by Claire Adams
I laughed and held out a forkful of curry for her to try. Tasha shook her head. "Am I seeing a blush on your cheeks?" I asked.
Tasha almost spilled her wine. "I think we're a little past blushing, don't you?"
"I don't know," I said. "If you do a few of those things again, you'll have me blushing all the way to my toes."
She finally let loose a giggle. "Stop. We're not talking about that."
"You're right," I said. I leaned over and kissed her neck. "Talking's overrated."
"What would we even have to talk about?" Tasha asked.
I knew what she was thinking. Outside of work, what did we have in common?
My phone buzzed in the kitchen and saved us both. Tasha nodded for me to answer it and took a large bite. At least I knew she wasn't going anywhere.
"Don't worry, it's not work," I said.
Tasha coughed. "You work past sunset?"
I chuckled but bit the inside of my cheek when I saw the message from Berger. He and the guys were out in San Francisco and my absence was a major topic of conversation. Berger had called my assistant and heard all about my day in the East Bay. With Tasha. The messages then devolved to the current odds on me bedding the Ice Queen and a list of suggestions for if I managed to get the chance.
I had to send out a message reminding Berger of my interior designer. Then I realized he might know Sheila. I swore at my phone and then turned it off.
When I rejoined Tasha on the couch, the fire was warm, but her expression was cool. Even though the couch was a jumble of cushions, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair was still a seductive riot, Tasha looked prim. Her plate was balanced on top of where her knees pressed tightly together. She pretended to eat as if nothing was wrong, but I knew the magic glow was gone.
"Speaking of work—" she started to say.
I groaned and cut her off. "No. You're not going to do that. Can't we just finish dinner? Maybe have another glass of wine?"
"But you have to drive back to the city tonight," Tasha said.
I lost my appetite and left my plate untouched. "I can always call a cab."
Tasha put her plate on the coffee table and swept her hair back over her shoulders. I caught her hand before she could twist her hair into a neat bun. She froze at my touch and then firmly pulled her hand free.
"It's always better to catch Stan early in the morning, especially with a progress report. He'll be in a better mood the earlier we catch him," Tasha said.
"You're setting an early meeting?" I asked.
Tasha fumbled under the couch and found where her phone had fallen. "I think it's best, don't you? We need to measure our campaign inch by inch so we don't waste more resources."
I watched her type the email to Stan while I pulled on my shirt. "I'll just be going then."
Tasha walked me to the door of her condo and I held my breath before I stepped outside. I wanted her to grab my arm; she wouldn't even have to pull me back. Instead, she kept both hands flat on the door, her body pressed against it like it was a shield. That empty want stretched out as I waited a few more seconds, but nothing happened.
I felt that hollowness even after I crossed the Bay Bridge and drove towards Presidio Heights. I blared the horn and cut around slow tourists, revving my sports car past sane speed limits. I liked hearing the tires scream as I took off from red lights, jumping ahead of traffic so I was out on my own.
A speeding ticket would have been the perfect punctuation to the night. I had gone too fast and screwed everything up. That moment, that mushroom cloud of passion, was still reverberating, but now it was a permanent black mark on my record with Tasha. Had she thrown me out to protect herself or had I just been used as a one-night stand?
I couldn't imagine Tasha being so stupid as to choose an officemate for casual sex. Only I was that idiotic.
The thought that Tasha had shut me out in order to protect herself lit up the rest of my drive. My neighborhood was dark, the majority of the mansions empty and silent. All the other occupants were off on exotic vacations or living the good life in some other corner of the world. I imagined some of them, energetic couples, happy families, all somewhere warmer, brighter.
I left the sports car in my driveway and walked around back onto my deck to watch the cool fog. San Francisco was shrouded in fog, the ocean view an undulating mass of eerie gray.
Tasha's neighborhood was still clear and bright. She'd said the fog never reached her hilly street. The thought twisted in my chest. I shouldn't have left. I should have stayed and made her glad that I was there.
