"Did you have a good weekend, Matthew?" she asked pointedly.
"Oh, it was nothing special," he replied, but once again his gaze flicked toward me then back to his computer screen.
Sandra narrowed her eyes as she gazed at him, noting his avoidance.
"Anyway," Matthew said. "Let's all turn our attention to Coby's latest designs."
He reached for the projector cable and plugged it into his laptop. A second later, his screen layout was glowing on the screen at the far end of the room. Coby looked on proudly at his designs.
"So, I gotta hand it to you," Matthew said. "I think these are great. I've been advised by Becca that we should move our attention to a different demographic, and I think this is one way of doing just that."
Sandra turned to me, the usual softness in her eyes gone. "So you're in charge of advising Matthew on new demographics now, are you?" she asked caustically.
"No, I'm not. I just suggested some ideas of my own."
"Wow," Sandra replied. "And how long have you been here? A week?"
"Two weeks, actually," I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.
"I've been here fifteen years and can't persuade Matthew to change the toilet paper." She sat back in her seat, all of us watching as she crossed her arms over her enormous stomach and huffed. "Sorry," she said, though her tone wasn’t at all apologetic. "My hormones are getting to me."
"It's okay." Matthew laughed to ease the tension. "As always, I appreciate your input."
But her mood hadn't lightened. I thought she liked me, I thought. I didn't realize she had a jealous streak in her. But maybe it was just the hormones. Maybe she was just exhausted from the pregnancy.
Yeah, that's it, I reasoned. She's just tired.
Giving her a weak smile to show we were friends, I hoped she'd respond with a sign that all was good between us. But all I got was a chilled stare, her gray eyes like ice chips staring into my soul.
Matthew
"Stop it?"
"Stop what?"
"Thinking about her."
"I'm not thinking about anyone," I denied.
Sandra raised her eyebrows and sat across the table from me.
Deciding to grab a quick lunch in between meetings, I'd opted for a light snack in the executive section of the employee canteen. It wasn't a place I often frequented, but I enjoyed the open space, the silence, and the view of the city. Until Sandra had to come over and decide she could see into my head.
"I can tell you're thinking about that Becca," she said, biting into a chicken tender. "It's written all over your face. You look like a teenager with a crush."
"Sandra, where the hell are you getting this from?" I laughed, though even to myself, it sounded forced. "I wasn't thinking about Becca at all."
It was a total lie. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Almost an entire week had passed since that magical night in her apartment, but every single second of it was still fresh in my memory. I could still hear her voice in my head and the way she trembled as I kissed her. I could still imagine the feel of her warm body against my hands and the way her skin tasted.
"There you go again," Sandra said, loading up her plate of chicken with an alarming amount of mayonnaise. "You're thinking about her again, aren't you?"
"No."
"Liar. I can see it on your face."
If it was any other employee, I would have fired them on the spot for being a prying pain in the ass. But Sandra? She knew she could be as frank and honest with me as she liked and I would give her a certain amount of leeway.
Still, she was grating on my nerves, and I hoped to God she'd leave me alone for five freakin' minutes.
"What makes you think I've got my mind on Becca?" I asked casually.
"Well, you've been staring at her continuously since she started, for one thing. But you're also distracted, and that's not like you. I can't get a single sentence past you without you staring into space as though you're hallucinating the Virgin Mary or some shit."
She shook her head and shoveled a forkful of chicken into her mouth. "What has that girl got on you, anyway? I mean, apart from the obvious. It's like she's cast a spell on you or something. You've completely changed since she showed up."
"I have not."
Looking up from her plate, a dollop of mayo clinging to her top lip, she nodded. "Uh huh," she said. "You're all happy and shit."
"Hey, I'm always happy."
"Not like this. It's a different happy. "
"Oh, forgive me for being happier, for Christ's sake,” I laughed, throwing up my hands. “Anyway, tell me what's going on with you," I said, trying to change the subject. I pointed my fork at her belly. "You're almost due. Hasn't your man told you to stay at home yet?"
"Billy doesn't tell me to do shit and you know it," she snapped. "Because he knows who's wearing the pants in our home. Or rather who's wearing the Spanks..."
I was trying to listen to her, but just when I’d stopped thinking about Becca, she strode into the canteen like a summer breeze and lightened up the whole fucking room. With her perfect posture, strong body, and ethereal looks, she captured everybody's attention. Not that she knew it. She was staring at the salad bar completely oblivious to the fact that every man in the room had their tongues hanging out.
A sense of pride swelled up inside me. Only I had ever experienced the pure pleasure of her exquisite body, and that set off some caveman part of my brain that made me feel something I'd never felt before. The need to possess her.
I had no desire to hold her captive, but I was filled with the desire to protect her, to shield her from the whole world. More than anything I wanted to possess that beautiful body and make it reach Heaven over and over and over again. I wanted to look into her eyes as she came and know only I could take her there.
You need to stop thinking about this, I scolded myself. You can't go there again. She's strictly off limits and you know that.
