by Kristi Rose
He scans the screen. “It all looks good, I’ll give you that,” he says and I catch his eyes darting away from me.
I pick up the office phone. “What’s the code to stop forwarding the calls? It’s my one mission to make that thing shut up.” I nod to his phone that, coincidentally, hums with vibrations.
He types in the code and for a moment it’s blissfully quiet. I take advantage of that silence and send all the calls to voice mail, as it’s quitting time soon.
“This calendar is really nice,” he says, the app open on his phone.
Stepping close, I tap some empty space highlighted green. “There’s some free time on Thursdays that’s not accounted for. Anything I can put into that time?”
He shakes his head. “That’s my time. I don’t work for Mark then, so you can’t schedule me for anything.”
“OK. Very mysterious.” I wag my brows.
“Same for my time at the college. My office hours there are not flexible. I’ve a chance to land a full time teaching job if I apply for my Ph.D.”
“How can you possibly manage all that with all this?” For added emphasis, I push over a pile of papers and let them slide across the table, stopping when they collide with the next pile.
“I just will,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t have to take the position, but it’s a great contingency plan.”
“And here I thought this place was your lifeblood.”
“It is.”
“Then why would you need a contingency plan?” I toss that zinger out, not expecting an answer.
We stand in silence for four beats.
“How’s your brother?” I ask, conceding the point to McRae. I used to have contingency plans for my contingency plans.
“Fine. Busy with school.”
“What’s happened with Mel?” I sit on the corner of the desk and start swinging my foot, glad I painted my nails a fire red last night. He licks his top lip and clasps his hands in front of his crotch.
“Mark and I got a lawyer involved right away like you suggested. Mark was pretty resistant at first. But we’ve managed to contain it. Thanks for the advice.”
“My pleasure.”
“Hey,” Zach calls as he comes into the room. “You two doing all right in here? I guess you’ve met already, but I thought I’d come to see if everything was going well.” He stands in the doorway, his hands tucked in his back pocket, his eyes bouncing between us.
“Yeah, we’re good,” I tell him while McRae steps back.
“You two aren’t fighting or anything, right?”
“Why would you think that?” I ask.
“Because I feel like I interrupted something.” Zach shrugs.
“No, it’s all good.” McRae tells him.
“You’re Smitty, aren’t you?” I ask, putting together the pieces of the phone call from our trip down.
The kid ducks his head and says, “Yeah, that’s what all the guys call me. You can too if you want.” When he looks at me, I can tell how much he really wants me to call him Zach.
“That’s OK. I’ll stick with Zach.”
“Good,” he says with a nod. “I mean, good that y’all ain’t fighting. I’m heading out then.” He points to the door and gives us a wave as he leaves the office.
“Your Smitty is your best employee,” I tell McRae over my shoulder.
“I reckon he is,” he says.
Having exhausted all aspects of polite conversation, with the exception of the weather, I resort to fidgeting with the ancient computer I found on the desk I’ve claimed.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He gestures to the smallest of the three offices.
“OK.” I bite my lip and stare down at the word QWERTY.
Holy hell, if we keep dancing around all this sexual tension, one of us is going to become unhinged. Likely me.
Chapter 7
I arrive early to work, excited to spend the morning organizing the papers in the main office. I can see it coming together. By the end of the day, I’ll have most of the office set to make everyday operations more seamless. Then I’ll tackle the books, set up some spreadsheets, and map out how everything is restructured so McRae won’t get his panties all bunched up and complain about being out of the loop.
Staying busy keeps my mind off the limited communication I’ve had from Will. I’ve dreamt of hiring a computer hacker to search the Florida driver’s license system for him, but I don’t have the money or access to a hacker. Nor do I want to spend time in jail for a felony. I have no leads. No idea what he could be doing for a living. Apparently he never finished his family-mandated law degree, as his name doesn’t pop up on any school website nor has he taken the bar exam.
Pushing aside my anxiety regarding my brother, I force myself to focus on what I can control, the organization of this office and my desires for McRae. At least I hope I can control that. Good luck if he shows up today looking all Top Gun.
I carry the files of past accounts receivable and payable to the storage room and tuck them into a box, label it correctly, and rest it on the top of the filing cabinet so I can climb the stepladder and store the box overhead. I sense McRae come into the room before I hear him, so I turn and smile. He looks like he’s just landed a badass fighter plane and my pulse sprints off on a mad race.
“You’re early.” I wasn’t expecting him for another hour.
“Yeah, my student cancelled. He’s home with the flu. You need any help?” He nods with his head toward the box I just pushed on the shelf.
I climb down a rung and lean against the ladder, resting my hip on a step and look up at him. I can’t stop smiling. “No, I’m all done in here.”
“Where is everyone?” He indicates with his hand to the hanger that lies beyond the storage room door.
“Zach went home early. Something about a study group with a cute girl, and Mark called. He’s in Arizona. You’re in charge. That happens a lot doesn’t it? You get to be the boss without really being the boss?”
He narrows his gaze at me. “Mark’s grooming me to buy into the business. This is just his way of doing it.”
