“Of course, dear.”
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Andrews,” Mr. Blaine said to her.
“It’s nice to see you as well, Mr. Blaine. I hear we have high expectations for you.” Obviously, she’d talked to Dad about him. I would have been surprised if they hadn’t talked about him.
“I will do my best to live up to those expectations and exceed them.”
“You’d better,” Mrs. Andrews said with a mock straight face. Yup, she was part of his fan club. She gave me a smile before leaving. A few seconds later my phone rang with the transferred call from Fin.
“I need to take this,” I said, as Lucas (JE-SUS CHRIST, MR. BLAINE!) started to back out of the office and got back to his desk.
“Of course, of course.” He seemed a little stunned, and I wasn’t sure if it was to do with nearly running into the credenza, or if it was something else. Ten seconds ago, he was ready to leap over the desk and molest me.
Something I’d learned when I was very young still rang true.
Boys are weird.
I shook my head as my phone rang and I picked up Fin’s call.
The second call with Fin was shorter than the first; he seemed busy so we decided to meet up on Friday afternoon instead because he couldn’t do Wednesday. He let me pick the place, which was considerate.
I hung up and realized I wasn’t actually dreading our little coffee date. I was also dying to know what he looked like now, but I wasn’t going to creep on the internet and spoil it.
A sharp rap sounded at my door.
“Yes?”
It was Mr. Blaine and he was looking distinctly grumpy. His forehead was all furrowed, which, actually, was kind of . . .
“Your mail is here, Miss Clarke,” he said, holding up a few of interoffice envelopes that probably needed my signature. It was nothing that required him to knock on my door. I would have gotten them later.
“Thanks, Mr. Blaine, you can put them right there,” I said, indicating the basket on the edge of my desk for those very things. It was even marked MAIL.
He dropped them in the basket and his grumpy face didn’t change. I wanted to jokingly ask him what he’d got his panties in a twist about, but I was determined to make this a professional relationship from now on, at least on my side.
“Would you, um, mind bringing me some coffee, Mr. Blaine?” If anything, the grumpy look deepened. I didn’t ask for a kidney.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.” He turned on his heel and walked out. I shook my head and started sorting through the mail.
He came back a few minutes later and slammed the coffee down on my desk, so much so that it sloshed out of the cup. That was it. I waved good-bye to any semblance of being professional.
“What is your problem?” I said, jumping up and grabbing some tissues from the top desk drawer to blot the coffee puddle that was racing toward some very important papers.
“Shit, shit, stop!” I said, blotting the coffee and trying to talk it out of ruining everything. A hand reached out and shoved the papers to the side as I mopped up the rest of the coffee, which was pretty damn hot, by the way.
I dropped the soggy tissues in the trash and pulled out a cleaning wipe from the container that I also kept in my desk.
“I’m so sorry,” he said when I finally looked up and saw him trying to fix the mess that had been made of my desk.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said, even though I was kind of pissed. “Is there something wrong?” I tossed the wipe and took the papers from him. He didn’t know my arranging system yet.
“No, nothing. I’m so sorry.” He moved around the other side of the desk, as if he was leaving.
“It’s okay, Lucas. Mr. Blaine. Are you sure you’re okay?” He stopped and gave me a tight smile that didn’t reach those gorgeous eyes.
“It’s nothing, I promise. I’ll get over it.”
“I hope so, because I’m not sure my desk can take any more.” I was very fond of my desk. It had been a present from Dad when I got promoted and I planned on taking it with me, even if I changed offices.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he left as if he was running away from something, and I was left wondering what the hell that was all about.
“I thought you would need this,” Sloane said, handing me a glass of wine when I stumbled in the door that night. I hadn’t been that tired after work since I’d pulled a few all-nighters a month ago.
“You’re my favorite,” I said, and gulped the wine. Ah, sweet elixir.
