by M. E. Carter
“I’ve heard more people talk about this free alcohol. Is it really that good? Or is it good because it’s free?” I chuckle despite myself.
“Both, I guess. But there’s a shit ton of it, so…”
“Great. I’ll be throwing them back after this ordeal for sure.”
We hang out in silence a little longer, listening to the sounds of the party below us. I’m not sure what song is being played, because the bass of the band creates a hollow sound inside the elevator, making it impossible to distinguish any words.
“Well,” I finally say with a sign. “What shall we do while we wait?”
He rustles around before he speaks, his voice carrying from a different angle now. “Cop a squat. Pull up a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” Pause. “This could be a while.”
ADAM
“This could be awhile.” The woman repeats.
I have no idea who it is, but she works on my floor and is wearing a red dress and sexy, black heels. I saw at least that much when she hopped into the elevator. The long, toned legs. The swish and sparkle of her skirt.
I wish now that I hadn’t had my head buried in my cell phone—the phone rendered fucking useless from lack of satellite signal in this stuffy car—I’d just been lifting my eyes when the lights blacked out.
“I mean, not to be a drag, but we might as well sit.” Shit, she’s wearing a dress. “Are you okay sitting on the floor in that dress?”
“It’s okay. I can always take it to the dry cleaners.” A sniffle in the dark. “Not to be a downer, but it’s brand new. I bought it special for tonight.” A long, heavy sigh. “At least it’s comfortable, right?”
“What does it look like?” Shit, why did I just ask that? Like I care what her dress looks like.
I can hear her smiling in the dark. “It’s Christmas red. Well, technically that’s not the name of it, but that’s what I’m calling it. It wraps around the waist, and the belt has the smallest, glistening rhinestones on it. Just like the ones sewn into the pleats.”
“I didn’t see it,” I admit. “I just saw the button when you walked in, but I’m sure its real…uh. Pretty.”
Probably sexy, too, judging by her legs alone.
“It is.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll be out of here soon enough. I doubt we’ll miss the entire party.” Just most of it, unless we have to spend the night—but I keep that part to myself.
“I hope not. I was on my way to meet someone.”
“Yeah, me too.” My stomach growls then, and thank god for the pitch black because I blush a bright red, something I swear I haven’t done in years. “Do you happen to have any food in your purse? Apparently, I’m starving.”
I hear the snap on her purse click, then some riffling. “I always keep a protein bar with me. Want to split it? Or should we ration it into small pieces, just in case.”
The crinkling of a plastic wrapper tickles my ears.
I laugh. “I think we’re safe just splitting it down the middle.” I hold out my hand in the dark, and then remember she can’t see me. “I’m over here, holding my hand out like the begger that I am.”
“Hold on, let me find you.” A hand grazes my arm. Latches on, feeling down my forearm. Slowly then, sliding the rest of the way down. “Um. There you are, haha.” She coughs, fingers feeling for my open palm. The protein bar gets placed in the center. “I hope that’s half.”
I lift it to my mouth, taking a bite. “Mmm, tastes like filet.”
Whoever she is, she thinks I’m funny, and laughs. “Mine tastes like…” She chews, and I can hear her swallow dramatically. “Blueberries and cream. Wait. Now it tastes like mash potatoes!”
“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Good one—real clever.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you just wink at me in the dark?”
She laughs again. “No! Why would you ask me that, weirdo.”
I consider her question, shrugging. “It just seems like it would have been an appropriate time to wink at someone.”
“Yeah, good point. Wink wink.” She pauses. “There, that better?”
“Ma’am, if you’re flirting with me, your attentions have gone unnoticed.”
More chewing. “Because of the dark?”
“Totally because of the dark.”
“Well, I’m a horrible flirt, so the dark hardly signifies. But thanks for saying so. I could use the confidence boost.”
“I think you’re doing okay so far.” I hear the sound of her wiping her hands off on something—I doubt it’s her skirt, and wonder if she has a napkin or something.
“Just okay? That’s because I’m not flirting. I can’t even see you.”
“So? You can flirt with someone you’ve never met, trust me.”
“Are you talking about online dating?” She sounds skeptical.
“Yup. Or messaging someone.”
It sounds like she’s leaning closer, her whisper coming out of the dark. “I’ll tell you a little secret, if you swear not to tell anyone.”
I shiver despite the stuffiness inside the elevator car.
I nod. “Deal.”
“Okay. But remember, we’re in this together, because we’ve been stranded together. No man left behind, got it.”
No man left behind. Now where have I heard those words before?
“I’m meeting someone tonight that I…met on the IOM.” She exclaims in a rush, clamping her lips shut.
Drawing back, my back hits the cold wall of the small room. “I’ll tell you a little secret, if you swear not to tell anyone.” I repeat the words back to her.
“I’m nodding in agreement,” She teases. “Spill.”
“So am I.”
“You’re nodding in agreement, too?”
I laugh. “No, I’m meeting someone tonight that I met on the IOM.”
Silence.
It stretches on. And on.
“Hello?” Did she pass out? Fall asleep?
