“I heard he didn’t use to be.” She placed the jar in her basket.
I took Lilah by the arm and led her to a secluded aisle. “We’ve been there a week. What have you learned?”
My best friend’s real gift was a finely-honed flirting technique that she used to extract anything: additional work from an insecure client, gossip from a quiet coworker, or a drink from a stranger. It was amazing how little effort it took for people to open up and spill their life story to her. Her eyes gleamed as she shared workplace news with me.
“I talked with one of the financial analysts on the scientific devices team. I met with her to understand their future workload. You know, for job shadowing. Anyway, she was so friendly and cute. I offered cookies, and she gave me the lowdown on the products, company, and executive team.”
“Well?”
“He’s changed over the last year or so. He used to be one of the more popular leaders, but now, he appears more private. She isn’t sure if the stress from the IPO is taking its toll on him or if he is heartbroken.”
“A woman probably came to her senses and cut that ass loose. That’s what I would do. Buh-bye! But did you see how that navy button-down shirt clung to his arms and chest? He’s yummy.”
“You should hate-fuck him, a sizzling ass work fling. You can get off and work out the tension that exists between the two of you. It would make my life a lot easier. Besides, I’ve heard that he’s worth it. In and out. All night long. I wonder if there are macarons. Not French macarons, but the Italian kind. Ooh. Cannoli. I’m sure Hunter would like those.” She continued to wander along the aisle, leaving me alone with my wanton thoughts.
My lower body clenched and trembled at the thought of Garrett plunging in and out of my wet pussy as he brought me to orgasm.
I couldn’t figure out what was more important to my best friend, gossip, feeding her sweet tooth, or hot men. Either way, her distractions frustrated me to no end. She couldn’t paint a visual of Garrett engaged in a sexual act and leave me like that.
“Well, what else did she say?”
“She said many people couldn’t stand him, but she thought he is, or was, a nice guy.”
“He’s exactly the way we like them, nice and with loads of stamina. In and out, all night long,” I added with a tiny snort.
“I like it when you let your hair down. Life will pass you by if you aren’t careful. For once, take off all those layers of respectability and have some fun.”
“The employee handbook outlines the reasons I can’t have any romantic relationships with a client. Let’s not forget that I am preparing to make partner. I don’t have the time for distractions. So, I would not spend a night with any of the Dynex guys.”
“Fuck the employee handbook. I’ve never paid attention to it when I’ve had my fun. I advise you to do the same. Come on let’s eat at the microbrewery.”
Back at the hotel, I performed my nightly ritual of preparing for the next day at work. I took special care in choosing the next day’s outfit and wrapping my mid-back length hair in large curlers.
Before going to bed, I unblocked the guy who had ghosted me. I expected a string of text messages explaining his absence. Instead, there was radio silence. I stuffed down my disappointment by opening the Instagram app, scrolling down my feed, half looking at the endless stream of photos. It seemed like everyone lived happy and fulfilling lives. Meanwhile, I couldn’t get a man to call me back.
After growing bored with my friends' curated lives, my mind wandered to my coworkers, specifically, Garrett Hamilton. I opened an internet browser and performed a web search on him. Before I pressed the search icon, my inner thoughts sprang into overdrive thinking of justifications for researching a colleague. Nothing good could come from satisfying my sexual curiosity.
I cast aside all notions of behaving like a stalker and reviewed the search results. I learned that Garrett was twenty-nine years old and hailed from Detroit, where he’d been one of the top lacrosse players at a prep school and college.
Garrett and I were so different, I took great care in maintaining my online presence. My search results included personal achievements, sorority, and charitable activities. It appeared that Garrett didn’t care about his search results. There were several photos of him in a cap and gown speaking at Michigan’s graduation. From this glimpse into his life, I'd learned that he graduated with honors and liked to compete in obstacle races. Also, there was an album filled with pictures of him on vacation with bikini-clad socialites and other beautiful people.
I continued to scroll through the images until I found the pièce de résistance, an obnoxious photo of Garrett seated at a throne with a leg draped over the armrest. Someone had thought it was a good idea to plop a jeweled crown on his head. I clicked on the image, rolling my eyes at the article, which declared him the “King of Dynex.”
Any level of attraction I had for him dissolved. A smug and arrogant asshole is the worst type of team player.
Lies. All lies. I couldn’t control my body’s reaction to him.
Garrett
“I need to be honest. You’re a dick, and it’s bringing down morale.”
I sighed. I knew what Hunter wanted to discuss. It had been two weeks since the status report fiasco, and I’d yet to apologize to Lilah and Jasmine. The ER Wallace team had been kind and polite, but deep down, there was an icy chill in their interactions with me.
I’d switched tactics. Rather than being an outright dick, I’d conveniently forgotten to provide advanced notice of leadership requests. Lilah and Jasmine remained in a constant scramble. Despite the sabotage, the two were relatively unscathed.
Though I’d worked hard at disrupting their efforts, Nic didn’t give me any praise or approval. She’d remained dissatisfied with the Wallace team’s resiliency.
“No excuses. You’re missing out. You should attend the weekly happy hours,” said Hunter.
