by Tawna Fenske
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I was here all week. You didn’t have an overnight guest.”
“No? Hmm, perhaps my memory isn’t what it used to be, either.”
Jenna set the plate aside and turned to face her aunt. “There’s no beau who went to Cornell Law School, is there?”
Aunt Gertie smiled and picked up a dish towel. “Of course not, dear. Arthur was a proctologist who went to Oregon State—an ass-man from OSU, as he likes to say.”
“Right,” Jenna said, turning back to the sink. “So why did you cover for me?”
“You looked like you needed it. Like there’s something you weren’t quite ready to talk about with the group, or at least not with Mia.”
Jenna fell silent a moment, digesting her aunt’s words. How much did Aunt Gertie know? How much could Jenna still hide? Her mind was still racing when Gert spoke again.
“You know, dear, Mia loves you very much.”
Jenna kept her eyes on the water, feeling it sluice warm over her hands as she rinsed another plate. “I know that. She’s a very loyal friend.”
“Hmm, yes, loyalty is important. So are other things, too.”
“Like what?” Jenna’s voice was barely a whisper, and she was gripping the china so hard she feared she might break it.
“Like the ability to be honest with one another. To care for each other even when one friend does something the other might not like very much.”
Jenna nodded, not sure how to respond. Part of her ached to tell Gertie the whole story, to break down and confess everything, to ask her aunt what she should do.
But part of her wanted to keep the secret locked up tight. To protect Mia. To protect herself.
“All I’m saying is that Mia would want you to be happy,” Gertie said. “Even if that happiness comes with elements that might make her a little uncomfortable.”
Jenna turned to face her aunt. “How do you know?”
“About you and Adam, or about the fact that Mia will forgive you?”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and all she could do was nod.
“Intuition, dear,” Gert said. “And a fondness for stories about love and longing and human relationships.”
Jenna looked down at the plate in her hand, thinking about her aunt’s books. “We aren’t just talking about Adam and me now, are we?”
Gert reached out and patted her hand. “We’re talking about whatever you’re comfortable talking about, dear. And if you’re not comfortable,” she shrugged, withdrawing her hand, “well then, we’ll continue to pretend nothing’s going on. Is that what you’d like?”
Jenna kept her eyes on the plate. This was her chance. The opportunity to have everything out in the open. Gert’s writing career and the possibility of worldwide exposure. Her feelings for Adam and her fears about what that might mean for Mia. The fling that could cost her professional reputation, even if they waited until Adam’s contract ended. Everyone would remember. Everyone would know.
She reached up to turn off the taps, then handed the plate to her aunt. “Let’s keep pretending for now.”
Gertie nodded. “Okay then. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to confront things.”
“All right,” Jenna murmured, burying her hands in a dish towel. “Not now, though. Just—not yet.”
“Can you please state, for the record, whether this is or is not your genitalia?”
Kendall Freemont pushed the photograph forward across the table in the HR conference room while Jenna sat beside her, doing her best to keep a straight face.
It wasn’t easy. The task was complicated by the fact that Adam sat directly across from her, and beside him was the man who’d been caught taking one of the least impressive dick pics Jenna had ever seen.
Brett Lombard looked like a mouse caught in a trap and thinking of chewing off its own foot. Considering the image on the paper in front of him, the mouse analogy wasn’t so far off.
“I’m going to repeat the question, Mr. Lombard,” Kendall said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think I need to remind you, you’re the president of the nurses’ union. You have a professional responsibility to answer honestly. Is this, or is this not, your genitalia?”
Adam cleared his throat and turned to Brett. “As the contractor hired to assist this organization with labor negotiations, I’d advise you to tell your employer anything they ask.” He leaned closer to Brett, glancing once at Kendall. “However, if I were your attorney, I’d advise you not to answer that question.”
Brett frowned. “Aren’t you both of those things?”
“I’m not technically your attorney,” Adam said. “I was trying to help you out.”
“This is pointless,” Kendall said, throwing up her hands. “We know you sent the photo to your colleague using the company e-mail system with a subject line that read, ‘check out my junk.’ The message got stuck in our filters.”
Which is not where he’d hoped the object in question might be stuck, Jenna mused, trying hard not to glance at the picture again. She stole a look at Adam instead, then realized her mistake. He looked confident and professional with an air of genuine compassion, which was sexy as hell. Christ, this is exactly why companies had policies about co-workers dating each other. One longing look across the boardroom and the next thing you know, you’re spread-eagled on the conference table.
Jenna pushed that image out of her mind and arranged her face into something she hoped might pass for professional composure. Adam was doing a much better job of it than she was. Then again, she could see the telltale crinkle around his eyes that meant he was on the brink of losing it.
Yet another reason companies don’t like colleagues to date. You know entirely too much about what the other person is thinking.
Jenna took a deep breath and tore her thoughts and her eyes away from Adam. Instead, she regarded Brett with her most serious expression.