“I also took the liberty of ordering takeout,” she said, holding out her arm like a bimbo from a game show presenting a brand new stove as she gestured to the bags and boxes on the counter.
I collapsed on the couch and downed the rest of the wine.
“I didn’t know sexual tension would make me so tired. I mean, it’s not like we were ready to rip each other’s clothes off in a fit of lust, but it definitely wasn’t easy.” Watching his mouth as he talked, remembering what it could do on my body . . .
“You’re such a liar. You totally were ready to rip each other’s clothes off in a fit of lust. I bet you eye fucked each other all day. I know I would. He’s not really my type, but damn. I’d be on my back on the desk for him.” I gave her a look and went to stuff my face with takeout, which included pizza, a tortellini salad from my favorite Italian place, chow mein and baklava. Our tastes were eclectic.
“You’re being so nice to me lately,” I said when I sat down on the couch again with a full plate.
“I’m just buttering you up to ask you a favor.”
“It must be a big one. What do you want?”
She took a big bite of chow mein and chewed it before she answered.
“I need your body.” Ah, that was what I figured. Sloane had all sorts of mannequins and models for her clothes, but sometimes she wanted to try them on a real person. I was usually her guinea pig, but she normally just started putting the stuff on me without asking.
“Okay, why the big production. You know I never say no.”
“Well . . . here’s the thing. I’m working on a new line. Of undergarments, but ones for real women.” She wouldn’t look at me.
“So you’re saying you need me for my ass.” I guess I should have been offended, but I had no delusions about my body or the size of it.
“Not just your ass. I need your tits as well,” she said, smiling. I set my food on the coffee table and stood up in a huff.
“You only want me for my body. I thought I meant more to you than that!” I pretended to cry and Sloane got up and hugged me.
“I love your sexy mind, but I really only need your bod. Please?”
I sighed like it was the hardest thing in the world, but turned around.
“Fine. But you’d better buy me some flowers afterward and call me the next day.”
She clapped her hands and I knew that the food would have to wait. Fashion waited for no man. Or woman, in this case.
“What is that?” I said, pointing to the mess of black lace and red ribbons that was laid out on Sloane’s cutting table.
“That is the first piece I’ve been working on. See, here’s the thing. I was thinking that I’m good at the clothes part, right? But what about what’s under them? What if I could sell someone an entire outfit, down to the undergarments? Why wouldn’t I? Plus, the lingerie market is huge and it requires a lot less material, in theory, and it gives me a chance to be a little naughty. So. Here it is!” She picked it up and I saw that it was basically a bra with panties attached by crisscrossing red ribbons, with little bows on the ends where they meet the bra and panties. It’s more of an outfit than a set of underwear.
“How the hell do I get into it?” It looked impossible. Like half the moves in the Kama Sutra, or going to Coach without buying something.
“You’re such a drama queen. Here, you can snap the ribbon part off. So it’s like a little extra. You can wear the bra and panties without it
.” She showed me how to get the ribbon part off, leaving just the bra and panties, which were cute on their own.
“You’re going to make me try it on now, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” Sloane said, shoving me toward my bedroom. I would also be expected to model as well, and I hoped the panties would be big enough to cover everything they need to cover. Good thing I got waxed on a regular basis.
I stripped down and slid on the panties first. Success! I almost did a little victory dance in front of the mirror. The bra was also my exact size, with no spillage. I got myself situated and then snapped on the ribbon parts and checked myself out.
Wow. It actually looked good. Sexy. Like my body was a nice little present to unwrap. I turned and it looked good from the back too. Not bad, not bad. I bent over and stood up and twisted side to side. It was actually pretty comfortable. Not as binding as I’d thought it would be.
There was a frantic knock at the door.
“How does it look?” I rolled my eyes and opened the door and Sloane dragged me out. I stood still as she stepped back, came forward and adjusted, and walked around me like I was a mannequin. I was used to this. If I moved she’d get mad, so I stayed as still as I could until she finished her inspection.
