Plus, in this case, the desk was a bigger priority than the email, even if it was grant news. She had a date tonight and wanted to go home to change for it. No matter what the grant needed, it was five o’clock on Friday. Any email she sent would likely sit—unresponded to and probably unread—until Monday morning.
Once the surface of her desk was cleaned off, she spun her chair back around to her computer and clicked on the email.
Dear Marsie Penny, the beginning of the email read. She skimmed the rest and hit the close button before she realized what the email said. Please return the attached documents by May 15 to be considered for the next step in the grant process.
Before she read the rest of the message, she glanced out the window to clear her head. Parked almost directly under her window was Jason’s beat-up truck, long pieces of wood sticking out the back, an orange flag tied to the end of them. She was about to look back at her email when he came out the service door. She leaned against the back of her chair, watching him heft some of the boards onto his shoulder. She was too far up to make out much detail, but she knew what he looked like well enough to imagine his muscles moving and the tendons in his neck straining.
She watched him until he and his boards disappeared back through the service door.
“Well, I wanted to think about something else,” she said to herself as she turned back to her computer. Thinking about Jason could clear her mind from work—in the best possible way. When she started reading the first line of the email again, she was ready to read every word.
When she got to the end, she still wasn’t sure she believed it.
Her grant application was being moved to the next step in the process—fully funded.
She said those words to herself again. Fully funded.
The next step wasn’t a guarantee. The granting organization could still turn her down. She could mess up some of the details in the hundreds of pages of information and detail she would need to turn into them. They could decide to change their funding priorities. The world could end. Stuff could happen.
But usually getting to this stage in the application was as close to a yes as possible without the organization using a Y, an E and an S.
She glanced out the window again. Jason’s truck was still there, though she couldn’t see him out working any longer.
Fully funded. The third time she said the words to herself, her heart started to flutter. And the muscles in her legs started to twitch. They wanted her to get up, jump around and cheer.
And she would, if she could find someone to cheer with.
Roberto was on vacation. The grant news wasn’t supposed to be announced for another couple weeks. This was good news, but she wasn’t going to interrupt his cruise for this, even if she did know how to get in touch with him. She reached for her phone to call Beck, then pulled her hand back. Beck would be happy for her. There was no doubt about that. But Beck was also struggling with, well, everything right now and sometimes her friend needed time to get her mind straight before they talked.
All Beck’s positive energy was being spent to keep her moving forward at work, which was good, because it kept her friend getting out of bed every day, but it also meant she didn’t often have anything left. Marsie sent Beck a quick text about the news. She’d let her friend decide what she had the emotional energy for.
She looked out the window, waiting for Jason to come back for the rest of the boards while she thought about who else to share the news with. Her boss, sure, but he’d left for the day. She’d seen him walk past.
She had a date tonight and she could tell him, she supposed. But that wouldn’t be satisfying. He wouldn’t know how much work she’d put into the grant and how much it would mean to her career and to research into health-care spending in general.
Before she could think too much about it, she dialed his number and was relieved when her call went to voice mail. “Hey, Nick. It’s Marsie. We had a date tonight. I’m going to have to cancel. Something has come up at work that I need to take care of before Monday.”
She felt a slight pang for her white lie, but her excitement at opening the attached documents more than made up for any guilt. When she got to share the news, it would be with someone who knew enough to appreciate it.
For a brief moment, she missed Richard. Not the actual man, but going home to someone to share news with over a glass of wine. Maybe climb into bed together and celebrate that way.
She sighed. Sex wasn’t going to happen tonight, unless maybe she went on her date and was forward, but that thought dampened her enthusiasm.
Work was better. The documents might not be due until May 15, but she was going to get started on them tonight.
In the back of her mind, she wondered why she wasn’t as excited as she thought she would be. This grant, and the research it would make possible, could cement her career. Not to mention its possible impact on health-care policy was huge. She should be running up and down the hallways, screaming the news.
Or, at least, doing as close to that as she was comfortable with.
Of course, a part of her had expected to get this grant. She knew her application was on point, and she’d worked her tail off to make sure each and every t in the application had been crossed and every i dotted. She’d checked the js, too.
She’d be excited later. After she finished the forms, getting this far in the grant process would feel more real then. And when it felt real, she’d holler with joy.
Or pour herself a glass of champagne to celebrate.
With one last look at the truck parked under her office window, Marsie turned back to her email and got to work.
* * *
THE REST OF the office building was dark when Jason stood and admired the project he’d been working on. He probably could have waited until Monday to finish Jim’s desk instead of staying until dark o’clock on a Friday night, but he didn’t have a date tonight—or anywhere else to be other than home—and he was going to get a great deal of satisfaction from Jim coming in on Monday morning and finding the many alterations he’d asked to be made to his desk done.
