by Shayne Ford
She turns to Claire, and I finally see her face. Symmetrical features, striking eyes, perfect makeup. Her dark emerald suit brings out her green eyes.
Her diamonds catch the light, sparkling brightly around her neck, her wrist and on the lapel of her suit jacket. She moves swiftly on her heels, her manicured fingers clasped on her hip.
The group thins out, the corporate officers strolling down the hallway before vanishing into the boardroom. The beautiful woman pivots again, and the man who accompanies her turns as well.
I leap back, gasping as if I just saw a ghost.
As I retreat, I step on something soft and alive, and Danielle bends at the waist, suppressing a scream, her little feet crushed under my stilettos.
In one smooth move, I curl my arm around her and swoop her away from the glass door, pulling her to the side.
Sneaking behind a plant, I bring my index finger to my lips.
She looks at me as if I lost my mind.
“I’m sorry, Danielle. Did I hurt you?”
Her eyes dip to her scratched shoes. She’s more concerned about them than her toes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you another pair. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stepped back like that...” I say before I lift my chin and motion to the hallway.
“Do you know those people? The man and the woman.”
A smile glints in her gaze as a soft blush rolls on her face. It finally dawns on me why she was so distracted.
“They are the owners,” she says.
“Owners?” I burst out under my breath, almost spitting on her.
“Yes. Elia and Shade Hennessy.”
I lean against the wall, my knees soft like warm wax.
Is this a bug spreading around? Have I just gotten nailed by my boss? Who turns out to be married and all?
Shit. Fucking shit.
Oh, no. I didn’t just do that.
Sadly, I did, and today is as good as any to pull out my resume and spruce it up. I need to put myself back on the market and fast. And, unless spreading my legs passes off as a work recommendation, I should check different job markets as well.
If she finds out about our little tryst, there is no place for me to hide. I might as well move to another continent. And even so, I’ll probably have nightmares about those devilish green eyes and her red nails ripping my chest open.
As reality hits me, fear runs through my blood.
Oh, my God. What have I done? I’ve worked so hard to get this job, and I don’t want to lose it.
Danielle adjusts the AC to blow colder air, at the same time handing me a napkin.
I wipe sweat from my brow.
“Have they been married for long?”
“Oh, no, no...”
She waggles her finger at me before she grabs me by the elbow and leads me to the chair as if I’m a lost person crossing the street.
“Shade is her son.”
Son?
Oh, shit. Oh, no…
Come to think of it, is that really better? No. I don’t think so. I can think of a dozen reasons why it’s actually worse.
Danielle glances at the man and the woman, flushed up to her hairline when I finally connect the dots. She has a crush on him.
Great. The day can’t get any better.
I shrink into my chair, turn my head to the hallway and steal a glance in their direction just as Elia struts toward the boardroom.
Facing my office, Shade talks to Walter Rove, our CFO.
A smile stretches across his lips, his green eyes beaming in the morning light streaming through the glass wall.
A couple of blonde bangs brush his high cheekbones, his hair long enough to touch his collar.
He doesn’t wear a tie, and his shirt is open at the neckline, like then.
I wonder if he wears those necklaces underneath.
Like then.
He sure slips a hand into his pocket.
Like then.
Yeah, he probably does.
As he tilts his lips into another smile, a dimple graces the corner of his mouth.
I gape at him, stiff in my chair, nearing the moment when drool begins to trickle down my top.
“Miss Hart.”
“Huh?”
“Are you okay?” Danielle asks.
“Yes, I am. I’m really tired. It’s been a long night. My best friend has separated from her husband of five years,” I mumble, hoping to distract her.
I finally pull up to my feet, straighten my back and run my palms over my pencil skirt. As I edge to the glass wall, Shade spins around and walks away. My eyes follow him as he strides to the boardroom.
Absently raking my fingers through my hair, I soak in his tall, athletic frame, and then I turn to stone. Wait a minute. A thought zaps through my mind. I swivel around so fast I almost knock Danielle over.
I clear my throat and swallow hard.
A couple of times.
“She, um... looks like she’s in her thirties...” I say, wheezing. “How can she be his mother? How old is he?”
“She is in her late thirties,” Danielle says. “She looks really well, I mean young,” she says, her mind meandering, and I roll my eyes, trying to nudge her to the point.
“Oh... him. He’s twenty, maybe twenty-one.”
“What?” I shrill as if I plugged my fingers into a socket.
In the office across the hallway, Claire’s secretary pushes her eyeglasses up her nose and telegraphs me an icy look. A couple of messengers bump into each other as they swing their eyes in my direction.
“What??” I wheeze under my breath.
“Yeah, he’s young. He just got back from overseas. He’s been boarded into one of those schools for rich people in Switzerland and then he went to Cambridge for a couple of years.”
I look at her suspiciously. She knows too damn much about him. That should’ve been my business to know before I arched and moaned for him.
Ugh!
5
TARA
The sales training session keeps me busy for most of my morning.
Around noon, I ask Danielle to fetch my lunch, then go straight to my office, close the door, pull the blinds down and eat my salad, quiet as a mouse.
