It's a Work Thing

by Michelle Karise

  “Busy. There were issues with requirements, but we got it all squared away.” I swept the curls aside, exposing her long, lean neck. The pulse there throbbed erratically. She shrugged a shoulder and leaned away.

  “That tickles. I trust you handled the requirements and other challenges . . .”

  “Of course. And you? How was your day?”

  “Awful. Sitting in long back-to-back meetings is a pain. I suppose I’ll get used to it. I’m sorry that I’ve not had a lot of time for you.”

  Colette was two years into a new position. She spent her days acclimating to her new life and figuring out time for me.

  “At some point, you’ll want to figure out work-life balance.”

  “About that—”

  A greeting from a neighboring barstool cut her words off.

  “Colette? Is that you?”

  The woman, petite and with large round eyes, approached us. She brimmed with enthusiasm when she opened her arms for a hug. Colette shook her hand from mine and gave the woman a wary, sidelong glance before leaning into the embrace.

  “Victoria! How are you?”

  “I’m doing well. How long has it been?” The woman stepped back, and her gaze roamed approvingly over Colette’s attire, eyes settling on her exposed cleavage. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

  “My goodness. It’s been over a decade. Where has the time gone?”

  Victoria looked over at me with a curious gaze, which Colette ignored.

  “My husband is over there. It’ll be ten years on Saturday.” She waved at a man across the bar then turned back to look at me curiously. The woman stared between the two of us, expecting an introduction.

  Fuck this. I reached my hand out to Victoria.

  “Hello. I’m Garrett Hamilton.”

  “Nice to meet you, Garrett. I’m Victoria Ainsley. My, you two are an attractive couple.”

  “Thanks, Vic. It was great seeing you. I hope you enjoy your dinner,” said Colette.

  Victoria’s face blanched at the blunt brush off. Colette didn’t seem concerned that she’d been rude to her friend.

  “Well, it has been nice seeing you. I’ll let the girls know that I ran into you.” She added a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Garrett.”

  Infuriation and hurt were the knives that stabbed me in my lungs and forced me to take shallow breaths. I tried to stuff down my fury, but I was unsuccessful. My eyes narrowed and sent lasers of heat to the top of her head, but she avoided all contact with me.

  Not introducing me to her friend and treating me like I was nothing was a shitty thing to do. Colette’s rudeness was a guillotine that severed the happiness of the holiday from the joy in our relationship. Once seated at our table, we proceeded to have longest dinner ever. The conversation was surface-level and professional. No more flirtatious winks. No more warmth and laughter.

  As we left the restaurant, I intentionally neglected to hold Colette’s hand while walking to the doors. If we would be a secret, then I’d put distance between us. Once in the car, I programmed the GPS with her address.

  “Garrett, I thought we were going to your place.”

  “I had a long day at work. I’m going home to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Oh.”

  I followed the directions to her Gold Coast townhome. Silence blanketed us as we drove through the dark streets. I’d planned to drop her off and then see if Hunter was in the mood to meet at a pub.

  I pulled in front of the Greystone townhouse, hopped out of the car, and sprinted around to the passenger’s side to open her door. She stepped out and stood in front of me.

  “Garrett . . .” In an attempt to reduce the friction, she reached out to stroke my face. I leaned out of her reach.

  “Colette, if you’re ashamed of me, then why did we go out? We could have fucked in a hotel room and been home by now.”

  “Let me explain. I am not embarrassed. Victoria is a gossip with loose lips. Trust me, the less she knows, the better. I don’t want her circulating misinformation. Why are you angry? She didn’t bother to introduce us to her husband. I want to be the person to introduce you to my life. I want to explain what we are.”

  The ice thawed when she wrapped her arms around my waist. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations spreading throughout my body. I quickly reopened them and shook away the feelings of desire, I needed to be clear on where we stood. I didn’t want to give into her, but it was Valentine’s Day and I was so horny. I needed Colette to remedy my blue balls, but not at the expense of my ego.

  “Well, what are we?”

  “We’re friends working on more. Remember?”

  “I don’t like feeling like I don’t matter.”

  “I’m sorry. I need time. You had to know that this was difficult. Give me time. Please,” Colette pleaded.

  I grabbed her by the hair, my fingers weaving through her waves, and leaned in for an angry, passionate kiss. Our tongues reached to meet as we sought, soothed, and entangled with each other.

  “Figure out my place in your life. I won’t be around forever.”

  Her behavior should have opened my eyes. Our relationship was perfect when we were alone, but in public, it was awkward and strange. The restaurant in the boondocks, not introducing me to her acquaintance, and her unease in public spaces. I should have ended it right then and there. It took two more weeks and numerous slights later to call it off.

  I exhaled sharply and stared down at the text message. I didn’t have any regrets in calling off our relationship. The Colette of my dreams was not the Colette of my reality. I would be a fool to hook up with her or take her back. I didn’t want to encourage her, I just wanted her to go on with her life and leave me alone.

  Jasmine

  Garrett was right. Getting up to speed at Dynex was like drinking from a firehose. In the first three weeks, a whirlwind of meetings with leadership teams caught and trapped Lilah and me. The place was a madhouse. I’d never received so many last-minute invitations for meetings and status updates.

