Another Woman's Man

by Shelly Ellis

  “You two are getting along rather well, aren’t you?” Herb asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you and Dawn seem to be hitting it off. In fact, I think you’re getting along better with Dawn than Dawn and Constance are getting along with each other. Those two haven’t connected at all.”

  “Well, they’re two women who just found out a month or so ago that they’re sisters, Herb. It has to be awkward. And there is the age difference between them.”

  Herb finally released the envelope. “There’s an age difference between you and Dawn too, Xavier, and it doesn’t seem to have made much of a difference.”

  “I . . . I suppose not,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Good point.” Was it his imagination or was the temperature rising in the room? He tucked the envelope into his suit breast pocket. “I’ll let you get back to your work. In the meantime, I’ll take care of this check for you.” He turned and began walking toward the office door.

  “Oh, Xavier!” Herb called after him.

  Xavier stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

  “I appreciate you being so welcoming to Dawn. I want her to feel like she’s part of the family, and I’m glad you’re making an effort to do that, but . . . you don’t have to try too hard. All right? We wouldn’t want to make Connie jealous.”

  Herb was still smiling, but Xavier could see something in Herb’s eyes that made him uncomfortable. Was it caution, maybe? But why was Herb warning him off? Xavier was still keeping a safe distance from Dawn. He hadn’t crossed any lines. He had no interest in her.

  “Of course not, Herb.”

  He opened the office door, stepped out of the office, and shut the door behind him.

  Chapter 13

  Dawn grumbled to herself as she riffled through the pile of papers and envelopes on her desk. Her sprained ankle was elevated on the chair beside her.

  She had planned a leisurely morning of enjoying a freshly baked croissant and her French-pressed coffee, then maybe checking her e-mail. But that whole plan was shot to hell the instant she walked through the gallery’s revolving glass doors.

  Her heaven-sent assistant Kevin was regretfully on vacation in Napa Valley with his longtime boyfriend. That meant Dawn now had to fend for herself, and her to-do list was growing longer by the hour. Not only did she have to review the draft of the press release for an upcoming exhibit, but she also had to redo all the invitations. Last week, Dawn had handed off the task to her new intern, who promised he had the invitations covered.

  “No problem, Miss Gibbons,” her new intern had assured her with a wink.

  But this morning she was stunned to realize the intern did not have it covered. He had used an out-of-date invite list and accidentally deleted the new one, so now Dawn was frantically trying to gather names and addresses to create mailing labels.

  If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, she thought with frustration.

  She also had an interview scheduled with a style magazine reporter for later that morning and several phone messages from florists and caterers to return. This was in addition to the less-than-glamorous office work she had to take care of as part of her day-to-day responsibilities as gallery director.

  “I’ll be lucky if I get out of here before midnight,” she mumbled, picking up another envelope and ripping it open.

  “Good morning, darling!”

  Dawn flinched at the sound of the booming voice. Oh, this was the last thing she needed!

  She slowly raised her eyes from the mountainous pile on her desk and saw gallery owner Percy Templeton sailing through her office doorway. He grinned down at her.

  He was wearing another one of his ridiculous outfits today: stone-washed skinny jeans that sagged on his thin hips, a studded leather belt, red combat boots, and a black shirt that was open at the collar. He was also wearing another one of his many expensive leather jackets.

  She wondered if he realized wearing clothes that were meant for a man almost thirty years younger than himself actually made him look a lot older.

  Probably not . . . but it’s not my place to tell him.

  “Good morning, Percy,” she answered flatly, barely masking her annoyance.

  He eagerly rubbed his hands together. “All right, darling, put away that rubbish! I’ve come to rescue you! I’m taking you out to brunch.”

  With one careless brush of the hand, he swept her pile of papers aside, wiping out two hours of work, making her jump back in shock.

  Dawn clenched her jaw and silently counted to ten. She forced a smile. “Percy, I can’t go out to brunch with you. I have a lot of work to do today, and most of it is time sensitive. Why don’t we—”

  “No! I won’t hear it!”