“I’m here,” she says out of the dark.
“Okay, well—”
“—What’s your IOM username?”
Ahhhh…now it’s making sense. She thinks I’m the person she’s going down to meet. “MentorTeam2—”
“—259.” She finishes for me. I think she leans back now, too. I hear her back hit the wall next to me. “Hi.”
“McGinnis983?”
Yes, I realize I’m slow to the uptake, but I’m a guy. I can’t help it.
“Yes.”
“Well shit. What are the odds.”
“Horrible odds. And yet…here we are.”
I want to ask her name, but don’t want to spoil the moment. Despite being hungry and stranded in a dark, musty, and old-as-hell elevator car, I’m actually having fun.
“Now I really wish I hadn’t been on my phone when you got in,” I blurt out. “I saw the bottom of your dress. I’d love to see the top.” Jesus, that sounded perverted. “Shit, that’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe next time you’ll pay more attention. And anyway, if we had met by the tree tonight, what would we have actually done? Stood there awkwardly and made small talk?”
I’m terrible at small talk. Business? Yes. Contracts? Yes. Multi million dollar negotiations? Yes.
Small talk? No.
“I don’t know about that. I’d have bought you at least a few drinks, though.”
“The drinks are free!” A giggles escapes her. “There’s a band downstairs. We could have danced?”
Mmmm, doubtful. I don’t dance; at least, not on purpose. “Maybe. Or…we could have gone somewhere quiet to talk.”
“We are somewhere quiet to talk.”
“True.”
“And we’re alone.”
“True.”
“What if I’m a troll?”
Trust me, I want to say. I’ve thought of that, over and over since asking you to meet me downstairs. “You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
I inhale. “I
caught a glimpse of your legs.”
“My legs?”
“Yup. They’re showstoppers.”
“Wow. That’s…thank you.” Her voice is breathless and bashful.
I can’t help laughing. “Are you blushing?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I have a question for you.”
“Go.”
“What made you ask me to meet you tonight. Knowing it was against company policy and breaking the confidentiality agreement?”
Good question. I consider my answer before responding. “Well…despite the fact that we’d already broken numerous policies, I don’t know. I was curious and—we’d been messaging each other for awhile now, and every time you have a question it turns into a conversation.”
“Mmmhmm.” She hums.
“Besides. I…well. I don’t have the best luck with women. It’s easier when it’s not face-to-face.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—for a few months, there was someone in the office I started thinking about a lot, but never quite got up the nerve to talk to, and recently I saw her with someone else, so…Anyway. I can negotiate the shit out of player’s salary, but when it comes to women? Women I’m actually interested in? Let’s just say I don’t do well on the approach.”
“Want to practice on me, now? What would you say if this woman was sitting in front of you?”
“I don’t—I don’t know. Hi?” I swear, if she laughs at me...
She laughs. “How about, “Lovely evening for a party, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that would work. Then what if I said, “You look especially lovely this evening.””
“Well, you could say that, but now you’re just repeating yourself. Lovely and evening? Er. You can do better.”
“How about, “You know, I’ve been watching you for a while now…””
“No!” Her voice rings out of the dark, all laughter and hilarity. “God no, you can’t say that. It’s creepy.” Then, “Shit. You’re not a stalker, are you?”
“No!” Now it’s my damn turn to sound indignant. “No, but I can see everything from my office, so it’s easy to see what everyone’s doing. Including her.” Crap. The last thing I want is for McGinnis983 to think I’m pining over some office girl—Meg—when in fact, I’m warming to the idea of getting to know her.
“Okay, you get one more chance. Sweep me off my feet. I mean—not me. Her. Us. I mean. I’ll stop talking now…”
I clear my throat. “Uh, hey. Hi. Can I buy you a drink or something? You look…amazing tonight, and I know this might seem random, but I’ve actually been thinking about coming over here for a while now but needed something to drink first. So sorry this took so long.”
“I was wondering when you’d come over.”
“You were?”
“Yes.” Is it just me, or does she sound wistful?
I move my hand then, it makes its way across the hard floor. Slides across the ground until it finds her fingers.
I touch them, hoping she won’t pull away.
She doesn’t.
Instead, her fingers cover mine, and then they’re intertwined.
“I know you don’t know me from Adam,” inside, I chuckle at the cleverness of my own joke. “But can I kiss you?”
“Please tell me you want to kiss me and that we aren’t practicing.”
“I want to kiss you. If you want to pretend, you can pretend there’s mistletoe hanging above us.”
“Kissmas Eve,” she sighs.
“Kissmas Eve?”
“Yeah—that’s what I call it when I hang decorations in my condo; the night I put up the mistletoe.” I hear her grinning as she recalls the details. “I usually have a party with a bunch of friends—I kind of go overboard when it comes to the holidays, and Christmas is my favorite. So I love to celebrate.”
“That’s…kind of cute.” Then I scoot closer, until our hips are pressed together. Twist my torso until I’m facing her in the dark. Run my hand up her arm, gliding it up the soft cotton of her dress. Her skin is warm, the fabric smooth as silk. When both my hands are cupping her neck, I lean in, settling my mouth on hers.
