Sexual Integrity

by J. A. Dennam

  The women gawked and watched in fascinated silence until Ethan finally ordered them to get out. Without question, they filed past him and into the hallway.

  As the bathroom door slowly closed, Brooke yanked out paper towels, her chest heaving with fury. “Of all the vile…low… awful things to do to a person.”

  Now that they were alone again, he turned the lock and faced her in a clear effort to pull it together. “I didn’t plan for things to go that far,” he murmured as he approached her. “And that first time, I thought I was with Shannon. I didn’t know it was you until later.”

  “Shannon?” She tossed the paper towels in the trash and grabbed her breasts. “You confused these with Shannon’s?”

  He closed his eyes and swore. “It was dark enough for you to confuse me with Roger, so let’s not go there.”

  God, he was right. Still…, “You and Roger aren’t that different. Shannon and I are nothing alike.”

  “Well, it’s quite clear you haven’t been feeling Roger up lately, so I’ll let that pass.”

  “You expect me to believe you’ve never felt Shannon up before?” she scoffed.

  Ethan straightened up at the implication. “For your information, I haven’t. All I know is what I see outside the clothes.” His eyes moved downward and locked right onto her chest. “Except for you of course.”

  As if on cue, her nipples hardened, remembering the pull of his mouth on them four days ago. She groaned, turned around, and headed for a stall. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “No, we’re going to talk this out, something I should have done last Friday.”

  Friday? He’d known since Friday? “But you didn’t,” she reminded him, yanking herself out of his hold. “Instead you let me believe…” All of the dots began to connect until she put her face in her hands. “Roger knows about this, doesn’t he?”

  Ethan inhaled deeply and moved toward a sink. The water came on. When Brooke peeked between her fingers, she saw him staring at his reflection while he washed his hands. It was clear then that he was suffering as much as she was. “Roger was told not to say anything.”

  “Why?” she sneered at his back. “So you could mess with me? Set me up and humiliate me like you did with those flowers?”

  He turned the water off and looked for a paper towel. “That wasn’t me.”

  “Oh really? And I suppose the texts weren’t from you either?”

  “The flowers were from Shannon. The texts were from me.”

  Even worse! “You two are in on this together,” she concluded with a short laugh.

  “No! “ Ethan tossed the paper towel and ground his palms into his eyes. “Let me start from the beginning.” He took a deep breath. “Last Friday I was in pretty bad shape. Shannon was mad at me for something I did to her before, and she used the opportunity to get even. She set us both up in the darkroom, letting us think we were with other people. When I found out, I was every bit as mad as you are right now.”

  More dots fell into place. Brooke crossed her arms, remembering a certain conversation that had left her in a resentful mood. “Is that why you were such an ass when I tried to extend that olive branch?”

  “Pretty much. At that point, I was determined to keep the truth to myself, which I admit was wrong. Then I found out that Shannon sent you those roses and I realized she wouldn’t stop harassing you unless I did something about it. The darkroom, the bucket of water, Roger keeping quiet…that was all her.”

  The humiliation of being played so easily by that pretentious bitch was almost worse than being the only one in the dark for so long. “So, Roger just agreed to play along?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”

  Ethan produced a sound of disdain. “Oh, come on. The wimp wouldn’t know what to do with a hooker, let alone a willing woman. There you were all lovesick and clingy—”

  “Lovesick? Don’t be absurd!”

  “—pining after the man, it was getting pathetic.”

  “I was not pining. The sex wasn’t that good.”

  The moment the words left her mouth, Brooke wished to take them back. Ethan squared his shoulders and closed the distance between them with a challenge in his eyes. “This isn’t grade school, Brooke, and I’m not a fool. I know when a woman loses control, especially when it’s for the first time.”

  He wanted her to try and deny it again, to give him an excuse to prove her wrong. The intent was written in the hard lines around his mouth as he watched her. “How—” Brooke cleared her throat and tried again without a tremor in her voice. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because I practically had to gag you before someone heard your screams of pleasure.”

