by Leanne Davis
Nick shifted, brought his arm around her, and pulled her towards him. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, and her mouth. “How old were you when your dad left?”
“Ten. He was a loser, I know that now. But as a kid, I thought he was everything. He was one of those men who always intended to do great things, but never did anything. He had one get rich scheme after the next. My parents fought fiercely, until I guess he decided it was too much. He didn’t come home from work one day. I was devastated. Mom? She was kind of a bitch. Remote. Didn’t talk to me much. My dad did. He had his faults, but he liked me. He would sit and play with me for hours, talk all about my schooling. Then he was gone. And there was no one to talk to me, no one who wanted to hear what I had to say. After my dad left, my mom had to get a second job, and I was left nearly completely alone.”
“Until you were eighteen and met Rob,” Nick inserted, his tone quiet and understanding. She had a feeling he was thinking a lot about that, what it meant. What Rob meant to her, and why. Why she was so quiet, so afraid to be alone. Literally, afraid to let her hair down.
“Yes. Until then.”
He shifted her again, putting his arm under her, and his other around her. The warmth of him surrounded her, his heartbeat thumped in her ear, filling her with his essence, physical contact, and life. “How old were you when your dad died, Nick?”
“Thirteen.”
“Trina never talked about him much.”
“She wouldn’t have. She was only one. There were so many years between us, we didn’t have the same childhoods. I replaced my dad, and she was the spoiled baby sister.”
“What did he die of?”
“Heart attack. He was only forty.”
“Oh my God.”
“It was unexpected, to say the least. Devastated my mom. She was troubled temporarily. Didn’t know how to balance a checkbook or pay insurance. She spaced out on painkillers for a awhile, slept all day, all night. The girls were left to me.”
“That all fell on you? At thirteen?”
“Now you see why I manage so many things so well. Years of practice.”
“Aren’t you smart? Like scholarship, straight As, teach yourself stuff smart?”
“Yeah. Academics. Computers, all of it came easy to me.”
“All while you took care of your mom and four sisters?”
“Mmm. Makes me sound like Superman when you say it with all that awe in your voice.”
“I didn’t know about your mom.”
“Pill popping? Neither does Trina. The others remember.”
“How did she get off them?”
“She went to rehab.”
Joelle twitched in surprise. She couldn’t fathom that the suburban, middle class-looking woman who was Nick’s mother had to go to rehab for a pill addiction. “So you really believe in all that Al-Anon stuff, that’s why you kept telling me to go? You had actual experience?”
“Yes. I just didn’t know you well enough to explain. I promised Mom I wouldn’t tell anyone. Including my youngest sister.”
“But you just told me.”
“I’m aware of who I’m telling what. You were there at those meetings because you knew you wanted to change something; you just didn’t know what or how. I respected you for trying.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Nick?”
“What?”
“You actually like me, don’t you?”
She felt his chest move, as he laughed, “Yes, Joelle I actually like you. Now, you’re finally catching on why I asked you here.”
Now she just had to figure out why she was there.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Morning brought with it sunlight and cheer, filling the beautiful room, and making it glow as if gilded in real gold. Joelle glanced at the clock and groaned. It was already eleven a.m. Who slept that late? She didn’t. Ever. Until now. She found a shirt in Nick’s closet that would suffice as a robe, and she put it on. Then she opened the bedroom door, peeking out first, just in case, for whatever reason, someone was there. She heard and saw nothing, so she walked down the hallway, and found the living room empty, as well as the kitchen. She glanced out the dining room doors, and spotted Nick, finally. He was on the balcony, sitting in a wicker chair, his feet up on the matching ottoman. He had paperwork spread out next to him on the table, along with the Sunday paper. Joelle also saw a cup of coffee on the table, and a half eaten donut. He glanced up when he heard her in the doorway and his eyes swept over her. She blinked at the bright morning. The air was warm, almost spring-like, and the sunlight shone on her face, smelling fresh, pure, and clean. Like moist soil, flowers and something new sprouting.
“Why’d you let me sleep so late?” she grumbled, noticing he looked happy, relaxed, and fantastic.
“Don’t feel bad, I slept until nearly ten. Want some coffee?”
“Yes,” she said, coming closer. He poured the insulated coffee dispenser into his cup and handed it to her. She felt his eyes on her as she took a long sip. It was hot, but not scalding, and tasted as if he just picked the coffee beans that morning. There was no doubt in her mind that it probably cost per pound what she made per hour.
“Nice day,” she mumbled finally, suddenly at a loss of what to say now. Here. The morning after.
“Why? Because I’m here or because of the sun?”
“The sun.”
“And here I thought it was all because of me.”
“No, it’s your penthouse. How could you ever leave this place?” She turned and observed the city views that from so high above looked pristine and organized, with small people, toy-like cars, and perfect squares of blocks and buildings. Patches of blue sky peeked through, adding soft sunlight and making the steel and glass shimmer like jewels.