  Percy walked around her desk and grabbed her arm. He roughly tugged her to her feet, making her sputter and wince at the sudden weight put on her ankle.

  What the hell has gotten into him? Has he lost his damn mind?

  Percy looped an arm around her waist and dragged her toward him. “Now grab your coat! I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Dawn tried to pry Percy’s arms from around her waist, but it was a challenge. He might have been skinny, but he certainly wasn’t weak. His grip was oppressively strong.

  “Percy,” she said, holding on tenuously to what little patience she had left, “I already told you that I can’t go with you. What part of what I said did you not understand?”

  “Darling, I am offering to treat you to a wonderful meal at one of the best restaurants in town. I can’t tell if you’re playing hard to get or—”

  “I’m not playing hard to get, but I am getting annoyed!” She shoved at his chest. “Now stop kidding around and let me go!”

  He leaned toward her and she took a step back and bumped into something hard and metallic. She tried to shift but realized she was pinned against her own desk. He pressed his thighs and chest against hers. She leaned back and winced again, feeling the pain flare up in her sprained ankle.

  Dawn looked up, prepared to tell Percy that enough was enough and it was high time that he got the hell out of her office. But when she saw the look in his eyes and the expression on his face, those words died in her throat. Something in his gaze had hardened, and for the first time, she was frightened of him.

  She glanced nervously at her office door. The new intern wasn’t scheduled to show up until noon, and the only other staffer who had been in the gallery with her that morning had left an hour ago to run an errand. She and Percy were completely alone.

  “Dawn, this little dance we’ve done for the last year or so has gotten rather tiring. Hasn’t it?” Percy asked.

  “What . . . what dance?”

  “Well, I repeatedly ask you out to dinner or for drinks, and you turn me down, making some absolutely asinine excuse, insulting my intelligence. Frankly, darling, I find it quite rude. When I hired you to work for my gallery, I did it not only because you were talented, but you had a”—he looked down at her breasts—“another quality that I greatly admired. I hired you with the assumption that—”

  “You’d get a piece of ass?” she asked tersely.

  He chuckled. “If you wish to put it so crudely . . . yes, I did. Why not?”

  “Well, pity for you, Percy, because you were mistaken,” she said, glaring up at him. “Signing my paycheck doesn’t mean you automatically get me too! I’m not a prostitute!”

  She gave him another hard shove, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he laughed again.

  “Really? I’ve heard differently.”

  Dawn stilled.

  “I’ve indulged you for far too long. Now stop playing games!”

  He dipped his head lower, bringing his mouth dangerously close to hers. To avoid his lips, Dawn had to turn her head. She grimaced as he pushed her farther back against the desk. The glass top cut into the backs of her thighs as he forced one of his knees between her legs.

  “Why don’t we do this, darling?” H
e lowered his mouth to her neck. “Why don’t we close the door, push aside all those little papers of yours, and—”

  Someone loudly cleared their throat, making both Dawn and Percy jump.

  Xavier stood in the office doorway with his knuckle raised as if he had intended to knock on her door. His wool coat was draped casually over his forearm and an envelope was in his hand. He was wearing one of his staid suits today. This one was charcoal with pinstripes. His handsome face was set in a scowl.

  Percy’s hold around her waist instantly loosened. Now free, Dawn fled to the other side of the room.

  “I guess I came at a bad time,” Xavier said.

  “No! No!” Dawn pushed down the front of her pencil skirt, which had ridden up during her tussle with Percy. She walked across the room, grabbed Xavier’s hand, and tugged him inside her office. “No, you came at a-a great time, a perfect time!”

  And she meant that. If Xavier hadn’t shown up at that moment, she didn’t know what Percy might have done.

  Now that he had been caught red-handed trying to force himself onto an employee, Percy’s face had paled considerably. He licked his lips. “I didn’t know . . . y-you had an appointment, darling.”

  “Well, now you do,” she said angrily. “So you can leave, darling!”

