Accidental Rivals_An Office Romance Page 10

  Bzzz, bzzz.

  For a second there’ blankness. Then words filter into the emptiness of my brain. His phone. In his pocket.

  My eyes fly open and I see this for what it really is. I’m on a bare floor, beneath him, my sweater pushed up around my neck and his lips against the swell of one of my breasts. Both of us panting like animals. One of his thick thighs is jammed between mine. I was seconds away from grinding against his leg, just to get a little satisfaction.

  Horror washes over me.

  “Oh, God,” I mutter, pushing him away.

  He moves easily, silently, not bothering to fight, clearly as stunned as I am.

  I can’t look at him. I can’t give him time to ask what just happened and why I’m running away because oh, my God, I wouldn’t know what to say. I’m so ashamed.

  Humiliated.

  I run out of there like a bat out of hell. It isn’t until I’m in the car, driving away—hoping he decides to finish cleaning up the place and knowing, somehow, that he will—that I realize he probably did that just to throw me off even further. There’s no other explanation.

  Is there?

  Sienna

  I wish I were dead. Not just sick or in a coma. Flat-out dead.

  How am I supposed to face him after what happened last night? I can hardly face myself.

  One minute I was in control, cleaning up after what could’ve been a successful night if it weren’t for him, and the next I was writhing around on the floor like a horny teenager making out for the first time. Ugh. I cringe anew. This is a complete mess.

  Now he knows… what does he know? That I think he’s hot. That his sexiness does indeed affect me no matter how hard I’ve worked to convince him otherwise. He knows he’s got the upper hand…or, at least, what he’ll see as the upper hand.

  Because I was so into it. I was so, so into it. It never even crossed my mind to try and stop him when he kissed me. Oh, no, quite the opposite. I nearly tore his clothes to pieces. Ugh! I close my eyes at the horror.

  At least it’s a Sunday, and there shouldn’t be anybody else in the office. I need to be here instead of at home if I hope to get anything done at all. Otherwise, it would be impossible to resist the awful prospect of staying in bed and endlessly replaying the X-rated movie starring Zack and me from last night.

  My to-do list isn’t insurmountable, not by a long shot. I dive into it with the intention of using work to wipe away memories of last night. I have to follow up with Faye. I have to shoot Crystal a message and thank her for introducing us. I have to order little gifts to thank my clients for coming over. Nothing big, nothing that might embarrass them. Just something to let them know I appreciate their time.

  Ding!

  The elevator bell chimes, signaling the arrival of someone new to the floor. What are the odds? It could be anybody, anyone else at all. Even a member of the maintenance crew. Please God, let it be anybody, but Zack. Please, please.

  But of course, it isn’t. Why would it be? Has anything else gone my way over the course of this entire situation?

  My door is open, so Zack sees me when he walks past. And I see him. It’s a real struggle to keep my head held high, like I didn’t do anything last night which might have mortally humiliated me.

  “Hey,” he says by way of greeting, sounding surprised, but not the least bit embarrassed or awkward. He probably rolls on the floors of empty houses with women all the time. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had some work to get done,” I report as cheerfully as possible, keeping my eyes on the screen in hopes that he won’t notice my burning face. Why did it have to be him? Why can’t I stop thinking about what an all-around excellent kisser he is?

  “Same here,” he murmurs. Instead of walking away, as I hoped and prayed he would, he steps inside my cubicle.

  Because why not? I’m already near death by humiliation, so why not push me over the edge?

  “I guess it’s a good idea for us to talk over a few things.”

  Oh, God, just take me now. Please. I’ll miss my family and it stinks that I won’t be around for the wedding, but I’m fairly sure that it will be for the best this way. I fumble around for the best, most noncommittal thing to say. “What do you have on your mind?”

  “Well, Rodney expected us to have a buyer by the end of the day. I just don’t think that’s possible.”

  I blink, waiting for more. Could it be that he truly only wants to discuss work? Okay. I can handle that. I swivel around in my chair until I’m facing him. His expression is neutral. I can’t say he’s not thinking about last night, but it doesn’t look as though he’s letting it color what we’re talking about right now. And that’s a relief. I think. Is he really that unfazed by what happened last night?

  “I agree,” I admit, leaning back in my chair. “It’s one thing to get people interested in a house, but another to get them to commit to a price tag such as this in only a few days. No matter how wealthy, these clients are savvy enough to view such a purchase as a major investment. They want to be careful about it.”

  “I think Nick would be understanding of that, although Rodney would be the best person to broach the subject with him.”

  “Also agreed.” I have to smile a little. A genuine smile. He’s smart. And he’s being very mature about last night. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it wasn’t just a power play on his part. I’ve been wrong before. I can admit it.

  “But we do have several very interested leads,” he adds, raising an eyebrow.

  “Oh, sure thing. There’s Faye, and a couple of the other women who viewed the place last night.” I swallow quickly, hoping to push past the lump that forms in my throat at the thought of lying on the floor with him, surrounded by candles. “And the Dawsons, for sure. I say we reach out to them today to follow up before too much time passes.”

  “I can do that,” he offers.

