Heath’s grip on his phone clenched. “We work together,” he repeated. “That’s all there is to it.”
He tried to sound certain, but his brother’s expression said it didn’t really work.
CHAPTER 5
Joy convinced herself to send the second picture, unsure if it was really the right thing to do after the desperate way Heath had left. His lack of a response led her to believe it wasn’t and made for a long day Sunday with an even longer night toward Monday morning. Somehow, though, sitting at her desk, she managed to turn her head off and not think about him, which made him showing up at noon a complete shock.
“Can you go to lunch?” he asked.
She stared up at him, taking in his disheveled appearance, the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked awful, long lines on his face, his shirt rumpled, his pants heavily creased. Why? Because of her? Asking, right then, seemed wrong. After all, someone might overhear.
She signed off the system and grabbed her purse.
Maybe that’s what he wanted to tell her, she told herself. Maybe he finally wanted to get whatever bothered him off his chest.
However, in the elevator, he spoke normally, like nothing had happened two days ago. “I made some phone calls yesterday, and I have some names lined up to do the video you mentioned.”
Joy glanced in his direction. “Oh? That’s … that’s great.”
“I also have some possible new sponsors and an inroad to sending an invitation to the troops stationed nearby.”
Again, she acted pleased.
The elevator doors opened, discharging them in the lobby, and they wandered through, exiting onto the front sidewalk.
“You want to walk?” he asked. “We can visit the Sandwich Stand.”
The Sandwich Stand was a popular place for workers in the area, being centrally located. The lines, for that reason, tended to be moderately long, and on bad weather days, since the Stand was outdoors, not the best choice of lunch spots. Today, however, the sun was shining and the sky blue. That seemed like a positive thing.
Joy nodded. “Sure.”
They made a right and headed down the sidewalk.
“Heath, I …”
“My brother …”
They spoke in tandem. She flicked her wrist at him. “You first.”
Heath inhaled. “My brother showed up yesterday, unexpected, and according to my mom, against her advice.”
“Your brother?”
Heath nodded. “He says she’s suffocating him. She says he’s not ready to be on his own.” He paused and met her gaze. “He went through a nasty divorce and had some problems coping.”
Not wanting to tell him she already knew, Joy settled for a hasty apology and a nod.
“Anyhow, he’s staying with me for a while … a very long while … I … I may have a hard time getting away.”
Meaning what? He didn’t want to get away or he did? Still, she didn’t say anything, and when he didn’t offer an answer, she resigned herself to her doubts.
They arrived at The Sandwich Stand and were ten minutes in line. She ordered a ham salad wrap, refusing to let Heath pay for it, and followed him to a plastic picnic table. Watching him eat his twelve-inch sub, Joy rolled her thoughts around. He’d asked her to come to lunch, so there must be something he wanted to say. The bit about his brother was probably part of it and gave her hope he’d open up more. Yet with every bite he made, his surreptitious glances her way, the drop of his gaze to her mouth, her breasts, it became clear this was about them.
“I was thinking …” she finally said, unable to stand it anymore.
His eyes found hers.
“We really need to make a firm list of what we need to do for the fundraiser. Time is short, after all, and a lot must be accomplished in the next two weeks. We can put it on a calendar and that’ll give us goals to work toward.”
Heath downed the last bite of his sandwich, crumpling the wrapper.
“I know you said your brother is in the picture now,” she continued, her voice light, “so why don’t we use our lunch hour tomorrow? I’m sure Natalie will give us an extra thirty minutes if we need it. I’ll clear it in advance, and you’ll be free of me in the evenings.”
More than anything, she didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable like Saturday.
His arm stretched across the table, Heath curled his fingers into his palm, and the veins on the back of his hand flared. He stood. “Let’s walk.”
Joy obeyed, tossing her trash in the can on the way by the receptacle, and struck off down the sidewalk behind him. His pace was rapid, a little too fast for her, and more than once, she skipped to keep up. Inside the office building, they entered the elevator. Heath pressed “lock”, and the doors shut tight, the device not moving.
