I was truly lucky that Hazel was available to watch Zoe during the day. I’d used almost all my savings staying home with my precious little girl for the first six months. There was no way I could afford to put her in daycare. Hazel was seventy-two and had raised two children of her own. The older woman considered Zoe to be her grandchild, which I would forever be grateful for.
The afternoon passed quickly. I’d heard from some of my new coworkers that the CEO liked for everyone to leave promptly at five on Friday, but I hadn’t understood how much rushing around there’d be to get to that point. Mr. Brown kept me hopping, giving me a huge task reconciling some expense reports. My first thought was that it would take me the rest of the day plus a good chunk of Monday, but Mr. Brown had other thoughts.
“E-mail this back to me by five, Ms. Jenkins.”
“Oh, but I need to—“
“Yes?” His fierce frown deterred me from my original plan to remind him of the laws protecting lactating women in the workplace. He obviously didn’t care.
But I did. By quarter to five, it was a race to see what would happen first—if I’d finish the task or if my breasts would explode. Already, they were enormously sore. I needed to pump milk badly, but I had to get this done. Mr. Brown walked behind me every chance he got, peering over my shoulder, making disapproving noises when he saw how much I had to go.
God, this was uncomfortable. I hadn’t had breast pain like this since the first week of nursing Zoe. Pumping milk into a tube was not anywhere near as fulfilling as feeding my darling baby directly, but I did what I could so that Hazel would have enough milk to feed her during the day.
The thought of my little Baby Z made my breasts ache more and tears well up in my eyes. I’d see her in an hour, but I missed her so much.
Five o’clock came, and I pressed SEND on the e-mail to Mr. Brown only a few minutes late. I could see him in his office, the door open, staring at me. Almost everyone else had left, and he was clearly angry at me for making him wait.
My chest hurt too much for me to stick around and see if he had any comments on my work. I was pretty sure I’d gotten the numbers right even though I’d had to rush. Even if I hadn’t, there was no time now. I had to relieve this ache in my breasts, or I was going to explode. Or die. Or cry. Or all of the above.
Quickly, I gathered my things and darted down the hall. Every step made it hurt worse. My breasts were so tender that even my clothes caused discomfort, and walking was agony. There was no way I’d make it to the stupid lactation room which was still three long corridors away.
There was a women’s restroom on the right. Normally, I avoided pumping milk there at all costs. As the saying went, you wouldn’t prepare a meal for your family in a bathroom, so why would you for your baby? I heard voices as I poked my head inside. All three stalls were full, with clothes slung over the tops of the metal walls. Evidently, some of my new coworkers were headed out tonight.
Frustrated, I hurried down the hall, looking for another restroom. I made turns blindly and ended up in a part of the building I’d never been in. The hallways were dark, and it was clear that no one was around. In desperation, I turned one doorknob after another. If I didn’t find a place soon, I was going to have to plop down in the middle of the hall and set up the pump on the floor.
Then I saw it—a door that wasn’t quite closed all the way. I pushed it open, revealing a big, dark room, perhaps some kind of lounge. There were sofas and coffee tables on one side, a big conference table in the middle, and a desk and some bookshelves over in the corner. I pulled the door shut behind me and was relieved to hear a lock click.
Not wasting any time, I moved to a sofa by a wall. The sun was low in the sky, but the light coming from the windows was strong enough to find an outlet. In a matter of seconds, I unfastened my wrap dress. It wasn’t the most practical outfit for a lactating mother, but I didn’t have a lot of nice clothes I could wear to work. And this being the end of the week, it had been this or jeans this morning.
It was a pretty dress, dark red with white flowers on it. I’d gotten it to wear to a friend’s wedding last year. But the deep V-neck meant that I’d had to wear a normal bra. All of my nursing bras were so big and clunky that they extended well beyond the neckline of the dress. So I was wearing one of my old lace bras, and right now, it felt about three sizes too small.
