No Going Back

by Ainsley Kincade

  I stared up at him in shock. Scrambling for a response, I gestured at the green silk wrapped around my body. “It’s…just this dress.”

  “The dress certainly does help,” the server said, having slipped up to the table without my noticing. I looked up at her, startled, embarrassed, and at a loss for how to respond. She set down a jam-sized canning jar filled to the brim with ice and whiskey. Pushing it across the table in a way that displayed her breasts pushing against her low cut t-shirt, she smiled confidently, not teasing, but enjoying my reaction. She straightened slowly, and said, “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

  I didn’t breathe again until she turned away and walked off toward another table. Reaching for the jar, I stared at it. It was much bigger than I had been expecting. I knew I shouldn’t have even a few sips of it, but it had been a really long night that was apparently far from being over. I took a bigger drink than I should have and winced as the whiskey burned its way down my throat. It settled in my belly, a calming heat spreading through me to make up for its bite.

  “It’s not just the dress,” Mr. Gabriel said, “but I’m glad you wore it tonight.”

  “Why, so you can watch me be embarrassed?” I asked, a surprising sharpness to my words. “You would have loved sitting through dinner with Brandon then.” I took another long drink and leaned my head against my hand.

  Mr. Gabriel shifted, bringing his thigh into contact with mine. The heat already pooling in my core made it impossible not to react to his touch. I squeezed my thighs together, begging for a little distance before I said or did something that would reveal me. Mr. Gabriel’s mind was miles away from mine.

  “What happened with Brandon?” he asked, almost demanding.

  I took another drink before answering, the whiskey not burning nearly as much that time. “Nothing, I mean, it went fine. He’s coming in tomorrow to do the shoot. Just like you wanted.”

  “I asked what happened.” His voice was more commanding this time, and I thought I caught a hint of anger in it.

  Having eaten very little of my dinner, thanks to being so uncomfortable with Brandon watching me and me trying to calculate my role in whatever game he was playing, the whiskey was already beginning to have an effect. “Nothing,” I said. “He’s gay. He said something about how the dress displayed my skin tone nicely or something like that. It made me uncomfortable, but he didn’t mean it in a sexual way. I think he’s trying to get back at Marie somehow.”

  Mr. Gabriel’s hard posture relaxed, making me realize he had his arm across the top of the booth and his chest was close enough to be brushing against my shoulder. I started to take another drink, but his fingers closed around mine and stopped me. His hand lingered on mine, and for several minutes he didn’t say anything. It seemed to take some effort for him to pull his thoughts back to our conversation for some reason. “What do you mean about him trying to get back at Marie?”

  I tried to pull my hand out from beneath Mr. Gabriel’s so I could take a drink, but his grip was more focused than mine. My free hand worked just as well, though, and the whiskey felt smooth going down. Still needing to answer his question, my body seeming a little lighter than it should have as I shrugged. “Just something he said about her testing him.”

  “He agreed to do the shoot tomorrow, though?” he asked.

  Nodding, I was surprised by how difficult the motion seemed to control. I took another drink anyway. “Just like you wanted.”

  Mr. Gabriel’s hand pulled into a loose fist, but a moment later he reached out and pushed my chin up to meet his gaze. “Is it what you want, though? Is he someone you can work with? I won’t recommend him if you don’t want to work with him.”

  “Why does it matter?” I asked, sipping more slowly at what was left of the whiskey now. “Pick who you think is best.”

  “Brandon is the best, but I care about my team working well together. I care about how someone might treat you.”

  I shook my head, the motion tipping me toward him. “I’m not that important. Pick who’s best for the magazine, right? I’m a big girl. I can work with whoever you choose. Who Marie chooses, I guess.”

  “Not if he’s making you uncomfortable or being inappropriate,” he argued.

  Feeling more relaxed like the attractive server promised, I pulled back and gestured at the disappearing space between our bodies. It was getting harder to breathe with him so close to me. “I’m not sure this is appropriate.”

