Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  “I could ask Ma.” It’s out of my mouth before I can snatch it back. If I ask my mom, it will open up Pandora’s box. She’ll be missing when we were babies, thinking of how she’s never going to have her own grandbabies.

  “Okay, but I really think watching Beth and Sam might be our best bet.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go with that.” Thank goodness. I’d rather spend my night with a newborn than asking my mom about babies.

  “I’m going over there tonight, so I’ll find out a day that’s good for her.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We both stand, and I open the door for her. She’s in a pantsuit today, which disappointed me this morning, since I love her legs. Even though I shouldn’t. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

  After we thank the focus group for coming, we head down the elevator to the lobby of the building.

  “Are you taking the products to your sister’s place?” I ask.

  We step out onto the street, and for the first time in weeks, sunlight shines down on us.

  “Oh my God. Feel that on your face. I thought the clouds and rain were going to last forever.” She tips her head up to the sky, granting me time to admire her long neck.

  If she was mine, my first line of business would be licking up her soft skin until I captured her lips with mine.

  “This makes the day so much better.” She inhales a deep breath, and her smile says she doesn’t smell the garbage set out at the curb, but something else. “The flowers, the grass. It’s like everything is coming to life again.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s three o’clock. We can get back to the office and get a few more hours of work in before the day is over. Her head falls down, and she digs out a pair of sunglasses from her bag and positions them on her face.

  “Should we head back?” I ask.

  She nods, but it’s clear she’s reluctant.

  I flag down a taxi and open the door for her, but she doesn’t step forward. I can’t read her eyes because of her sunglasses, but I think she’s staring at Central Park across from us.

  Pushing her sunglasses up on her head, she steps forward but places her hand on my forearm. “Do you mind if I meet you back at the office?”

  I crease my forehead. “Sure.”

  “Thanks. I won’t be long.”

  Before I can say anything else, she walks across the street and into Central Park.

  I peek my head in the taxi. “Sorry.” I shut the door.

  He flips me off and speeds off around the corner, almost hitting another pedestrian. I dodge traffic, playing a mild game of Frogger until I’m safely on the other side of the street.

  “Annie!” I call.

  She stops and turns. Her lips tip down. Shit, I didn’t realize I was intruding on her. Maybe there’s a reason why she wants to walk through Central Park.

  “Did I forget something?” she asks.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  A smile rushes to her face and reaches her eyes. My heart does this weird sputtering thing.

  “Not at all.”

  A rainy spring has nourished the plants and flowers. The park is green and colorful now, as if it all appeared out of thin air. People ride their bikes and walk the paths—a mix of parents pushing strollers and athletic types getting their exercise.

  “I love spring because all the people come out of hibernation.” She twirls in a circle and continues walking forward as though she’s soaking in much more than the sun. “The city comes alive.”

  I could argue that the night is when this city comes alive, but I’m mesmerized by her. I’ve never seen her so carefree and relaxed. After a few twirls with her head tipped up to the sun, she stops and looks at me.

  “I can name all the statues in Central Park.” She laughs. “I know. Stupid fact, but my dad’s a history buff, and when we moved here, he’d take us out every weekend from May to October. We’d walk the path and he’d tell us all about the person the statue honored.”

  Any words I might say are trapped in my throat. What is it about this woman that continues to draw me in?

  “You’re probably like, ‘Whatever, Annie. That’s so stupid,’ but days like today, I feel like I’m ten again and my dad’s telling the story of Alexander Hamilton or King Jagiello and the Battle of Grunwald.”

  We continue down the path until we pass the Alice in Wonderland statue.

  “Oh.” She touches the bronze sculpture. “My dad made a whole day about Alice in Wonderland once. He rented the movie.” She tips her head. “The 1951 version. I became obsessed, and we watched each remake to decide which is best.”

  “And the winner?” I ask.

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I love the 2010.” She cringes as if she should be ashamed.

  “I’ve never seen any of them.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Oh, you need to get out more.”

  “Wouldn’t I need to stay in more?”

  She thinks for a moment, her eyes shooting toward the blue sky. “Maybe.” She bumps me with her shoulder. “Want to know another fact?”

  “Sure.”

  A sensation like we’re in a movie and should be skipping through Central Park runs through my mind. It’s like the sun and warm weather has intoxicated her. Shit, she’s intoxicating me.

  “There’re no statues of women. I mean, not real women. There’s Alice and angels and animals that might be of the female sex, but not one of a real-life woman.”

  My head draws back. There’s no way that’s true.

  She points at me. “You think I’m wrong, but it’s true.”

  I hold up my hands.

  “In 2020, there’s supposed to be one of Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony displayed. Those will be the first.”

  Huh. I never think about these things. But I remember the way she was upset when they wanted her to continue being an assistant after she contributed to the Coddle campaign. I thought she’d be ecstatic, and after she almost declined the opportunity, I realized how differently Jacobson and Earl makes decisions between her and me. After the first campaign I had a hand in landing, I was promoted to junior ad exec right away. Actually, I never even assisted. They called my job an apprenticeship, but I was paid.