  I wish I didn’t feel like I have to hesitate and consider everything he says from more than one angle, but I still do. What would he have to gain by approaching them on his own? They would more than likely ask what happened to me? I think so…I made enough of an impression on them. And if I suddenly dropped off the sale, they’d have to wonder what happened and whether they want to go through with it. At the very least, it would slow up the sale. He can’t afford to make that sort of mistake right now.

  It seems safe enough, I guess. “All right. Thanks. Let me know what they say.”

  “Of course, I would. And you let me know what Faye thinks.”

  I scowl inwardly. Faye was supposed to be my client, damn it, which he’s very well aware of no matter how innocent he tries to look. “Sure thing,” I reply, sounding as cool as possible under the circumstances.

  I can’t help but jump when his phone buzzes, not just out of surprise, either. It’s a reminder of what happened last night, and how embarrassing it was for me.

  He even looks somewhat apologetic when he reaches for the device. When he sees whatever is on the screen, his expression changes. “Oh. I have to deal with this. Sorry.” He doesn’t even look at me as he turns to walk away. I no longer exist.

  “Hang on a second…!” But it’s too late. He is so freaking rude, and it’s like he doesn’t get it at all. Or, he just doesn’t care.

  “Obviously, I don’t rank as important enough for him to finish a conversation with,” I huff, crossing my arms. He’s already on the other side of the floor, down by Rodney’s empty office. I wonder why he didn’t simply go to his cubicle. Maybe because the office is closer to the elevators, and he’s planning on making a quick getaway based on the outcome of his call.

  When I poke my head out through the doorway, I catch sight of him. “No, he did not just go into Rodney’s office and shut the door to take his goddamned call,” I mutter in mixed surprise and disgust. Who the hell does he think he is? And what’s so important that he needs to close himself in, so I can’t hear him?

  Is he talking to another secret client? Son of a bitch
, I’d bet anything that he is. That’s why he’s being so secretive, so I won’t figure it out. Does he think I’m that stupid? What? Just because we made out last night, he thinks I’ll overlook this new round of sketchy behavior? He has another thing coming.

  While his back is still turned, I shift my attention to his laptop bag that he left on the floor, just inside my cubicle. It’s open, and the flashing lights coming from the machine inside tell me it’s on.

  Should I?

  No. I shouldn’t.

  But I want to.

  It wouldn’t ruin his entire life. He could still get his work done, but only on his phone and nowhere else. He might even be able to get his data back. Maybe.

  I can’t believe I’m sliding the laptop from the bag, all the while making sure he’s not watching. I can’t believe I’m opening it, rolling my eyes when the desktop immediately pops up. He doesn’t even bother to lock it.

  If anything, he deserves what’s about to happen. I’m only teaching him a lesson on the value of the lock screen.

  While keeping an ear out for his exit from Rodney’s office, I do what needs to be done. We’ll see how efficient he is with a freshly-wiped computer.

  Zack

  “Damn her.”

  Just when I think we’re on solid footing, she goes and pulls a stunt like this. After last night, I was sure we turned a corner. I wanted to comfort her, or at least tell her there was nothing to get so freaked out about, but she ran out of there like all the hounds of hell were after her, and I couldn’t leave a million burning candles unattended.

  And now she’s run out on me again. That’s the part that disappoints me most. She did something to my laptop and fled before I could catch her. It’s the only explanation. The damn thing was working just fine earlier, before I left for the office. Now, I get the start-up desktop I got when I first bought the thing.

  She’s managed to restore factory settings on it. I can’t even log in with my own username and password. They’re not recognized.

  Stupid me, thinking I could leave it lying around. Thinking she was better than pulling a bullshit move like this.

  All right. Even I can admit, she’s pretty clever.

  So maybe I deserve it a little bit for doing what I did to her. Turning out the lights wasn’t one of my better moves. Then again, she’s the one who held a party without my knowledge. Tit for tat, or so it seemed at that time.

  Now?

  Now, I can’t stop thinking of her on the floor underneath me, and if I’ll ever get my files back.

  I reach for the phone, automatically thinking about calling her, but no. That would just make things worse. We’ll end up getting into one of those circular arguments we seem to be so skilled at, running around each other, throwing blame. And no matter how long we go at it, it doesn’t make a bit of difference. It sure doesn’t solve anything.

  Instead, I call Rodney. I need to give him an update, anyway. I’ll let him know something’s happened to my laptop. It will help if he gets on my case about how slowly we’re progressing with the sale.

  “Working on a Sunday?” He chuckles.

  “If I didn’t work on a Sunday, I wouldn’t be me,” I say easily.

  “I hope you’re calling with good news.”

  I don’t miss a beat. “Well, this isn’t the best news I’ve ever shared with you.”

  “Uh-oh. What happened?”

  “Somehow, my laptop wiped itself and restored to factory settings. The only work I can do right now is through my phone.”

  “You’re kidding! What happened? Something fried your drive? A power surge?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. I’m looking into it as we speak. I can always hook up with the cloud and get my files back, but that’ll take a while. And I need to find my mailbox on the network, too.” My fingers tap the keys absently. “I’m afraid my contact list may be gone. I might be able to sync my phone up, but it’ll all take time.”