Had he been hanging out with them after hours? I hadn’t received an invitation to any after-work activities.
“There are three things you should do to get in their good graces. First, I ask that you show appreciation for everyone’s hard work. Second, earn the team’s respect; they think you’re a little bitch. Finally, improve your relationship with Jasmine. She’s smart. She could save your ass.”
Hunter was right, as usual, but there was the matter of fulfilling the pledge to Nic. Now was the perfect opportunity to tell him about Nic’s blackmail.
“Hunter—”
“You’re smarter than this.” He interrupted before I began my confession.
He was right. I was smarter and better than I’d behaved. Over the next week, I made small changes. First, I sat in the war room full-time. I didn’t slink off to my office for me-time. I took part in problem-solving sessions and helped with expediting tasks under my control.
Second, I asked my assistant, Beverly, to provide lunch. Each day, a different local restaurant dropped off catered meals. They were well-received by the staff. The team members stopped going out on their own, and we started eating lunch together in the war room. I added to their conversations, which surprised everyone.
The last remaining action was the one that mattered most—working on my relationship with Jasmine. In the previous four weeks, I’d observed her connections with the team and colleagues. They liked and respected her.
I had initially thought that she was big on looks and had little substance. From the corner of my eye, I sneaked peeks as she pranced around. She’d charmed the pants off the executive team and the board of directors. Every day a different person found their way to the conference room “to say hello.” She’d gotten the old curmudgeon in accounting to take on additional work. He’d done it with a smile and turned it in days earlier than promised.
And, she’d captured my best friend’s heart.
Watching her interact with the team was like a master class in leadership. Jasmine found common ground with everyone in her path, and she'd done
it with warmth, humor, and genuine concern. She'd connected with everyone but me. I wanted her to like me. I wanted to bask in the glow of her adoration.
You want her because she ignores you.
Jasmine's spirit, intelligence, and kindness was a real turn on. Her rich, brown skin begged for caresses. Her lush lips with the well-defined cupid’s bow deserved to be licked and bitten. Her dark brown hair called me to run my fingers through it. I wanted her to see the real me and not this image that I presented to the world. I’d hand her all of my earthly possessions if given the opportunity.
The next day, I entered the office with a spring in my step along with a box of pastries in my arms.
“Good morning, Jasmine.”
“Garrett!” She did a double-take. “I’m surprised to see you here so early.”
“I wanted to catch up on emails before the rest of the team arrived. Also, I brought treats from my favorite bakery.” I held up the pink box tied with red and white baker’s twine. I dropped the parcel at the small kitchenette. “How was your evening?”
“Lilah and I were here after hours.” Her voice was firm, but polite. With a back as straight as a board, she walked over to the coffee maker.
“Did you go out to dinner?” I added a slight smile in hopes of breaking the ice.
“We ended up grabbing a quick bite from the café across the street.” She faced me, the rigid set of her shoulders relaxing a bit.
“Bummer. There are better options. I can send you a list of my favorite places, if you’d like.” Or I could take you out. “Why don’t you open the box? There are muffins and danishes.”
She removed the top and inhaled the baked goods. “These are lovely. Thank you. Now, coffee.”
Jasmine rose on her tiptoes, reaching for one of the glass coffee mugs in the upper cabinet. Her calf muscles stretched and flexed with the move. Since she turned her back, I stared at the long, lean line of her shapely legs up to her high, round, magnificent ass. I took my time with it, committing each curve to memory. I couldn’t touch, but I planned to look until my heart’s content.
“Are you going to drink that?”
In a move that I found endearing, she turned to face me, her eyes were as wide as saucers. She glanced down at the coffee pot in her hands. “Yes, I’d planned to drink it. What’s wrong with it?”
“That’s swill. I can make you a better cup of coffee. Real coffee. What do you say?” She stared at me with skepticism clouding her lovely face. I gestured toward the door. “Trust me. Let’s go.”
Jasmine and I streamed through the labyrinth of glass-enclosed hallways. The tip-tap of her heels against the slate floor was the only sound. She was so close and smelled so fucking good—a heady mixture of blackberries and vanilla.
“You’ve not had the official Garrett Hamilton tour, have you?” She’d been at the corporate headquarters for a month. I knew she could find her way around. I wanted a reason to melt the chill that existed between us.
On the other side of the glass were rows and rows of cubicles. I turned to Jasmine. “We like to call the corporate shared services departments The Fishbowls.”
We rounded one corner and approached a large atrium filled with colorful open workstations, decorated with double helix structures. We stopped so she could look at the floors below. I whispered, “These are scientists working on special projects. They work in research pods similar to our setup in the war room.”
“I wonder what they’re working on.” Mouth agape, wonder filled her eyes.
“One of our lines of business is product development. The scientists create chemical compounds or drug formulas. On the other side of the wall is our fulfillment center.”
The hallways leading to the IT department transformed into a modern, open space.
“Finally, the IT department.” I pointed to the empty desk outside my office. “That’s where Beverly, my assistant, sits.”
“By the way, thank you for providing lunches. You’ve made excellent food choices.”