Plus, it looked damn good, if Jason could say so himself. The only reason he could see where he’d broken the desk apart and added space and height to accommodate Jim’s special wheelchair was that the paint hadn’t dried yet. By the time Jim rolled into the office on Monday morning, the desk would look like it had been made that way.
Puzzles. Most of his job was general fixing things and overseeing contractors who were fixing the things he couldn’t, but every once in a while he got to do something like this desk. And then his job went from interesting to awesome and rewarding.
He flipped off the light and walked down the dark hallway. If someone asked, he’d say how it felt good to be able to do something to make Jim’s work life easier, blah, blah, being good to people. But, really, Jason was just proud of the job he’d done.
He stopped at the elevator, then noticed light shining from an office a little farther down the hall. He didn’t even have to guess which office it was. He’d walked from that door to the elevators enough to know the feel of the distance at a glance. Marsie was still here.
Any desire he had to head home disappeared, and he walked down the hall toward her.
“Hey,” he said, sticking his head into her office. “What are you doing here so late on a Friday night?”
“Oh!” When she twirled around in her chair and caught sight of him, her face was lit with joy. “I’m so glad to see you. I have the best news.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. My grant has been moved to the next step.”
“The one you had been working at for months?”
“Yeah.” A question flittered across her eyes like she thought about being humble about the news and decided against it. “It’s actually a really big deal.
At the next step, we’re basically being asked to prove we can do what we say we’re going to do. If we prove that—and we will—we get the money. So basically it’s a yes. Or will be a yes in a couple more months.”
He broke into a big smile, both genuinely excited for her and happy to see her excitement. “That’s awesome.”
“I know.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair. “I’m so glad you came in. I mean, I was excited by the email, of course, but even working on the forms didn’t make it feel real. Telling you has made it real.”
“You should celebrate. Come out with me. I’ll take you for a drink. Or dinner. Or dancing. Whatever you want. It’s your night. You get to pick.”
She gave one quick glance to her computer as she stood. “I should celebrate. I was going to work on the forms and evidence we need to turn in, but I’d rather go out with you.”
She giggled, a noise he wasn’t sure he’d heard from her before, outside of the night she’d shocked him completely by playing fifteen different parts and taking all his friends’ money at poker. This giggle was less calculated, but not innocent. To his surprise, she sounded both giddy and guilty.
“I canceled a date tonight. I told him that I had work I needed to get done before Monday. The forms aren’t due until May, but I didn’t want to celebrate with some stranger. Better to share the news with a friend.”
“How do you know he wasn’t the one?” he asked, somewhere between joking and jealous. He hadn’t been on a date in...well, it was his longest dateless stretch since he’d decided to try online dating. He looked at profiles, but none of them compared to Marsie.
And wasn’t that a kicker.
“Oh.” She waved away his comment. Up close, her eyes practically glowed with pride. “I doubt he was. I mean, this was a date I set up before I decided to rework my algorithm again. I’ve reworked it a couple of times, but so far, the results haven’t been what I want them to be. Maybe I’ll do that this weekend.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, but he’d asked. And they’d made a deal to support each other’s online dating. If he wasn’t actually dating anyone—online or offline—that wasn’t her fault.
“Well, until then, let’s get you a drink. We won’t worry about that guy. He doesn’t know you well enough to properly celebrate with you.”
“You know, that’s what I said to myself. In fact, I used almost those exact same words.” She giggled again. “Great minds, I guess.”
She was standing in front of him glowing. If joy had energy, hers would be pushing against her usual button-down—today’s was a vibrant purple—and possibly popping the seams of her slim khaki skirt. Her thrill of success expanded to surround them both, making it seem as if the office building was lit from fireworks, rather than dark and empty.
He couldn’t believe that he’d once wondered if she was uptight and maybe a little boring. He’d been an idiot.
“Let me give you a celebratory hug before we go out.” She looked like she could use two, to ground her before driving, and he wanted to feel her delight buzz against him, to share some part of her success.
He opened his arms and she almost leaped into them, squeezing him as hard as he squeezed her. “I’m so happy,” she said, her breath warm on his neck. They were about the same height, which meant that she tucked right against his head as her breasts were pressed against his chest and her crotch level with his.
Her hair smelled good, like he had always imagined it would. Slightly musky and woodsy. Nothing floral for Marsie. She was no delicate flower. His Marsie was all strength and height and power, reaching to the sky.
She wasn’t loosening her hold on him, so he didn’t loosen his, either. Instead, he leaned his head closer to her hair and pressed a kiss against her head. Her hair was silky against his cheek. She was as smooth as he’d imagined.
He laid a hand on the back of her head and smoothed down her glossy hair with his palm. “We really should leave, if we’re going to get you that drink you want.” Little wisps of her hair blew about in front of his nose as he spoke. They tickled, but he wasn’t going to move until she did.