I kicked the deck railing and turned to let myself into my echoing mansion. I imagined Tasha still cozy in front of the fire, sipping her wine.
I snorted to myself. "Probably in pajamas that button all the way up to the top. Or she's already in bed with her outfit for the morning all laid out proper."
My giant white marble fireplace yawned at me across the wide living room. For a minute, I considered breaking up my old dining room chairs and starting a fire of my own, but my phone rang.
"Tasha?" I asked. I stood up and paced around in three tight circles. Did she want me to drive back over?
"Did you make it home okay?" Tasha asked.
"Worried about me, huh?" I asked. "And here I thought you didn't care."
Tasha carefully cleared her throat. "About that, Rainer. It was a complete mistake. I have no idea what came over me. I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about it. It won't ever happen again."
"I think you forgot 'we never should have' and 'let's just pretend it didn't happen.'" I kicked one of my dining room chairs.
Tasha paused, considering the loud clatter, and then said, "I don't mean to be a cliche, but this is my career we're talking about."
"That's all you care about, isn't it?" I stopped myself and held the phone back while I took a deep breath. "Never mind. Your secret is safe with me. It's already forgotten."
"Good night, Rainer." Tasha hung up on me.
"See you in the morning," I muttered. Then I threw my phone across the living room.
That damn phone was the reason I was late for our early morning meeting. It had somehow skidded into the kitchen and slipped under the refrigerator. By the time I found it, there were already five messages from my assistant.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way," I said when Topher called again.
"Mr. Berger dropped by to see if you were in. He seemed to think you were going to be very late this morning." Topher was worried, I could hear it in his voice.
"No, I'm on my way."
"It's just, I saw this morning that a meeting with Mr. Eastman had been added to your calendar by Ms.—"
I gripped my scuffed phone hard. "I know. I've still got time to grab a coffee upstairs, so find me there if anything else comes up."
Berger and the other junior executives were already lounging around the dining hall when I arrived. I ignored their catcalls and jokes, poured myself a large coffee, and then came to stand at the corner of their table.
"So?" Berger asked. "We've got numbers to run. What happened with the Ice Queen last night?"
"Who says I was with her? There's a whole other world of women over there in the East Bay," I said.
They all laughed, and that's when I caught sight of Tasha. She stopped in the doorway of the dining hall and then made an abrupt exit. Luckily, no one else saw her hasty retreat, but it was all I could focus on. There was no doubt she was worrying that laughter was about her.
"Convince me," Berger said. "Traffic on the Bay Bridge is crap. Give us some details, or we're all staying in the city like civilized men."
I shook my head. "No details before cocktails. Don't you have a meeting to get to?"
Berger laughed and stood up. "A few days working with the Ice Queen have really changed you, man. Now all you talk about is meetings."
Everyone laughed again, but I was relieved when they filed past and I could drop my fake smile. Tasha would already be waiting in Stan's offi
ce, and I worried how close she was to her mentor.
"Glad you could join us, Rainer," Stan said as I rushed through his office door.
Tasha barely glanced up from her reports, but I caught a warming blush on her cheeks. It made me angry. She was the one who had invited me back to her condo, she had kissed me first, and now she was pretending to be the blushing maiden? For all I knew, Tasha chewed up and spit out eligible men every day. She was just smart enough to choose her prey outside of work. I vowed to do the same, starting that very night. It was the only cure I knew for being used by a beautiful woman.
She really was beautiful. Tasha wore winter white pants with gold high heels. One bright heel bounced nervously as I sat down next to her. "I see you didn't bring the reports I sent you."
"I'm sure my assistant will—" Topher slipped through the door, ran the reports over to me, and then disappeared again within seconds.
"Does your assistant even know where the printer is?" Stan asked Tasha.
Tasha sent him a sharp look, but the older man just smiled. He looked back and forth between the two of us and crooked an eyebrow. I decided the view from his window was impressive enough for another look, and Tasha refused to look up from her neat numbers.
