Power Surge (Anna Jennings Super Novel Book 1)

by E. J. Whitmer

  Forty-five minutes later, I was showered, dressed and ready for work. As I hustled out of the locker room, I spotted Blake in the corner talking to another personal trainer. He lifted his gaze, met mine and smiled coolly. He looked back down at the trainer, a pretty little blonde thing with boobs like bowling balls, and said something which must have been absolutely hilarious. She threw her head back and laughed, playfully laying a hand on Eric’s chest. She stopped laughing but kept her hand on his chest as she used the other to flip her peroxide blonde hair. Blake reached out and played with a strand of that hair as he continued to speak to her.

  What a pig! I thought. He’s a married man, for Pete’s sake. He’s a married man who is taking flirting to a new level, just to prove a point and win a bet.

  I huffed and puffed for a moment before taking a deep breath and making my move. I walked casually over to the flirting couple and put on my Stepford Wife smile.

  “Eric!” I cried, leaning up to kiss the air by both of his cheeks. “I just wanted to thank you and your wife for coming to our little dinner party last weekend. You must have Regina send me the recipe for that soufflé she made.” I turned to the trainer. “Regina, as in his wife. Regina Blake.”

  The blonde’s eyes shot wide open and her mouth dropped. She took a step backwards, spun on her heel and hurried off. That did it. Nobody messes with Regina Blake unless they want their eyes clawed out.

  I turned to look up at Eric and smiled smugly. “Usually flirting works better when you’re not attached. Especially to your wife.” And with that, I patted his cheek and walked away. Score one for Anna!

  I gave myself a mental pat on the back and boarded the elevator to the 28th floor. As soon as I sat down behind my desk, a giant bouquet of flowers came in with two legs fluttering beneath it, followed by Emmett Vance. Mae peeked out from behind the flowers and smiled. “These just came for you. You’re quite popular lately, aren’t you?” She set them down on the window sill next to Carl’s daisies.

  “Apparently I am,” I murmured as I walked over to take a closer look. Roses. 3 dozen white roses that had been spray painted blue. Seriously? Yuck! I opened the accompanying card.

  Looking back on our recent encounter makes me look forward to our next. See you Friday, gorgeous. ~Brock

  “Ugh!” I screeched. “I forgot to officially cancel lunch with Brock.”

  “The MMGear model?” Mae asked. “Ooooh! Why would you want to cancel on him? If I were thirty years younger, I’d hit that fo sho sho. Totes.” She wiggled her eyebrows and gave a wolf whistle as she sashayed out.

  “Brock?” Emmett asked. “As in, Brock Coyle, male model and toolbag extraordinaire?”

  “The one and only,” I responded.

  Emmett’s eyes cooled considerably as he clenched his jaw. “He sent you flowers?” he asked, “Twice?” He nodded toward the daisies.

  “No. He sent me flowers - heinous spray painted flowers - once. The daisies are from Carl, the courier. We collided Monday morning and my coffee spilled down my front. These are ‘I’m sorry’ daisies.”

  His eyes softened a bit and he smiled. “You are popular. Too popular to go to lunch with me today?”

  I couldn’t help it. My jaw dropped and my eyes bulged.

  Emmett smiled and lifted a hand to close my mouth.

  God, what an idiot. Way to be smooth, Anna. I took a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Vance. Lunch would be lovely.”

  “Lovely. Thank you, Ms. Jennings. I’ll swing by around 11:30.” He turned and left.

  EEEE!!!! I did a girly little wiggle/dance and called Jo and Lea to tell them. As I was hanging up on a still squealing Jo, an appointment popped up on my Outlook. It was an official lunch appointment, sent by Emmett. I smiled and accepted.

  Within ten minutes, five people had popped in to grill me about my lunch date. At Vance Publishing, Outlook calendars are under constant stalker surveillance. You can learn anything about a person by looking at their Outlook calendar. Just last month, I figured out that Sue in Operations was having an affair with Marty in Accounting. They had regular appointments every other day and would return looking quite disheveled. So it was no surprise that lunch with Emmett Vance was causing a big stink.

