by Hoff, Stacy
Frankly, I hadn’t thought about that, either. “I’ll still be paid for the work I brought in. But I guess I won’t have the opportunity to work directly with these clients anymore.”
“That doesn’t sound fair.”
“There’s no other choice,” I say, my voice raising an octave. “He had to transfer me to a partner who he trusts enough to know the real reason. So that meant I had to transfer out of real estate altogether. Now I’m in Commercial Litigation.”
“You mean your new boss knows you’re dating your old boss? Be careful, dear. Worse than a soured relationship is a soured career and a soured relationship.”
“Yeah, Ma, I know, you only want what’s best for me. I’ll be careful. Any other advice you need to give me, please do it fast, because I need to start my day.”
“Don’t let him into your bed too quickly.”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”
“I need to give you my opinion. When are you seeing him again?”
“Tonight, after he drops off his daughter.”
“Is he taking you out to dinner?”
“No, he’s not coming over until eight. I think he would have had dinner with his daughter by then.”
“You don’t know for certain?”
“Whatever, Ma, it’s just food. Love you. Bye.”
I decline to tell her that he’d already sprung for a meal—breakfast. Nothing like having violated her advice before she even gave it to me. It makes no difference. Now that I have her advice, I’m going to ignore it. In fact, I’m going to do my best to pretend the entire conversation never happened.
I decide to spend the day shopping. I need better nightclothes. But since this is a private matter I’m going to shop way out of town. I’m not planning on buying anything kinky, but I have to find something a whole lot better than what I own. A bikini wax wouldn’t hurt either. Well, it will hurt, but I’m getting one anyway.
While I wait at the salon to get my waxing done, I decide to get a pedicure, too. I feel bad not going to Mrs. Nang, but I don’t want to discuss why I’m suddenly into waxing and pedicures, especially in December. I’m not much in the mood to talk about anything else either, and I don’t want to be rude to her with silence.
Leaving the salon I look much more polished. It’s physically relaxing to be pampered, when it isn’t painful. My mind is relaxed, too. Unfettered by worse case scenarios and insecurities, I am clear-minded and focused. I want him. I’m going to get what I want.
Ten minutes past eight my doorbell rings. I open the door and see Jordan holding a vase out to me. “Thank you. It’s stunning,” I say, admiring the slim, tall, elegant beauty.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, sorry. Of course.”
“Good, because crystal is delicate. The longer I hold it, the longer it’s in peril.”
“When did you get it?” I ask, gently putting the vase down on my kitchen counter.
“I took Marty shopping today. Turns out she has very good taste. I was reluctant to have her around the china and crystal displays but she was careful not to touch anything after I explained how breakable everything was.”
“You didn’t need to take your time with your daughter to get me a gift.”
“Marty loved the drive down to Westport. She had a hoot of a time at the store too. Her mother never lets her make decisions so she was thrilled to help me make this one. I did have to discourage her from selecting the vase shaped like a frog. I didn’t think you had an amphibian affinity.”
“I’m sure I would have loved it anyway, given all your effort.”
“That last part was a joke, of course. They don’t sell frog shaped vases at Tiffany’s. Let me know if you want the blue box this came in, it’s in my car. Oh, I almost forgot, I need to give this back to you.” He hands me a key with a familiar looking bent paperclip through its hole. “I’m sorry for taking what I correctly guessed was your spare key. I wanted to get you breakfast and I needed to lock up your apartment behind me. I didn’t want to leave your front door open with you in the shower.”
Stunned by all that, I put the extra key back on the holder hanging by the door.
“Don’t worry. I promise to never take your key again without your express permission. Forgive me?”
“You’re rather sweet for a stalker.”
“Not a stalker. Just smitten. Did you eat yet?”
“Yes, I thought you’d eat with your daughter.”
“Then what do you want to do tonight? Last night you mentioned Starbucks. We can go now.”
“Pass.”
“A movie? I haven’t heard of anything good playing, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“No.”
“Are you tired?” He sounds worried. “I’m sorry if I kept you up last night. Do you want me to leave, so you can go to sleep or just have some time alone?”
“I don’t want either of us to leave. I want us to stay here.”
“Oh, okay. On a Saturday night, when I’m not working on files, I usually watch ESPN. Anything else you’d rather watch? Hopefully not HGTV.” He walks over to my couch and sits down, patting the seat cushion next to him as an invitation.