“Ordinarily, you’d be dismissed outright for an offense like this,” she said. “Belmont Health System takes sexual harassment very seriously. We’d usually handle this situation as a personnel issue through HR, and there’d be no need for Mr. Thomas or me to even be party to this discussion.”
Brett looked down at his dick pic, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. Jenna did her best to avert her eyes, though it was hard. Not the penis—it was actually quite flaccid. Honestly, what was the point in sending a dick pic if it looked like a half-filled water balloon?
Focus, dammit, she commanded herself, tearing her eyes from the photo. Brett did the same, then frowned at her. “Why are you here?”
“Because in case it escaped your notice, this organization is in the midst of one of the most contentious labor battles in its history,” Jenna said, smacking her hand on the table. She meant to underscore the seriousness of her statement, but instead she sent the dick pic flying across the table.
It drifted into Adam’s lap, where he stared at it a moment as though analyzing the appropriate next move. Kendall stared, too, clearly unsure what HR protocol called for in this situation.
At last, Adam picked up the photo by one corner and set it gingerly in front of Brett. “Your penis, sir. If, in fact, it is your penis.”
Brett nodded. “Thank you.”
Jenna sighed. “Brett, you are a key member of the bargaining team, which means you’ve become a high-profile individual as far as the local media is concerned.”
She saw his eyes widen at that, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked back at the photo. “The newspaper doesn’t have this, right?”
“We’ve been able to keep it quiet. For now.” She let the words hang there for a moment. The threat wasn’t real—there was no way in hell she’d ever let that happen—but she didn’t need Brett to know that. What she needed was to have him nervous enough never to p
ull this kind of shit again. At least not until negotiations were over.
“I believe what Jenna is saying,” Adam said, glancing at her, “is that we’re here to offer you a second chance.”
She watched Brett’s frown deepen, and she wondered if he was thinking about retaking the photo. She couldn’t blame the guy. The lighting was all wrong, and the shadow under his balls made it look like he had a strange growth. Honestly, why had Kendall printed the thing at this size? It was practically a poster, though not one she could imagine hanging above her bed.
“A second chance?” Brett swallowed. “Like—I’m not getting fired?”
Adam cleared his throat. “Here’s the deal, Brett. We need to get through these negotiations fairly, legally, and with all parties bringing their viewpoints and experience to the table. As the president of this organization’s bargaining unit for nursing staff, we need you to be part of this.”
“Preferably with your pants on,” Jenna added, folding her arms over her chest.
Kendall pressed her palms against a thick file on the table in front of her. “We’ve already spoken with Susan Schrader, the intended recipient of your—uh—”
“Artistic imagery,” Jenna supplied, willing herself not to look at the photo. Or at Adam. Or—Christ, was there any place safe to look?
“Susan does not intend to press charges,” Kendall continued. “Apparently the message, while not solicited, was not rebuffed.”
“Though not using the company’s e-mail system,” Adam clarified.
“Or her stapler,” Jenna said, daring a glance at the photo again. “Though she did feel it was an artistic touch to position it like that.”
They all stared for a moment at the photograph, at the stapler that bore a strategically placed nameplate that read, ‘property of Susan Schrader.’ Jenna tried to imagine the straight-laced nursing manager bouncing in her chair as she opened the message. It was a mental picture she could do without, so she turned her attention back to Brett.
“Do you have any questions for us?” she asked. “Or anything to add?”
“Thank you,” Brett said, nodding at the photo with a sense of pride Jenna thought was sorely misplaced. But it wasn’t her place to say so.
It was her job to make sure this story didn’t get out. To keep a lid on things so the local media didn’t turn this into a circus and distract the organization from helping patients and doing good work in the community. That’s why they were all here, dammit. For the patients. Not for bureaucratic bullshit or climbing corporate ladders or earning money or any of those other things.
At the heart of this, that’s what it all came down to. That’s why she did this job.
She was feeling good about her little pep talk until she glanced at the photo again. Good Lord, had the man never heard of manscaping? At least a little trim here and there, or some general tidying around his—
“So I’m going to do my best to make this go away,” Jenna said. “The potential scandal, not your penis.”
Adam nodded. “Belmont Health System frowns upon castration as a motivational tool. Clinical studies have shown positive reinforcement is a much more effective form of inspiring employee performance.”
He choked a little on the word performance, and Jenna had to look away so she didn’t lose it completely. She stood up, deciding it was time to call a halt to the meeting before things took a turn for the worse.
“Brett, I hope you’re able to use this as a learning tool.”
“A valuable tool, yes,” Adam agreed, getting to his feet as well. Jenna avoided his eyes.
Kendall stood as well, though she looked a little uncertain. She glanced from Jenna to Adam, then back at Brett. “Mr. Lombard, I have some paperwork I’d like you to fill out. This will become a part of your permanent personnel record, which is a confidential document. It will, however, be made available to your supervisor, which could have an impact on your career in the event that you decide to change departments.”