  After I shooed the sixth stalker out of my office, I closed my door and edited our latest section on ninty-nine reasons the Chicago Cubs would win the World Series this year. (It was a parody, obviously.)

  Blake came in at 10:30 to go over advertising numbers and by the time we were finished, it was nearly 11:30. I looked at the clock nervously and mentally willed Eric to leave.

  “Hot lunch date?” he asked, after noticing me check the clock for the bazillionth time. “Oh, yes. Lunch with Emmett Vance. It’s all over the building. Isn’t he a little old for you?” He smirked.

  “It’s nobody’s business but my own. Butt out,” I snapped at him, a bit harsher than I intended to.

  Eric’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “You are my employee. If your personal exploits affect your professional life, I have a right to be concerned,” he snapped back as he stood to leave. “If you plan on engaging in a personal relationship with an employee of Vance Publishing, it is my business. Office romances with senior level managers are not a good idea, Ms. Jennings.”

  “Don’t you ‘Ms. Jennings’ me, Eric Blake,” I seethed. “And don’t you dare tell me about sticky office relationships. You’re the one banging a payrolled model!”

  Oh shit. I could feel the color drain out of my face as I realized what I had just said. I took a step back and put my hand over my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them to look at him. But instead of the anger I expected to see on Eric’s face, I saw something closer to remorse.

  “Banging and marrying are two separate things, Jennings,” he said quietly, and walked out my door.

  Ugh! God, I am such an idiot. I sat at my desk and stared at the wall until my heart stopped pounding. I sighed and turned to my computer to start my groveling. I ordered him a bouquet of daisies and a card saying, “My turn. ~Anna” I clicked Submit as Emmett Vance walked in.

  “Word on the street, or office floor anyway, is you and Blake got into it again,” he said, grabbing my coat from the hook behind my door. “Are you okay?”

  I half-smiled and let him help me into my coat. “Yes, I’m okay. I might be fired when we get back, but I’m okay.”

  “Well, then let’s enjoy a nice lunch while we’re still coworkers.” He took my hand and linked our arms. “On the plus side, if you’re fired you’ll be free for lunch tomorrow too.” I rolled my eyes and smiled.

  I noticed multiple heads poking out over cubicles to watch as we walked with linked arms to the elevator, including some of my employees. I shot a warning glare in their direction and the faces disappeared.

  “Prairie dogs,” Emmett whispered. I shot him a questioning glance. “Prairie dogs. Your employees remind me of prairie dogs. Sticking their heads out of their burrows, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. Then popping back down at the first sign of danger.” I laughed and stepped on the elevator with him.

  The café he chose for lunch was just a few blocks down from the office, so we braved the cold and walked hand-in-hand, chatting and laughing about work mostly. I had never been to the café before and one look at the menu told me why. There were no prices. Menus with no prices scare the shit out of me. It must have shown because Emmett laughed and patted my hand.

  “Anna, order whatever you want. It’s fine. You look like you’re about to have an aneurism.” The waitress came over and I ordered a bowl of vegetable soup. Emmett ordered a bowl of baked potato soup and a sandwich loaded with beef and three different kinds of cheese.

  I hate people with metabolisms.

  Conversation was easy. We talked a bit about work and a bit about family. To his credit, he didn’t freak out when I told him I have four older brothers and a slight obsession with my cat. To my credit, I only slightly freaked out when he told
me he told his mother about our lunch and she had already Facebook stalked me. Apparently Mrs. Vance asked Emmett to lunch and when he told her he had plans, she did the curious mom thing and got the information out of him. It was cute, really.

  After I watched him devour a large piece of tiramisus, we bundled up and began the walk back to the office. Emmett slung his arm around my shoulders and I leaned in to him, trying to soak in all the warmth I could.

  Just as we were approaching our building, Brock Coyle walked out the front door. He turned in our direction and caught my eyes. “Shit,” I murmured.

  Emmett looked down at me and then followed my eyes to Brock. “Ah,” he said. “The toolbag extraordinaire.”