  He glanced at Dawn, then Xavier, and nodded before adjusting his leather jacket and making a quick exit from her office. She strode across the room and slammed the door shut behind him. When she turned back around, prepared to thank Xavier again for his wonderful timing, she found him glowering at her.

  “Who the hell was that?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s just Percy. He’s the gallery owner . . . that self-entitled asshole! I should have known that he would—”

  “And you let him grab you like that?” Xavier shouted before throwing his coat onto one of her office chairs.

  Let him? Dawn opened her eyes, not liking Xavier’s question or his tone.

  “Umm, I don’t know if you noticed, but I was trying my best to push him away! I didn’t want him grabbing me! I was working, and Percy barged in here and—”

  “Oh, bullshit!” he snarled, making her flinch. “I saw you and I saw him, and frankly, you didn’t look like you were putting up much of a fight!”

  “Then maybe you need to go to an optometrist and get some damn glasses, because that was exactly what I was doing!”

  He shook his head. “So much for being done with rich guys, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Is this Percy guy the next in line?” Xavier challenged.

  “Excuse me?”

  Where is all this coming from? This was a complete about-face from the guy at the skating rink last weekend. Where was the guy who had charmed her, iced her sore ankle, and brought her hot chocolate?

  “So much for that shit about focusing on your work and being an independent woman!” Xavier continued. “So much for not needing rich guys to pay your bills anymore! You’re a pragmatic woman, Dawn. This way is much easier, isn’t it? You can paint all you want with a guy like that around to foot the bill!”

  She balled her fists at her sides.

  Who the hell was he to question her? The last she checked, she was single, and Xavier was engaged to the cookie-cutter cutout of perfection known as Constance Allen. Even if Dawn was having sex with Percy, it was none of Xavier’s concern.

  “Not getting any at home?” Dawn taunted, crossing her arms over her chest.

  She could tell she hit a nerve with that one. His gray eyes went glacial.

  “You’ve been asking me a lot of questions. Is that why you’re so worried about my sex life? Is Connie not giving it to you on the regular?”

  “I don’t have to listen to this shit!”

  “Neither do I! So you get the hell out of my office!” She pointed at the door. “How dare you question me about using sex to climb my way up the ladder when you’re sexing up the boss’s daughter? You can get off your moral high horse, honey!”

  “So you admit that’s what you’ve been doing?”

  “I’m not admitting a damn thing! I’m just pointing out that you have little room to talk when it comes to blurring the lines between personal and professional! Xavier, you have no lines!”

  “Constance and I are in love! We’re engaged! The relationship that she and I have is nothing compared to the tawdry shit going on between you and that British asshole! So don’t even try it!”

  So Constance Allen was the princess who could do no wrong, while Dawn was the ho who obviously only had gotten where she was today because she slept her way there.

  Typical. So goddamn typical!

  She should be used to it by now. Women like her—the women in her family were always judged this way. She and her sisters had commiserated about it endlessly over the years. But the sting of other people’s judgment never subsided. The sting she felt now was particularly painful.

  “Let’s get this straight!” Dawn said, pointing at him. “For the last time, he pushed himself onto me! It wasn’t the other way around!” She sucked her teeth in frustration. “Besides, why the hell am I even defending myself to you? Why do you care? How is what I do or who I do any concern of yours? Huh?”

  Xavier fell silent. He adjusted his necktie and ran a hand over the crown of his head, looking uncomfortable at suddenly being put on the spot by her question.

  “I . . .” He swallowed. “I’ve known Herb for a very long time. I’m his lawyer, and you’re his daughter. He pays me a considerable amount of money to make his business my business. His interests are my concern, and by extension you’re my concern. I’m sure Herb wouldn’t want you to make a mistake like this. He’d be . . . disappointed.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet,” she murmured sarcastically as she walked toward her office door. She opened it. “But you don’t have to be concerned about me. I’m an adult. I’m thirty-seven years old! Hell, I’m older than you are and—”

  “You’re not that much older than me! Stop acting like I’m a fucking toddler!”