In one movement, he pressed her hard against the wall, his hands slipping up her skirt. “I haven’t slept in two days,” he said, his voice husky. “I kept looking at your picture …”
Her pulse sped. His fingers clutching her bottom, his firmness turned her breaths to rapid gasps.
“What color are they today?” he asked. The blunt tip of his nails tickled her skin.
“R-red.” Her body white hot, her tongue thickened, and the word slurred.
“I’ll call my brother, say I have to work late. Put the black dress on and a pair of heels.”
She wanted to ask where they were going, but seconds later, he released her and unlocked the elevator. The press of his fingers remained on her backside, the heat of his breath lingering on her lips. At the second floor, other workers crowded around them, and she became convinced her every dirty thought was visible.
She exited on the next floor, not looking back at Heath. At her desk, her hands shaking, she sank into her seat. Her cell buzzed. She fumbled in her purse for it, tapping on the text.
Wear the black set, Heath said. I’ll bring dinner.
Heath frowned at his brother’s voice and switched his phone from one ear to the other. “There’s plenty of meals in the freezer,” he said. “You can’t expect me to hold your hand every minute of the day.” He heard the growl in his voice and disliked it, aware he was thinking mostly with his penis.
He’d been that way since his brother turned up on Sunday. What should have made him more cautious, instead, made him wish he’d followed through. And kept him awake, chugging coffee, overnight. It also distracted him at work Monday morning, and come lunch time, he was willing to do just about anything for relief.
Facing Joy, however, he found he couldn’t do it. Like Saturday, his reservations fought against his desires until he’d resigned himself to his misery for the week.
She’d seen through it, giving him a way out. He didn’t want a way out. From the start, he’d wanted one thing. Her. In his hands. In his bed. He wanted to drown himself in the buzz taking over his brain.
With everything she did, she proved his point. She walked both sides of every issue. She’d asked him to stay, flaunting herself, all the while worrying she’d gone too far. She’d gone too far. This had gone too far, and for a few hours, he wanted to indulge himself.
“I’ll be home by eight. Tomorrow we’ll go somewhere and grab a bite … Fine. Bye.” Heath disconnected, tossing the phone in the cup holder, and leaving it there, exited his car and strode to the door.
She answered before he could knock, the dress, the heels, sending him over the edge. Lifting her off her feet, he kicked the door shut, and pressed her lips to his. They stumbled backward through the living room and down the hall. In the door to her bedroom, he stopped.
“Stand there,” he said. He took her by the waist and turned her around, facing him, then sat on the bed. She’d turned the covers back, the bedsheets smooth, a flowery fragrance lifting from the spread.
Untucking his shirt, he motioned toward her. “Take it off,” he said.
One hand bent over her shoulder, she unzipped the back and let the dress fall to the floor. Rich curves, tight thighs, sweet soft skin.
He made no effort to hide the lust in his eye or its effect on him.
Joy approached, draping her arms around his neck. “I can keep the heels on.”
He reached behind her, unclasping her bra. The straps loosened and the cups lowered. Her breasts shaded rosy with heat.
“Keep the heels on,” he replied, “and your eyes open.”
Heath’s tongue touched places she’d never thought would be erotic, yet were, his fingers following along behind. Not slow, exactly … they were both too excited for that … but possessive. He wanted control, so she gave it to him, bending pliable while he acted out his fantasy. He was beneath her and above her, his lips nipping at her flesh. He drove into her, creating an ache that, strangely, was as fulfilling as it was uncomfortable. She crashed at the end, her mind blistering, and begged him to follow, his cries heightening her pleasure.
The calm that replaced their frenzy was as sexual as the act had been, the heave of their breaths, the cooling of their flesh, a tangible link. Nothing was said for several minutes, then Heath rose, tossed on his pants, and left the room. Joy propped up on her elbows, curious.