“I understand,” he said, joining the rest of them on their feet. “Is, uh—is the photo going in my file?”
“A detailed account of the incident will be recorded in your file, and we’ll make a note of the fact that you’re treading dangerously close to the company’s policy about fraternization among co-workers,” Kendall replied. “Since you and Ms. Schrader work in different departments, you’re not technically breaking company policy, though the fact that you’re members of the same union and bargaining team complicates the matter.”
“But the photo? What happens to that?”
“The photograph will be destroyed. Both the file and the printout.”
“I see,” he said, looking down at the image. “I understand.”
“If you’ll meet me in my office, we can take care of that paperwork.”
Brett nodded as Kendall reached across the table and snatched the photo. She folded it in two, creasing it sharply down the middle. Brett looked a little forlorn, but he turned and walked out of the room. Kendall watched the door close, then turned to Adam and Jenna.
“Thank you for being a part of the discussion.”
“I appreciate you including us,” Jenna said. “Your instincts were spot on. This is the sort of scandal that could derail the whole negotiation process.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Kendall agreed. “The last thing this organization needs right now is bad PR with the community or the staff. Even a small scandal like this could make everything implode.”
Jenna nodded, swallowing hard. The words hung there between them like bubbles, and she fought the urge to reach out and pop them. She thought of her secret liaisons with Adam, of Gertie’s book.
Adam stood up and pushed in his chair. “You know, at some point, this organization is going to need to review some of its more antiquated policies.”
Kendall blinked at him. “Are you suggesting employees should have free rein to use company e-mail to send photos of their genitalia?”
“Of course not. But the policy manual hasn’t been updated for six years, back when the old CEO was still here. From what I’ve learned in my short time with Belmont, the company culture has shifted significantly since then.”
Jenna stood up, not sure where Adam was headed with this. Was he talking about the fraternization policy, or puritanical views in general? Either way, she couldn’t risk Kendall catching on.
“This is certainly a valuable discussion,” Jenna said, straightening her chair with a little more force than she intended. “Perhaps we should table it until we’ve gotten through some of the meatier topics we’re covering in the negotiations?”
Kendall nodded. “Agreed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to Mr. Lombard.”
She hustled out the door, the poster-sized dick pic still gripped in her hand. The instant the door closed behind her, Adam turned to look at Jenna. “There’s a photo worth adding to the family album.”
Jenna groaned and shook her head. “Good Lord, this is not what we need right now. Scandal on the bargaining team? Dick pics and co-workers bumping uglies? The newspaper would have a heyday with this.”
Adam regarded her curiously for a moment. “But you’re making sure they don’t.”
“That’s right. That’s my job.”
“You’re very good at it.”
“I know.”
Neither of them said anything else right away. Jenna glanced around the room, wondering if they were being watched or recorded. She doubted it—was that even legal?—but she couldn’t be too careful. She could never be too careful.
“Well,” she said, meeting Adam’s eyes at last. “Thank you for being here. I think it helped give Brett a better sense of how this whole thing fits with the big picture.”
“Big picture,” Adam repeated. “Could Kendall have printed that thing any larger?”
Jenna sno
rt-laughed. “I couldn’t look away.”
“If she was trying to make a point, I think she succeeded.”
“You mean like keep your pants zipped at Belmont or else?”
“Something like that,” Adam said, his eyes softening a little as he looked into hers. “We’ll have to use that in the company mission statement when we work on that next week.”
“Along with ‘thou shalt not use company e-mail to transmit porn.’” Jenna felt her phone buzz and glanced at it, expecting an alert about her next meeting. Instead, she saw a text message from Sean wishing her a good afternoon.
“Bad news?”
She glanced up at Adam. “What?”
“You looked at your phone and scowled. Just making sure it wasn’t bad news on the Belmont negotiation front.”
“No, it’s not. I mean—it’s a personal message.”
“Oh?”
Jenna couldn’t tell from his inflection if it was a question or a statement, and his expression was perfectly neutral. She knew she didn’t owe him an explanation, but found herself babbling one anyway.
“It’s Sean. My ex. He invited me to some charity event next month and I told him I’d consider it. Purely professional.”
Adam quirked an eyebrow. “A professional date?”
“It’s not a date. Not exactly. Several Belmont administrators sit on the board of directors for the charity and—”
“Jenna, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
She nodded, then looked away. “I haven’t agreed to go. I’m thinking about it. Thinking about a lot of things, really.”
“Me, too.”
Something about the softness in his voice made her meet his eyes again, and she felt her stomach twist into a tight, fizzy knot. The backs of her knees began to tingle, and she touched a hand to a chair to steady herself.
It was ridiculous. She’d fielded half a dozen calls from Sean since they’d run into each other, and the ones she hadn’t ignored had left her feeling flat and unaffected. How was it possible mere eye contact with Adam could make every atom in her body flicker like twinkle lights?