“Well look at me, saved by two of New York’s most handsome men, and all before I’ve even had my mornin’ coffee!”
Good grief.
But Manuel laps it up like pure molasses, especially with that accent of hers laid on so thickly she could smother a man. Our helpful maintenance man looks like he’d happily die of asphyxiation.
“You’re welcome, Miss Honey.”
I get a brief nod and an even briefer smile before he turns to go.
“Well, I guess that’s enough adventure for the morning,” Honey says, turning to me with an adoring smile. “I can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue, Jesse Castiglione.”
I’m stunned into silence as she rises up and plants a soft kiss on my aching cheek, causing the throb to come back.
“Until we meet again, or maybe just until I find myself once again in distress.” She pulls away and bats her eyelashes. “Unless of course, you find you need my services?”
“I’m good,” I say as curtly as possible.
She just laughs and limps past her threshold. With one last wave, she closes the door, leaving me with nothing but the vision of that smile on her face and the feel of her lips against my sore cheek.
Chapter Twelve
Honey
I fall against the door with a smile on my face, listening closely for Jesse to head back to his apartment. My smile subconsciously grows wider until I’m practically beaming when I realize he’s still standing there in the hallway where I left him.
I shouldn’t have flirted so shamelessly with him while he was only trying to help me. It’s obvious that he has very conflicting feelings when it comes to yours truly. I’ve never seen such a tough nut to crack, at least not in heterosexual male form.
Then, of course, there’s Francis.
And Jesse’s Emily.
My smile disappears.
I hear Jesse’s door close softly, which eliminates the last bit of remaining fun from this rather exciting morning.
My idea about pretending to date popped into my head when he mentioned Emily. Our circumstances are so similar it’s amusing.
Or at least it would be if it wasn’t so pathetic.
Jesse would definitely be the kind of man to make Francis jealous. I doubt he has as much money, but he’s handsome and superbly fit. He’s also smart and, as it turns out, quite witty.
I wonder if he’s as good in bed as I suggested with my little act.
Jesse did a good job hiding his reaction, but I could tell he was turned on.
I feel my body heat up at the memory of it.
“Stop it, Honey,” I admonish.
It is really bad form to think of another man in such a way when I’m trying to win Francis back. I can’t help but wonder if I’m only using Jesse to fill the void Francis so abruptly left.
“Of course you are,” I convince myself as I hobble over to the couch and fall into it. “That’s all this is.”
That gets my foot throbbing again and I lift my leg to inspect it with a frown forming on my face.
As fun as it was opening that shell of Jesse’s, this was certainly a most inopportune way of going about it.
If my foot hurts this badly now, I doubt it will be healed enough for me to work by this weekend. A woman can’t very well play the tease if she’s injured, especially considering the heels I have to wear while doing it.
The whole point of the game of cat and mouse is that the mouse is hard to catch!
As if this Valentine’s Day couldn’t get any worse.
I scowl as I think about how I expected the holiday to go last week at lunch. I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t even think about Francis until after my party, and that moment has officially arrived.
I might as well add insult to injury.
Even my sore foot can’t stop me from rising up from the couch in search of my phone which I left in the bedroom. I walk on the heel of my injured foot, which I’m sure presents a clumsy picture. Yes, work is definitely out of the picture, at least for the next several days.
As always, a smile comes to my face at the ostentatiously grand bed, or at least the large, arched headboard. It was a birthday present to myself. The button tufting and intricately scrolled, wood trim, complete with roses, just pushes it right into the territory of diva-esque.
Which I for one have no problem with.
After all, a woman should be allowed to get her way in her own bedroom of all places.
I fall to the bed and grab my phone to pull up a search on Google. I limit it to recent news—I’ve already had my fill of the illustrious background of the admirably pedigreed Muffy Aston—and my breath hitches when I see one image in particular that catches my eye from the results.
It’s a charity gala from this weekend—the two of them certainly moved fast!— raising money for “the arts,” whatever that vague term is in reference to. Muffy looks as regal as anything in a dark red dress that contrasts stunningly against her pale skin. She looks like a sexy, villainous vampire from a movie.
The one who tries to steal the heroine’s man.
Except in this case Muffy the Vampire has seemingly succeeded in slaying her conquest.
Francis is standing right next to her. No, he isn’t holding her hand or kissing her, but the way his arm is planted around her waist, his hand settled comfortably on her hip, is somehow worse. He grins proudly, a look to match the smug smile of self-assurance on his date’s face. As though she knows exactly who she is, and more importantly, she knows exactly whose woman she is.
They look like a bona fide couple.
Once upon a time that was me standing next to Francis on the red carpet. Of course, my name never made it into the captions, being the nobody that I am.
Here, Maude “Muffy” Sinclair Aston is the definite headliner, coming before even Francis Hickenbatter.
The blood in my veins begins to boil, which causes my foot to throb in protest, as though highlighting my new status as a lame duck.