"Well," Stan said. "Looks like things are, ah, progressing between the two of you. The GroGreen community garden campaign is already gaining an online following. The only surprise was finding out you two had signed on for the long-term. Didn't know you were both so interested in gardening."
"I'll make sure the garden is up and running before I train a replacement. Then it will only be about courtesy contact and trouble-shooting," Tasha said.
I snorted. Was that what she thought she was doing when she called last night? Just a quick courtesy call to tell me I was a mistake she already regretted, and problem solved.
"What about you, Rainer? The selfies I saw from the community center crew showed you looking very happy." Stan rested his elbows on his desk and pinned me with an unblinking gaze. "Are you putting down some roots out there in the East Bay?"
"Everyone needs a hobby, sir," I said.
Stan laughed and dismissed the rest of the conversation. The meeting ended with Tasha rushing out so fast that both Stan and I felt the breeze.
The older man glanced at me and said, "Tasha always was too quick to exit."
I was still reliving it, Tasha's hasty dressing, the way her whole demeanor pushed me far out past arm's length, and how I had ended up alone on her front steps all within minutes of leaving her warm body. It hurt. The worst of it was I wondered if Tasha thought that was how I acted. Was she trying to level some sort of female-solidarity revenge on me? If so, she was wrong. I never rushed out or left things unsaid. I certainly didn't call late at night just to rip out someone's already-bruised heart.
Ego. I meant to say ego, but the mistake repeated in my head.
"Is this a bad time?" Tasha asked. She backed out of the door.
"Yes. I mean, no. Don't go. More reports to look over?" I asked.
Tasha inched back into my office but stayed near the open door. "I, ah, hope I didn't call too late last night."
"Too late for what?" I asked.
"I, I just wanted to make sure that everything is all right. You know, between us. Stan says the board is adamant that we continue on as a team."
I sat up and attacked my keyboard. "Speaking of teamwork, have you seen the photos of us on social media?"
Tasha hesitated but finally came around my desk to stand behind me. "Did they use the keywords and tags I suggested?"
"Yes, see?"
We both froze as the first photo appeared on my computer screen. It was a shot I had taken just before lunch, Mr. Reynolds on one side of me and Tasha on the other. Her cheek was pressed to mine, our smiles just inches apart.
The next one was from the preschool teacher with her class coloring our Popsicle stick row markers. In the background, Tasha leaned on the classroom counter and smiled as I said something in her ear.
There was even one when I had bent down to retrieve the rosebud that Tasha had dropped. The look on her face, her soft smile, hit me hard in the chest. Why hadn't she looked at me like that later in the night? Had I really screwed everything up that badly?
"Rainer?"
I stood up, accidentally cornering Tasha behind my desk. "Yes, I think we need to talk, but this time I get to start—"
"Rainer?" A light but sharp voice called from my still-open office door.
I turned around and felt as if the room kept spinning. Ellison Ramsey didn't even pause in the doorway. She breezed across my office in her haute couture, trailing the expensive perfume that was specially made just for her. That scent used to make my mouth water, but now it choked me.
Before I could move, Ellison came around my desk and kissed me firmly on the mouth. "Rainer, darling, you look as wonderful as always. Oh, I didn't see you there."
Tasha drew her shoulders back and held out her hand. "Tasha Nichols, Rainer's co-worker. And you are?"
"Running late." Ellison dismissed Tasha and turned to me. "I know it's last minute, but I'd love to take you out for lunch."
"Not today—" I stopped as Ellison danced her fingers up my chest then cupped my cheek.
"You always made time for me in the past," she said with a hot little smile.
Tasha slipped around me and headed for the door. I would have thought she was fine, that she really was made of ice, if she hadn't bumped into the chair on her way by. She glanced up, embarrassed that I had seen, but I saw more than that. Her expression was bewildered, hurt, and angry.
Tasha did feel something for me! Enough to be jealous of the sudden appearance of an ex-girlfriend.