  Now, in 2019, there’s not one statue in this famous park of a woman who made a difference in the world?

  “I think it’s sad for little girls, you know? Don’t get me wrong, Alice in Wonderland and Juliet are fine, but girls walk through this park and see statue after statue of men who, let’s be honest, probably had a hand in keeping the women below them down. Kids are smart, they see the difference.” She sits at a water fountain and pats the spot next to her then digs into her purse, grabs two pennies, and hands one to me. “I’m doing all the talking. Make a wish.”

  She’s been rambling since we walked in, but I’m enjoying listening to her. I like that she’s sharing who she is with me. She has such a great head on her shoulders. No wonder it feels impossible not to be taken by her, even if she does work for me.

  She closes her eyes, kisses the penny—which I’m not sure is a good idea—and tosses it in. We watch the penny swirl until it hits the bottom of the fountain.

  She smiles before turning back to me and knocking me with her shoulder. “Come on.”

  I make a wish in my head and toss my penny into the fountain.

  “Don’t tell me,” she says.

  “Okay.” Although if it does come true, it will benefit us both. Winning all the Coddle products would make sure everyone in advertising knows who we are.

  “One last stop and then we can go back to the office, okay?” She has her hands up in front of her in a prayer pose as though she’s begging.

  It’s funny that she thinks she’s easy to say no to.

  I shove my hands into my pockets before I can give in to the temptation to take her hand and allow her to lead me wherever she wants. “Sure.”

  A few minutes later, we arrive at the Romeo and Juliet statue.


  “Funny, I was just talking to my brothers about Romeo and Juliet the other day,” I say.

  “Really?” Her dreamy eyes say she won’t be in agreement with us.

  “My brother Carm says it’s not a love story.”

  She balks, her mouth hanging open. Then she must think on it because her expression changes. “I guess I can see why people might think that but… you know what I love about their story?” She stares at the statue. “I love that it was such a forbidden love. So many odds were stacked against them, but they had this pull to one another they couldn’t resist. Their love was too powerful to be ignored.”

  “You do know it only happened over three days?”

  She turns to me, tilting her head. “Do you not believe in love at first sight?”

  “No.”

  Her lips dip down. “You don’t think that one day you’ll be walking through, let’s say, Central Park and you might spot a woman. Your eyes connect, and bam, there’s that spark of electricity and suddenly the former bachelor known as Lorenzo Mancini is off the market.” She laughs.

  “Not at all.” I lean in closer. “Want to hear another confession?” I whisper into her ear. “I don’t believe in soul mates either.”

  She shakes her head then smiles and walks down the path, so I follow. “I don’t either. I mean, if there’s one guy out there for me, I’m never going to find him. I live in a city with almost nine million people. You’re telling me that one day Cupid is gonna come down with his arrow and shoot us both? Not likely. But love at first sight? I do believe in that. Well…” She giggles and damn if it’s not the cutest sound in the world. “I guess maybe it’s more intrigue than love, and the desire to find out what’s between you.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not love at first sight.”

  Her lips tip down, and I hate seeing that. “Yeah, I guess not. Who would have thought I’d agree with Lorenzo Mancini? Not me.”

  “I’m curious, what did you think of me before we started working together?”

  Her face flushes and she sucks on her top lip.

  I cringe. “That bad?”

  “No.” She waves me off. “I thought you were difficult to work for.”

  “And now?” I stop us before we exit the park. It shouldn’t matter what she thinks, but I want to know so badly.

  “I think you’re pretty great,” she says.

  Our eyes lock for a moment and I step forward, my arm extending. Her tongue slides out of her mouth, licking her bottom lip, and I want so badly to bite that lip.

  The air between us feels electric, and my heart rate picks up as I lean forward.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and she blinks, shakes her head, and steps back.

  “I’ll let you get that.” She walks a few steps ahead, turning away from me.

  Thank God for my phone, because I almost did the stupidest thing I could ever do. Kill my chances at making partner.

  Chapter 17

  Annie

  * * *

  “I almost kissed him.” I flail on the couch and throw my arm over my eyes.

  “I hate to break this to you, but rumors are flying at work.”

  I bolt up, lasering my focus on Mae. She nods, answering my unasked question.

  “Why? We’ve been nothing but professional.”

  She raises her palms as though weighing them back and forth. “Didn’t you just say you almost kissed him?”

  “This is amazing. I’ll write a thank you note for you to send them.” Beth keeps pulling out items Blair Peterson was nice enough to send to her.

  “I’m so screwed. You have no idea how much sex appeal he has.” I slump back into the couch.

  “Oh, I know.” Mae grabs a cookie from the table, sitting cross-legged on the chair and staring at me as though she’s happy it’s me and not her. “We’ve been drooling over him for the past two years. Well, me only a year, but let’s not forget your first day at Jacobson and Earl.”

  “Ugh.” My throat strangles the sound of my frustration. “How can I forget?”

  “I think he knew of you.” Mae smiles to make me feel better. She’s a good friend.

  “Seriously, we have enough to stuff to last a lifetime, Sam!” Beth yells.

  “Awesome!” he yells back.

  The baby screams a second later.