I calmly place the phone down on the bed and lean back against the headboard to close my eyes and breathe.
At least now I don’t feel too guilty about this morning with Jesse.
It’s obvious he’s not as immune to my charms as he’d prefer to be.
But he’s taken.
For all intents and purposes.
Good grief, if that’s his idea of love, I’m not sure I’d be interested.
Love should be, well frankly, toe-curling, nipple-hardening, body singingly glorious.
Like sex.
Jesse makes it seem like a partnership. As he very well put it himself.
To be honest, the man should take me up on my offer if only to stir something a little more exciting up between him and this Emily.
The point is obviously moot, of course.
He said no, so I’ll leave it at that.
But I certainly haven’t given up on Francis—though I’m now quite firm in my insistence that he should be the one to make first contact.
I once again wonder what he’d think of everything that happened in Jesse’s apartment. As much as he enjoys me teasing other men in a flirtatious way, I doubt he’d be thrilled at me getting that intimate—as clinical as it all was.
Especially with someone who looks like Jesse Castiglione.
“At the very least, he’d show Francis up pretty dang good,” I say to myself with a grin.
Chapter Thirteen
Guiseppe
It’s Friday.
I’ve spent the week mostly camping out in my office. The kick Honey gave me on Tuesday turned into a fine bruise over the course of the week.
The reactions from the few people who saw me were enough to convince me that I should remain a hobbit until it fades. It’s been a strange mix of subtle admiration (mostly from women and a few of the younger male associates), mild horror (unfortunately, mostly from the partners) and ridicule (from the obvious: Todd, Vaughn, and Andrew had a field day with it).
It’s st
ill a nice little purple smudge on my cheek, but I have no choice but to crawl from my cave today. Friday is when ABC holds continuing legal education presentations so the attorneys can satisfy their state bar requirements.
The firm is nice enough to serve lunch as well.
I arrive early and see that today it’s pizza, which I find comically ironic for one of the top-grossing firms in the country. Still, no complaints from me, especially since I seem to be one of the first to arrive and have my pick.
I grab a few slices and a can of Coke, then head to the front row to take a seat. Before I can sit, Allison calls out to me. She works in the Managing Attorneys office, which handles filing paperwork, either to the court or various agencies, as well as handling the bar requirement for ABC attorneys.
“Jesse, do you think you could help me out?”
She’s standing on a chair in the back, fiddling around with the projector.
“Sure,” I say, even though it means my pizza growing cold.
She flashes a grateful smile and steps down.
“Oh my God, what happened to your cheek?” Despite the alarm in her voice, I see how her green eyes sparkle with excitement.
I got into enough scrapes, and more than a few knock-down-drag-out fights back in school to know how impressed some members of the opposite sex are with this sort of thing.
Still, no need to encourage that sort of reputation here just to stroke my own ego.
“It was just an accident is all.”
“Oh,” she says, the light somewhat dimming from her eyes. They brighten again as she points to the projector. “I just need the focus adjusted and I can’t reach it. You’re so much taller than me and I don’t want to have to call someone from the office just for this.”
“Not a problem,” I say, rising up on the chair.
It takes a while for me to find the right settings to get the focus just right and pointed in the right direction. Why it was off in the first place is beyond me.
By the time I stand down, to an Allison who is pink-faced and gushing with thanks, the room is half-full.
“Thanks again,” Allison says. “I don’t know how to thank you, Jesse. You’re such a lifesaver.”
“Not a problem,” I repeat. It really wasn’t a big deal, so I don’t get the fuss. “Nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done.”
“You’d be surprised. Some people here are so…” She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Considering the screwups I’ve seen with late filings you’d think they’d be nicer. Like just this week, we nearly had a meltdown in Managing Attorneys because of the Abernathy Trust.”
That perks my ears up. I know Todd is working on that with David.
“The Abernathy Trust?”
Her eyes go wide and her cheeks color as she realizes she may have said too much. She certainly did. As much as the curiosity eats at me, I don’t want to get her into trouble or upset her by pressing the issue.
“Never mind,” I say with a quick smile before returning to my pizza.
As I walk back to my seat my attention is caught by Emily standing by the food table. She’s staring my way with a smile of amusement on her face as she holds her plate.
She wanders over to my table and gestures to the place seat next to me. “Is this seat taken?”
“All yours,” I say, feeling emboldened.
This is certainly a good sign.
Who needs Honey? It should be easy enough to win Emily back on my own.
“What happened to your cheek?” Emily asks with that same mix of alarm and excitement Allison showed. I see her hand instinctively come up to touch it, but stop before she makes contact.
This is too easy.
“I was helping my neighbor out with something,” I say, hoping Emily remembers it was my neighbor who left the pink feather on my collar Monday.
I do feel like a bit of a hypocrite, especially after telling Honey in no uncertain terms that I didn’t need her help to win Emily over.
Especially when Emily so easily takes the bait.