  “I hope so. I’d hate to see you lose all that data.”

  “No kidding. So listen, about the listing…”

  “Now, we get to the real point of the call,” he replies.

  “Everything’s fine, progressing well, but I just spoke with Sienna about it and we agree that the week-long timeline wasn’t reasonable. Not that we’re complaining,” I continue, cutting him off when I can tell he’s about to protest. “We have at least two, maybe three very serious contenders here. But we’re also talking about a multi-million-dollar sale. The clients are exercising caution. You know how counterproductive pushing too hard is.”

  “I do.”

  “We just need a few more days to massage a decision out of one of them. That’s all. We’re nearly in the home stretch. Would it be possible to speak with Nick?” Meanwhile, I’m struggling to even populate my inbox with emails I know are there. Damn her for setting me back like this.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I agree, the notion of securing a buyer within a solid week was a bit unrealistic, but clients don’t understand the ins and outs.”

  “No, they don’t. I really appreciate it. I’m reaching out to one of the interested parties today, while Sienna reaches out to another.”

  “How are things going between you two?”

  My fist clenches. Strange. I don’t even like the idea of discussing her with him. “Pretty well. I can see how she’s gotten as far as she has.” That’s a fair and professional summation of her. No matter what I do to slow her down or downright stop her, she simply ups her game in response.

  He laughs. “I knew she’d be the perfect match for you.”

  “You generally do know best.” And now I’m just flat-out kissing his ass, but what the hell? We chat for a few more minutes before I hang up, and I get back to trying to undo the damage she’s done.

  I’m too busy trying to salvage my computer while remembering what happened last night to notice the texts coming in on my phone, but when I do, I groan at the caller ID.

  Jenny…air hostess.

  I would normally not be in a bad mood at the sight of her name. Especially, considering she’s asking if we can hang out tonight. We get together like this every few weeks or so when she’s in town, and it’s never a bad time. We both know the score. We’re friends with benefits.

  Only I’m not in the mood. Which is unusual for me. Unheard of, even.

  I glance down at my crotch, where all evidence points to the contrary. And I realize something…it’s not that I’m not in the mood. It’s that I’m not in the mood for Jenny. Because as I’ve been sitting here, I’ve been remembering last night and the way Sienna’s lips tasted. The feel of her body under my hands. The smoothness of her skin and the way she arched her back and burst into flames when I touched her. The way her entire body reacted to my slightest touch.

  If I were honest, it was always inevitable that we’d end up on that floor together. If anything, I’m surprised it took as long as it did.

  Being with Jenny ‒ sexy as she is ‒ wouldn’t measure up after even a few minutes on a bare hardwood floor with Sienna, both of us fully dressed. In fact, I can’t think of a single person who would measure up after that. I type out a text reply.

  Not tonight. At the office, not sure when I’ll even be free. Sorry.

  Hell, I just passed up getting laid. And this is not even the first time. I did it last week at the club when that blonde came on to me too. All because of the woman who breaks my balls for sport and just ruined my computer.

  But somehow, I feel like it is the right decision.

  Sienna

  Hmmm… what’s his angle now?

  He must know it was me who messed up his machine and yet, he hasn’t let on. My conscience has been bugging me terribly for the rest of the yesterday and well into this morning. I don’t know why he has this effect on me. I become such an idiot when he’s around. I wonder if he managed to get things working again. Knowing him, he did. Nothing ever affects him for long.

  He’s made of Teflon or somet
hing.

  I’ve walked up and down the hall so many times, it’s amazing that I haven’t worn a rut into the floor. He’s in there with Rodney. I hate feeling this way, like a little girl who’s afraid her brother will tattle to Daddy. But what else could they be talking about in Rodney’s office? Why can’t I be part of their conversation?

  What is he telling Rodney about me? About us?

  Becca gets up from her desk, just outside Rodney’s office, and notices me glancing her way. “What’s up?” she whispers, eyes twinkling like we’re in cahoots.

  “Nothing. Just wondering what’s going on in there. We still don’t have a contract for any of our prospects. Zack was going to talk to Rodney about that.” It’s partly true, at any rate. I’m still concerned about the amount of time it’s taking to get the job done. That last thing either of us needs is for Nick to pull us out of the sale because we haven’t held up our end of the bargain.

  “I did overhear Zack mention a showing tonight, and how confident he is about it. That seemed to make Rod happy.”

  The news is like a lead weight in my gut. “Right. The showing.” The showing Zack magically forgot to tell me about. So that’s what his call was about yesterday. I knew it. He was plotting behind my back. I realize I’m shaking…

  Then Becca sees my trembling. “Are you okay? I think you’re working too hard. You look exhausted.” She puts a hand to my forehead, frowning.

  “I’m fine. Just tired. You’re right. I’m just tired. I think I’ll go home for a little while, try to get some rest. If Rodney asks, can you let him know?”

  Becca nods and shoos me to my desk, where I gather my things and head for the door, still in a daze.