  Mae and I laugh.

  “I’ll be back,” Beth stands.

  “I got it, babe,” Sam calls, and Beth sits back down, digging through the box as if it’s from Sephora. I don’t get the appeal. It’s a bunch of lotions and soaps and diapers.

  “That’s a good guy in there,” I say.

  “He is,” Mae says.

  “For sure,” I add.

  “Back to your first day. Remember?”

  “Yes, Mae, I remember. I remember every embarrassing moment of it.”

  “Why don’t I know this?” Beth looks up. I didn’t even think she was listening.

  “Because you were in Samland. Newlyweds don’t really see what’s going on outside of their love bubble.” The bitterness in my tone surprises even me. Beth’s forehead crinkles, and I feel guilty for her thinking I’m not happy for her. My shoulders sag. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Her gaze falls down, and she buries her head back in the box.

  “She was in the lobby, getting her security pass, and afterward she was running late, so she ran smack dab into him,” Mae says, and I can tell she’s enjoying sharing this with my sister.

  “I didn’t account for how long it would take at security. I had to show my license and sign something. I figured they’d have called down and already have my tag ready.” I use the same excuse I do every time we travel down this particular memory lane.

  “That’s it? That’s not so bad,” Beth says, her head still in the box. I make a mental note to get her baby supplies the next time I piss her off.

  “The two of them ran into one another at the elevators.”

  My heartbeat picks up just remembering that day. I toss a pillow at Mae but miss.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Beth says, a bottle of lotion in each hand, one lavender and one regular. “I feel like it’s my birthday. How sad is that?” She chuckles.

  “It’s not nearly as bad as she’s making it out to be.” Mae sips her wine and grabs another cookie. “They get off the elevator.”

  “You’re missing a crucial part of the story,” I remind her, grabbing another pillow from beside me and pulling it onto my face.

  Mae tilts her head and looks at me. “What?”

  I move the pillow away from my face for a second. “I saw him when I interviewed.” I put it back over, as if covering my face makes the embarrassment somehow less.

  “Lorenzo Mancini isn’t a guy you forget, so yes, she saw him at the interview. Knew on the ride up that they’d get off on the same floor. She hangs back because she doesn’t want him to stare at her ass while she walks in front of him out of the elevator.”

  “My modest little sister.” Beth nudges my arm.

  I scream into the pillow.

  “So she follows him.”

  I take the pillow off my face again. “Keep that amused tone out of your voice.”

  Mae laughs. “Long story short, she followed him right into the men’s room.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” Beth says. “Please.”

  I sit up straight. “I followed him into the bathroom. He didn’t notice right away. Put his tie over his shoulder and unbuckled his pants until he must have sensed me. I was standing there, staring at him.”

  “For how long?” I can tell my sister is trying to hold back a laugh now.

  “I don’t know.” I fall headfirst into the couch.

  “He doesn’t even remember,” Mae says.

  “Because I’m that unmemorable. I’m pretty sure I’d remember someone who followed me into a bathroom and acted like they were going to watch me pee.”

  “That was two years ago. Things have changed. I
saw it.” Beth tucks her legs under her on the couch, finally ignoring the box of goodies.

  “You never saw us until the hospital.”

  She shrugs. “You guys have chemistry.”

  “No, we don’t. We’re opposite sexes who work together. The lines are blurring, but they’ll straighten out.”

  Beth looks at Mae, then to the side when we hear footsteps in the hall.

  “Sorry, babe, she’s hungry.” Sam comes out of the back hallway looking like death. He’s in shorts and a T-shirt with three stains around his shoulders. “Ladies.”

  “Sam, man, you need a shower. What’s that smell?” Mae cringes with me.

  “It’s called fatherhood, Mae.”

  Her cringe intensifies from his snarky attitude.

  “Go get some rest. I got her.” Beth opens her arms, and Sam places Cecilia into them. Beth pulls up her shirt and opens some flap on her bra, her huge breast falling out.

  “Whoa, did you get implants?” Mae asks.

  I really hope she’s joking.

  “Yes, I did, Mae. After I pushed an eight-pound baby out of my hoo-ha, I said, ‘Hey, doc, how about some bigger knockers?’”

  “Jeez, I was joking.” Mae tips her head down into her wine glass.

  “Sorry. I’m just moody.” The baby latches to Beth.

  “They look great,” Mae says, grabbing both of hers. “I’m jealous.”

  “Believe me, they aren’t worth what I went through to finally have great tits.”

  “Can you do me a favor?” I ask, hating to bring it up.

  Beth doesn’t respond but shoots me her “what is it now” expression.

  “When Enzo comes here with me, can you not pull them out?” I asked earlier if she minded if we used her as a case study, and surprisingly, she agreed right away.

  “Breastfeeding is nothing to be ashamed of. My baby is eating—”

  “It’s not that. It’s because if I ever do get to second base with him, he’s going to wonder why he’s with the small-tit sister.”

  Mae throws a pillow at me but can’t stop laughing.

  Beth laughs, the poor baby getting a milkshake.

  “I already feel inadequate. I have to ask myself, why would he even want to kiss me?”