I’m serious, Juni. Why were you on the floor in Justin’s cubicle?”
A flicker of anger cruises through her pretty hazel eyes before she glances away. When she looks back at me, her composure has returned. “I wasn’t purposely on Justin’s floor. I’ve been avoiding him like I’ve been avoiding you.”
“Why are you avoiding me?”
“Because you’re the CEO.”
I take a breath and sit back, wondering if we can actually get from here to there in the most direct fashion. “I don’t understand, Juni. I need you to explain with more detail.”
She sits forward, clasping her hands on top of her knees and studying her nails. When she looks up, she asks, “You want the truth?” with the confidence I’m more familiar with in her.
“I want the truth.”
For a moment, I feel like she’s going to tell me I can’t handle it, quoting the old movie line. “I just resigned and was coming out of Laurie’s office when I saw you and Mary about to come around the corner.” No teasing is heard.
“What do you mean resigned? When did you start working here?”
“Last Tuesday. I was brought in to cover for Melissa while she’s on maternity leave.”
“The new girl . . .” I say to myself.
“Yes. I’m the new girl.”
Speaking with such ease in this unofficial moniker they dubbed her, she doesn’t even realize what Justin’s been saying behind her back. “Last Tuesday, we met for coffee before work?”
She grins as if she’s been waiting for me to piece this puzzle together. “I came here right after.”
“This is getting close to the stalker issue again.”
“I knew you’d go there. You always go straight for the heart.”
“I think it’s straight for the jugular.”
“Oh, okay,” she replies angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. “For the record, it may be jugular, but you accusing me of something I didn’t do feels like a hit to the heart.” She stands. “I didn’t stalk you, Andrew. I didn’t even know your last name until Friday night . . . or technically, Saturday morning. It’s so hard to know what to call those wee hours in the middle of the night.” She huffs. “Anyway, I didn’t even know your name was Christiansen last week, or I would have told you I got a job here. Well, a temp if we’re being accurate, but I quit, so it doesn’t matter now.”
I rummage through the rambling words to make some kind of sense of it. I’m not sure what to think, except that she looks ready to bolt. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, or how I’m supposed to react. Should I be mad or freaked out that you’re working in my office, and I didn’t know?”
“What about happy?”
“Huh?”
She bends her ankle slightly to the side, drawing my attention to the black patent
leather heels she’s wearing. Fuck. Focus, Christiansen.
She says, “Try being happy that we’ve been given an opportunity. Like out of all the millions of people in New York City, divine intervention has played a part.”
Normally, I’d tune out this spiritual stuff, but there’s a part, a tiny part of me, that’s wondering if she’s right.
She adds, “The park. The coffee shop, and now right here in this office. What are the chances?”
“You forgot Friday night and how we ran into each other again outside my building.”
“Right.” She nods, pursing her lips to the side and looking away. “I almost forgot. Another act of the universe. Or the temp agency, but really it’s the universe that gave them the lead.”
The temp agency? I’ll ask Laurie about this next time we meet. As curious as I am today, I’m already late for my next meeting.
Motioning to the seat by my desk, I ask, “Will you sit and talk to me? I won’t keep you much longer.” I hate the taste of the words leaving my mouth. They’re not only bitter, but also not sweet.
Eyeing me for a few seconds, she finally comes closer and sits down. I say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Listen,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’m not sure if the universe is messing with us, but I won’t be the one who drives you away. I’ve heard great things about the work you’re doing here. HR even mentioned bringing you on full-time.”
“They offered me a permanent position this morning.”
“After just one week, you have my team begging you to stay. What will it take to make that happen?”
Her body appears lighter with a lift of her mouth’s corners and a weight removed from her shoulders. “I was hired as a temp.”
“Is that what you’d like to continue doing?”
“I’d be okay with that. I like it here.”
I’m still confused, but I feel like we’re miles closer to an answer. “Then why were you leaving?”
“Because we’re friends,” she answers instantly.
The answer takes me by surprise, and as I study her expression, I try to riddle through the intensity of her eyes. “Is that a personal rule you have in place for your professional endeavors?”
“No, I just thought you wouldn’t like it.”
My mouth falls open, not gaping but enough to exhale my shock. “Why would our friendship make you think I wouldn’t want you working here?”
She pushes up and walks to the window. I know it’s impossible to see the street from this floor, but when she presses her forehead to the glass, I know she’s making the effort. Suddenly, she turns around, and says, “I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you. I’m not.”
“I don’t think that,” I confess with honesty. “I know we got off on the wrong foot when we met, but I shouldn’t have said that to you. I didn’t believe . . . Well, not entirely.”
I spy the crack of a smile forming on her lips. “An ex once called me a stalker, so I guess I’m a little sensitive to the term.” Her tone is upbeat despite what she’s sharing.
Not sure if I should go there, I ask myself, what would Juni do? She’d go there. “Were you stalking him?”
“I was absolutely stalking him.” When she laughs, I join in because I shouldn’t have doubted her for a minute. She sits back on the couch and crosses her ankles. My eyes trace the shape of her knees and down each curve of her legs, landing me on her shoes again. “In my defense, I was following him because I had found a note in his backpack. He told me to grab his graphing calculator from the front pocket. When I did, a note fell out. It was a time and a place. I showed up, he called me a stalker and psycho ex-girlfriend for everyone to hear, and then he walked off with the woman he married two years later.”
