Sexual Integrity

by J. A. Dennam

  Ethan gave her a salute from his dry haven and yelled, “Then again, maybe I’m not!”

  6

  “THERE SHE WAS, CAUGHT IN THE RAIN AGAIN, looking at me as if I had personally seduced Mother Nature into pissing all over her dramatic exit.”

  Shannon’s delighted laughter rose above the sounds of the few patrons milling and drinking around them. “Oh, Ethan, I would have loved to see that. What did she do next?”

  As they leaned against the bar together, Ethan’s eyes continued to scan the beer garden’s meager crowd for any pretty face that might take him away from Shannon’s. He’d found a few over the last couple of days, but none that interested him enough to take them home. Now his coworker’s presence in his favorite place to wind down was met with mixed emotions, especially since he couldn’t sleep with her. And that’s what he needed right now. A good lay. Maybe then he’d get Brooke Monroe out of his head.

  Why she was there in the first place was beyond all comprehension. Was it because his own problems had waned under the enormity of hers? Was it because she kept pushing him with that pointy little finger of hers until he said stupid shit like I felt sorry for you?

  God, he should have known better. If anyone understood the degrading nature of those words, it was him. How many times had he shunned the people he loved because he feared their pity?

  As if on cue, Ethan’s vision wavered a bit and the neon lights behind the bar began to spin. A slight shake of his head put everything back to rights…well, mostly. He should be grateful that his long bout of recovery had finally ended and that partial blindness was the only permanent byproduct of his accident. Brain surgery, traction, and months of rehab had provided a better outcome than what the doctors had predicted, at least. He was talking normally, walking, and—most importantly—driving. The fact he’d cheated on his vision test at the DMV was beside the point.

  With his mug to his lips, Ethan caught sight of a brunette over the rim whose pretty brown eyes grew heavy with suggestive promise. It was a look he’d seen countless times, one that had lost its power when shit got real. But his physical needs were fully recovered now, awake and kicking. They’d been ignored far too long, and it was beginning to affect his train of thought.

  A hand waved in front of his face. “I said, what did she do next?” Shannon repeated, still overcome with the giggles.

  With a pang of annoyance, Ethan brought himself back to the conversation at hand: Brooke Monroe, the little shrew he’d come here to forget. “She lifted that head of hers and leisurely walked to her car as if it were raining down sunshine.”

  Shannon’s mug lowered. “Really?”

  The memory spurred a chuckle, the brunette all but forgotten. “And get this,” he said. “The moment she got behind the wheel and shut her car door, boom! It stopped raining.”

  “No!” Shannon gushed.

  “I swear to God. It’s like Mother Nature actually does have a hit out on her.”

  When he took another long pull of beer, Shannon said, “Or that Mother Nature has a crush on you.”

  He swallowed loudly and nodded. “That’s also a distinct possibility.”

  She laughed again, but their shared hilarity died down to an uncomfortable silence. As Shannon looked at his hands, her mood sobered. “Are you worried at all that she might win the job out from under you?”

  The thought had crossed his mind now that Brooke had proven to be a worthy opponent. “Nah,” he answered with false nonchalance.

  “Why would Ken do that to you anyway, especially if she’s not qualified for it?”

  As he pondered Shannon’s question, all the resentment from that day at the restaurant came back. Ken Stevens—an objective man by nature—had sat across from him and explained how Ethan needed a challenge. The man had been a valued supporter; ever patient when Ethan was at his worst, he knew how restless he’d become. But there was another possibility he was forced to consider. “I think he feels sorry for her.”

  Shannon’s dubious look questioned that. “What if she does win?”

  Ethan recalled his private exchange with Ken after Brooke had left the conference room that first morning. “He told me I’d have two choices. I could go back home and be co-vice president of the Sioux Falls division or—”

  “Co-vice president?” Shannon screwed up her face. “You can’t work beside Jackie Jackhammer. It was hard enough working under her.”