I pleased that I managed to swallow my snort of disbelief. It’s easy for McRae to go into a tailspin; I’ve found that to be common with all anal-retentive people.
He shifts and looks over his shoulder. “So it’s just us?”
I can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous or concocting a plan. Does he think I might seduce him? Well, I suppose that’s a high probability. All it’ll take is one crooked grin from him.
I spent a large amount of time over the last few days thinking about McRae and my need to touch him. The more I consider the options, the more certain I am about my solution. One thing for certain is dating him would be senseless. He’s the sort who’d date with intentions toward the long haul. Long for me is measured in single digit weeks. Besides, it’s not like I’m the sort he’d want to date anyway. I’m don’t even own a cardigan, and I left my pearls in Connecticut.
But this man. McRae. Brinn. With eyes that speak of a depth I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. He’s far too serious for someone his age and from what I’ve observed and what others have said, he’s extremely giving. Hiring people from the old neighborhood, wherever that may be, or driving up to attend a Marine Corp graduation when he barely has time to sleep. I’ve seen his crazy work schedule. This is a guy who carries the weight of the world on his back and I would wager, and probably win, thinks of others before himself and that makes my desire to give back to him ping something fierce.
“You had anything to eat?” he asks and rolls his head, stretching his neck.
I immediately think of ten ways to relax him.
“Mmm, no. Not yet. You hungry?” I lick my lips and scan the length of him.
He’s dressed similar to yesterday. Sticking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he leans his left shoulder against the wall, his head dangerously clo
se to knocking against the shelf that encircles the top of the storage room.
“Yeah, I’m hungry.” He watches my mouth.
“You should get something then. Takeout, perhaps.”
“That’s a good idea.” His eyes dip to my chest and jerk back up.
“You look tired. Is there anything I can get you?” I sit on the top step of the ladder, letting the slit of my skirt fall open and exposing my thigh, which shows the new art I did. His eyes fixate, traveling up the design.
“What did you say?” He brings his eyes slowly back to mine.
“I asked if you wanted me to get you anything.” Like me for example, can I get you a helping of me?
“Is that new?” He’s staring at my leg.
“Yeah, from Sunday. You like it?”
“How big is it?”
The skirt I’m wearing hides nearly half. “Well, it goes up and across.”
I show him the area, moving my hands up my thigh. When I reach my hip, I spread them out toward my butt and stomach.
“It reaches the one I have on my stomach.” I place both hands over my lower abdomen and spread them wide to show the space the art is taking. With his eyes still on my hands, I run them down, across my thighs, and slide them off my legs. I don’t bother pulling the opening of my skirt together. Being near this guy makes me feel naughty. I like it.
“You let some guy do all that over your body without knowing him?”
It takes a moment for me to realize he asked his question with a touch of judgment, and my attraction flickers when my anger flares.
“It’s not like we fuck afterward. It’s art.”
McRae’s eyes drop to my mouth and his nostrils flare slightly.
“You just say whatever you’re thinking, don’t you?” He licks his lips and steps closer.
“Why not? Is it offensive?” I sit up straighter and lean toward him. It’s the craziest flirting I’ve ever experienced.
“I guess to some it can be.” His eyes rise to meet mine and the air in the closet is sucked out, the temperature climbs, and I resist the urge to fan myself.
Instead, I tap my index finger once to my lower lip. “Are you offended by this mouth?”
His eyes follow my finger. He pushes off the wall, pulls his hands from his pockets, and leans toward me, placing his left hand against the wall over my right shoulder.
“No.” It comes out a raspy whisper. He reaches out with his right hand and rubs his thumb over my lower lip, gently caressing my piercing.
We come together like stars colliding, in a clash of sparks and fire. It’s not a simple kiss, two lips meeting and exploring. It’s an impact driven by need. He presses me against the stepladder and filing cabinet and I clutch his vest, my fist pulling him to me. Our tongues unite, and the exploration is about dominance, being the first to claim the other. He cups my ass and we can’t get any closer with clothes on. His other hand is inside the waistband of my skirt, his thumb on my hipbone.
“Sweet mother of God,” he says when we part to breathe. But only two breaths pass before we press our lips together again. It’s as if they’ve just found their perfect half and can’t bear to be apart.
Kissing him is like nothing I’ve ever known. My lopsided and crazy world straightens and rights itself. The blurriness clears and my insight becomes crisp. I want him desperately.
“Wait,” I say. “Close the door.” Just in case someone comes in. Our faces are a breath apart, both of us gasping for air. He hesitates, lets go, and backs up to the door, watching me as he moves. Slowly, he pushes the door closed and walks back to me.
“Listen, I’m sorry about that—” he starts.
“Are you really? Because I’m not.” I step off the ladder and stand in front of him.
“Well if you’re not then I guess I won’t be either.” His smile is just a twist of the lips, but when our eyes meet, it opens. I smile back at him. “But this can’t happen again. We work together now, and I have too much invested in this job to throw it away.”