The sound of voices and laughter rolls down the hallway as the board meeting comes to an end, and people flood the corridor.
A long exhale escapes my lips as the noise moves steadily toward the exit.
Good thing that the next training module starts in more than an hour, so I flip my laptop open and start reviewing the information.
A soft knock on the door makes me raise my eyes.
“Yes?”
Danielle slips in, her eyes darting back and forth as if there’s a fire drill somewhere in the building.
“The caterers are here, and Claire wants you to help them set up the business lunch in the conference room.”
“Okay…” I mutter, leaning back in my chair, somewhat baffled.
I spend a moment pondering before I rise to my feet, walk to the glass wall and pull the shades open. Across the hall, Claire’s secretary, a poised woman in her sixties with elegant features and a severe mouth, runs her painted nails over a thick binder, her head bobbing as her gaze goes back and forth between the page she's on and the screen.
Her eyes fly at me over the rim of her glasses just as I pull the blinds closed and spin around.
“Why can’t her secretary do this?’
“Claire wants to make sure everything goes smoothly. They’re already in the boardroom.”
“Who’s they?”
“I don’t know. She asked me to come looking for you. I guess, some of the board members. It’s a working lunch.”
Oh, fuck.
She looks at me, intrigued and a bit worried, as I rake my fingers through my hair and obsessively run my hands over my skirt. I take a long breath before I push out a silent exhale.
I can do this.
I have to get a grip on myself first, but I can definitely
do it. I’ll go there, do my job, and pretend that nothing ever happened. Chances are, he doesn’t even remember me.
Even if he does, I’m pretty sure, he’s moved on by now. Come to think of it, I don’t see why he’d want our encounter to become public knowledge.
I worry for nothing.
“Okay, okay. Give me a minute.”
I walk to the bathroom and spend a few moments in front of the mirror, making sure that my hair falls neatly on my back, and my curled eyelashes are perfectly separated. I retouch my garnet lipstick, check the back of my skirt suit, and spin away.
Five minutes later, I’m holding the door open as the caterers walk into the boardroom.
It’s a large, rectangular room, outlined by a wall of glass that ushers in the view of the skyscrapers and Elliot Bay, all washed in bright sunlight.
A large oval table and several cushy leather chairs occupy half of the space. A screen hangs on the wall at the other end of the room. I force myself not to look in that direction, for fear that I might stumble upon a familiar face.
The servers set the food trays and platters on a side table before one of the caterers grabs the placemats, the cutlery, and napkins, and walks around, placing them in front of the people.
It may be a business lunch, but this is not the usual buffet set-up. No paper plates or plastic cutlery in sight, either.
Per Claire’s instructions, I follow the woman closely, making sure every napkin sits in the assigned square, and every fork and knife on the correct side, all the while I evade everybody’s eyes.
Claire makes a presentation, going over the last quarter numbers, the people in the room reviewing the information on their tablets. There are eight men and four women, my boss, and Elia Hennessy included.
Shade Hennessy can’t be far, if not for the fact that my heartbeat races like crazy. Diligently scanning the table with my gaze, I move around, quiet as a geisha.
As I reach the head of the table, and the last napkin finds its place, the man occupying the spot swivels in his chair and looks up at me, his stare burning my face.
I do my best to avoid his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest even harder.
Smoothly, I stop at his side and bend over the table, righting the flatware.
Something tells me that his eyes crawl up my backside. He pushes his chair back–– to get a better view, I suspect, stretching his legs under the table.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him looking at me, yet I don’t flinch. I hear a soft rustle as he extends his arm before I, um… feel his touch.
Keeping his body still and eyes trained on the speaker, he slowly slips his fingers under my skirt and slides them up onto my thighs.
A wave of heat sweeps my skin.
I turn to stone.
He can’t be doing this in a room full of people.
And yet, he does–– his fingers brushing the back of my thighs, my legs nearly folding under me.
Claire calls out my name, and it feels as if a tire just exploded in my head.
“And speaking about sales, this is one of our top sales reps.”
Smoothly, I take a step back and another one to the side, making sure that I’m out of his reach. Squaring my shoulders, I raise my eyes and face the people in the room.
As Claire makes the introductions, my gaze wanders around, and I softly nod, my brain tied in a bow.
From the other end of the table, the green-eyed woman sends me a scrutinizing gaze just as Claire utters his name.
“Shade Hennessy. This is Tara Hart.”
Shifting in his chair, Shade turns his back to the audience, and looks at me, a mischievous smile curving his lips.
He winks softly, prompting me to bite my lip to suppress my reaction.
Aware of how many pairs of eyes are set on us, I cast him a blank stare and give him a soft nod as well.
With that, the awkward moment comes to an end, Claire resuming her presentation.
Swiftly, I move away, Shade’s stare burning holes in my back all the way to the exit door.
Grappling with panic, I slip out, and as I start to swing the door closed and finally breathe, I let my eyes go back to him for a second.
Elbows resting on the table, head slightly tilted down, he shoots me a fiery gaze that turns my insides to mush.