He returned, a take-out bag in his hand, and she went to sit up, only to have him press her flat instead. Removing a clear plastic container, he popped the tabs, the odor of garlic and spices permeating the air. Unwrapping a plastic fork, he twirled it in the pasta mix, then raised the oily bite and dropped it in the center of her naval. He leaned down and consumed it, swiping his tongue upward to suck beneath her breasts.
“That’s …”
“Dinner,” he said.
His second bite was more seductive than the first, warm noodles slithering downward to curl against her legs. He captured each one without use of his hands, dangling the last over her mouth. Their lips met in a food-laden haze, oily, exotic.
She gripped his shoulder and rolled him over. Two could play that game. Her mouth on his naval, she lapped up the oil and slid upward, the motion slowing pasting the two of them together.
“We need a shower,” she said, the container empty. But that was merely an excuse for more.
Steam filled the master bath, and the sex took on a new pace, every gasp of her breath, shifting him deeper. She clawed at him, an unknown desperation leaking into her voice, and they hurtled forward toward something unknown, unable to stop.
“Tell me when I can see you again.” Heath whispered between her lips. Her head cupped in his hand, her hair curled through his fingers, Joy sagged, her eyelids hooded.
“Tomorrow?” he asked. No. He’d promised to have dinner with his brother. “Wednesday, I’ll come late. Kyle sleeps hard. I think I can sneak out.”
“Wednesday.”
Her bottom in his hands, he carried her to bed. He perched her on the corner and searched for her robe. Draping it over her shoulders, he dressed. She made to rise, but he waved her back in place. “I can find the door. Wednesday.”
She nodded. He stared long … at her lips swollen from need, her skin flushed with heat, the plump call of hip and calf … then turned and made his way out. In his car, his cell buzzed, and he brought up the picture, a seductive hint of her shoulder and breasts. With a groan, he cranked and drove off, but couldn’t bring himself to head home just yet. Instead, he drove in a mindless circle downtown, the early evening lights flickering in his gaze.
He slowed outside the card company, not having intended to head there. He pulled up at the curb, both hands on the wheel. It was dark and silent, but from this angle, he could pick out his department and hers. Gazing across the lot, he saw himself giving into her, and heard his words, spoken in haste, atop the sounds of their night together, and a dozen hissed voices whispering in his brain. All warnings that he’d overstepped. This was a relationship headed nowhere, no love spoken, no commitment, and one day, it’d fall apart, leaving him nothing but pieces to cling to.
As great as Joy was, as badly as he wanted to drive back and relive the night all over again, they’d built it on nothing, and like his brother, he’d eventually learn it the hard way.
His phone buzzed once more, this time a photo of a calendar. Wednesday. He replied, Wear red, then refocusing, he tapped the gas and slid back into traffic. The time glared at him when he pulled into his drive. Nine p.m. His breath held, he exited.
His brother looked up from a place on the couch, his brow furrowed. “You’re late. Must have been some meeting,” he said. “You look like you need a strong drink or a gallon of coffee.”
“I need you to drop it.” Heath turned his back and headed into the kitchen.
He didn’t, however. His brother rose and followed him into the kitchen. “Be nice if you were around tomorrow. That is … if you can get free.”
Heath snagged a bottled water from inside the fridge. “I’m free. We’ll go get supper. But don’t count on me to be here every minute. I had a life of my own before you showed up.” A life much more stable, it felt like, than his current one. Why did this fling with Joy seem to change that? Worse, why did his brother’s gaze, so much, reflect his own?
Heath took a swig of his water, but somehow his mouth was just as dry afterward, a strange unrest gripping his soul.
Her thighs ached, making her walking stilted. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Joy ate lunch at her desk. Halfway through her instant soup cup though, she paused, her spoon dripping, and typed a text. I need a massage.
A reply came within seconds. Be glad to do that for you.
She exhaled and closed her eyes. And she’d let him. She’d slept like the dead last night, barely hearing the alarm this morning, then laid there aware of every muscle. But as hard as it’d been to get out of bed, saying no to the next time was out of the question. That left her with a lot of guilt, both at her behavior and its effect on him.