  “Oh?” he asked, not moving an inch.

  “It’s very close,” I said and took another drink.

  “Yes, but does it make you uncomfortable?”

  My fingers were cold against the ice in the jar. The now empty jar. That was the only part of me that was cold. The rest…the heat kept building, making it difficult to think. “It makes me…no, not uncomfortable.”

  “It makes you what?” he pressed.

  I shook my head, turning away from him, but his hot fingers curled around the back of my neck and stopped me. They slowly moved upward, tangling in my hair. My chest heaved, each breath pushing my breasts against his chest. His gaze dropped for a moment before coming back up to pin me with an insistent stare.

  “It makes you what?” he asked again.

  I knew I was too far gone to be talking to anyone, let alone my boss. The part of my brain that tried to warn me to keep my mouth shut was quickly losing its voice. “It makes me…want…”

  My voice trailed off, fear trapping honesty behind a thick wall.

  “Want what?” he asked.

  Shaking my head again, I refused to answer him. The whiskey had done wonders to ease away my tension and keep me from pulling away from him in fear, but I was still in control enough to know it would be a monumental mistake to tell him how I thought about him at night, how being shut up in his office with him pulled my mind from anything work related. How would we continue to work together when he knew I was trying not to touch him every time he was near me?

  Apparently giving up on getting an answer from me by force, he changed tactics. “I think Ben has a bit of a crush on you, judging from the text he sent me earlier tonight.”

  His comment did exactly what I was sure he’d been hoping, and pulled my gaze up to meet his. “What did he say?” Embarrassment hovered at the edges of my emotions, ready to drench me if it was anything bad. I liked Ben and had to see him every day at work. He seemed so sweet, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye if he’d said something vulgar about me.

  Instead of answering me outright, Mr. Gabriel slid his phone toward me and brought the screen to life. A few taps later and his message string with Ben came into view. I hesitated, but he pushed the phone closer and scrolled up to what he wanted me to see. I had to blink a few times to bring the words into focus.

  That dress you picked out for Ms. Castell, wow. She looks amazing.

  I didn’t think that was so bad, so I kept reading, wondering if my boss had gotten onto him about that comment. His reply startled me.

  I’m not sure why that surprises you. She’s a beautiful woman regardless of what she’s wearing. Do try not to make her self-conscious by staring or saying something you shouldn’t. She’s nervous enough already.

  Ben’s reply was quick. I won’t. I wouldn’t think of embarrassing her.

  The text thread went back to talking logistics, some of the details Mr. Gabriel failed to ever share with me. Remembering that soured my mood and the whiskey loosened my tongue. “Ben is too young for me, but look at these other texts. Why did you tell him all your plans, but force me to be caught off guard and dragged around at your pleasure all night?”

  “Ben is too young for you,” he said, smiling in the face of my irritation. “He knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from worshipping the ground you walk on.”

  Rolling my eyes, I said, “Don’t be dramatic, and quit ignoring the rest of what I said.”

  “Ben adores you, and would do anything you asked of him. You�
��re the only section manager who treats him like an adult and not a goofy kid,” he said. “And I’m not ignoring what you said. I’m just clarifying my point from earlier.”

  “What point? That Ben has a crush on me? I already knew that.” I shook my head at him, getting more and more frustrated with each word. “What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have told me your plan for tonight ahead of time. I don’t like last minute changes.”

  Pushing my empty glass away, Mr. Gabriel turned so he took up the entirety of my field of vision. “I didn’t have some grand plan when I asked you to have dinner with Brandon. I know how difficult he can be to deal with and I thought Ben driving you to the restaurant would help ease your nerves. I asked Ben, and he was happy to do it. I already told you why I asked him to bring you to meet me here, and…I enjoy your company. It wasn’t some elaborate scheme, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Everything tonight has seemed like a scheme,” I snapped. “Brandon is up to something. Marie seems eager to put him in his place somehow. You’re probably testing him as well, and me, too. Though I’m not sure where I fit into any of it.” I pointed a finger at him, daring him to try and distract me from getting a real answer. “Why did you really send me to meet Brandon, and why in this dress?”