  She gasped at the insinuation. “I was faking. Women do it all the time.”

  Ever so slowly, his head dipped a little bit more. She watched his mouth as it hovered close, threatening to descend on hers at any moment. The breath froze in her lungs as she struggled to keep her anger alive.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” he said with a touch of humor. Then he headed for the door. Halfway there, he threw out, “And, according to Roger, you think I’m a god in the sack.”

  Brooke could only blink at him, speechless for a horrified moment. When he flipped open the lock and walked out, she managed to find her voice. “I just said that because it’s what men like to hear!”

  “Liar,” he said calmly as the door swung closed behind him.

  13

  WHEN BROOKE REENTERED THE ADMINISTRATIVE department, it was with a crippling sense of paranoia. Many eyes watched her, and she knew one pair belonged to Ethan Wolf. Over the past twenty minutes, she’d just reviewed the last four days through his and Roger’s point of view: how she must have looked to both men as she’d carried on during the carwash, how Ethan must have laughed at her, how Roger had clearly avoided her. The humiliation of it all was simply too much to bear.

  And despite her initial reaction, she couldn’t go to Ken. When it all came down to it, she’d broken a very strict rule that would most likely get her fired. Until she figured out Shannon’s role in all of this, she needed to take a step back and use her head from this point on.

  When she reached her desk, she found Roger Kerrigan sitting in her chair. Brooke drew up short as his betrayal slammed home once again. He was supposed to be her friend. Instead, he had played right along with Shannon’s game, and now that the truth was out, the Judas was in a clear state of distress.

  Brooke told him to follow her to her old office despite the fact that she was banned from it until the end of the competition. Let Ethan say whatever he wanted. Privacy was the luxury she missed so badly—one she would kill to have again. As she entered her corner office, warm sunlight bathed her face. Roger shut the door behind him while she crossed over to the windows. There was the corner view she so cherished, the bayside scene through the leaves of her giant Ficus.

  But it offered little joy compared to the hurt in her heart. “Brooke—”

  “You knew about this,” she interrupted, bracing herself for a string of lies.

  When Roger answered, he was standing notably closer than before. “Yes.”

  Her forehead hit the glass. “You’ve been laughing at me this whole time.”

  “No!” He grabbed her arms and forced her to face him. “I wanted to tell you, but we thought it was better not to.”

  Brooke pressed her fingertips into Roger’s chest, desperately searching for some firm muscle in hopes that this was all a bad dream. “How could I have ever thought there was a real man under there?”

  Pain slashed across his face. “I’m not the bad guy, Brooke. Shannon on the other hand…I think you had better watch your back with her.”

  She pushed him hard. “Gee, do you think so? Really? Because it would be nice to know that I have friends who watch my back too!”

  “I do!”

  “Then why are you conspiring with the enemy?”

  He threw his hands up and appealed to
the heavens. “I wasn’t conspiring. Shannon heard us planning to meet in the darkroom last Friday. She stopped me from going, that’s all. I had no idea that she tricked Ethan into meeting you until well after the fact.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” she spat out. “What I don’t get is why you let her continue to make a fool of me.”

  “Because I figured that what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. Ethan was beyond furious with her, Brooke, and he was embarrassed. I didn’t want to even think about how you would react.”

  She made a choking sound. “Embarrassed? He didn’t seem very embarrassed a half hour ago!” Brooke stopped herself short from confessing that she’d nearly slept with him again. If there was a god in heaven, Ethan wouldn’t want that bit of gossip going around either.

  Roger took a breath and headed toward her leather chair with the six-point massage.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she warned with a growl.

  He aborted his attempt to sit down with a helpless droop of his shoulders. “Look, as soon as we figured out that she was messing with you, Ethan and I both wanted to tell you.”