  Brock stormed up to us, his face tomato red. I braced myself as he opened his mouth to speak, but only a squeak came out. I looked up and saw tears swimming in his eyes. “How… how could you?” He croaked. “We had a lunch date! You held my hand!” His voice hitched at the end.

  I looked up at Emmett to find him fighting back a smile. I elbowed him in the ribs and turned to Brock. “Brock, I’m sorry. I meant to cancel our date.”

  Before I could finish, Brock was flapping his hands and bouncing from foot to foot. My face flushed with embarrassment. Emmett let go of me to grab Brock’s coat and pull him into the alley next to the building.

  “Mr. Coyle. Control yourself,” he said, snickering through each word.

  “Don’t touch me!” Brock cried. “Anna… I thought we were special! You couldn’t keep your hands off of me yesterday!”

  Sweet Lady Oprah, grant me patience.

  “Brock, I spent the entire lunch trying to keep your hands off of me! It was completely inappropriate! My boss threatened my job, I’m still finding pieces of rice pilaf in my hair and I may never be able to go back to that restaurant again!”

  That did it. He began to wail, still flapping his arms. I rolled my eyes and reached forward to settle him down, dodging his flapping arms. I rested one hand on his shoulder when his other arm caught me square on the chin and knocked me back a few steps.

  “Oh shit! I’m sorry An-“ Brock’s apology was cut short as Emmett’s hand closed around his throat and lifted him two feet off the ground. I scrambled to my feet and raced over.

  “Emmett!” I cried. “What the hell are you doing!? Put him down!”

  Emmett’s frigid eyes bored holes through Brock. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll hunt you down and feed you your own testicles.” He rotated his body, swinging Brock around, his feet still dangling in the air. Emmett gave what looked like a light shove and sent Brock flying across the alley into the neighboring building.

  He turned to me and looked at me with heated eyes. I flinched as he raised his hand. Emmett’s anger quickly turned to regret as he simply ran a thumb across my bruised chin. I shrugged it away and raced across the alley to check on Brock, who was struggling to stand when I reached him.

  “Brock, I …” He lifted both hands as if to ward me off. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Are you okay?” I asked. He nodded. I reached out to touch his shoulder and he dodged my hand. I sighed and turned to find Emmett still staring him down.

  “Emmett! What the hell was that!?” He released his death glare from Brock and looked down at me.

  “Anna, he hurt you. I was trying to defend you.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed my hands over my face. “It was an accident. He was having a hissy fit and I got in the way. There was no need for you to … oh, shit.” It hit me. Emmett had lifted Brock, a six foot – four, 250 pound man, two feet off the ground with one hand and had held him there effortless.

  “I knew it!” I cried. “Virtual reality, my ass!”

  Emmett dusted off his coat and took my arm. “And a fine ass it is. But I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Emmett. I know what I saw Monday. I know what I saw just now. You can’t tell me I didn’t. You have super strength!”

  Emmett let go of my arm and turned me to face him. “Anna,” he began. “What you saw just now was my temper getting the better of me. He hurt you, I reacted. Adrenaline rush, maybe. But really? Super strength? I think Mr. Coyle may have knocked something loose when he hit you.”

  “You don’t deny it! Answer me, Emmett.”

  He turned to me, smiled tightly and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for lunch, Ms. Jennings. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” With that, he turned and walked around the corner and into our building.

  I stood seething in the alley for a full five minutes before heading in myself. As I walked onto my floor, a swarm of coworkers surrounded me, each of them asking about my lunch date with Emmett Vance. I growled, (Seriously – I friggin’ growled!) and everyone took a step back.

  I started toward my office and Mae stepped in front of me. “Warning: Regina Blake is waiting for you. Get your game face on. That beehotch is totes cray.” Perfect. Why not make the day just a bit worse?

  I rarely had to work with Regina Blake; something both she and I had arranged through our contacts. Her blonde hair, fake boobs and flawless ass graced many a page in Tuff Enuff. Just looking at her was enough to make my blood boil. I avoided dealing with Regina the way John Goodman avoids cardio.

  I opened my door and sure enough, Regina was sitting at my desk, a vase of red daisies in front of her. I smiled. “Reggie, you bought me flowers? You shouldn’t have!” Regina hates it when I call her Reggie. I try to do it as often as possible.