I slid the straps down off my shoulders and pushed the cups down. The pain lessened marginally once my breasts were free of the confining fabric, but I still needed to pump so badly that my hands were clumsy. Fumbling, I reached for the plastic breast shield and began to fit it over my nipple.
Bright lights suddenly flooded the room, making me blink rapidly. Dropping the plastic flange, I stood up in shock.
A man stood inside the door, one hand on the light switch, the other on the door knob.
For a long moment, we both stood still, me staring at the tall man in the dark suit, and him staring back at me in surprise. Oh god, why couldn’t I move? My limbs felt frozen. His gaze was trained on my chest—like any man’s would have been. I needed to do something. Like die from embarrassment.
Just when I finally unglued my limbs long enough to dive for my dress, he spoke.
“Hello.”
Blake
Holy shit.
I considered myself a fairly worldly person, but never had I encountered a situation like this. A naked woman. In my office. Or close to naked. She had on thin black panties and a matching bra, though it wasn’t covering her breasts right now. Gorgeous, creamy white breasts that spilled out over the cups of the flimsy fabric beneath them.
Had Ryan or one of the other guys sent me a stripper as a joke? She didn’t look like a stripper, though. Not with the blush on her ashen face. A stripper wouldn’t be embarrassed.
Oh god, she was embarrassed. And I was standing there staring at her. I’d said ‘hello’ to her like a fucking moron. Her limbs must have thawed about the same time mine did, because I saw her hands rising to cover her chest just as I turned around.
Shutting the door, I stood facing it, mentally cussing myself out. I shouldn’t have stared at her like that. True, she had a body no man could look away from, but she obviously hadn’t expected anyone to interrupt her while she was—wait, what exactly was she doing? And why was she doing it in my office?
Probably one of us should speak at some point.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know anyone was in my office.” Stupid statement. How could I have? Besides me, only my executive assistant Vera had access. How had this gorgeous woman gotten in? “How did you—?” I stopped and tried again. “Why are you…? I mean, what are you…”
“I’m sorry,” came a trembling voice behind me. I almost turned around, it was an automatic thing to do when someone spoke to you, but I remembered just in time. “The door wasn’t locked, and I needed a place to—“
“It wasn’t locked?” It was always locked.
“Well, I think maybe it was locked, but it hadn’t been pulled shut all the way.”
Ah. But maybe I should have been focusing less on the door and more on the nearly naked woman.
“I was trying to find a place to pump,” she said. And then, almost as if she could see my frown of confusion, she elaborated. “Pump my breast milk.”
Now I felt like a complete idiot. Why else would a woman be half naked in the workplace? I had zero experience with women with babies. Plus, she’d seemed too young to be a mother, though her overly large breasts should have been my first clue. Instead, I’d been fixated on them for entirely different reasons.
Close on the heels of embarrassment came disappointment. She had a child. Likely she had a husband, too. She was taken. I hadn’t dated much since Not-Sarah, but this woman would have been tempting even if I hadn’t seen so much of her luscious body. The way her honey-blonde hair had cascaded over her bare shoulders. Her smooth, unblemished skin. Her delicate hands as they had risen to cup her very full breasts. Breasts
that she still needed to… empty or drain, or whatever it was called. I wasn’t sure of the terminology.
“There’s a lactation room over in the C Building,” I said, my brain finally kicking in.
“I know,” she said, her voice much closer. “But it takes so long to walk over there, and I couldn’t get away before, and I needed to so badly…” she trailed off, her voice even closer now. “You can turn around.”
I did so, and she was just as beautiful with clothes on. Well, mostly on. Her red dress was wrapped around her body, and she held it loosely closed in front of her. Her free hand clutched a purse and a tote bag with plastic tubes hanging out of it. I could see her black lace bra poking out of the top of the bag.
She’d seen where my gaze landed and her face turned even redder. “Umm… it wouldn’t go back on. If you’ll excuse me, I really need to go pump.” Her shoulders hunched forward, and for the first time, I noticed the grimace on her face. Unless I was mistaken, there were tears gathering on her bottom lashes. She was in pain.