“What do you think? Does it fit well? Do you feel comfortable in it?” I shrugged my shoulders and twisted again and met Sloane’s worried eyes.
“I love it. I feel totally sexy.”
“Fabulous!” Her smile was a mile wide and she clapped her hands. “You look smoking hot, by the way. Like, if I swung the other way, I would have made my move already. All you need are those red heels and you’re in business.”
The red shoes would be awesome with this.
“Okay, I’m going to put my clothes on now, because I’m hungry and it’s a little cold in here.”
Sloane gave me the thumbs up and I heard her going to the kitchen and putting things in the microwave as I went back to my bedroom.
Once I was dressed again, we finished our dinner and continued our Sandra Bullock marathon. Sloane was twitchy and I could sense that she wanted to ask for something else when she made me a cup of tea and brought it over.
“What do you want now?” I said, taking it from her.
“Would you wear it tomorrow? I want to see how it works when you wear it all day. You know, real world experience.”
“Real world experience for your underwear?” Like a test drive?
“Rory, I have to make sure that these products work for real people. And you’re a real person, so we’ve got to give it a test run. Please?”
I could sort of see what she was talking about, but I really wished she’d find someone else to do this. Still, she’d been really good to me lately, so I’d be a bitch to say no.
“Okay, okay. I just need to figure out what to wear over it so it doesn’t show.” Anything white was out, so I went with a black shirt and tan leather skirt and my red shoes. I laid them out next to the underwear outfit that night and sighed. The things that Sloane talked me into.
The next day I had a little secret under my clothes. I felt like people knew, even though that was impossible. I wished I could forget that I was wearing it, but every time I moved the ribbons caressed my skin and I remembered, and felt like I had the word SLUTTY HARLOT stamped on my forehead. Not that what I was wearing was remotely slutty or harlotty (if that’s even a word), but I did feel a little naughty. It was definitely not office-appropriate underwear.
I was dreading seeing Lucas (Mr. Blaine, for the love of CHRIST), because I knew if anyone would figure out my little underwear secret, it would be him. He was the kind of guy who could see under your clothes whether you wanted him to or not. Like Superman.
Correction. I wanted him to see under my clothes, it just wasn’t appropriate for the workplace. Any other place was fair game . . .
“Good morning, Miss Clarke.” There was another bag on my desk, along with my coffee.
“You didn’t tell me what you liked, so I got everything again today.” Oh, hell. I was going to gain forty pounds if I didn’t tell him.
“You have to stop doing that, Mr. Blaine. I can get my own breakfast,” I said as I snatched the bag, pulled out a donut and handed him the bag back.
“Strawberry frosted donut. Noted.” He grinned and took out the cherry Danish and I swore his eyes traveled up and down my body twice and my cheeks started getting red. HE KNEW.
“You look very nice today, Miss Clarke, if I may say so without incurring a sexual harassment reprimand.” Oh, aren’t you Mr. Smooth? He said it with one of those smiles that only lifted one corner of his mouth. Yum.
“Thank you, Mr. Blaine. You look very dapper yourself.” He did, in a grey pinstriped suit with a dark purple tie. Not that many guys could pull off a purple tie, but he made it look easy. And sexy. Very sexy.
“Well, thank you for the breakfast. I’ll get yours tomorrow. Cherry Danish? Black coffee?” I said, trying to dial my bitch level back a bit.
“Perfect.” His eyes did another sweep, and I swore this guy had x-ray vision. I should start calling him Clark Kent, even though he looked nothing like Clark.
I gave him what I hoped was a composed smile as I headed into my office and closed the door.
By midmorning I was glad I had the sexy underwear on because it gave me a little more confidence when I had to deal with an asshole on the phone who was unhappy with one of our products and DEMANDED to speak to someone in charge.
Of course, he’d not only been using it on an ancient computer, but he’d bought the wrong model and was mad that it didn’t do what he thought it should. Usually those calls got routed somewhere else, but sometimes they slipped through the cracks.