Tingling in all the wrong places, I shut the door for good and crawl back to my office.
This is going to be a big, big problem.
Most people left for the day, except Claire of course, and a few of the big wigs.
Close to seven o’clock, I pack my bag and walk to the window.
Carving space out of the urban sprawling, the park stretching behind our building looks like a thick blanket of vegetation.
Old trees and wrought iron benches outline the small lake while long alleys snake past blooming shrubs, a dozen lampposts casting a faint light over the gravel.
A couple of dogs play not far from a bench, their owners engaged in a conversation.
“Hey.”
The man’s soft voice falls in my ears, smooth as a lullaby. I spin around, my breath catching in my throat.
His warm eyes meet mine as my lips part in surprise. Hands tucked in his pockets, he saunters to me, his face beaming with a smile.
The sleek, dark suit falls impeccably on his hard body, a pair of sparkling cufflinks gracing his sleeves.
I shift my gaze up to his face.
A dash of light sets off his chiseled cheekbones, highlighting his magnetic eyes.
Head tipped to the side, he drinks me in as I struggle to remember when was the last time when someone other than Maya looked at me with so much affection in their eyes.
“Mr. Hennessy,” I say hesitantly, warm sweat coating my palms. “What can I do for you?” I ask in a business-like voice.
I swallow a couple of times, my throat dry like chalk.
Confidently, he erases the space between us. Out of reflex, I take a few small steps back until I bump into my plant.
Inches away from me, he sinks his gaze into my eyes, spurring panic, and emotion deep inside me.
A random thought draws my eyes to the door.
If Claire walks in on us right now, this would be impossible to explain.
The more nervous I get, the calmer he seems.
“There are many things you can do for me, Tara, but none of them in this office,” he says softly, the sultry rasp in his voice making me shudder.
My chest rises as I suck in air.
His gaze dips.
“What exactly do you have in mind, Mr. Hennessy?” I ask in a clipped voice.
“It’s Shade,” he says, still looking down before he raises his eyes, smiling.
“Shade,” I murmur, lost in his eyes.
He stays quiet, ignoring my question as his hand goes to the side of my face, and his thumb slides across my cheek.
He studies me for a moment as I tip my head back and prop it against the wall, slowly parting my lips–– my body swept by a soft shiver.
Trailing my jawline, his thumb tenderly brushes my skin, his eyes captivated by the tender motion.
“He came back to you...” he says, sounding disappointed as he keeps stroking my face gently, his gaze centered on my lips.
Breathlessly, I soak him in, unable to say a word.
“And you took him back, didn’t you?”
He flicks his eyes up, making it impossible for me to lie.
“What are you talking about?” I breathe out.
Sadness lurks in his eyes while his fingers keep caressing my left cheek.
“Why did you do it, Tara? You knew that he was no good for you.”
Tears veil my eyes.
Slowly, shaking his head, he brings his other hand to my face, watching me intently.
“It was a mistake,” I say, my voice barely flowing from my lips.
The moment turns surreal as he studies me for a few more seconds before he tips his head down and lowers his mouth, his ey
es dipping to my lips.
Another shudder races down my spine. His lips curve into a soft grin as he registers my reaction.
Time stops while we soak in this perfect moment.
It’s only a matter of seconds before snippets of dialogue drift through the air, and Claire’s voice rings out outside my office.
The light shifts quickly in his eyes, a stern expression sliding promptly onto his face.
Smoothly, he steps away from me.
Trembling, I run my hands onto my jacket before I draw in a rushed breath.
“Okay, Miss Hart,” he says dryly just as two female silhouettes fill the doorway.
Elia Hennessy shows up first, Claire right behind her.
I bring a tissue paper to my face and pretending that I’m sneezing, I make a desperate attempt to conceal my tears and my emotions.
“I’m sorry to hear about your allergy,” he comments coldly. “I look forward to working with you this week. It was nice meeting you.”
He stretches his hand out while I offer mine.
Observing me with guarded eyes, he gives me a secret squeeze before he steps away and slips out of the office, the two women swiveling their heads and watching him, intrigued.
Snapping out of her surprise, Elia spins on her heel and follows him. Zealously, Claire mimics her move.
I’m watching them walk away when he suddenly stops in the middle of the hallway, forcing Elia to come to a sudden halt.
She barely avoids bumping into him.
Ignoring her, he turns around and speaks to my boss.
“Claire, your office is exactly what I need until mine is ready downstairs. Can you arrange this?”
He shoots her a look that leaves no room for debate.
“I love the view,” he comments, pointing at the skyscrapers in the distance.
The two women swing their gazes in that direction, their eyes darting between him, my boss’ office and the city skyline lighting up the sky in the distance.
Surprise washes over Elia’s face while Claire struggles to suppress her reaction and resentment.
Perplexed, they’re still looking at Claire’s office when he sneaks a glance behind their backs and winks at me.
Elia’s head whips in my direction quickly as if she suspects that he is up to something. Faster than her, he shifts his expression and tosses her a cold, guarded look that leaves her puzzled.