I don’t have to search to find it—its like our lips just knew.
Chapter 5
Meg
“You can take my heart. Just don’t take my stapler.”
Our lips touch.
Once. Twice.
Tentative at first, until my lips part. Then his mouth is covering mine and we’re kissing—kissing like mad in the dark, only the sounds of our heavy breathing filling the otherwise silence.
It’s incredible.
My heart beats, wildly, and every cliché I’ve ever read about wiz through my mind: girl who loves Christmas but is unlucky in love? Check. Girl who longs for the office hottie, but can’t get lucky in the end? Check. The ‘stuck in the elevator’ plot. Check.
“When we get out of here, I’m going to take you on a date,” MentorTeam259 says in between kisses.
“What if I’m too old for you? For all you know, I’m Kenneth Hobbs sixty-year-old secretary.”
“Then Gloria, I hope you like steak, because that’s what we’re eating when I take you out.”
He kisses the laugh off my mouth with a groan, his fingers finding their way into my long hair. “Please tell me your name’s not Gloria.”
“My name’s not Gloria,” I mutter. Moan.
“Thank god.” He goes in for another deep kiss.
Then.
Suddenly, like in the movie, the lights flicker.
Flicker, dim, then come on blazingly bright, just like you knew they would.
I feel myself blink out the blinding light, trying to focus on the face in front of me. The large hands caressing my skin.
I know that face.
I am half in love with that face.
“Adam?” His name is a barely audible gasp.
His eyes are wide with shock, hands still in my hair.
“Megan?”
This entire time, I’ve been sitting on the floor, in the pitch black elevator car, talking and flirting and laughing and with Adam Roberts. Adam. Roberts. The guy I spend half my professional career staring at longingly but haven’t actually talked to.
He grin is less than shy. “I didn’t know you knew my name.”
How is that possible? “How could I not? You’re directly across the hall from me.”
My heart takes an extra beat. “I didn’t know you knew my name.”
“How could I not? You wear the most festive outfits of anyone I’ve ever met.”
I feel my own face fall. Of course that’s how he associates me—that’s how everyone in this office knows me. He’s probably made his own bets on what I’m wearing tomorrow. I wonder briefly if he’s won any money, but when I feel a stab of disappointment run through me, I push the thoughts away.
“You look really beautiful tonight.”
I glance up at him.
I wasn’t expecting that.
“Thank you. So do you. Very handsome.”
He chuckles, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose. “Thanks.”
Adam looks around the elevator briefly. “I wonder if the lights coming back on means we’re going to start moving soon.”
I kind of hope we don’t. Now that I know it’s Adam, I kind of hope we stay dangling in midair, defying a plummeting death, all in the name of clandestiney, should the hydraulics go the same way as the electrical has. To shit.
Ok, I change my mind. I don’t hope we stay trapped in this deathtrap.
But I do hope Adam wants to hang out for a while longer. Kiss me more.
Somewhere safer.
“How long do you think we’ve been stuck?” I ask as we stand up, since I don’t have a watch or my phone handy.
He looks at his wrist to check the time. “About an hour. Not too late to hit the party; now I can buy you that drink.”
Adam finally drops his hands, my eyes land on them, searching for a
wedding band. I don’t find one, but my stomach still plummets. “Wait. No. We can’t. You’re…married, right?”
Oh god, I’m a home wrecker!
He gives me a quizzical look. “Married? What gave you that impression?”
I snap my mouth shut. Shit. Why did I say anything? Now he’s going to think I’m a creepy stalker. Think, Meg, think.
“Um, I saw you at the mall last night buying toys for kids. I just assumed that meant you had a few.” Please tell me I’m wrong, please tell me I’m wrong…
He smiles. “I was buying a couple gifts for Jason Hart’s kids. I don’t have any myself—not yet anyways.”
My ovaries flutter.
“Or a significant other of any kind—I would never cheat one someone I was in a relationship with. Never.”
I know what he’s thinking; that we see so much of it at work. Athletes and talent cheating on their spouses and needing us to cover it up. Damage control is only part of the game when dealing with high profile celebrity athletes. Trust me, our Public Relations department works around the clock to make some of those guys—who cheat on their spouses regularly—look like saints.
My heart soars.
His hands fall to his sides, and he stuffs them in the pocket of his slacks. The same clothes he wore to work—dammit Sheila!
“Anyway,” he’s saying. “I could say the same about you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Aren’t you seeing someone?” He scratches his chin. “I saw you at the mall last night, too. Getting a picture taken with Santa. Who’s your boyfriend?”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking if Santa is my boyfriend? Because rest assured, I would have gotten that pony I asked for if he was. And since I don’t have that pony…well, you can come up to your own conclusions.”
I snicker.
“I wasn’t asking about that perv.” I frown at him, not quite understanding why he holds such distain for the man in red. “I was talking about the tall dude you left Santa’s workshop with. That guy.”
Who on earth is he talking about? What tall dude? There’s no one that I…
Ah. Now I know who he’s talking about. “Cody? My next door neighbor?”