She sniffs and sits up straighter, her mouth tightening in displeasure as she responds. “I see.”
“It was nothing.”
She flashes a quick smile and slides her eyes to the back of the room. “She likes you, you know.”
I blink in surprise, at first thinking Emily is talking about Honey and wondering how the hell she could figure that one out.
Then I follow her eyes and find Allison still staring my way. Her face brightens when she sees me looking back.
“Allison?” I respond, turning to Emily completely bewildered. “She just asked me to help with the projector. I assume because I’m tall.”
“Yes you are,” Emily says, for some reason rapidly blinking her eyes. “But that’s not why she asked.”
“She’s barely out of college.”
Allison is cute in a blonde, pixie sort of way. Now that I think about it, she does have a habit of asking me to help out at the CLE presentations and calling me on the phone just to double-check a filing I’ve sent down to her department. I’m twenty-nine so the age difference isn’t scandalous, but it’s still a bit too large for me not to feel like an ass just from considering it.
Emily laughs. “All the more reason for her to have a crush. I forgot how dense you can be when it comes to women. I practically had to bonk you over the head and drag you back to the cave myself just to get you to ask me out.”
I narrow my eyes, even though she’s right.
I remember how tactlessly frank Emily could be sometimes.
“Is that how you got Tyler to join you in New York?”
Her face goes red with embarrassment but before she can respond, the partner scheduled to present today is at the podium to begin the presentation.
When it’s over, I pull myself out of the same slump I suspect everyone else in the room has fallen into after that sixty official CLE minutes of boredom.
“Jesse,” Emily says, stopping me as I gather my paper plate and empty soda can. “I was wondering if I could borrow your ear about a few things.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Do you mind coming to my office? I’d rather talk in private and I’d hate to be away from my desk too long, especially since I’ve just started.”
“No problem.”
I follow her down to her floor and back to her office.
The first thing I see when I enter is a huge bouquet of roses. It’s so large it blocks her head when she takes a seat behind her desk.
“Sorry about these. They’re a bit obnoxious aren’t they?” She laughs and pushes them aside. “From Tyler of course, a nice little surprise to celebrate the weekend early.”
Tyler is apparently the considerate type of boyfriend. No doubt the flowers are to celebrate her first week at work. They probably have a more formal celebration planned for the weekend.
“You of all people remember how much I hated this sort of thing, don’t you?” She says, though I note how her eyes dance as she looks from me to the bouquet and then back to me again.
She obviously loves it now.
“You said you wanted to discuss something with me?”
She blinks in surprise, as though she forgot why she asked me to come down.
“Oh, yes,” she says, brushing her hair back with one hand, the way she does when she’s momentarily flustered. “Please, sit. If you don’t mind closing the door? I really don’t want anyone to hear me sounding incompetent.”
So she really does want some advice.
I nod with understanding and close the door behind me, then take a seat. “What’s the problem?”
“I just thought I’d pick your brain a little about the environment here. It’s so different from government work and, well, I really want to make a good first impression.”
This doesn’t sound at all like the Emily Becksworth I remember. That girl never showed a hint of vulnerability or insecurity.
“You were hired on as a third-year associate so some
one obviously thinks you’re capable.”
“Yes, but you’ve been here four years. If you’re still here, you must be doing well. I’m sure you’re thinking about making partner soon.”
I raise one eyebrow in acknowledgement.
She leans in and presents those small, perfectly white teeth. “Any tips you could give me about the partners? Or maybe the culture around here?”
“The culture? It’s about what you’d expect. Billable hours matter. Bringing in business matters.” I feel my jaw twitch mentioning this. “Just keep your nose to the grind and you’ll be fine.”
She lowers her eyelids in understanding, then raises them higher than before, making her eyes look wide. “And the partners?”
I consider what to say, mostly how to be diplomatic about it. “It’s…and old boys club. Very, uh, New England.”
She laughs. “You can say WASP in front of me, Jesse. I am one after all.”
I flash a tight smile. “Perhaps if you told me exactly what it is you’re concerned about?”
Most of this is stuff she’d easily pick up on after a good month here. I don’t know why she’d waste either of our time asking such inane questions.
She gives me that wide-eyed stare again. They fall to the roses then flash back up to me.
I simply raise my brow waiting for a substantive question.
“I guess I’m just looking for an ally. Someone who can help smooth the way for me with people here. Not just partners and attorneys of course. I realize that the help matters too,” she says, with a laugh at her little euphemism.
“You should probably start by not calling the staff ‘the help.’” I frown, annoyed by her tactlessness. “I don’t know if I’d be able to smooth your way out of that one.”
Her smile disappears and she goes red with embarrassment.
“Actually, I did want to ask you something specifically,” she says, probably picking up on the fact that I’m this close to leaving. This really is a waste of time. If she wanted to get in good with ABC, she should start by working on something that’s billable. “The gala next Saturday, is it true that not attending is the surest way to avoid partnership?”
Tease Page 9