  Ethan couldn’t agree more. “I know, I know. My other option is to stay on here and work under Brooke.”

  “Doing what?”

  He shrugged. “We’d still need a senior manager.”

  “You can’t be co-VP here?”

  “Nope. Not until our new baby grows up a bit.”

  Her brown eyes filled with what he never wanted to see again: sympathy. “Oh, Ethan. What do you think you’d do?”

  “I don’t know. But I can’t blame Ken for the outcome of something I agreed to.”

  She peered at him through her lashes. “But you aren’t worried.”

  “I’m not worried.” He took a long, liberal drink, praying for the alcohol to kick in soon. “What really chaps my ass is that I can’t look for a place of my own until I know for sure.”

  Shannon put her heavy mug on the bar and moved closer, placing a hand on his sleeve. “Keep your eyes open. She might try to cheat.”

  Something told him that Brooke wasn’t the type to do that. The one good quality about her naïveté was that it came with an innocence he almost…almost admired. Ethan looked down at Shannon’s hand as it inched up his forearm. “How would she cheat?” he asked.

  Her eyes also followed her touch. “I heard your potential client Romcore is looking at bids from another agency.”

  “So?”

  “When Ken fired the old staff, they scattered to who knows where. Brooke now has friends who work for other graphic design agencies.”

  “You’re suggesting she’s underhanded enough to leak information?” When Shannon answered with a pointed look, he shook his head. “She’d have to hack into your system—or mine—in order to obtain anything valuable.”

  “Or have her friend Roger do it.”

  She was right. If Brooke had it in her to cheat, it would be easy. “Keep my bids low enough and we’ll see what happens,” he suggested with a cocked eyebrow.

  “Can’t be too low or it’ll look like I’m biased.”

  Again, he looked down at her wandering hand. “Aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” Her answer came with seductive undertones that reminded him of the sex he hadn’t had in forever. “I don’t want to work under her either.”

  As the heat built in his crotch, Ethan had to remind himself again why he swore to never get into Shannon’s pants. It was more than just her friendship with Harper. As long as they worked together, their relationship needed to remain uncomplicated. She knew his feelings on the subject since they’d discussed them before.

  But the way she looked at his mouth indicated the woman didn’t care. He checked his watch and then downed the last third of his beer in one shot. “I gotta go.”

  “Ethan?”

  “What?” He slapped fifteen bucks on the bar, enough to cover both their drinks and a generous tip.

  “It feels really good to laugh with you again,” she said.

  “No, Shannon.”

  Her look intensified. “Ken never has to know.”

  “We aren’t sleeping together.”

  “You need it. I need it.” When he hesitated, she grabbed his sleeve. “It’s just sex. No strings attached.”

  With a will of iron, he very carefully removed her hand. “This place is full of easy men. Go find one and quit trying to complicate our friendship.”

  “You’d rather I sleep with a total stranger?” A hint of danger entered her eyes. “Don’t be an asshole, Ethan. If you keep turning me down, you’re going to miss out on the best booty call you’ve ever sunk your teeth into. Literally”

&
nbsp; Though he tried to let that one pass, he just couldn’t. Curiosity, lust, and a little bit of masochism begged the question: “What does literally mean?”

  Her smile had a feline quality that tightened his gut. “I like it rough,” she purred, “I like to be tied up. I like submissive roleplay. I like teeth marks on my ass.”

  Holy shit! Ethan could handle rough. Hell, rough was exactly what he needed in his current mood. As her gaze continued to bore into his, a white-hot need to drag her into the ladies room began to drown out all common sense. He swallowed it back, but not before the evidence began to show itself down below.

  “Say something.” Her voice had taken on a desperate tone. “Come on, after a confession like that, don’t leave me hanging.”

  Speechless, he decided not to even try and explain why he was turning her down again. But when he simply backed away, the flash of anger in her countenance was explanation enough.

  “Fuck you, Ethan,” she hissed. “Some day you’ll come crawling back and I’ll treat you like an asshole. See how you like it!”