  Mr. Gabriel gave me a curious, amused look. “Why the dress? Because I thought you’d look just as good as you do in it. Brandon may be gay, but he’s an artist.”

  “So you were using me to entice him to work for the magazine?” I asked, frustrated and sickened at the thought, even though my thoughts were getting fuzzier by the minute.

  He held up a hand to pacify me, but it wasn’t working. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I just wanted to show him that I was taking him seriously. I wasn’t doffing him off on some underling, but a competent, intelligent, focused woman. I had hoped the dress would make you feel more confident about facing him. That’s all.”

  “Well, all it did was make me feel out of place.” I turned away, not entirely believing him, but finding it hard to think he meant me any harm.

  “If you felt out of place, it’s only because you don’t have enough practice in those kinds of situations. Which is something I intend to rectify, and should have done before now,” he said. The firm quality of his voice put me on edge.

  Glancing up at him, my eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  A slow, impossible not to react to smile spread across his lips. “Do you remember that big publishing convention Marie presented at last year?”

  “Yes,” I said with a roll of my eyes. She’d made me and the rest of the photography crew sit through her presentation a dozen times to perfect it. We all had it memorized by the time she finally left.

  His almost teasing smile morphed into a full-on grin. “You’ve been invited to attend this year’s convention with Marie. You’ll be co-presenting with her.”

  My lips parted and I sucked in a surprised gasp. “Are you serious?”

  “Marie texted me an hour ago. She was asked to speak about maintaining a photographer’s personal style and creativity in a commercial setting, and recommended that you present with her.”

  I leaned back against the bench, my head feeling wobbly from the whiskey, but my excitement bubbling up from my belly to make me giggle. I never giggled, unless I’d been drinking, and I immediately pressed my fingers against my lips to keep anymore of the childish noises from escaping.

  Jumping in surprise when Mr. Gabriel’s fingers wrapped around mine, I looked up and found myself caught in his gaze. “Don’t hide the fact that you’re happy,” he said. “You deserve it, and I love seeing you smile.”

  My breathing stalled entirely as he slowly pulled my fingers from my lips, leaving me completely at his mercy, and my lips parted as if in expectation. He let my hand fall, then ran his thumb over my lower lip, his gaze becoming more serious as he felt my gasping breaths roll over his fingertips.

  “I meant what I said in my texts.”

  His voice was hard, almost forceful, as if he were upset I hadn’t commented on his reply to Ben. I struggled to remember what he’d said. My recall was sluggish, and he seemed to tire of waiting for me to figure it out.

  “You are beautiful, Reagan, in this dress…” His fingers slipped from my lip to run along the neckline of the dress. “In your jeans and t-shirts, as well. There are times…you’re so confident when it comes to work, but shy away from sexual attention. Why?”

  Even in my hazy state, I was shocked by his question. The force behind his presence and absolute focus on me pulled the answer from my lips whether I wanted to give it or not. “I want to be taken seriously at work. In school, before. I know I’m…attractive. Any time a teacher in high school or professor in college was too vocal about their praise, people assumed things that weren’t true. I was accused of sleeping my way to an A more than once, like I couldn’t have worked hard and gotten it that way. Maybe I was too friendly, or eager, or interested…I don’t know why people assumed that at times. It doesn’t matter, I guess. I learned to avoid attracting attention, or shy away from it when it was offered.”

  “Anyone who knew you wouldn’t doubt your abilities,” he argued.

  I shook my head, frustrated he didn’t understand. He could sleep with whoever he wanted and not be thought less of for it. No one would doubt he had a keen eye for design and copy, or think he couldn’t put out a quality product, just because he slept with one of his employees. The same was not true for me. Not bothering to ask him to move out of my way, I slid the opposite direction to escape the booth. As soon as I got my feet under me, I moved to leave, but stumbled as gravity and alcohol had a disagreement over which had more control in that moment.

