by Hoff, Stacy
The wing is empty and dark except for the light radiating from his office. I walk in, see Jordan typing away on the computer. “Jordan? You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, Sue,” he says, swiveling around to face me. “Please, come in. Shut the door.”
I do, but don’t take a seat. So much easier to run if I’m already standing.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I wanted to get this out of the way as soon as you came in, so you don’t feel awkward about last night. I know how important it is for you to know where you stand, so I’m going to tell you.”
For the love of Pete, sum it up, is this good news, or bad? Why is he pausing? Is he stalling, afraid of telling me he’s made a mistake? That he isn’t interested in me after all?
“Sue, last night was special for me. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since Marty’s mother. I want us in a relationship, starting now.”
Thank God! But wait—don’t men hate women who are too needy? “Uh, what happened between you and Marty’s mom?”
“Sue. Why do you always do this? You leave me with my heart out on the table. You’re trying to change the topic to the irrelevant.”
“It’s not irrelevant, Jordan. I want to make sure I know what I’m getting into.” This is playing it cool, right?
“Getting into my arms, hopefully.” He tries to smile but looks frustrated with me again. “Sue, if you like me, stop fighting this.” Standing up, he walks over to me, then takes my hand. Holding it in his, his voice wavers. “Please stop fighting me. I’ve tried hard to enter your world but you keep shutting the door.”
“But I don’t want to get hurt,” I blurt out. A flash of unedited honesty.
“Neither do I. But I’m willing to risk it. I never thought I’d say that after my divorce, but here I am. To answer your question, Marty’s mother decided to hook up with another guy. I ended the marriage after that. I decided I was never again going to let a woman dictate my happiness because I wasn’t getting involved. I stayed focused on Marty, and business, and was quite content to continue on that way.
“As for your next question, to save us the time of your asking it, Rochelle was working for me during my divorce. After a few months she told me she wanted to get intimately involved and I told her I wasn’t interested. I was sure Rochelle was looking for a trophy husband, someone to impress her friends and family. Trust me, there was no temptation because I know relationships based on externals don’t last. I learned that from my marriage.”
I gulp hard.
“Then came you,” he says. “I knew you were different. You are so serious about everything. You can see past money, perceived power, and appearance. I knew if I was lucky enough to have a relationship with you, it’d last.”
He drops my hand and puts his arms around my waist, like the night before. He feels so warm, so comforting. “Seeing you that first time at the bookstore, even then I knew you had everything I wanted in a woman.”
Liquefied bliss coursing through veins.
“Except for your nutty clothes and tremendous klutziness,” he adds with a grin.
I blanch.
He laughs. “Seriously, Sue, I could tell straight off you’re a special person. You were observant to have found the shoe. Kind to retrieve it for Marty. You even tried to help me, despite my gruffness.”
“So you did like me,” I say slowly. “Because you didn’t look too happy.”
“Getting a cup of hot tea dumped all over me wasn’t ideal, no,” he says, laughing again.
Still mortified by the memory, I manage only half a smile.
“And, given my divorce,” he continues more seriously, “meeting someone like you was the last thing I wanted to happen.” He takes my hand again. Lifting it up to his lips he softly kisses it. Slowly. Gently. “After I got to know you, I learned things about you that made you even more attractive. You value relationships. You’re smart. You speak your mind. It quickly became more than wanting to work with you. It became my wanting to be with you.”
He stops for a minute, looking as if he’s trying to decide upon his next words. “Sue, I might as well confess this. When you are in a room with me, I practically have to pull my eyes away from your face. It’s a terrible distraction when we’re working together.” He frowns. “I really am sorry about not making eye contact during our meetings. Not looking at you wasn’t much of a solution, was it? If it makes you feel any better, it did cost me the price of two hot chocolates.”
The hair from my face is swept away with a gentle stroke of his hand. Lifting up on my toes, I try to reach his height. The lips that I kiss are as soft as I remember. But he suddenly straightens up, and I stop. “It’s okay, Jordan. I know what I’m doing. I do want to be with you.” Leaning forward to kiss him again, he steps back from me.
“Last piece of business before we can start,” he says. “I want to protect your career here. Mine too. The less we interact in the office the better.”
He gestures to his computer screen. “I’m working on your transfer. Don’t worry, I’m not going to submit anything without your consent. But I do want you to go to Comm Lit. I called up Bill early this morning and he is very happy to have you. I won’t be happy letting you go. I’ll be back to the applicant pool again, and this time no pre-screening at Barnes & Noble. I doubt lightening can strike twice.”
I laugh. But he scrunches his face as he continues, “Another thing. At least for the time being, you will have to give up your ambition for a bigger office. I can’t justify creating one here in the wing if you’re going to be transferred to another section. You okay with that?”