  It sounded reasonable, but Brooke didn’t trust anyone now. “What makes you think they aren’t both messing with you to make a fool out of me?”

  He shook his head emphatically. “No. Not a chance. Wolf was fighting a genuine case of the heebie-jeebies over sleeping with you.”

  For some reason, tears stung her eyes. Roger came to her and grasped her by the shoulders again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve always wanted to do you.”

  “Ugh!” She socked him in the chest. “You suck, Roger!” Brooke shoved him aside and flung the door open. A handful of people standing outside it suddenly scattered, one of them Shannon. All doubts about the woman’s guilt vanished into thin air. Although Brooke wanted to call her out right then and there, she decided that stealth was the only course of action to take. Because if Ethan was innocent in all this, he wouldn’t know what Shannon was really after. You want my corner office for yourself, you skanky whore? Come and get it.

  The moment she got home, Brooke hopped in the shower to wash the lingering sexual tension from her body. It had haunted her the rest of the day, a merciless reminder that she’d been duped in the worst possible way. But as the soap touched her skin, Ethan’s face flashed in her mind. The instant jolt of desire that followed had her gasping with horrified shock. No! No way in hell did she want him to touch her.

  After her shower, she walked through the townhome in a state of disconnection. In her upstairs studio, surrounded by awards for her graphic design achievements, she sat at the desk to pursue her newest hobby: a clandestine online campaign to keep an eye on Shannon.

  But as Brooke faced the most advanced hardware her money could buy, she couldn’t focus long enough to accomplish anything worthwhile, so she went back downstairs.

  Her bright Tuscan-style kitchen yielded little comfort. What good was a five-thousand-dollar fridge without a single grape popsicle in the freezer?

  Twenty minutes later, Brooke was huddled on the couch with a microwave meal getting cold on the coffee table. The TV was on to distract her, but that proved to be quite ineffective. In a state of misery, she picked up her cell phone and dialed Miranda’s number. The Latin beauty’s finesse had landed her plenty of relationships, including the problems that came with them. She would know how to handle Brooke’s situation, if anyone could, that is.

  When Miranda answered, a flood of noise drowned out her greeting. “Hey, hon.”

  Brooke sniffed. “Where are you?”

  “Playing mini golf with Cordero. What’s up?”

  Miranda’s on/off relationship with the dashing Spanish man who lived in her building must be on again. “I have a big problem.”

  “You need me to come over?”

  Then again, the date might not be going well. “I wouldn’t want you to—”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Brooke stared at the blank screen of her phone and thumbed out a text: Bring popsicles.

  When Miranda arrived, Brooke gazed at the grocery bag in her hand with tearful appreciation. “Who needs men when I have you?”

  Miranda’s mouth drooped in sympathy. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

  They walked to the kitchen. “I didn’t mean for you to ditch Cordero,” Brooke said as she took a popsicle from the box.

  Declining one for herself, Miranda put the box in the freezer and went right for the wine rack. “No biggie. I was losing anyway and he was being a prick about it.”

  Brooke settled at the kitchen island with her popsicle. Miranda chose a bottle and held it up for inspection. Seeing the pricy Duckhorn label, Brooke shook her head. “Not that one. It’s my trophy.”

  So Miranda chose a Zinfandel, popped the cork and looked for two wine glasses. Brooke wasn’t sure she wanted to drink on a work night. “Maybe we should call Amy.”

  Miranda placed a full glass in front of her. “Amy will only drag you to the hookah lounge and shove you at the first man sporting a set of high-end car keys.”

  Brooke took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “You mean the valet?”

  Miranda choked on her wine. “Funny. Now drink up and tell me what’s wrong.”

  Brooke took another sip and related the entire sequence of her day, beginning with the vase of roses on her desk. “I don’t know what to do, Miranda. I’m sure the whole office knows about it by now. Ethan and I did enough arguing to alert the Naples Daily News.”