I finally got the guy off the phone and went out to get some coffee and cool down. I hated it when people got me riled up. I could usually handle myself, but that guy had just pushed my buttons.
I didn’t meet Mr. Blaine’s eyes, but I could feel him watching me. Great. Now he was going to think I was some stupid girl who couldn’t deal with a phone call.
I got my coffee and sipped it, leaning against the counter in the break room and just trying to bring myself back to normal by doing some deep breathing with my eyes closed.
“Are you okay?” I knew he was going to follow me. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I knew.
“Yeah, fine. Just taking a breather.” I didn’t open my eyes, but I could hear his suit swish as he stepped closer. Sexy sound.
“You sure about that? You looked upset. Miss Clarke.” The last part was added in a low voice and accompanied by a hand on my shoulder.
My eyes opened and he was right in front of me.
“I-I’m fine. Seriously.” Yeah, the stutter made that completely believable.
He leaned closer and I could smell his cologne. Not too much, just enough to know that he was there and that he smelled incredible. This was entirely inappropriate work behavior, but right in that second, it was kind of nice.
I’d never had someone that I could vent to at work. I’d never wanted to because I didn’t want to look weak, or like I was just a whiny princess that had gotten the job because of her Daddy.
“Okay. If you’re sure,” he said, his hand slipping down my shoulder and then moving across my stomach. I froze, even though there was no way he could know about the sexy undergarment I had on.
The second I flinched, he removed his hand, mistaking my flinch for one that meant I didn’t want him to touch me. Well, I did, but he shouldn’t. Those were two different things.
“I’m sure,” I said, sliding away from him along the counter. He smiled and leaned over.
“Let me know if you’re not later on. And I hope this isn’t sexual harassment, because you do look incredible today.” Before I could answer, he backed away, turned and was gone.
I was left to slump against the counter and wonder how long both of us could hold out before we had a repeat performance like the one in his apartment. Mr. Buzzy jus
t wasn’t doing it for me at the moment. I needed a real man. A real man with a real penis and real hands and a real mouth that could sweetly torture me all night . . .
Keep it in your pants, Rory. Get back to work.
My fortitude was tested again later in the afternoon as I brought Mr. Blaine with me to his first meeting. It was one of those boring ones about projections and loss leaders and economic terms I’d studied in school but hadn’t bothered to keep in my brain after the test. I was forcing him to take notes for me in case I missed anything.
My thigh was practically touching his and I was trying to keep my lust bottled up for the hour and a half that I had to sit next to him in the darkened boardroom as our CFO droned on and went through chart after chart. Why did the room have to be so dark?
I shifted in my seat and re-crossed my legs under the table. Mr. Blaine shifted next to me and his leg brushed mine. Accidentally? On purpose?
I wanted to look at him, but he was on my right and the presentation was on my left so I couldn’t without being terribly obvious about it. And then it happened again. He slowly dragged his leg against mine. I froze and waited. Then his hand brushed my thigh. It was so light I wouldn’t have felt it unless all my nerve endings were freaking out right now. I squirmed a bit and stared at the presentation packet in front of me. Everyone else turned the page, and I hurried to follow. I had no idea what we were talking about.
The hand came back, and I almost slapped it away. I wrote Stop it! on my notes and slid it so he could read it. I swore I heard him laugh before he used his finger to write NO on my thigh. I could freak out. I could have his ass for harassment, or I could screw with him.
I chose the latter.
I uncrossed my legs and tipped them toward him, sighing just a little bit as I fiddled with the hem of my skirt, inching it upwards just a tiny bit. I was satisfied by a sharp intake of breath from the seat next to me.
Dad wasn’t at this meeting because he was schmoozing a potential client, or else I never would have been this brazen. Everyone else was in “meeting mode” and totally absorbed in the charts and numbers and such.