“I’ll get over the loss,” I say, waving the notion away with my hand.
“If that’s the case, then I should also tell you Bill wants you to start immediately. I hope that’s okay with you, because frankly, it works for me. I’d like to start immediately, too. Are you free tonight?” He strokes my cheek with the tips of his fingers, and a tingling sensation shoots through me. All the way to parts I didn’t know could tingle.
“Yes.” Oh, yes.
“I’ll pick you up at your place?”
“Yes.” I start to give him my address, but he cuts me off.
“I already know where you live. One of the perks of having been the boss.”
I hear a click as Amber turns on the lights, a thump when she put her purse on her desk. Reluctantly I walk out to go upstairs, closing his office door behind me.
By the time I get back to my office the Comm Lit team has arrived. Bill gathers everyone together to announce I will be joining, effective immediately. Wide eyes and raised eyebrows appear all around me. I smile and say I’m looking to broaden myself and that I need a change. The group eventually seems willing to accept my answer. It’s a relief not to say much more. The group disburses and I catch up with Bill. “Thank you.”
“I should thank Jordan. This worked out great for me.” He winks and disappears.
How much exactly did Jordan tell him?
I’m in my own world the whole day. Fortunately it is spent doing brainless work like closing out Jordan’s files and opening Bill’s new ones so I don’t have to force myself to think. Leila speaks to me when I’m in a daze so deep I don’t even hear her.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice thick with concern.
“Huh? What? Oh, yes, I’m fine, really.”
“Good.” Leila’s eyebrows are still furrowed. Something’s coming for sure.
“You’re not happy to work with me?” I joke, trying to lighten her mood.
“Of course. But why didn’t you tell me you were going to transfer?” She sounds hurt.
Damn, I hate lying to her. No other choice though. “I’m so sorry, Leila. I do try to always fill you in on my plans. The issue of my transferring was recently bro
ught up, and I was told to keep this whole thing under wraps in case it didn’t work out.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Maybe I’m being silly. I’m sure you would have told me if you could.” She shakes her head and finally lets out a beaming smile. “This isn’t about me anyway, it’s about you. I know you’re going to be happy here.”
“Thanks. Good to know because I’m a little overwhelmed by all this change.”
“I understand,” she says sympathetically. “When I have a lot of upheaval it helps to know I’m making my choices for the right reasons. Take confidence in your choices. It’s because of them that you won last night’s award.”
Bill’s winking troubles me. Am I making the right choice?
CHAPTER 18
The night has finally come and I’m home. I haven’t changed out of my work clothes because I have no idea what’s appropriate to wear for a date. I fix my hair to kill time and try to eat enough food to not embarrass myself with stomach growls. Watching TV is of limited use, my brain is determined to tune out. All thought focuses on one thing—Jordan will be at my apartment soon.
Deciding to be productive, I start cleaning. Realizing the attempt is futile, I simply stack things in piles. Stepping back, I survey my work. Hmmm. Before, my place was a cave. Now it’s a cave with stalagmites. I throw all my mail from the past month, including unread magazines, into the kitchen garbage can. So much for learning what Cosmopolitan has to say. Their advice column probably wouldn’t help me with this situation anyway. Or would it?
Dear Cosmo, I’m dating my boss. No, make that my former boss. He’s coming over tonight for our first date. Though I’m really inexperienced with men, I want him to fall for me. The very sexy kiss we shared left me longing for more. What should I do when he arrives in a few minutes? Continue playing it cool or immediately jump his bones?
God! What kinds of thoughts are these? I’ve got to snap out of it. I dig around in the trash to ferret out all the unpaid bills. The utility bill I salvage is thankfully not too sticky. I set the lid back in place, glad I sprang the extra five bucks for a can with a cover. If Jordan saw how many papers I threw out I’m sure he’d wonder if I was a hoarder or in league with the city dump. I wash my hands with both soap and Purell to be extra sure I’m one-hundred percent clean.
It’s 8:30 p.m. At last my doorbell rings. This is it—our first date. I fling open the door. No, it’s not a mirage. He really is here. But seeing him at my apartment door is the oddest sight. Odd because he’s always been a fixture of the office. Hopefully he’ll soon be fixated on me.
He is truly handsome as he stands among my impoverished, eclectic furnishings. Looking around, his eyes narrow, and his forehead creases. “You mostly picked up around here. It’s better than your office.”
Ignoring his laughter, I try to smile confidently. At least the garbage can is my dirty little secret. “Come on in,” I say, hoping to sound both gracious and sexy.
“For you,” he says, handing me a dozen long stemmed pink roses.
I guess I was so awed to see him in my apartment the flowers went unnoticed.