  Friday morning rolled around, marking the end of the first half of Brooke versus Ethan. They’d managed to stay neck-and-neck throughout most of the week, and the pressure was beginning to have a strange effect on those keeping close tabs. Brooke knew most of the office was rooting for Ethan. He was good at charming the women and bonding with the men. She was good at bonding with her desk.

  Not that it would matter in the long run.

  In the break room, surrounded by acrid warmth and a hint of burnt popcorn, Brooke was reaching for the coffee pot when someone tapped her right shoulder. When she twisted around to look, Ethan moved in from the left, claiming the coffeepot first.

  “I think I still see a little wet behind the ears,” he murmured at close range.

  Brooke jumped back as if she’d been zapped and watched in dismay as he emptied the pot into his mug, leaving only a few drops for her.

  “And you call me immature,” she yelled as he strutted out of the break room.

  Monroe’s receptionist made it through the door before it closed. Letreece, showing off her curves in a red stretch tunic, tucked her lip between her teeth as she watched the man walk away. “Damn if that white boy doesn’t know how to fill out a suit,” she groaned.

  Brooke rolled her eyes as she dug the coffee out of the cabinet. “He’s a jerk.”

  “He’s not a jerk.” Letreece reached past her in search of a coffee mug. “I watched him ruin a perfectly good shirt to help that scary chick from creative get her car started yesterday. All the other guys walked on by without so much as offering a hand.”

  Ignoring the urge to ask questions, Brooke put on a mask of indifference and stifled a yawn. “Hmm. You must have watched for quite a while in order to know that.”

  “Hell yeah. An incredibly fine ass was hanging out from beneath the hood of a car, you know. After an eyeful of that, I was sweating more than my Mountain Dew.”

  A vivid picture of Ethan’s butt popped into Brooke’s head before she could stop it. The slight thrill that followed was dismissed as a brief moment of insanity. “Are you entirely ruled by your hormones, Letreece?” she asked with growing annoyance.

  The woman pushed herself up onto the countertop and gave her a once-over beneath shiny black bangs. “Maybe if you’d listen to yours once in a while, you’d get a crack at Mr. Wolf yourself.”

  “No thanks. I had one like him before.”

  “What happened?”

  “He got married on our wedding day.” She gave a dry smile. “Without me.”

  Letreece took the empty pot Brooke handed her and filled it under the faucet on her other side. “That’s harsh. No wonder you’re such a prude.”

  The accusation made her frown. “I’m not a prude.”

  “Come on, girl, everyone thinks you’re still a virgin.”

  It stunned Brooke for a moment that anyone would care enough to discuss it. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  The woman let out a lusty laugh. “Someone as uptight as you needs a man in her life.”

  Hearing her grandmother’s words regurgitated by Letreece made her lift her chin a notch. “I’m not uptight, just…very focused.”

  Letreece handed the full coffeepot back. “So I’m going to guess that your man left because you didn’t give him any booty.” Then she laughed at Brooke’s answering look of chagrin. “Every woman in my family has gone through divorce except for my Aunty June. You know what she told me?” When her question was met with silence, she answered anyway. “If you want a man to stick around, all you gotta do is feed him and fuck him. Simple as that.”

  Brooke made a sound of wry amusement as she carefully poured the water into the machine. “Your aunt sounds lovely.”

  “She’s a mean bitch.”

  The water dribbled over the side.

  “One time,” Letreece continued, “she whacked my Uncle Leroy upside the head with a two-pound bag of brown sugar. Poor man saw stars for three days.”

  Brooke tried to hide her laugh. “With brown sugar?”

  “Girl, that shit’ll fuck you up if there’s enough attitude behind it. It was a hell of a cleanup in aisle six that day, and I ain’t lying.”

  “And they’re still married?”

  She held up her hands. “Like I said, feed him and—”

  “Got it. Yeah…” Brooke tapped her nails on the countertop. “Only problem with your theory is that Brandon and I had plenty of…you-know-what.”