But the more I tried to ignore her, the more my eyes were pulled up to her face. Sensing she was being stared at, she glanced up from the salad bar and noticed me. With a wiggle of her feminine fingers, she gave a slight wave and a cute smile. Then she disappeared around the corner and sat out of view.
I was stared in the direction she’d walked off in, thinking I was losing my mind.
You're like a kid with a fucking teenage crush. Keep it together. And keep your distance. It's for the best. Just forget about that beautiful body and the way she sounds when she cums. She's just another employee. Just like everybody else.
But as much as I tried to convince myself to think that way, I knew it was impossible.
All week, I had tried to control myself. Had tried to ignore her except for the times we had to discuss business. But those moments were the best I'd had all week. And I began to look forward to them and created reasons out of the blue for the two of us to be in the same meeting together just so I could see her.
I craved her like an addict craved a drug. Needing my fix of her each day to get me through the next few hours. And every moment without her was pure torture.
Not that she felt this craving too. Or if she did, she never showed it.
Throughout the whole week, she had met me with a cool professionalism that bordered on being standoffish. To a stranger, you'd think she almost hated me.
But Sandra had worked it out. She wasn't stupid. She was staring at me now, her plate almost empty. "You weren't listening to a single thing I just said, were you?"
"Sorry, Sandra. I was miles away there."
"Uh huh. Got your brain in your pants again."
"No. And may I remind you that I'm your boss?”
"And may I remind you that employee relations must remain platonic and professional at all times?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean. You and Becca. It's as obvious as the nose on your face."
"And by the looks of it, you clearly hate my no
se."
She mopped up the last of her mayo with the final piece of her chicken. "I don't hate it. I'm just worried."
"Worried? About what?"
"About you." She crossed her cutlery over her plate before reaching for her dessert.
"You have no place worrying about me," I reminded her.
"Oh, really now," she replied, peeling the lid off her vanilla pudding. "I've known you a long time, Matthew. Known the heartbreak you've gone through. I sure as hell don't want to see you go through it again."
Twirling my fork around my zucchini noodles, I knew I had to get a hold of my feelings. This wasn't like me. I was known for being calm and always in control. But right now, I thought both my brain and my cock were ignoring each other. I'd never felt like this with anyone before. Not even Olivia.
"I just want you to be careful," Sandra continued, licking her spoon. "A young girl like that. She's got power over you. And she knows it. Not to mention she's your best friend's daughter. That's a Pandora's Box you don't wanna open."
She was right, of course. I just didn’t like it.
You’ve got to let this go, I told myself, as though it was perfectly possible. Forget all about her and get your head back in the business.
* * *
The Monday after Thanksgiving, the obscene amount of food I’d eaten at Sandra’s that day still felt like it lay in my stomach. She was a phenomenal cook and I hadn’t been able to control myself.
I headed down to the gym after work to burn some of the excess calories out of my system. As I pumped as hard as I could on the rowing machine, my head was most definitely not on business. It was very much focused on Becca, who was performing a series of squats and lunges right in front of me.
Why did she have to come to the gym at the same time as me? And why does she have to be squatting in the tightest white yoga pants known to man?
As I watched the bounce of her peachy ass, I couldn't stop the flood of testosterone that headed south.
Down, boy. This is not time to do battle.
But my cock was ready to wield itself like a sword, growing harder the longer I watched her.
She knew I was watching her too, looking at me in the mirror as she squatted lower, then lower, then lower still until I could see the ripe curves her ass. That primitive part of my brain was rearing its ugly head again, telling me I should run right at her and have my way with her on the floor.
What's happening to you? You're turning into an animal.
I tried to focus on my breathing and the burn of my thighs as I rowed, but nothing could peel my eyes away from her. And when she knelt on all fours across her yoga mat and began to stretch out her back, it was game over.
Right. That's it. I can't take this anymore.
Climbing off the rowing machine, I stood up and walked over. Towering over her kneeling figure, I watched as she moved in and out of the cat and cow poses, her entire body becoming an endless sensual wave of temptation.
"Hey," she said, without looking up.
"Look, I'm gonna come right out with it. What are you doing tonight?"
She stopped stretching and sat up to look at me. "It depends on what your next question is."
"My next question is do you want to go out for dinner?"
"I thought we were supposed to be keeping our distance."
"I thought that too, but..."
There was a teasing glimmer of danger in her eyes, ending my sentence. Slowly, she stood up, drawing herself to full height before pulling her foot behind her butt to stretch out her quads.
"I haven’t stopped thinking about you," I said.
She didn't reply and just looked straight ahead at her reflection in the mirror.
"I bet you think I'm a jerk. Just taking off like that and not calling you."
"I do think you're a bit of a jerk," she smirked. "But I get it. What we did...” She shrugged. “Well, it wasn't supposed to happen. We could get in a whole lotta trouble if my dad finds out."
But the look in her eyes was saying she loved trouble.
Setting down her foot, she made a move on her other leg, pulling hard to stretch out the front of her thighs so her chest popped out. My eyes fell to her tanned cleavage and her delicate collarbone.
"So where are you taking me to dinner?" she asked with a cheeky smile.