"This is Ellison Ramsey," I called out, stopping Tasha. "She dumped me flat years ago, back when I didn't know the difference between a single malt scotch and a blend."
"He was helpless, but a fast learner," Ellison said. She fingered the collar of my shirt and tickled my ear.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Ramsey." Tasha recognized Ellison, as everyone did. She was at the pinnacle of high society in San Francisco and ran the circle that most junior executives dreamed of joining.
"So, you're just another one of Rainer's co-workers?" Ellison asked Tasha.
"I'm the leader of the project he just joined. I made him rich," Tasha said.
The two women eyed each other, and I didn't know whether to find a front row seat or run. I was shocked, not at Ellison, she was always high-handed and catty, but Tasha surprised me. She didn't shrink under Ellison's withering stare. In fact, she seemed to find it funny. Tasha whole demeanor was self-confidence. This was her territory, she was in charge, and no one was able to diminish that.
Ellison turned her back on Tasha. "That's what I came to talk to you about, Rainer, darling."
"Getting rich?" I asked. "I thought all you had to do was snap your fingers."
I should have stopped Tasha as she finally turned to leave, but Ellison's words worried me.
My ex-girlfriend sauntered over and shut the office door firmly behind Tasha. Then she turned and practically pounced. "That was always the problem, wasn't it? I was rich, and you were jealous of my money. That's why you made me so jealous with all your little flirtations."
I tried to make it back to my desk, but Ellison slipped her hands up my collar and caught them tightly behind my neck. "Wait, that's it, isn't it? You broke up with me because I didn't have as much money as you?"
Ellison nodded. "I didn't want a man who would resent me. But, oh, Rainer, how I wanted you. Now that you're rich too, there's no problem."
"Are you saying you want to get back together?" I asked.
"No," Ellison said. She licked her smiling lips. "I want us to get married."
Chapter Eleven
Tasha
The whole rush and go of the office was nothing but a haze. When my assistant tried to show me a new fashion website she found, I couldn't focus on her computer screen. Som
ehow I made it into my office and shut the door behind me. I shook my head and reminded myself that I had work to do.
Minutes later, I was standing at my desk, phone in hand, with no idea whose number I dialed.
"You've reached Barbie. Leave a message."
I blinked. "Uh, hi, it's me. I, ah, wanted to say thank you for stopping by the new garden site. Everything is going great with the project. . ."
I bit my lip to keep from blurting out that Rainer was currently in his office with an ultra-rich model hanging around his neck. My sister would have no idea who Ellison Ramsey was, and she wouldn't care. Why did I care?
"Anyway," I continued. "I'll be working closer to home more often now that the community garden is a go. Maybe I can stop by and see what you're doing with the spare bedroom. Want some help shopping for a crib and stuff?"
My hands started to sweat. Barbie was definitely going to hear something was off. I quickly rattled off a hopefully breezy goodbye and hung up the phone. There was no way my sister was going to dismiss that voicemail as distracted by work.
I slumped into my desk chair. How was I supposed to work when I was stuttering and saying words like 'stuff?' I had to pull myself together.
I closed my eyes and prepared to re-imagine my entire day. I pictured myself in bed, just before my alarm went off. For the first time in months, I had been startled awake by the insistent buzzing. Normally, I was already awake and plotting my work day by the time the alarm sounded. Somehow I had fallen into a deep sleep that lasted through what was left of that night.
Then I remembered the night. Rainer's kisses continuing even as we gasped against each other's lips. The weight of his body over me, his flexing arms sheltering me, his hands tangled in my hair. The very real thought that everything outside my condo window had disappeared and San Francisco was on another planet.
I wasn't the only one with stars in my eyes. Rainer had given me a long searching look, our bodies still pressed together, until I had to look away.
That was the reason I had called him later. He looked surprised and happy, like he didn't want to let me go. It was clearly a new sensation for him, and it terrified me. I couldn't have that on his face while we tried to work together. I wasn't an experiment for him to conduct when business got boring. If he wanted to play with long-term, he'd have to find some other chump.