“To enhance your apartment,” he says. “So it’s worthy of you. I passed on getting you chocolates.”
“I prefer getting flowers to chocolates any day. Chocolates would only make me fat,” I retort, laughing along with him.
“You know, I hate being jealous. I shouldn’t have said that though.”
“Jealous? Really?” That stops my laughter. I stare at him, wide-eyed. Incredulous.
“Yes. Don’t rub it in.”
Rub it in? How can I rub it in when his comment has rendered me speechless? Not knowing what else to do, I turn my attention to the flowers. They’re bundled in light blue cellophane and tied with a pink ribbon. I unwrap the beautiful bouquet and put the flowers in the only vase I have, one that is short and squat. The roses stick at out crazy angles as I try to balance them.
“Looking at that thing, you’d think nobody has ever given you long stemmed roses before,” he says, eyeing the vase nastily.
“Umm. Yeah. I’ll have to see if I can turn up a better one tomorrow. Really, thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely.”
“So are you,” he says, stepping closer to me.
He is moving so fast. Too fast. He isn’t giving me any time to think. A few minutes ago I was practically desperate to sleep with the guy, but now I’m feeling more apprehension than lust. “Where did you want to go?” I manage to squeak out. “There’s a decent pub down the street. And there’s a Starbucks two blocks away. Or did you have something else in mind?”
“I did, yes.” But he isn’t moving toward the door. He’s moving toward me. Then he catches my expression. I don’t know if I look simply wary, or outright fearful.
Now that he’s here and aroused, what the hell do I do?
“Geez, Sue, are you okay?”
“Boss by day, lover by night,” I say with a sarcastic tone. Ah, sarcasm, my saving grace.
“First off, I’m no longer your boss,” he says, sounding like he’s trying not to yell. “Second off, I’m not looking for a good time with an easy mark. In fact, I found getting to be with you almost impossible.”
“Yes, a lot of people have found getting close to me impossible.”
“Maybe I liked the challenge. But I’m hopeful we can move forward now.”
“I gathered you would like to ‘move forward.’ And in order to help you move this whole thing forward, what exactly did you tell Bill? He winked at me this morning. Now I’m wondering what kind of girl he thinks I am.”
“A bright, hard-working one that he’s very lucky to have.”
“People can think I’m bright, hard-working, and the office slut. Not exactly the image I was going for.”
“All right, I hear you. I don’t think it’s like that at all. I told Bill I had been interested in you for a long time, and you were finally interested in me. I told him we wanted to start dating to see where this goes. I said you were important to me, and I was hoping it would work out between us. I asked him to do me this favor. Like I told you, he was only too happy to accommodate. He said he’d keep everything under wraps. I’ve known Bill for a long time. I trust him.”
“You told him all that?”
“Yes, though I didn’t tape record the conversation.”
“I meant the part about—”
“Go on,” he says, a rough edge to his voice.
“The part about you wanting to be with me for some time. I really have a hard time believing it,” I say slowly. I guess this explained his jealousy. Is all of this possible? I can’t fathom.
Taking a step forward, he strokes my face. “Remember when I took you out for coffee? You said you left your old firm because you felt disconnected from them. That was ironic because it was hard for me to work with you when you seemed so, I don’t know, shut off from me. I tried to limit my time with you because not being around you was a little less frustrating. When I was with you, I admit I wasn’t all that nice. I’m sorry about that. I thought if I alienated you completely, I could finally let go of any hope of our being together. I’m glad the plan failed.”
“It worked. You could be pretty awful.”
“All of it was awful. Not being with you was awful. God knows I wanted you bad enough. Believe me, I’m glad to leave the past behind us. Now you are no longer some fantasy I’ve been harboring. You are here for me to touch.” He smoothes my bangs with his fingertips. “And you’re here for me to feel.” He pulls me to him and clasps his hands around my waist. He bends his head toward me.
Suddenly I’m once again responding to his kiss, only now more intensely than the night before. His kiss is burning. I part my lips and feel gentleness within the strong crush. Succumbing—quickly. Ability to think clearly—fading. My blood t
akes on a frenetic rhythm, tribal drums pounding out a clear message. But I’m not ready to sacrifice myself for the pleasure of the chieftain. There are logistics to be worked out. I try to recall what they are as he slowly slides his hand down the front of my shirt. My logistical items, what were they? Oh, right. They were . . .
He sweeps my hair back. Draws a line down my neck with the tip of his tongue. My only thought is, “Mmmmmm.” Stop that and pay attention, Sue. Okay. Right. Now my point was . . . Well, my point is not much at the moment. No coherency. Whatsoever. Maybe I can concentrate hard enough to spell “Sue.” I think I can do it, spell my own name. If he can stop unbuttoning my shirt long enough to let me concentrate.