"There's this nice Italian place near here. Super cozy." She appeared unimpressed. "They do great coffee," I added, and her interest was piqued. "And even better tiramisu."
That seemed to seal the deal. She set her foot down on the ground before lunging to stretch her calves.
"You had me at tiramisu."
I took a step closer to her and could smell the sweat on her skin. There were slight damp patches on her white top, making it almost transparent.
"I look forward to it," she replied with a smile before reaching up on tip toes. Planting a quick kiss on my cheek, she grabbed her things and sauntered off, looking over her shoulder as she reached the door.
"Pick me up at eight," she said, then she was gone and I was left feeling the tingle of her kiss on my cheek.
Becca
I knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away, I thought as I looked in the mirror.
The white yoga pants did it. I'd picked them out especially, and boy did they work better than I could have hoped.
Now, as I glanced over my appearance, I knew I looked hot as hell. The red dress I'd picked out on my way home from work reached up to my neck. It didn't show off my cleavage, neither was it short. But my God was it tight. And as I swayed my hips from side to side, I felt as though I was wriggling around in a giant rubber band.
Leaning closer to the mirror, I checked there were no smudges around my eyes and added one final slick of lip gloss. As I reached for my purse, I heard a car horn blaring from the street. Looking out the window, I saw Matthew's Porsche Cayenne parked out front and butterflies took off in my stomach. I sent him a quick text not to come up, that I’d meet him outside.
As I walked outside, I tried to hide my excitement. Play it cool. Remind him you are a woman. A sexy, beautiful woman.
"Hey," I said, climbing in the passenger seat.
His eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw me. "Whoa, you look incredible," he said, leaning over the console to kiss my cheek.
"Thank you," I replied, wondering if he could see my blush in the dark of the car.
As he pulled away, I relaxed back into the luxury of the seat. I was aware that as we drove, people looked at his car, wondering who the big shot behind the wheel was.
He's mine, I thought as we raced through the city center. He's my big shot.
We arrived outside the restaurant, and a valet was immediately on hand to park it.
"Mr. Banks! My favorite customer!" beamed the young man as Matthew stepped onto the sidewalk and handed him the keys.
“Hello, Chad. Thanks for taking care of her.” A moment later, Matthew walked around to my side of the car and opened my door.
"Wow, a gentleman," I commented. "No one's ever held a door open for me before. But I've always had the full use of my arms."
Sensing my sarcasm, he said, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being chivalrous."
Slipping my arm into his, I let him guide me inside the restaurant. He wasn't wrong about it being cozy. Only lit by candles, it was so dark it felt more like I was in someone's bedroom. As we snaked our way through the tables, I looked around at the other diners but could barely make out their faces in the candlelight.
We were seated in a booth at the back of the room, a dark and private table in an already mysteriously dark place.
"Like it?" he asked.
"Definitely," I said, inhaling the garlicky smells all around us as my stomach rumbled.
"Hungry?"
"Always."
"I love a girl with an appetite. Olivia never ate. She was always panicking about her weight.” He chuckled. “You know, once, she went for lipo because she'd eaten more than her
designated carb count during the week and put on two pounds."
"That's pretty extreme."
He picked up his napkin and placed it over his lap before picking up the wine list. "I'm sorry. We just sat down and I'm babbling about my ex. Forget I mentioned her."
"Already forgotten."
He smiled and relaxed back in his seat. "So, what are your plans for Christmas?” he asked. “It’s hard to believe it’s right around the corner.”
“I know, time really flies. I’m just having dinner with my dad. Nothing fancy. You should come,” I said, not sure it was a good idea but not liking the thought of him being alone on the holiday either.
Matthew shook his head. “Thank you but no. I’m not sure being around you and your father is a good idea right now. Besides, I’m looking forward to my day of solitude and the ridiculous amount of food I’ve ordered for myself.”
A waiter appeared out of the darkness as though he'd been summoned from the shadows. “Good evening. Have you had an opportunity to look at our wine list?”
Matthew nodded, turned to me, and raised his eyebrows. “What do you fancy?”
"Bottle of red?" I suggested. "A Bordeaux or a Bergerac?"
His expression said this girl really knows her shit. She's no silly chick looking for a Smirnoff Ice.
"We have a Bordeaux Cru Bourgeois," the waiter replied.
"That'll do nicely."
He gave a curt nod and returned to the shadows from which he came.
"Wow, you really know a lot about wine," Matthew said. "I take it you didn't learn it from your dad."
"I studied in France for six months during my last year at college," I explained. "Learned a whole bunch of stuff there."
"You studied in France? I didn’t know that. Where were you? Paris?"
"Lyon," I replied. "It's an amazing place. Everyone's so cultured there. I had to learn how to keep up pretty quick. Believe me, there's not a single bottle of Budweiser in that city. And all the kids know their wine."
The waiter returned with a bottle and poured a taster glass for me. I took a sip and nodded, and after pouring us each a glass, he set the bottle on the table graciously. I waited until he disappeared before I turned back to Matthew.
Knocked Up by Daddy’s Best Friend Page 10