“Of course. If the lactation room is too far, you can use—“
“I know I can use the bathroom,” she said, with unexpected force. “Everyone keeps telling me that… Mr. Brown, the other women in the department, but it’s a bathroom. There are toilets in there. Would you want food prepared next to toilets?”
Now a tear spilled down her cheek.
“I was going to say, you can use my private suite to do your… to use that thing.” God, my knowledge of child-rearing vocabulary was next to nothing.
Thankfully she understood what I meant, especially when I led her to the side door between bookshelves. I opened the door and flipped the light switch. Tentatively, she stepped inside, her eyes moving over the tiny kitchenette, the counter with two stools, the table, and the king-sized bed. Her eyes returned to mine after seeing the bed.
“Sometimes I work late and need a place to sleep,” I shrugged, trying to look as if it had never even crossed my mind to use that bed for anything other than G-rated purposes. Though I wouldn’t blame her if she thought I was some kind of sex fiend. The way I’d stared at her breasts before was probably not the best way to vouch for my character.
“Thank you,” she said, moving further inside.
“Take all the time you need.” I shut the door firmly behind her and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows behind my desk.
Shit. Could I possibly have handled that any worse? Probably, but I wasn’t entirely sure how. Stupid to stare at her like that. She was a young mother, not a conquest. Not something to ogle. Being a mother was a sacred thing. Okay, my own mother would probably be shocked out of her mind to hear me say that, but this was about that beautiful young woman in there.
It dawned on me that I’d seen that young woman’s body but didn’t even know her name. That was the first thing to take care of. She said she was in Brown-the-Clown’s department, so that narrowed things down. With a frown, I sat down at my computer to get the scoop. Edwin Brown had been a holdover from my dad’s days at the company helm. He wasn’t someone I would have hired, but he’d been here for thirty years. Still, I was sorry that a bright young woman like whatever her name was had ended up with him for a boss.
Thirty seconds of typing, and I’d found her. Penelope Jenkins. A new hire—this was her first week in fact. Scanning through her employment file, I found the relevant information. Twenty-five. Lived in an apartment on the south side of town. Had a degree in business plus some coursework toward an MBA. That asshole Edwin probably had her entering numbers on a spreadsheet. From the sound of it, he wasn’t aware of the rights of nursing mothers, either.
Well, neither was I, but at least I was trying to help. Though I knew nothing about these kinds of things, the internet did. A quick search told me that it should take Penny about fifteen minutes. Then I closed my browser, making the flood of information about pumping disappear. I preferred to think of breasts being for recreation, not nutrition.
I explored her personnel file some more, but there wasn’t much other information to glean. She hadn’t listed any husband on her insurance application, though that didn’t mean much. Her emergency contacts were both women, Jana and Hazel Walsh. So maybe she was unattached. Well, as unattached as a woman with a baby could be.
Why did that concern me? I was bad news for a normal woman, let alone a single mother. Ms. Jenkins’ life must be tough enough without a strange man coming onto her—especially after being caught in such a vulnerable position. Still, I couldn’t help thinking about her. I tried to focus on my work, but I was very aware that she was so close by—just on the other side of the door. Was she sitting at the table? Or maybe that cute ass rested on the edge of the bed? That thought made my cock stir, but I needed to hold it together. At any moment now, she could reappear, and I probably shouldn’t be sporting an erection when she did.
Unless she ducked out the back door. There was a door that led directly to the hallway. Maybe she’d gone out that way? No reason why she wouldn’t, but the thought brought me to my feet. I should knock. See if she’s okay. See if she needs anything.
See if she’s still there.
May as well admit that was the real reason I was heading for the door. Bonus points to me if she thought I was a kind, concerned colleague. Given the way I’d stared at her body before, I needed all the points I could get.
Penny
Should I duck out the back door?