  “Whoa,” a female voice said as she caught hold of me. I looked up to find the flirty server only a few inches away. “Are you all right?”

  “I just stumbled,” I said.

  Her brows pinched together. “You don’t sound fine. You’re talking a little slow, and I’m afraid if I let go you’re going to fall on your ass. I didn’t expect the whiskey to hit you that hard.”

  “I didn’t eat very much today,” I said defensively.

  She nodded, not judging. “Maybe you should wait a little while before you leave. You can sit at the bar if you don’t want to stay here.”

  “I already offered to drive her home,” Mr. Gabriel said in a brusque tone that would have had anyone at the office hopping.

  The server only gave him a condescending look. “Not if she doesn’t want you to.” Her free hand slipped around my waist protectively, and I realized my hasty exit had given her the completely wrong idea.

  Focusing on forcing my body to relax, I gently touched her forearm to steady myself and get her attention. “What’s your name? I didn’t catch it earlier.”

  She glanced over at me, her expression questioning, but she said, “Charis. What’s yours?”

  “Reagan.” I took in a deep breath to steady myself. “Mr. Gabriel can drive me home. Really, it’s okay.”

  “I can call you a cab.” She was still eyeing my boss in a way that made it clear she didn’t trust him.

  “Really, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just tired mostly.”

  “You look upset, not tired. Let me call you a cab.”

  When I shook my head, she sighed and let go of my waist to take something from her pocket. She made sure I was steady enough to stay on my feet before letting go and removing a pen from her apron. Taking her time, she wrote a phone number on the back of a card and handed it to me.

  “If you need something, call.” Her worried expression morphed back into one meant to imply she was capable of more than rescuing tipsy women from seemingly overbearing guys. “Even if you don’t need something, call, okay?”

  Maybe I’d simply had too much to drink by that point, but I didn’t shy away from her flirting this time. I chuckled and smiled back, though it was probably as lopsided as I felt. “Thank you.”


  Turning her attention back to my boss, her expression hardened. “You’ll get her home safely?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mr. Gabriel said seriously. I was positive he was irritated at her for stepping in and assuming he was trying to hurt me in some way, but he didn’t let it show. Part of me worried he would be angry with me, as well, but not until we were halfway out of the tavern.

  I tried to think clearly enough to say something, or ask him if he was upset, or maybe apologize, but I wasn’t sure which one was the right thing to do. As soon as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, he swept me into his arms and I forgot about all of them. My face was pressed against his chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in the scent of him. I’d caught the hint of his cologne many times in his office and dreamed of doing exactly that. His steps slowed as my hand pressed against his chest and I breathed in again.

  The tension in his posture and muscles relaxed and he pulled me against him more tightly. In that moment, I didn’t care if I was letting him see into my desires. It felt too good to be this close to him for me to think logically. I heard myself whimper a little when he set me in the passenger seat, then leaned into his hand when he settled my head against the seatback. It seemed as though he was moving purposefully slow as he buckled my seatbelt, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Flinching when the door closed, I sank into the seat and told myself to stop being ridiculous. This night needed to be over before I made a fool of myself any more than I already had. The driver’s side door opened and I jumped, my heart racing, though I wasn’t sure why. Not until his presence seemed to fill the car, along with his cologne, and I found it impossible to be this close to him without reacting did I find the sense to respond. Curling my hands into the fabric of the dress, I willed myself not to do anything stupid.

  I was so focused on staying in control, I didn’t pay any attention to the drive…to what direction he drove. Somewhere along the way, the whiskey proved too much and I lost touch with the waking world as I wondered if we were going in the wrong direction. The pop of a door seal startled me awake sometime later and I sat up immediately. Mr. Gabriel stood at my door and extended his hand, but I stared up at the building behind him in confusion. “This isn’t the office,” I said, though that was obvious.