“In case you couldn’t tell from my décor, I’m not much into HGTV. My new vase is the only elegant thing here. In fact, I usually don’t watch any TV shows because, as long as I’m awake, I’m at work.” I smile at him. “My former boss was a real slave driver.”
“You’re off duty. Let’s try Discovery Channel.”
He puts the television on and some program springs to life. I don’t know which, I can’t focus on what the narrator is saying. Looking at Jordan is much more satisfying.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Are you nervous about what’s going to happen later on tonight? I promise you, I’m going home right after this show.”
I continue looking at him, silently and with a smile. Noticing this, he mutes the television and takes my hand in his.
“I shouldn’t have taken you so far out of your comfort zone last night. I feel badly about it. I was so excited we could finally be together that I didn’t see how I could wait another minute. Childish, I know. Kind of selfish, too. I hope you accept my apology. Do you?”
“Now I’m giving the performance reviews? Shall we discuss what you’ve accomplished, and what skills you’ll be showcasing in the future?” I shoot him a sexy smile, but he still doesn’t seem to catch my double meaning. Needing less subtlety, I kick my communication up a notch. Wiggling myself into his arms I start to kiss him. Surprise keeps him unresponsive for the first few seconds. Slowly he kisses me back, but his level of intensity doesn’t quite match my own.
“I’m going home in forty minutes. I prefer not to torture myself during this brief time. Be a good girl and watch TV with me.” He puts the volume of the set back on. I let him watch for a minute and then, still in his arms, start to lightly kiss his neck.
“You’re killing me,” he says tightly. “Let’s watch television, please!”
“You asked what I wanted to do tonight.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“That I want to be with you. In every possible way. Tonight. Now.”
“Forget it, I’m not doing this. Yesterday you were ready to die from the embarrassment of seeing me in Grovas & Cleval’s hallways. Then you were in a panic from ‘logistics planning.’ And now, suddenly, you’re willing to let all that go and throw caution to the wind?”
“I thought about a lot of things today. I’m comfortable with my decision.”
I can’t decipher his expression. Is he aroused, or confused?
“I can’t believe it,” he says slowly. “You want me to make love to you? Right now?�
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Just how much clarity does this guy need? “Yes, ‘now’ will work fine, thanks,” I answer matter-of-factly.
“I can’t believe it,” he says again, this time more to himself.
I wish he’d stop talking. I have other plans for his mouth. And it’s hard to hear him anyway with the blood pounding in my eardrums. I stroke his shirt, drawing light little circles over his nipples.
“Are you sure about this?” he continues cautiously. “You need to be sure, because if you start me going like this, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop—”
“Yup. Plenty sure.”
“What am I saying? Of course I’ll stop if you ask me to, but doing so will probably give me a heart attack—”
“Now.”
He looks at me intently, as if trying to gauge my certainty. He shuts the television off. Puts down the remote. Puts his lips gently on mine. His kiss is so light, but I need more. Pressing closer to him, I deepen our kiss.
He pulls back from me to stand up, tugging me up, too. Standing here in the lamplight he unbuttons my shirt. When the last button is finally open, he slides his arms under my shirt and around my back. I feel my bra unhook. Feel his hands against my tingling skin as he strokes my breasts. An electrical volt surges through me—a strong, powerful charge.
I’m definitely turned on. I need him as turned on as I am. Reaching for the fly of his pants, I tug the zipper down. My fingertips lightly stroke the outline of his shape through his underwear.
He closes his arms around me, his breath hot against my face. “Sue,” he groans.
“Do it,” I whisper.
He slides his hands up to my neck. Pulls the sides of my shirt back. My blouse hangs off my wrists. Stepping back to look at me he says, “no one could ever look better than you do—”
But the rest of his words are drowned out by my doorbell.
“Sue? Susan, honey, are you home?” I hear from a voice in the hallway.
God, it’s my mother.
CHAPTER 21
“Ma?” I say incredulously.
“You’re kidding. You’re not underage, are you?” He bursts out laughing.
I wonder bitterly how anyone can go from lust to rolling laughter in a matter of seconds. Maybe he’s psychotic. If so, he and my mother will get along fabulously.
“Susan!” calls the voice outside the door. “Are you there?”
“I better let her in before my neighbors call the landlord. Or the police.” It’s not easy to speak through gritted teeth.
“You may want to close up your shirt first. Fortunately, I’m still dressed,” he says, adjusting himself back inside his pants and yanking up his zipper. “You go to the bathroom, I’ll get the door.”
I shoot him a dirty look.
“I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I promise to stop laughing before I open the door.”