  “I didn’t buy you flowers, you cow,” she spat. “I intercepted this pitiful display on my way to my husband’s office. Who the hell do you think you are, sending flowers to Eric Blake – a married man and your direct supervisor?”

  “I don’t believe I need your permission to send a friend flowers, Reggie.” Her nostrils flared. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but I snapped at your husband earlier and sent him flowers as an apology.”

  “Do you send apology flowers to everyone you insult, or just the ones you’re screwing?” she asked in a strangely pleasant tone.

  That caught me off guard. I blinked repeatedly, my mouth hanging open, before I shook my head clear. “Get out of my office.” I walked to my desk and glared down at her. “Get out. Now.”

  She lifted an eyebrow, sniffed and stood to leave. “Don’t mess with me, Jennings,” she warned. “He’s mine.”

  I whirled around to retort and stopped short when I saw Mr. Blake himself, glowering in the doorway. Regina must have discovered him at the same time. She hesitated briefly then walked up to him. “Hello, darling,” she crooned and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

  He stood there motionless, his gaze on me, as Regina lowered and stared up at him. “Kisses?” she asked, in a sickening childish voice.

  Blake shifted his gaze down to her and glared. She flushed red and hurried out of the office. He looked back at me and I shifted uncomfortably.

  “How long were you standing there?” I asked.

  “Long enough,” he replied. He glanced at the flowers. “For me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I nodded. “There was a card saying I’m sorry, but Reggie took it.”

  He smiled. “You know she hates it when you call her that.”

  “Does she? Oh, I wasn’t aware.” I said and smiled slyly.

  He smiled as he shook his head and sat in one of my guest chairs. He ran his hands through his short brown hair and groaned softly. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to do about her. She had no right to say those things to you.”

  I waved my hand. “No big deal. I’ve been called a cow before.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

  Crap. He meant the ‘screwing’ comment. I could feel my cheeks burning.

  Blake smiled for a second before his eyes fixed on the bruise on my chin. “What happened?” He was on his feet and reaching for my chin.

  “Nothing. It’s not a big deal. Brock Coyle saw
Emmett and I holding hands after lunch and started having a panic attack. Really, it was pretty funny. He was squealing and flapping his arms like a little girl. I got in the way of one of the flaps and he knocked me back a few feet. Emmett flipped out and –“

  I paused, realizing it was both shady territory and a chance at grilling Eric about super powers. “Emmett flipped out and used his super strength to lift Brock off the ground and throw him across the alley. It was pretty cool. What’s your super power, Eric?”

  Blake’s eyes gave away nothing as he turned on his heel and walked over to shut my door. He walked back and sat down again, crossing one leg over the other. He tilted his head and gave me a long measuring look.

  I tilted my head and crossed my legs, mocking him, and cocked an eyebrow like he was so fond of doing. “It’s probably super speed,” I observed. “If I find out you’ve used your super speed to beat me on our little treadmill races, I’m going to be pissed.”

  Blake simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged. I rose and sauntered around my office with my hands joined behind my back. I was feeling cocky and a little riled up after my altercation with Regina. “Maybe you can fly. Can you fly, Eric?”

  He snorted and sent me a patronizing look.

  “No… flying doesn’t seem like you.” I continued. “You’d have some intellectual gift. Perhaps it was you who was sending the objects flying around the room Monday night.”

  Again, he lifted his eyebrows and shrugged.

  Inspiration struck. I lifted my stapler and heaved it at him. Blake had just enough time to look shocked before the stapler clipped his shoulder and careened into my office wall.

  Blake’s face turned bright red as he vaulted out of his chair toward me. I yelped and leaped backwards, tripping over a trash can and falling flat on my back.

  “Owwwww…” I moaned, and looked up to find Eric towering over me, looking extremely pissed. I looked down at my aching elbow and saw the hole in my suit jacket and the blood smeared across the tattered sleeve. “Dammit!” I muttered. “This was my favorite suit. My power suit! You were supposed to stop that with your super mind powers!”