“Yes, that’s a sticky situation. But you’re not my direct boss, and I’m going to be moving on soon. I’m here for a few months, max. Just enough time for us to dabble. Before you know it, I’ll be a memory.” I shrug one shoulder. “Besides, I’m certain my background and credit checks came out OK. I don’t have any prior arrest, any outstanding lawsuits, or a history of them.”
“I didn’t see it, but Mark said you aren’t a whack job.”
“I have an idea.” I place my hands on his chest and play with the zipper of his flight vest.
He doesn’t say anything but raises one brow. I take that as a sign to continue.
“I’m attracted to you. Simply put, I want to sleep with you. I’m going to assume you’re not put off by the thought of sleeping with me. Filthy mouth and all that.” I give a quick laugh. My lips still burn from his kiss and they feel swollen and full.
“I wouldn’t put up a fight.” He picks up a strand of my hair and twists it around his palm.
“I’m going to make you an offer, but you have to accept it or decline it right now. No maybe. No time to think about it.”
He stops twisting my hair. “What kind of deal?”
“Nope, you get no information except that it includes us having sex together.”
He winces. “Yeah, but that’s not fair. I have a lot at stake here, and maybe this includes me dressing up or includes me, you, and animals or something I’m not into.”
I stop pulling his zipper. “You really think I’m different, don’t you?” I know he does, it’s apparent in his hesitation when he’s talking with me, but when we kiss all that hesitation is lost.
“No, I don’t know you. I have to be practical here.”
“OK, fair enough. It’s straight up, ordinary sex. Just you and me. The reason why I’m making you decide now is because you’re so practical. You need to let go a bit. Step off the path. So, what’s it gonna be? You want to do me or not?”
He twirls my hair without tugging it, all while our eyes never leave each other. He brushes his thumb over my piercing. I tug his vest zipper down an inch and wait.
“And you think this is a good idea? Because I’m not so sure.”
“Yeah, look at us. It’s clear we have a mutual attraction, and until we burn it off it’s going to be there. Making work awkward. I’m not here long—”
“I want us to get along.”
“But if we don’t address this tension, it’s going to make working together really uncomfortable.”
“And you think if we have sex it’ll fix everything.” He gives me a half smile that tells of his skepticism.
“It can’t make it worse. We’re both adults. If we know the deal up front then there should be no issue. You in?”
I watch his face, looking for some sort of expression to let me know what he is thinking, but the guy has an amazing poker face.
“If this goes tits up then at least you’ll know I’ll be gone at some point. Worse case, Mark’s daughter starts in September. Bye-Bye, Josie.”
He searches my face before saying, “OK. Yes.”
I meet his gaze, excitement coursing through me. “Are you sure? Don’t waffle on me. By saying yes, you need to be all in. I’m not talking a relationship. I’m talking sex. No strings attached sex.”
“Can girls even do that?” He drops my hair, wrapping his hands around my waist instead. The press of his palm spans my lower back. It’s the craziest notion, but I feel supported, as if he’s got me and no matter what the weight, he’ll carry it.
“Mmm. Why don’t you find out first hand?” Our bodies get closer.
“OK, I’m in. It’s a firm yes.” His voice is low and husky.
As I press against him, his arousal pushes back and I stroke the length. “Yes, yes it is.” I pop the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down, exposing his white briefs.
He lowers his head. “Shall we seal the
deal with a kiss?”
There’s no need for a response other than to bring my lips to his. I stretch and he bends. His vest slides off, and I run my hands up under his T-shirt and around his waist.
“Rule number one,” I say when we separate. “It’s OK to date other people. We aren’t dating. This is straight up sex. Booty calls are not only OK but also expected. We accept this for what it is. Chemistry.”
“OK.”
All sense of reason is gone. We’re riding the high our impulsivity provides. He backs up to the ladder and lifts me, setting me on the middle step.
“Rule number two is we leave it out of the office,” he murmurs before kissing the space below my ear.
“After this time, of course,” I tease.
“Of course.” His hands slide up my shirt.
“This is crazy,” I say.
“Like flying upside down. Nothing about this makes sense.”
“You mean this is a thrill ride?”
He pulls back to look at me, a wicked smile on his face. “Yeah, definitely a thrill ride. Could be a train wreck.”
“Let’s find out. Take this off.” I pull his T-shirt up at the hem, tugging it off quickly before he reaches for my shirt.
“Holy shit,” he says when I’m standing before him with my bra the only fabric between his hands and my breasts.
“These are incredible.” With one hand, he lightly traces the fading henna down the valley between my breasts before sweeping up and over one breast, the nipple beading beneath his palm.
“Look who’s talking. Where did you pick these up?” I run my hands down powerful arms, caressing the high and low of his muscles.
“Life,” he says and dips his head and places a soft kiss on my collarbone.
“I like a guy with a little chest hair.”
“I’m glad I could provide.” His voice is deep and raspy and a tad thin.
It tells me our pace is about to amp up.
“Rule number three. Anyone can back out at any time without consequences. When you’re done, you’re done.” Touching him everywhere has become my singular purpose.