  With a sympathetic pout, Miranda refilled both their wine glasses. “If I see it in the paper tomorrow, I’ll let you know.”

  Brooke released a tearful laugh, her head swimming with a mixture of alcohol and misery. “That does it. I’m calling in sick tomorrow. There is no way I can show my face there after what they did.”

  Miranda waved away the notion. “Ethan didn’t cower at home, and it sounds like he was as much a victim as you, at least the first time around.”

  Brooke held up a finger. “But not the second.”

  Miranda shrugged. “He told you the truth before it went too far, didn’t he?”

  Yes, he had. And, indeed, Brooke had the awful feeling that she had known it was him from the first whisper. She covered her face with her hands to block her friend’s knowing look. “I figured out on my own that he wasn’t Roger,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want him to say it.”

  “So you knew it was him?”

  More miserable than ever, Brooke plunked her hands back down on the granite countertop. “I suspected.”

  “Do you mean before or after it got too hot to stop?”

  The answer was in the slump of her shoulders. Miranda released a throaty chuckle and got up to wrap Brooke in a tight hug from behind. “It’s okay, sweetie. We can’t all choose who we share chemistry with.”

  Brooke dismissed the notion. Was it chemistry when, according to Roger, she gave Ethan the heebie-jeebies? “Or maybe he’s just a man-whore and I’m an easy target,” she concluded with a sigh. “That’s how everyone will see it, which is exactly why I can’t show my face tomorrow.”

  “If you do that, you’ll prove how messed up you are by it.”

  “So?”

  Miranda let go of her and took her face in her hands. “Honey, the best way to humble a guy is show him how unaffected you are. Don’t just go to work tomorrow; go with your chin up. If someone looks at you funny, smile and say, ‘good morning.’ Treat Ethan as you always do, claws and all. If you waver just one time, he’ll be on to you in a nanosecond.”

  “What about Roger?”

  “Well now, he can just fuck off.”

  They shared a giggle. Tipsy and glad of it, Brooke’s eyelids began to grow heavy. “So, you’re basically telling me to forget the whole thing.”

  “As best you can,” Miranda answered through a yawn. “At least act like it never happened, and pretty soon it will be old gos
sip. I promise.”

  And that’s exactly what Brooke did. Miranda stayed the night in the guest room upstairs, and she sent Brooke out the door the next morning with breakfast and a few words of encouragement.

  With a renewed determination to win VP and get her friends’ jobs back, Brooke showed up for work in her signature ponytail, beige flats, and buttoned-up blouse, determined to never again lose herself in lustful tendencies. There was a decent man out there who would want a professional, dignified woman, and when she found him, he’d love her, dull wardrobe and all.

  It took a major effort to follow Miranda’s advice, but she got through the first few hours of her day with her chin up, a few brightly spoken “good mornings,” and even a break-room conversation with Letreece.

  Since they’d neglected the two-inch file in lieu of the previous day’s drama, Brooke even got through a half hour with Ethan, fulfilling her obligation as transitional assistant. She even sniped about the annoying noise he made every time he popped a candy corn into his mouth. He sniped about her tendency to bitch. It was all very, thankfully, normal since it appeared that he was just as determined to forget what happened between them as she was. She didn’t care that he was “unaffected” too. In fact, it relieved her greatly.

  Afterward, she camped at her phone, dialed numbers, and put a smile into her voice, working harder than ever to cajole a new customer into believing it was time for new marketing materials. One such client agreed to meet with her that afternoon. Unfortunately, Ethan had already booked the conference room for his very important meeting with Romcore’s president.

  This gave her a perfect excuse to use her former corner office. Brooke left her desk to search out Ken, since the man was still pulling double duty as acting project coordinator. On her way, she thought about who would be the best artist to assign to this new project in order to make Ken’s job easier.

  “Um…Brooke?”

  She turned to find Roger approaching her desk. Remembering Miranda’s profound advice, Brooke gave him her professional, unaffected attention.