Switch

by Adriana Locke

  “You got me.”

  I take a sip of my tea, the honey at the bottom of the cup oozing to the top, touching my lips. “Tell me you at least had something crazy for breakfast.”

  “Define crazy.”

  “Kid’s cereal. Stuffed French toast. Biscuits and gravy.”

  “I haven’t had kid’s cereal since I was a kid.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not a kid.”

  “That makes no difference,” I point out. “Those chocolate pebbles are the best thing ever. Let them sit in the milk until they’re a little soggy and . . . oh my goodness.”

  “I used to like the fruity ones. Only as soon as they hit the milk, though. I hate them soggy.”

  A smile touches my lips as I imagine Graham as a little boy, eating cereal as fast as he could. It’s adorable, probably even less adorable than it really was.

  “Well, I had chocolate chip pancakes with butter and syrup,” I tell him. “Not much more adultish than chocolate cereal.”

  “I haven’t had pancakes in forever.”

  “Who are you?” I joke. “What do you even eat?”

  “I had a blueberry muffin this morning. And a bowl of oatmeal.”

  “So boring.”

  He laughs. “So true.”

  “Maybe I’ll bring you some pancakes tomorrow morning. I feel like you’re deprived.”

  “Oh, so you’re coming in to work tomorrow, huh?” he singsongs. “Good to know.”

  “Someone didn’t accept my intent to resign.”

  “Someone was bluffing with her intent to resign.”

  I blush because he’s kind of right. I didn’t want to resign, but I absolutely would have if it would’ve made things easier. But talking to him today doesn’t feel awkward. Maybe it even feels easier.

  “I wasn’t exactly bluffing.”

  “You were,” he says simply. “But I’ll tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I like the way you bluff.”

  “I like the way you do a lot of things,” I say quietly.

  “You’re pretty well-versed in a number of things as well.”

  Standing, I head towards the lake and consider my next move. I’m not sure where to go with this, so I change the subject.

  “One thing I don’t do well is ski,” I say randomly. “I wish I could.”

  “Where the hell did that come from?”

  “I’m looking at the lake and thinking about the last time I water skied. It was a couple of years ago and I thought I was going to drown. I never did stand for more than a few seconds.”

  “We go out every summer and fuck around,” he says. “I love to water ski. Snow ski. It takes focus and quiet and most of it is in your mind.” He pauses for a long moment. “Maybe someday I can give you a lesson or two.”

  “That could be a summer bonus. Three free ski lessons.”

  “I never said they were free.”

  Taking a sip of my tea to wet my throat, I try to wrap my head around what that means.

  He groans into the phone. “My father is calling. We’re working on a charity thing for Lincoln, so I really need to take it.”

  “Go,” I say. “Take it. I’m glad you found the paper you were looking for.”

  “Me too.”

  The way he says that makes me think it was never lost, but I’ll never be sure.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.

  “At eight sharp.”

  “Goodbye, Graham.”

  “Bye, Mallory.”

  Mallory

  I WOKE UP WITH A smile. On a Monday. This surely means the world is ending.

  My tea in hand, my hairbrush standing in for a microphone in the other, I dance around my apartment singing nineties music while I get ready for the day.

  While my moisturizer sinks in, I check my email. My inbox has a few junk mail pieces, but buried between them is a notification from the local university. I click it, humming the chorus to a song about opinions being like assholes.

  It’s a breakdown of their undergraduate degrees and an online form to begin the application process.

  Turning the music down and placing my tea on the counter, I go back to the form. Could I do this? Am I ready for this?

  It was great in theory when I sent in the request form, thinking it would get lost in online traffic and I could say I tried. But it’s here. Looking at me. And all of a sudden, things seem real. And terrifying.

  What if I do it and fail? What if I get in it and hate it? What if I can’t hack it?

  What if I really am the little poor girl from the trailer park with parents that can already say, “Told ya so”?

  Exiting out of the program, I down the rest of my tea and then head back to the bathroom. As I flip through my lipsticks, I think about Graham.

  He’s unlike Eric or the guy I dated briefly before him when I was eighteen. Graham is mature. Confident. He’s in charge, but not in a stroppy way. After you break through all that obsessive and relentless attention to detail and being a total control freak, he’s fun. I bet he’s even sweet.

  Plucking out a new tube I got yesterday, I know it’s the right shade.

  Red. I’m definitely going with red.

  It’s the color of ripe cherries and I love it. I count to thirty, not letting them touch, and do another layer. Once that’s dry, I swipe on some gloss and check out the entire ensemble in the mirror.

  It’s just what I was going for. Professional and studious, yet just a little sexy flair with the red lips, slightly off-the-shoulder top, and the highest heels I own that are daytime appropriate.

  A bubble of anxiety rustles in my abdomen and as hard as I try to ignore it, it’s there. I feel it, nestled heavily in my stomach. I’m not sure what part of it I’m most nervous about. He clearly wants me to come back to work, but I’m terrified it will be weird even though talking to him yesterday helped.

  Then it hits me. That’s why he called me. To make it less weird.