He moved and his papers suddenly shuffled. Joelle turned, looking startled, when his hands wrapped around her waist and she was unexpectedly lifted off her feet and into his lap. His lips were on hers before she could protest his manhandling. He gave her a long, sensuous kiss, his tongue outlining her lips, before entering her mouth and stroking her tongue. Her nerves exploded as her body melted into him. She could feel his hardness beneath her bottom, and her stomach dropped at the sensation.
Then he suddenly stopped, and drew back, before smiling at her and saying, “You’re terrified of being here with me this morning, aren’t you?”
She waited a heartbeat, then nodded. She was tongue-tied. She couldn’t help it.
“Start with ‘good morning, Nick’.”
She shook her head in clear annoyance at his tone, but a smile curled her lips up. He was unbelievable. “Good morning, Nick,” she mimicked obediently, breathless by then by his kiss, not to mention his teasing, gorgeous smile.
“See? I’m not so scary. Let’s go to the beach today.”
Her mind simply couldn’t follow him. Weren’t they just about to have sex, right then and there? It sure felt like it, and she now looked forward to it, but he was talking about what? Activities for the day?
“Joelle? Beach?”
He was serious, and she sighed. “I guess.”
“We should. It’s supposed to be near seventy, the first warm day of the year. Gotta do something like the beach.” Scooting her off him, he stood up. “Wanna grab lunch on the way?”
“Right now?” She was still sitting there, miffed, and disoriented. He was already walking back inside.
“Sure. By the time we get going, it’ll be noon.”
“Okay,” she said, following him. There was no feeling awkward, stupid, used, or anything else negative. Nick was determined and already getting ready to go. Huh. She didn’t know what to make of him.
So she followed suit and got ready. She grabbed a change of clothes from her thankfully empty condo before they found somewhere to lunch. Nick took the freeway out of town and into the suburbs, towards less crowded areas, finally ending at a beach in Mukilteo. He parked and they got out to take a walk along the beach that overlooked a serene Puge
t Sound, now sparkling and glistening under the sun like a brand new nickel tossed onto the pavement. She wore jeans, and soon became too hot. She followed Nick’s lead by taking her shoes off. The sand was warm and gritty between her toes. What kind of people did things like this? She felt so glad right then to be outside in the cool, yet warm air, and the sun on her bare arms, and the gentle breeze against her face felt like heaven to her.
Nick took her hand as they walked, stopping here and there. He talked a lot. And so did she. She was having fun, casual, easy-going fun. That made her feel like… what? Like she was on a first date with a man who was crazy about her. It was a nice fantasy to indulge on a pleasant Sunday afternoon. The antithesis of her life, and any other relationship she’d ever had.
He was good at skipping rocks, and every so often, he stopped, leaned down and grabbed a flat, smooth rock before bouncing it with four or five skips on the water’s surface. Joelle, for reasons unbeknownst to her, grabbed one, a pretty, pure white one that looked like a moonstone and put it in her pocket. Was it a keepsake? She scoffed at the idea, having never succumbed to stupid, girlish, sentimental things like that. All the same, she kept the rock.
He looked at her and watched her. He could not seem to get his fill of her. Her heart often skipped more than the stones he cast at receiving his constant attention. Why did he look at her like she was responsible for the damn sun rising in the sky? It was a weird, almost unsettling. She didn’t know what to make of Nick. Why didn’t he just screw her and send her back home? Oh no, not Nick. He prolongs their night by dating her and taking her to the beach. Talking to her, looking at her, smiling at her and touching her. First her arm, then her hand, and her leg, so easily, casually, totally innocently, although it managed to send near rockets firing from all of her nerve endings. She didn’t know what to do. Or what was happening. Or what all these feelings churning inside her meant. One thing she did know was she didn’t want the day to end, ever.
Later, after they returned to their condos, it was time for cruel reality to crash in, as always, and ruin everything. They both had to work tomorrow, when he would be just her boss again. Mr. Nick Lassiter again. She didn’t know how that would go, and couldn’t picture just passing him in the hallways after such an enchanted weekend.
“You coming up?”
She glanced at Nick in the lobby as they waited for the elevator. “No. I have stuff to do before work. Laundry, bills, and… you know, stuff.”
He nodded, and held the elevator door, indicating for her to go first, all the while smiling from ear to ear.
“What?” she snapped when she noticed his look.
“Your armor’s back on.”
“This was fun bu –”
He quit smiling. “It was more than fun, and you know it.”
“I don’t know what this was. But I do know I work for you, and that is beside the fact that I’m married to someone else, and now I’ve slept with my boss. I won’t know what to do with that tomorrow.”
“Sleeping with.”
She paused her pacing of the small elevator. “Excuse me?”
“You said ‘slept with,’ like it was a single, arbitrary one-night-stand. And I was just correcting you because we’re sleeping together, as in, intending for it to happen again.”