  Letreece hopped off the counter and leaned in close. “If you still call it you-know-what,” she whispered, “it wasn’t that good.”

  While the receptionist went about her business, Brooke frowned down at the coffee pot now filling with a stream of rich, brown liquid. Since Brandon was the only man she’d been to bed with, she had only assumed that the sex was okay. He had certainly seemed to enjoy it at least. Then again, it had always bothered him that she couldn’t have an orgasm….

  It had been a full ten minutes since her first attempt to fill her mug. By the time Brooke finally emerged with a full cup of java, the main work area had come alive with the beginnings of a new day. Since having her first friendly conversation with someone other than Roger, she felt a bit better about confronting all the new faces.

  But it still didn’t prepare her for the commotion coming from Ethan’s side of the partition, which had exploded with the pitter-patter of little footsteps and pixie-like giggles.

  “Come here, princess,” Ethan said with an air of excitement. “Give me a squeeze.”

  “I couldn’t find you!” came the voice of a small child.

  “Didn’t you notice the candy corn on my desk?”

  “It’s not in our magic dish.”

  When Brooke realized they were talking about the bowl of candy corn she’d defiled, her face flushed with embarrassed heat.

  Ethan cleared his throat, as if speaking directly to her through the wall. “I had to hide the magic dish from an evil sorceress.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes.

  “Why?” the child asked.

  “I caught her trying to poison our corn so I put it under lock and key.” He must have produced that key because the child made a sound of wonder.

  “Can I do it?”

  As they fiddled with the lock, a woman joined them. “Not exactly the breakfast of champions.”

  Though Brooke was curious, she refused to look up as Ethan greeted the woman with warm affection. Who was she, anyway? A girlfriend? An ex-wife? Probably, since Ethan had expressed a willingness to buy a drink for anyone who passed muster. Pig.

  “Where’ve you been?” Ethan asked.

  “In Shannon’s office catching up,” the woman answered. “What’s with the cubicle?”

  “Just a temporary arrangement. I was telling the princess here about the evil sorceress who’s out to get me.”

  “She poisoned our corn!” the little girl exclaimed through a mouthful of candy.


  Feeling as if she was about to face the firing squad, Brooke buried herself in her email, struggling to ignore the banter next door.

  “Well, she put a spell on my office too,” Ethan continued with a dramatic rumble in his voice.

  The child whispered, “Do you need my magic wand so you can turn her into stone?”

  He chuckled. “Nah. I’m going to defeat her the old-fashioned way, with my brains.”

  “I like my idea better,” the child replied, clearly disappointed by his lack of imagination.

  While they all laughed, Brooke sunk lower in her chair. Nothing like being stuck out in the open while the pot shots flew overhead.

  “Brooke, why don’t you stand up and meet my family?”

  The blood drained from her face. Was the man actually going to call her out in front of a kid? Introduce her as the mentioned evil sorceress?

  What…an…asshole.

  7

  AS BROOKE MENTALLY PREPARED HERSELF FOR A direct hit, someone entered her cubicle. She turned to give a hesitant look over her shoulder. There was a gorgeous, willowy blonde dressed in a chic shorts ensemble, regarding her with friendly curiosity.

  “Hi.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Ethan’s twin sister Harper.”

  Twin sister? Brooke caught the amused glint in Ethan’s eyes as he looked down at her from above the partition. “Uh…” She took his sister’s hand in a firm grip. “Brooke Monroe. Nice to meet you.” A little carbon copy of Harper appeared at her side and leaned against the woman’s legs. “And you must be the princess,” Brooke said.

  “Adrianna,” Ethan said. “My niece.”

  “Are you the evil sorceress?” the little girl asked through a mouthful of fingers.

  Ethan shook his head with a smile. “Come on now, does she look like an evil sorceress to you?”

  The little girl thought about it with a cute tilt of her head. “No.”