“You’re welcome. I want the team to know that Dynex management appreciates the hard work.”
We stepped into my office. Jasmine took a seat and looked around the room. My sparsely furnished office was on the larger size. I had a few family photos and my college degree on the walls. On my bookshelf rested two glass “Outstanding Employee” awards. A fig tree sat in the corner. The only reason it wasn’t dead was that the office gardener maintained it for me.
I pulled out a small basket that contained a bag of Dean and Deluca coffee and a French press from the wet bar. I added the coffee beans, filled the press with hot water from the dispenser, and let the coffee steep while I pulled two mugs from the mug tree on the countertop.
“Have you ever had French pressed coffee?”
“No, I haven’t. I am not a coffee expert. I only drink it when I need a blast of caffeine.”
“Well, a taste of this, and you’ll want nothing else.” My heart pounded in my chest. The play on words was a chickenshit way of flirting. If she questioned my intent, I could always say the statement was directed to the coffee. Though in my heart of hearts, I knew that I was talking about fucking her until she saw no other man.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She arched a brow in response.
Jasmine quietly watched my every move before I pressed the plunger. I grabbed a small container of coffee creamer from the mini-fridge and set it on the counter.
“I like store-bought creamer that’s full of fat and artificial ingredients. Help yourself. There are sweetener and sugar packets on the counter.” I poured the coffee into the two mugs and presented one to Jasmine. “I promise that this will be better than anything you’ve ever had.”
She lifted the mug, sipped on the hot, creamy drink, and closed her eyes as her head fell back. I took a sip from my cup and had to pat myself on the back for the perfect brew.
“Thank you. You’re right, this is a great cup of coffee,” she said.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
She nodded, fingers wrapped tightly around the mug. I sat across from her. She flashed a shy smile. “This is a nice office.”
Shallow conversations didn’t appeal to me. I needed to get to know the real Jasmine. There was only one way I knew to get her to loosen up.
“Thanks. Duke, huh?”
She smiled. “You’re a Michigan Wolverine.” She added a frown at the mention of my college mascot.
“Should we associate with each other?”
“At the end of this engagement, you’ll be able to brag that you learned from a Blue Devil.”
Yeah, but not anything that I would like to learn from you.
“Thank you for having coffee with me. Our working relationship is essential to the success of Project Orion.” I continued as she contemplated my words. “I hope that we can put the past behind us. “
“Garrett, here’s what you’ll learn. I look ahead. Never behind.”
I miss you.
My sister had changed Colette’s contact name to DNA-Colette. DNA stood for “do not answer.” It was a visual reminder that I should ignore the text. Nothing good could come from an out-of-the-blue text from an ex.
I continued to stare at the screen in disbelief while the three dots bounced, showing that Colette was typing a message.
My body craves your touch.
Twenty seconds later, my phone vibrated with an image of a collage of body parts. The legs that I’d admired, lips that I’d kissed, and the tits that I had stroked and caressed were on full display. The body parts connected to a woman who once meant something to me.
Consider me. Make me yours again.
I stared at the text message. Colette sure didn’t feel this way five months ago.
At her suggestion, we’d traveled to a steakhouse on the outskirts of the western suburbs. Not one of the newest, local hotspots, but a tried-and-true place known for its food and service. Valentine’s weekend was on steroids. Someone had filled t
he restaurant with flowers, candles, and balloons.
I had helped her onto a barstool and stood possessively close to her and ordered two Manhattans.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” I smiled and leaned in to kiss her berry-red lips. She wore a short, black, long-sleeved sweater dress that floated along her curves. The thigh-skimming length made her legs appear to go on for miles, ending in tall, black heels. Her naturally straight hair was a mass of waves framing her shoulders.
“Happy Valentine’s Day. Thanks again for the flowers. My office smells wonderful. You’ll love my gift.”
“Give me a hint.” I kissed her temple.
“It’s soft, pink, and warm.”
“Hmm. I need more clues. Does it melt in my mouth? What about my touch?”
“Maybe . . .” She drawled the word out a few syllables. “I’ll give one more clue. It has your name written all over it.”
“Ahh. If it has my name on it, then that means it’s mine. All mine.” I spoke against the shell of her ear. She shivered as my warm breath tickled the lobe. I nipped at the delicate flesh, thrilled when she sucked in a rush of air. All the blood in my body flowed to my cock.
She placed a hand on my chest and gently pushed, putting space between our bodies. Her eyes darted nervously around the room.
I backed away and placed my hands in my pockets.
She cleared her throat, ignoring my reaction. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the monogrammed stuffed heart.”
Our first Valentine’s day landed seven weeks into our relationship, and we were crazy with a lust that only a new relationship could possess. I usually avoided the stress that came along with holidays, but for this one, I put in a lot of effort. I ordered the flowers, candy, and made reservations well in advance. I didn’t know why that date mattered.
I tucked the slight away and stood closer, the length of my rock-hard penis poked against her hip. “Watch it. Or we’ll go to the car, and I’ll take the gift I want.”
She stared up into my eyes and unnoticeably shifted her hip against the meat tenting my slacks. “How was work?” she panted.
It's a Work Thing Page 5