“So he was cheating?”
“Yeah, but rumors spread faster than the truth. I might as well have been wearing a giant S across my chest and had crazy eyes for all anyone cared.” Her gaze extends out the window as the memory appears to replay before her not-crazy eyes. “I didn’t date much after that.”
“Their loss.”
The joy returns to her eyes when she looks at me, and she smiles. “I’ve decided I’d like to stay.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She slides forward on the leather. “Well, I should probably get back to the desk then.” Raising her hands up, she adds, “I can rip the hem of this skirt trying to get up, or you can help me.”
I stand and move around to the couch. “If you’re asking me which I prefer, that might be different than what’s appropriate for the office.”
“Might?”
“Will be.”
I offer her two hands palms up. When she slips her hands in mine, I caress the feel of them and help her to her feet. Standing toe-to-toe, she doesn’t pull away as the heat builds between us. The tip of her tongue dips out to lick the center of her top lip, and I retreat, turning my back to her as I return to my desk.
She doesn’t play fair for someone who’s only supposed to be my friend. “Then I won’t wear it to the office anymore.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
The blush I love colors her cheeks when she giggles—wait! Love? What the fuck? I turn to my monitor. “I, uh, yeah . . .” I run my hand through my hair, forgetting I had pomade in it.
“You? You need to get back to work?”
Refusing to make eye contact with her or that skirt or those sexy fucking shoes, I force my eyes to stay on the screen. Despite my eyeballs burning, I add, “Yes, I have a lot of work to do.”
My willpower is shit, and as soon as her back is to me, I do what I’d fire another employee for doing—I stare at her ass.
She looks back suddenly. I’m not sure that she actually busts me, but she smirks, which makes me think she did. I remind myself again that we’re nothing more than friends, despite my pants currently being too tight for comfort. She says, “Have a good day, boss.”
“Yeah, have a great fucking day,” I mumble to myself.
“What was that?”
I look up again, this time with a smile on my face. “Have a great day.”
“I plan to.” The remark isn’t snotty or sarcastic. It’s as if once she sets her mind to it, nothing can stand in her way.
As soon as the door closes, a knock disturbs the peace of my office. Nick’s waltzing in before I have time to rearrange my package. Fuck. “What?”
He pushes the door closed as he comes charging toward me. “You’re bangin’ the new girl?”
I jump and stalk to the door. “Keep your voice down, Nick.” I double-check the door to make sure it’s closed. It is, thank fuck.
When I turn back, he’s leaning against the windowsill with his arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face. “I have to admit, big brother, I didn’t think you had it in you for an ethics code violation.” His arms go out. “But look at you being a rebel.”
“No codes, ethics or otherwise, have been violated for your information.” I roll my eyes and return to my desk, wondering if I’m going to get any work done at this rate. “And I’m not bangin’ the new girl. This is how rumors get started.” Shaking my hand at him, I add, “While we’re on the topic, don’t call her the new girl.”
“She is the new girl. The next hire will be the new guy or girl, and the cycle continues. Why are you so bothered by it?”
“Because she has a name. You should use it out of respect.” I sit down in my chair and am about to reacquaint myself with how the market’s doing this morning, but his silence demands attention. He’s like the kid who you leave alone for too long—if you hear him playing, all is safe. It’s when he’s silent that trouble’s brewing. “What?”
“You’re very protective over someone you claim to barely know.”
“Because I’m not fucking her doesn’t mean I don’t know her.”
“How well?”
“Don’t you have work to do, or do we need to find more for you?”<
br />
He glances at his watch before pushing off the glass and heading back to the door. “I have plenty, but I heard what happened. I wanted your take on it.”
“And what is ‘it’ exactly?”
“Justin being called into HR.” I don’t know what that fucker did, but this is New York. I can easily find an equally, if not better qualified accountant in this city.
“I know nothing about that.”
“Rumor has it he crossed a line with Juni,” he says with emphasis on her name.
My hackles rise, but I try to remain calm. “Oh yeah? What’d you hear?”
Stopping before he opens the door, he says, “Don’t worry about it. Joseph will handle Justin. Oh, and happy Monday.”
“I’m noting sarcasm.”
“Note it in my file, so it’s official.” He walks out laughing. For a lawyer, he sure laughs a lot. It’s a nice change from when he used to mope around. I’m thinking it’s not the work that makes him happy, but his wife.
I’ve never been in the market, but he makes it sound more appealing.
As I watch the TV, the numbers scroll by, but my mind is still elsewhere. Like inside Laurie’s office. I wonder what was said or what he did this time.
I need to let HR do their job and not get involved. That asshole is just so fucking infuriating. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I stand. But then I sit. I should stay. They can handle it.
I practically have to sit on my hands. Leaning back in my chair, I decide to tuck them behind my head and stare at the couch where Juni sat.
My thoughts cross many lines with her.
Her legs.
Those lips.
The shoes.
Her hips.
Fuck me, I’m no better than Justin.
And knowing she’s just across the office from me is distracting. Did I make a mistake by asking her to stay? I’m starting to think that seeing Juni every day will be a lot harder than I thought.
13
Andrew