He was intense at times, but also incredibly sensitive emotionally, and she suspected that was at the heart of what he’d left unsaid. His brother had tried to commit suicide, and now he’d shown up in town, his presence reminding Heath of it day in and day out. That had to be tough. Plus, add to it the Valentine’s Day Dinner they were responsible for and, now, hiding that they’d slept together … things were difficult, to say the least.
Here he was with a new job, and she put it in jeopardy. Put herself in jeopardy. She had nowhere to go if she lost her position.
Her phone buzzed. Heath sent a graphic description of her “massage”, and she flashed volcanic inside. Glancing up and seeing no one, she opened her phone’s camera app, rolled her chair back from the desk, and hiked her skirt. The image sent, she looked up and started at Samantha’s gaze.
“You all right?” her co-worker asked, leaning one hand on the partition.
“Fi-fine. Have a … stomachache.”
“Mmm.” Samantha paused. “I might have some Pepto in my purse.”
Joy worked up a weak smile. “I took some actually. Maybe I have a bug.”
Samantha waved one hand. “Could be. Stuff’s going around.” She eyed her a moment longer, then waved one hand. “Well … better get back to my desk.”
Joy didn’t breathe until she’d gone, then smoothed her skirt and ducked her head. What had she seen? She shouldn’t be acting like this on company time. Best to end it for now.
Heath was apparently thinking the same. Text me tonight, he said, and tell me exactly what we’ll do next.
What they’d do? Everything they shouldn’t. Everything that felt … great. And a lot of things it’d be better if they held back. But holding back was simply too hard to do.
Capping her soup cup, she dropped it in the trash and stuffed her phone back in her purse. Staring at the line of cards, prepared for Valentine’s Day, sentimental, romantic words wouldn’t come. An hour later, no closer to finishing her task, her desk phone rang. Joy fumbled for it, startled. “This is Joy.”
“Miss Griffin, Natalie Saccardo. Can you come to my office?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Walking toward Natalie’s of
fice was no more comfortable the second time. In fact, if anything, everything that’d happened with Heath made it worse. Like she’d felt on the elevator yesterday, it seemed like everyone could see her thoughts, and worse, her actions. Didn’t they notice the way she favored her aching thighs?
She winced with each step, not meaning to, and sucked in deep breaths. Nearing the office door, she came to a halt. Inside, behind the glass walls, Samantha spoke with Natalie, intent.
Joy’s stomach wadded into a ball. What was she saying? Had she not only seen her take the photo, but was now reporting it? Maybe this was her walk of shame and she was about to be canned.
Samantha straightened, her face hard to read. Unsmiling, she exited Natalie’s office, nodding as she passed. Joy quivered, but continued ahead.
“Take a seat.”
Unspeaking, Joy obeyed, folding her hands in her lap.
“I wanted Mr. Olson to be here for this, but understand he’s in a meeting. We have to get those new Valentine’s Day cards rolling. We’ve waited later than we should as it is.”
True. They should have been printed in December. Joy had the thought but said nothing.
“So I’ll be sure to speak to him on another occasion,” Natalie continued. She rounded her desk and took a seat on the edge. “I owe you an apology.”
Surprised, Joy’s heart skipped. “Ma’am?”
“It’s come to my attention that I overstepped in forcing the two of you to work together. I was thinking solely of the event and how great you’d make it. I didn’t think of impropriety at all. A couple people mentioned seeing you spend time with him more than once, and I comforted them saying it was at my request. But …” Natalie paused. “There’s a reason we’re so strict about employees dating. It’s a natural part of the work environment, I suppose, but it breeds distraction and possible discontent.” She flapped her hand. “I know you know all that. But recently, Mr. Verrano and I have discussed clamping down on it even harder. I knew that, and yet to put you and Mr. Olson in an uncomfortable situation … has made people talk.”
Sentimental Valentine Page 5