“I don’t think I want a drink to celebrate.”
Lips touched his hairline. He didn’t think he was imagining them.
The tip of a tongue also touched his hairline.
Nope. He didn’t imagine that.
Not that his imagination wasn’t good enough to imagine Marsie kissing him, but he’d generally stuck to the basics of a guy fantasy when he’d thought about it.
Her lips and the barest bit of her tongue on his neck were way more erotic than anything he had fantasized about.
“Oh, yeah?” He wasn’t going to make a move until he heard her be explicit about what she wanted.
He had been an idiot, thinking that he didn’t want Marsie. And he’d pushed all feelings of desire he had for her away for months because she hadn’t met some standard that he couldn’t even define for himself.
But he wasn’t so stupid that he was going to let one night ruin a great friendship. One-night stands were great, but not if they wrecked something else.
“Yeah,” she said, warm breath brushing against skin. She shifted, her breasts rubbing against his shirt. He was semi-erect now, and the way she moved against his work pants was both slightly uncomfortable and absolutely arousing.
“What do you want?” he asked, though the hands moving down his back to grip his butt gave him a fair idea. Not only wasn’t he imagining this, but she wasn’t being shy.
Of course not. Marsie is never shy.
“Well, for starters, I’ve been eyeing your butt since I met you.” His skin was still damp where her tongue had been, and a waft of her breath over the spot sent shivers down his spine.
“Are you going to do anything about it?” They were still in each other’s arms. She’d kissed his skin. He’d kissed her hair. She’d touched his butt. Still, nothing they couldn’t back away from tonight and laugh about tomorrow morning.
“Right now, I’m enjoying the hardness of your muscles under my hand.” Her nails dug in when she squeezed, and he pushed forward against her, wanting inside her.
Not yet. This is her celebration.
She froze. Then she pulled away from him a fraction of an inch. “Unless all you want is a drink.”
He pulled away, too. She was looking at him. She was of a height that he could look her right in the eyes. If they had a bed, she could lay toe-to-toe with him buried deep inside her, and they’d still be able to gaze into each other’s eyes.
It was a fucking erotic thought.
“I want you,” he said. “But I don’t want to make a mistake.”
“No mistake.” At first, the touch of her lips on his was light. Hesitant. Maybe still a little uncertain. Then he moaned, and she took advantage of his open mouth to deepen the kiss. Her tongue swept into his mouth and he met it full on.
She tasted like chocolate and coffee. Like heaven. Like all strength and unexpected sweetness. Everything he’d ever thought she would taste like.
No way he was going to hold back now.
Their hands tangled as they each reached for the waistband of the other. Each impatient tug she made on his shirt made him smile against her lips.
“What are you laughing about?” she asked, their lips still touching.
“You. Here I am trying to be gentle as I unbutton your blouse, and you’re about to rip my good shirt.” He didn’t have the energy to even fake being upset; he was too busy trying not to pop a button on her blouse, which probably cost as much his clothing head to toe, including his work boots.
“I’m tempted to rip it and roar.” Her smile only got wider as she finally got under his shirt. “Do you know how excited I am?”
He pressed his cock against her. “You can probably fe
el how excited I am.”
They both heaved a sigh of relief when he got the last of her buttons undone and shoved her blouse open. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her skin was creamy, with one small mole under the band of her gray bra. Her breasts seemed to spill over the cups, but that was probably because she was breathing as heavily as he was. He was about to bust out of the zipper of his pants, metal be damned.
He kissed her neck. “You’re beautiful here.”
She shivered against him.
“And you’re beautiful here,” he said, with a press of his lips to the skin just visible above the line of her bra.
“And here.” He slipped his fingers under her waistband. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, lightly now, but he was going to make her hold on for dear life.
“I think...” He had to pull his hand out of her waistband to touch the area where her legs met on the outside of her skirt. “I think that your celebration should be on me. I’m going to drink from you until you scream.”
Now her hands tightened, the tips of her fingers digging in to his skin.
“Ohh...” she said. It sounded like her head had fallen back, the long line of her skin exposed for him to kiss for as long as he wanted.
Reality set in long enough for him to pull his hand away. “I’m pretty sure no one else is in the building and cleaning has already come through, but I’m going to shut the door.”
“Oh, yeah. Good idea.”
“Don’t move,” he said, with a pat on her hip.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
He shut her door and, for good measure, closed her blinds even though they were too far up for them to worry about the windows.
When he turned back, she looked loose-limbed and wanting. Her bottom lip was wet, her eyes were wide and her blouse was hanging off her. Not yet well fucked, but they’d take care of that soon.
“On second thought. Sit your ass on the edge of your desk. And brace yourself.”
“Aren’t you bossy,” she said, though she backed up to the edge of her desk and held on with both hands.
Dating by Numbers Page 17