  “And I’m completely capable of taking care of myself,” she continued, ignoring him. “I’ve been doing a fair enough job of it for a couple of decades now. I think I can stand a few more decades without your helpful guidance, Mr. Hughes.” She gestured toward the empty hallway. “So thank you, but again, you can get the hell out of my office.”

  She watched a tic form along his jaw. He was angry, but she didn’t care. She had been sexually harassed by Percy, then yelled at and insulted by Xavier. She was mighty pissed herself!

  Dawn watched as Xavier tossed an envelope he held onto her desk, which was now in complete disarray thanks to Percy. Papers, envelopes, and opened catalogs were strewn everywhere.

  “A check from your dad for artwork,” Xavier said. He grabbed his coat from the office chair beside him.

  He walked toward the doorway and she averted her eyes, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. When he reached her, he paused.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry if I . . . overreacted,” he said softly. “I guess I just . . . misunderstood what I saw.”

  She nodded, though she still didn’t look at him, and she wasn’t sure if she believed his apology either. She believed that his knee-jerk reaction to seeing her with Percy was probably the most honest one: He still thought she was an opportunist, and worse, he also thought she was a whore. Obviously, in the back of his mind, he had been thinking that about her all along, despite the progress she had thought they had made in becoming friends. That realization hurt.

  “Dawn?”

  “What?” she snapped.

  She felt him place a hand underneath her chin, surprising her. He gently tilted it upward. She could have pulled away from him, but she didn’t. All her anger dissolved with one touch. When their eyes met, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

  Xavier leaned down and drew close to her mouth. Percy had done the same minutes earlier, totall
y revolting her. But with Xavier she didn’t shy away. Her lips parted. She exhaled slowly. She welcomed his proximity and his touch and, for a fleeting moment, hoped that he would lean down and kiss her and end the agony she had been in for weeks.

  “I don’t give a damn what you say,” Xavier whispered. “Like it or not, you are my concern now and I will watch out for you. And if I find him—or anyone else, for that matter—touching you like that again, I’ll . . .”

  His words drifted off. He dropped his hand and abruptly turned away from her, not giving her the chance to respond before he strode down the hallway and out the gallery’s door.

  Dawn took an unsteady breath, watching him as he retreated. With shaky legs, she walked back to her desk and sat down, taking another calming breath, but it didn’t work. Her stomach was still in knots. Her heart still thudded wildly in her chest. And the agony of delayed gratification returned.

  Delayed? a voice in her head mocked. Girl, he’s never going to kiss you!

  Because he was with Constance and men like Xavier didn’t cheat.

  Chapter 14

  “Laurie, would you pass me the pepper?” Cynthia asked.

  Lauren leaned toward her left, picked up the crystal pepper shaker, and handed it to her sister.

  A few minutes later, Dawn also turned to Lauren. “Laurie, can you hand me the coffee pot, please?”

  Lauren hesitated. The sterling silver coffeepot sat only inches in front of Cynthia, but Dawn seemed to be making a point of ignoring their eldest sister. In fact, she wouldn’t even glance Cynthia’s way.

  Cynthia supposed that Dawn was still angry at her for making Dawn confess to their mother about connecting with Herbert Allen and his family. That would be the only thing that could explain Dawn still giving her the cold shoulder.

  “Umm, OK,” Lauren said as she reached over Cynthia and grabbed the pot. She handed it to Dawn.

  “Thanks,” Dawn murmured.

  The table fell into painful silence again.

  This was undoubtedly a rough start to Saturday brunch at Mama’s, a weekly tradition in the Gibbons family. Cynthia had been looking forward to having brunch with her sisters, knowing it would be the first in a long time that would include just the women in the family. Crisanto was away on a business trip. Keith was doing some investigative work for one of his cases. No husbands or boyfriends would be intruding into their happy little female circle—or so Cynthia thought. She hadn’t known that Dawn would arrive at the brunch with a stick shoved up her ass, ruining all the happiness.