  By our third meeting, it was apparent that the initial public offering was a money grab. The short timeline to payout had the executive team creaming in their pants. Not that I blamed them. It surprised me that materialistic people guided a company that prided itself on advancing science. Where was their concern for humanity?

  That little status report incident gave us a reprieve from grumpy Garrett. I took a professional risk with potentially upsetting the client, but there was no way we could do our jobs if he was going to be a hindrance. He was an ass for a few weeks but had backed off considerably. He was playing nicely in the sandbox, and having coffee with him seemed like a turning point in our working relationship. We were no longer mortal enemies.

  I hated to admit it, the guy wasn’t as big of an ass as I’d thought. He was quite the charmer and very likeable. Much of his conversation was business, but he had a wry wit that he’d liked to deliver with the perfect deadpan and a straight face. If I didn’t pay close attention, I might have missed some of his drollest remarks. But his pearly white grin always gave away his jokes. Once the team got to know him, Garrett quickly became a beloved member.

  I was elated with the change in his attitude. I was a step closer to achieving the target in the customer survey pillar.

  At the end of the fourth week, Garrett alerted me to an incoming invitation for a meeting with the officers and executive team. Sure enough, one hour later, we received the invitation. It was inconsiderate to request an update on such short notice, but given the extraordinary events we were going through, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

  He also mentioned that in the past, it had been a bloodbath, and because he had experience with the audience, he suggested we prepare the presentation together.

  We met in Garrett’s office. It was clear from the look on his face that he was as unhappy to put together a presentation on such short notice. I hoped he now understood my anger at his last-minute status reques
t.

  I took a seat at the conference table while he stood at the small wet bar. He frowned and typed furiously on his phone. He put it down, and the sound of light jazz filled the office.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I reached out for clarification on the goals of this meeting. It was like pulling teeth to get an answer.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have alkaline, sparkling, or spring water. Which would you like?”

  “Alkaline, please.”

  Fortunately for me, when he opened the mini-fridge, he leaned into it, giving me a complete mind-blowing view of his body. He was the way I liked ‘em—not too bulky and not too lean. The fabric of his button-down shirt stretched across his torso, and I imagined ripples of well-defined muscles underneath. My eyes followed the lines of his athletic body down to the perfectly fitted navy slacks. The fabric contoured to his thigh muscles, displaying an ass so firm that you could bounce a quarter off of it.

  Even when he’d acted like a jackass, I’d delighted in staring at him. He was a beautiful man.

  Damn it. I’m not supposed to like this guy.

  This was a low point in the life of Jasmine Carmichael. I didn’t ogle coworkers or fantasize about what they looked like naked. I was a professional—but damn, if I wasn’t a woman with needs.

  Get your head in the game, Jazzy. There’s a lot of work on your plate.

  He stepped over to the small, round table and placed the bottles of water on coasters.

  That’s when he did it. His left hand unbuttoned his right sleeve, and he carefully folded the cuff to his inner elbow. He then folded the bottom until it reached the top of his cuff, revealing the cords rippling through his muscular, tanned forearms.

  My heart raced, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t look away. The small, effortless move was so sexy. A short exhalation left my chest as I stared.

  Yeah. We’ll be getting a lot of work done.

  Still standing, he smoothed the edges of the folds. He smirked in an annoyingly self-confident way that dampened my panties. Then he repeated the action on his right arm. This time, he met my gaze and took his time rolling the sleeve, flexing the muscles in his forearms when he did it.

  He knew he was turning me on. And he enjoyed it!

  My god. Could this be more embarrassing? I imagined that I appeared wide-eyed and breathless while I squirmed in my seat.

  This celibacy thing wasn’t working for me. Ten months was far too long to go without dick. I wasn’t a nun or remotely pious. Travel for work put a damper on all romantic relationships. Every week, I was on an early Monday morning flight to a client site. Then, by late morning on Friday, I was back on the plane to Atlanta. I would collapse into my seat, exhausted. Then I’d spend the weekend preparing for my next week of travel and loading up on homemade food. It was difficult meeting a man, let alone keeping him interested.

  Damn, I’d take some time for myself tonight. I’d been neglecting my sexual needs and had now developed fantasies about my surly coworker conquering and controlling me. Popping one off was the only way I’d make it through this project without straddling his lap and humping him.

  I did a small shake of my head to clear my mind of the dirty thoughts running through it. He held my gaze and slid into the chair to my right. My brain performed an act of mental gymnastics to prepare a reasonable explanation.

  “I think we have the same watch. Hermès for Apple? How do you like it?” The words came out fast and desperate, far from my desired cheerful intent.

  “It’s great.” He smiled, amused. He should do that more. Far too often, he appeared distracted and stormy, but his smile bathed me in sunlight.

  “Yeah. I don’t wear mine for working out, because I don’t want to ruin it. Do you wear yours? I wear an old school heart rate monitor that straps across my chest. How do you record metrics from your workouts? I only ask because you look like you exercise. I’m assuming that you work out.” Everything I said was word vomit, dispensed in rapid-fire succession. What should have been a ripple, turned into a flood of words.