I was almost finished, and the relief was overwhelming. If I hadn’t been in some strange man’s private office, I probably would have laid on the bed and taken a nap. Of course I couldn’t, plus I had to get Zoe from Hazel’s house. It sure was tempting, though. My breasts still ached, and I was exhausted. But I did feel a little better now that I’d pumped an enormous amount of milk.
Another few minutes and I was done. I packed everything back in my tote and gingerly put my bra and dress back on. My chest was still sore, but it was manageable now, unlike before.
Again, I took another long look at the door beyond the kitchenette. It had to lead to the hallway. But I couldn’t do that. That man had offered me his own personal space. He hadn’t had to do that. I’d barged into his personal space. Hard to believe that the vast room over there was someone’s office, but I’d always known that Hollister Holdings was a very profitable and successful company—that’s why I’d wanted to work here. I guess they could afford to provide upper management with palatial offices and private suites.
It would be rude to sneak out without thanking him. Rude, yes, but easier. It had been so humiliating before. To stand there almost naked in front of him. No man had seen my body in over a year, and no one except my doctor had seen it since I’d given birth. During my half year at home with Zoe, I’d exercised regularly, though I still didn’t look like I had before I got pregnant. Briefly, I flashed on that gorgeous white gown I’d worn at the ball. My waist would likely never be that small again. I remembered the way Zorro had put his hands above my hips, his fingers nearly touching, thanks to the tight corset.
Thoughts of him always filled me with longing, and I didn’t have time tonight. I needed to thank that man out there and then go pick up my baby.
Resolutely, I moved to the door and pulled it open, dodging instinctively when a hand shot out toward my head.
“Sorry!” he said, drawing back quickly. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. Almost knocking you out was not my intention.”
“I’m okay,” I said, staring at the ground, the doorframe, the knuckles on his hand he’d been about to knock with. Anywhere but his face. I couldn’t look at him, not after he’d seen me like that before.
A blush rose on my cheeks again—or perhaps it had never left as I stared down at his shiny black shoes. In my humiliation before, I hadn’t been focused much on his appearance, but now, for some reason, my brain was reminding me of how good he’d looked in his dark suit. Only the lower half was visible, but even his long legs looked good.
&n
bsp; But was I being rude, not looking at him, right? After his initial shock, he’d been kind, and I shouldn’t repay that kindness with rudeness now. So I should try, at least, to look him in the eye. And—okay, maybe I was a little curious to see what the rest of him looked like again.
I looked up at him. And up, and up. Wow, he was tall. When my gaze settled on his face, with the endlessly deep brown eyes peering down at me, the stubble lining his jaw, and the hint of a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth, the full effect hit me. The man was gorgeous. And trying not to grin. “What is it?” I asked.
“I’m not having the best luck opening doors tonight. I may need to install peepholes if you’re going to stick around, Ms. Jenkins.”
So he’d looked me up. Now he had a name to match the face—as well as other assorted body parts he’d seen of me. A flush warmed my face. This hot-as-hell man had seen me practically naked. Which made it ridiculous that he was calling me by my last name. “It’s Penny.”
“Blake,” he said. His grin widened. “If I say it was nice to meet you, I’d probably get in trouble for being inappropriate in the workplace. So how about this: welcome to the company.”
“Thank you,” I said. Mortification still pervaded my every cell, but there was no getting around the fact that he was incredibly nice to look at. Yeah, I was probably staring, but it was my turn. He’d done enough staring earlier. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep from noticing the way he filled out his suit. His biceps strained the fabric of his suit coat, and the few inches of bare skin I could see at his neckline promised to lead to a very chiseled chest.
Pulling my eyes away, I looked beyond him at his office. A blue tie was wadded up on his desk. Somehow I liked that. He wore that suit like an Italian fashion model, but it was endearing that he’d shed the tie as soon as he’d gotten here. But admiring this devastatingly handsome man was definitely not what I was supposed to be doing. Hazel was amazing with Zoe, but it had been a long day. She must be getting tired, especially since my little girl seemed to get an extra burst of energy this time of the day.
Tempting: A Cinderella Billionaire Story Page 7