She scowled deeper. “I don’t know.”
“I do. Anyway, you were saying, I’m your boss and sleeping with me is...”
“Wrong. Sleeping with you is wrong. ”
“So no quickies on my office desk? The door has a lock.”
She stiffened her back. “I’m glad to see how amusing you find this.”
“It is. And it has been exactly that: fun. Don’t you think? Quit scowling at me, I promise to be strictly professional during work hours.”
“I can’t believe you’re okay with this.”
“Well, I am. Here’s your floor.” He got out before she could protest.
“You don’t have to get out, I know where I live.”
“What kind of guy would I be not to walk a lady to her door after such a date?”
“This wasn’t a date.”
“What exactly do you define a date as then?”
“Okay, fine; it was a date. Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, end it, or talk about it, or something?”
He finally stopped, and turned towards her. Stepping closer, he took her chin in his hand. “Joelle, I’m not doing or saying or ending anything. If you want to, I can’t stop you. But we could just let it go. And be; and see where it goes.”
“See where what goes?” That’s what bugged her so much. She didn’t know what it was. Instead, she said almost angrily, “You didn’t try to sleep with me today.”
His mouth twitched as if he really did find her endlessly amusing. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because then you’d write me off as just a guy, looking for only that from you.”
“And you’re not?”
“No, Joelle, sorry if I disillusioned you, but I’m not.”
“What are you looking for?”
“You. I’m looking to be with you.”
She glared at him. How could he say that to her and sound so much like he meant it? Like they could just date as any man and woman would. Like they were normal. Like they weren’t afflicted with monumental hurtles and goliath complications. Like she wasn’t married, and his employee. And he wasn’t richer than God, and she as poor as a church mouse. She was completely the wrong person for him and vice versa, and–
Before she could finish her list, he moved, bringing her closer, and kissing her. His lips closed, soft and wet over hers. It made her sigh, it was so good, so right, so soft and so ideally there.
She groaned with her eyes still shut. “You’re pretty good at this.”
“Thanks. Good at what?”
“Getting me to do things I shouldn’t do.”
“Maybe you have that backwards, maybe you should do them more often,” he said quietly, as he opened her front door, and stepped away from her. “Goodnight, Joelle.”
He turned to leave and walked to the elevator. She didn’t know what to do. He was perfect. Wonderful. She felt like the rarest rose with him, when, to herself, she was and looked like an everyday dandelion. She worried and felt scared to death that her only opportunity for a decent future just might possibly be walking away from her right then.
She even feared she’d ruin Nick’s life just as she managed to ruin her own. Guilt was lodged deeply in her gut. Over Nick, Rob and herself. She had sex with someone else, someone new, someone who wasn’t her husband. Someone who happened to be Nick Lassiter.
And she didn’t know what to do or think of that. It was Nick Lassiter. Nick. She had sex with Nick. Her boss. Why couldn’t her mind handle that? It felt so big and so scary, but also… so right. It felt so undeniably right.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Joelle avoided Nick for the next three days. She walked around the office like a cat burglar, hiding behind doors, while checking out rooms before she entered them, and nearly ducking behind file cabinets to avoid being noticed.
But he called. Nick freaking called her each evening. He chatted to her as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. He wouldn’t let last weekend slip by as though it were a mistake. He asked her to come over. She found lame excuses three nights in a row about why she could not possibly come over. She heard the laughter in his voice as he said, okay Joelle, no problem. See you at work. But what was she supposed to say? Sure, I’ll come right over, honey?
Then she ran smack dab into him on Thursday at mid-morning. She was walking through the hallway from the supply office towards her desk, when she walked right into him. He was coming out of the accounting offices. She dropped her file folders, and stood there, nearly motionless. He had on a black suit, a beige tie, and a crisp, white shirt. He hardly ever wore all black and looked even more intimidating, and boss-like in it.
She was blank. There wa
sn’t a word or a coherent thought in her head to come out of her mouth. She simply stood there as if stun-gunned. This was the man who called her last night just to ask her how her day had gone? This was the man who stripped her naked before pressing her against the wall of his entryway? It certainly didn’t feel like it was he just then.
He was frowning, and appeared more intense. He had an earpiece on, and was talking on the phone, not to the man beside him. Nick didn’t even realize she was right there standing like a mute, with her fallen folders at her feet. He looked down, and caught her eye, her much too expressive, and now horrified eyes. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Joelle quickly dropped to her knees to collect the scattered folders. Instantly, Nick squatted down to help her pick everything up. He handed them to her, and his hand brushed her arm while he was still talking on his phone. She wanted to crawl away.
Then his hands were on her forearms, as he began rising up, and pulling her with him. He gave her wrist a squeeze before letting go. When she looked up, he winked at her before turning to walk down the hall with his people in tow. She stood there staring after them. He winked at her. She felt as nervous as mouse beneath the eye of a hawk, and he simply winked at her as if it were no big deal to literally run into her.