  A full-body shiver takes over and I force the scent of him out of my thoughts. I can’t. Today, I’m determined to be Mallory Sims, Administrative Assistant extraordinaire. I will resist his power. I will not succumb to his prowess.

  Yeah, right.

  He fucked me on his desk. I’ve seen him naked. He’s felt me in ways only three men in my life have.

  I don’t feel ashamed or guilty. Eric would call this “whore-ish” behavior, but it doesn’t feel that way at all. It’s fun. Liberating. It makes me feel wanted and I like it. A lot.

  I just need to keep that in check.

  Leaving the bathroom, I try not to trip over the cord to my curling iron.

  Ten minutes later, I’m in my car and on my way to Landry Holdings to see what will happen. I’ll just read his cues and go from there.

  “You’re not late.”

  I jump at his voice, although I knew he was watching me. His door was open when I arrived and I pretended not to notice.

  When I look at him, leaned against the doorframe, every bit of willpower is out the window right along with any lockdown I may have thought I had on my libido.

  Fitted black suit pants and jacket with a light blue shirt and straight black tie make him look like the CEO he is while teasing me with what I now know is beneath. The sexiest thing he’s wearing, though, is a smug look on his handsome face. Monday morning has never looked so good.

  “Good morning to you too,” I say, rolling my eyes like I’m not affected by him. “Glad you noticed my punctuality.”

  “And here I was hoping you’d be late and you disappoint.”

  My belly clenches. “I can’t work over tonight. I’ll aim for disappointment tomorrow.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I have places to be.”

  He strolls predatorily to the front of my desk and plants his hands in front of me. Leaning in, his eyes picking up the blues in his shirt, he narrows them. “And why is that?”

  “I
have plans.” I enunciate every syllable, letting my lips fall in a pout. He notices. The wheels turning in his head, he thinks for a long moment before responding.

  “And what may those be?” he asks.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “You’re damn right I do.”

  I lean in so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my face. “I teach yoga tonight, Mr. Landry. Is that all right with you?”

  “Is this a co-ed class by any chance?”

  “Why? You wanna come?”

  His chest rumbles, his gaze turning wicked. “Oh, baby, do I ever.”

  “I—”

  A sound booms behind Graham, interrupting me. Graham shoves off my desk and I look around him to see Ford walking in.

  “Did I interrupt something?” he grins.

  “Just letting Mallory know you and Dad are coming in this morning to go over the final security plans. She’s making sure my morning is open until lunchtime.” He glances at me and I nod. “What time is Dad coming?”

  “He should be here any minute.” Ford stands alongside his brother and smiles knowingly at me. “How are you?”

  “Good.” I return his smile and keep it as un-noteworthy as possible. As much like my thighs aren’t burning to be separated by his brother as I can manage. “How are you this morning?”

  “Not as good as you, I don’t think.” He tosses me a wink before looking at his brother. “I’ll wait in the conference room. Are we using the one down the hall?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be in there in a few minutes. Let me take care of a few things and grab the files.”

  “You go take care of those things. I’d hate for you to be distracted.” Ford leaves, chuckling under his breath.

  Once he’s gone, Graham shoves his hands in his pockets and turns around. He studies me carefully, like he’s not sure what to say.

  “Graham, listen,” I begin, “I’m sorry about all this. I mean, I’m not sorry. Friday was amazing. I might have . . .” I start, then stop.

  “You might have what?” he smirks.

  “Nothing,” I smirk back. “On a serious note, I don’t want this to blow back on me. I need this job. I like working here. Maybe we could transfer me to another department or something.”

  He bites the inside of his jaw. “No,” he says on an exhale. “That’ll never work. I think that would cause more problems than just leaving you here, actually.”

  “Really? I was thinking maybe it would just put us out of sight, out of mind.”

  “I didn’t see you all weekend and I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he admits guiltily.

  Forcing a swallow, I try to keep myself steady. The air thickens around us, white noise flowing passed my ears. “I couldn’t get you out of mine either.”

  “We’ve found ourselves in a predicament.” He sits on the corner of my desk, his face sobering. “I need a little bit of time to get this figured out. I need you to work here. You fit in our company perfectly. But I do need to concentrate and I don’t know how to swing that.”

  Our gazes hold on to the admissions, the energy between us crackling. His features soften and I want to reach out and touch his face, feel the smoothness of his cheeks, but I don’t.

  “Is my schedule clear today?” he asks.

  “I cleared it on Friday. Ford called and mentioned the meeting, so I went ahead and rearranged things. I also dug out a few files I thought we may need based on my conversation with your brother.”

  Graham’s brows shoot to the ceiling. “Very good.” He stands and disappears into his office. When he returns, he motions for me to follow. “This should take most of the morning. Take notes, ask questions if you don’t understand something, and try to breathe.” He leans in and smiles. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “Will do. And Graham?” I ask when his hand hits the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to know something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You look incredible today.”

  The corner of his lip tugs up. “Thank you. So do you.”

  “I’m not sure how I’m going to handle this visual and then seeing you in action. I might have to, you know . . .” I wink.