  What. The. Fuck?

  He gave me another smile, and this time, it was calming.

  “I also wear a heart rate monitor. Mine has an armband. It automatically downloads to my phone. I’m a member of the Chicago Running Club, and I’m part of a lifting squad. It’s a group of guys who inspire me to make gains in my weight workouts.”

  “I didn’t mean to be in your business. I don’t want to keep you longer than necessary. Why don’t we begin with talking through the root cause procedures?”

  “Great idea.” He opened his laptop and peered over the top. “Jasmine, I don’t mind if you ask personal questions. It’s nice to take a break from the business.”

  I should’ve spoken out and said something. Instead, I nodded, then cleared my throat. “I’ll share my desktop with you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I granted Garrett permission to view my screen and created a new presentation using the ER Wallace template. Garrett and I plugged in the data we’d received from Lilah and discussed which points to add. He sat within an arm’s length and I caught faint whiffs of his woody, aromatic aftershave. Mmm. It did nothing for my now drenched panties. Garrett Hamilton was a man. I was usually smooth and practiced, but around Garrett, I was transformed into that young girl wearing braces with colored bands who had a massive crush on Neil deGrasse Tyson.

  My brain was in a fog, and typos riddled my usually accurate typing. A task that should have taken thirty minutes took over an hour.

  When I finished the final slides, I nodded that it was ready for his approval.

  “Perfect. We’ve made quite the team,” he said.

  I looked down to disguise the flush I felt rolling a path from my ears to my mouth. Yep. I feel like the geeky college freshman tutoring the senior football player.

  The presentation was a success. Nic lobbed several hardball questions, but thanks to Garrett's foresight, we’d prepared for all scenarios. Like a petulant child, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms before falling back in her chair.

  He gave me a quick thumbs-up as we exited the boardroom, and once we were out of earshot, I held my hand up, and his palm met mine. The high-five echoed through the empty hallway.

  “I think we should go out for a celebratory burger and drink. The best burger place in the city is nearby. Would you care to join me?”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  HeidelBurger was a small family-owned bar and grill. The dark interior had brown leather booths and dark shiny wooden tables. The décor and the aroma reminded me of the places I frequented in college. Instead of t-shirt clad students, we were surrounded by men and women in corporate attire. It wasn’t even three-thirty, and the happy hour crowd had already packed the place.

  “The only seats available are at the bar.” The hostess was a petite brunette with heavily lined eyes and a no-nonsense attitude.

  “Jasmine, are you okay with sitting at the bar?”

  “Yes. That’s fine.”

  “Seat yourself.” The hostess yawned.

  Garrett gave me a quizzical, yet humorous look before he gestured for me to lead the way. I guided us to the first available barstools. I hung my purse on the brass hook and inched my way onto the seat.

  In the bar area, a group of younger women took shots like it was a sport, a few tables of businessmen drank beer while pretending to ignore their presence, and then there was Garrett and me, looking awkwardly around the bar.

  “Hot greasy burgers are their specialty, and there’s a wide assortment of beer on tap.” He handed a long slender menu to me.

  “What’ll you have?” The tall, dark-haired bartender asked.

  “I’ll have a Coca-Cola,” I answered.

  “I’ll have a Tito’s and Soda. Make it a double.” Garrett smirked before turning his attention to me.

  “Oh. In that case, I’d like to add a glass of The Seven Deadly Zins.” I hadn’t be
en sure if this was a business outing. I couldn’t let the man drink alone.

  “Good choice. I’ll be back in a second.” The bartender walked away.

  “I’ll have a Coca-Cola.” Garrett mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “I love your Southern accent.”

  He loves my Southern accent. I stifled my grin but failed miserably. Instead, I looked down at my menu and pretended to read it. After a few moments, I turned to face him. He eased back on his stool and turned his body toward me. I felt brave and safe sitting with him at the bar, so I asked what was on my mind.

  “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”

  He raised a brow, but then shrugged and indulged my effort at getting to know him.

  “Why don’t I show you?” He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket, scrolled through photos, and turned the phone toward me. The picture was of his family, dressed in matching white shirts and blue jeans. “My parents, Julia and Andrew. My brother Kyle and sister Amaya.”

  “You are the all-American family.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” He looked at the photo with pride. “As a kid, I was a scholar-athlete, All-American in lacrosse. My parents would tell you I was an absolute joy. Kyle was the handful. To my parents’ dismay, he would run around the neighborhood performing tricks on his board or bike. Then came the bleached blond hair and tattoos.” He swiped his finger to the next photo and presented a picture of a blonde mohawked skateboarder catching air.

  “He’s a beast. Three years ago, he dropped out of college to join the pro-skateboarder circuit. Now he lives in a corporate-sponsored mansion in Los Angeles with six other guys. He’s engaged to a photographer he’s known since high school.”

  “That’s awesome. You two are so different.”

  “That we are. Amaya is more my twin. She attends Michigan.” He looked me in the eye and laughed. “She’s in her second year of the pre-med program. She wants to be a dermatologist. She’s goal-oriented and driven. You remind me of her.”

  He thinks I’m goal-oriented and driven. He’s a smart man.