I pull my shirt closed and hurry into the bathroom. Re-hooking and re-buttoning is the longest, most complicated task ever. My hands, trembling a minute earlier from his touch, are now shaking in anger. Why does my mother have to be so damned pushy?
“Ms. Linkovitch, I’m Jordan Grant,” I hear him say through the walls. “Sue’s in the bathroom, so forgive me for opening the door.”
“In the bathroom all this time? I must have been ringing the bell for the past five minutes. Is she all right?”
“I’m sure she is, and that she’ll be right out.”
“I’m out now, Mother,” I say, joining them. “Why are you here?”
“I thought you’d be back from your date by now. Who stays out past ten o’clock, anyway? So, it’s nice to meet you, Jordan. I’ve heard a lot about you. Susie, go make some coffee for us.”
Jordan sees me seething. He’s pushing his lips together in an obvious attempt to suppress his laughter.
“Sorry, Mother, but Jordan and I decided we are not having coffee tonight. If you’re interested in having coffee, I’m sure Starbucks is still open.”
My mother gives me a frown. “Why would I go to Starbucks when I can get coffee here? Besides, they’re too pricey.”
Jordan chimes in. “Sue, let your mother sit down. I can put on the hot water.”
Hate him.
My mother, traitor that she is, beams at him. “Thank you, Jordan. You can call me Ellen.” Snatching her opportunity, she starts right in. “So, Jordan, you seem to already know your way around Susie’s place.”
“Mother!”
“What did I say? You know your apartment is small, dear. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
Jordan, who’d hopped into my kitchen, steps back into the living room. He’s holding up my largest coffee mug. “Is this size good for you, Ellen?”
“No,” I answer for her. “Give her a smaller one, she won’t be staying long.”
“Be nice to your mother,” Jordan scolds. Turning all his attention to her, he says, “I’ll be happy to answer anything you want to know.”
“I don’t want to be nosey or anything, of course,” my mother falsely protests while beaming even brighter. The sun has some serious competition. Uggh! I think my Mom’s in love.
“Of course,” he smiles back at her.
“I’d just be happy to know a little bit about you,” she chirps.
“Most things about me you’ve probably already heard. I have a daughter, Marty. She’s five years old and very sweet. I see her on weekends. When I don’t have Marty, I spend most of my time working. Sue used to be able to help me with my workload because I was her supervisor. On a related note, you’ll be happy to know your daughter is one of the best associates in our firm.”
“Thanks,” I say, grinning broadly.
“So, Jordan, how old are you?”
“Mother!”
“What? He doesn’t have an age?”
“I’m thirty nine,” he manages to interject before I go postal. “I hope that doesn’t bother you, in terms of my dating Sue. I know Sue is only twenty-six. For a few more weeks, anyway. February seventh is practically around the corner.”
I can’t help it. Despite how miserable I am for having to suffer through this nightmare, I can feel another smile bust out. He’s memorized my birthday from my personnel records.
“Are you Jewish?” she asks hopefully.
“That’s right, Mother, really get into his business—find out if he’s circumcised too.”
Jordan is now not only pressing his lips together, but inserting them as best he can between his teeth. I wonder if I’ll have to call an ambulance. Maybe the EMT’s can revive him after he dies from laughter. Before I have to dial 9-1-1, he manages to regain control.
“Yes, I’m Jewish. Marty is only half-Jewish because my ex-wife was half-Jewish, on her father’s side. It works out for Marty, she’s able to get presents for Christmas and Hanukah.”
The teakettle whistles. Jordan gets up to turn off the burner and then walks back into the living room. “How do you take your coffee, Ellen?”
“Never mind the coffee, Jordan, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. It was nice to meet Susie’s boyfriend.”
Feeling the blood drain from my face I pipe up, “I never told you he was my boyfriend!”
“I’m not blind, dear,” she says, frowning again. “Long stemmed roses? In a brand new vase? Unless somebody else gave those to you?”
“Okay, Mother, it’s time for you to put your coat on and leave.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Have a nice night, dear. Jordan, take care.”
“Nice to meet you, Ellen. I hope to see you again soon.”
“Not if I can help it,” I mutter.
Jordan manages to hold back his laughter until after my mother is out the door.
“Where did she drive from?”
he asks, calming down.
“Newtown.”
“Wow. About an hour, and at night, no less. Must have been a tough drive for her. She must love you a lot.”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine what she’d do if she hated me.”
“She’s just trying to protect you.”