  His eyes blaze, his hand falling off the door. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “No, probably not,” I shrug playfully.

  “Don’t you even think about it.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t technically be in your office, so it wouldn’t be against the rules.”

  “The rules are now amended to include all Landry property,” he declares.

  I sigh, looking at him through my lashes.

  “Mallory, for the love of God, stop fucking with me. I need to concentrate.” The door flies open and we start down the hall. Employees step to the side as we make our way down, mutterings of “Good morning, Mr. Landry” with a few swoons from women clasping notebooks to their chest can be heard as we pass by.

  Once we reach the end of the hallway, he turns to me. “Behave.”

  Before I can answer, the door is open and inside we go.

  Mallory

  A LONG, MARBLE TABLE THE color of sand extends the length of the conference room. Ford and his father sit across from each other, Graham and I sit at either end.

  The security meeting has lasted three hours, most of which I’ve sat and watched Graham in action. His brain works so fast, his intelligence so apparent, that I’m awestruck. I’ve worked with bright men before, but nothing like this. He’s on another level with facts, figures, insight that blows my mind. How does one man, at his age, no less, have so much knowledge?

  Everything Ford or Mr. Landry ask, Graham has the answer. He seems to have thought and researched this from every possible angle and I’m beyond impressed.

  And beyond turned on.

  “All we need to close up this piece are the numbers for the insurance. Do you have them?” Mr. Landry asks, turning to Graham. He starts to flip through his files, his forehead crinkled perfectly.

  He doesn’t have them. I do. In our little banter this morning, he left them on my desk.

  “You had me bring them, Graham,” I say, sliding the file to his father. “Remember?”

  A look of relief washes over his face. “Thank you, Mallory.”

  “You’re welcome. Also,” I say, pulling out a notepad, “I found this in Linda’s drawer. It looks like there were notes taken by someone at some point in a meeting about training courses and different licenses.”

  “We’ve been looking for that!” Ford exclaims as I scoot the legal pad down the table to him. “We’ve looked everywhere. With Graham’s assistant merry-go-round, we didn’t know where these went.”

  “They were in a file buried in the back of my desk,” I explain. “There’s no notation on them at all to indicate what they’re for. I just knew because I’ve been working with you all on this.”

  Mr. Landry peers at me much the same way Graham does. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Not long,” I reply, looking at Graham. He’s almost beaming at me. “A couple of weeks.”

  “I like you,” he says, almost like an afterthought as he flips through the file. “These insurance numbers look great. Let’s get some lunch and then get started on location. I really like that one downtown, but I know Ford prefers the one on Woodrose Avenue.”

  They all start to stand and I clear my throat. “I hope it’s not out of line, but I ordered you all lunch. It should be here in about twenty minutes.”

  “You did?” Graham asks.

  “You told me this would last through the morning,” I shrug. “Not taking a lunch break will expedite this. That’s what you want, right, Ford?”

  “Yeah,” he says, grinning at me. “Thanks, Mallory.”

  “No problem.”

  “Graham, if you ever want to get rid of Mallory, I’ll take her.”

  Graham flashes his brother a look that only makes him laugh.

  “I was kidding,” For
d says, “but not kidding. If this doesn’t work out,” he says, looking at me, “I have this company I’m starting . . .”

  “She’s employed,” Graham says.

  “Boys,” Mr. Landry interjects, silencing them both, “she’s sitting right here.” He looks at me and smiles. “And she’s not stupid. If you need a job, I’ll hire you.”

  We all laugh before they return to their discussions about location and square footage, and I find myself spacing out while I watch my boss. His fingers twist a pen, flipping it back and forth, while volleying ideas with his family members. The way they defer to him, ask for his opinions, the way he’s ready with a plan for every possible path is such a turn-on.

  I take my hands off the table and place them in my lap.

  The movement gets Graham’s attention, but he doesn’t miss a beat. He continues his little speech on utility prices, his eyes trained on mine. I hold his gaze, widening my eyes, teasing him. I could never go through with this here, not in front of his brother and father. But he doesn’t know that. And this is fun.

  Graham’s head cocks to the side in a silent warning, and I can’t help but smirk. I wiggle my eyebrows and watch his lips press together. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat.

  I form an “o” with my lips and wink at Graham. That does it. In one swift movement, he stands. His brother and father lean back, puzzled.

  “Is everything okay?” Mr. Landry asks. “Graham?”

  “I need to get something from my office. Excuse me,” he gruffs, storming out the door.

  I bolt upright, not sure what to make of that. When they look at me, I shrug. “He didn’t have a lot of coffee this morning,” I offer weakly.

  Ford chuckles. “He seemed a little preoccupied when I got here today. I think he was focused, and I know when I’m thinking about work like that,” he grins cheekily, “coffee gets easily overlooked.”

  “Graham does have a drive that’s hard to find,” Mr. Landry offers.

  Ford tries to stifle a laugh. “Would you agree, Mallory?”

  “Most definitely,” I giggle.

  “He’s acting odd today,” Mr. Landry comments to Ford. “Is he acting all right with you?”

  “He’s fine, Dad. Don’t worry about him.”