by J. A. Dennam
“Ethan.” Their lead illustrator threw a stiff, puny shadow. “We need to talk.”
Ethan strained to hear the conversation next door.
“You can tell your Romcore client to kiss my ass.”
“Huh?” he responded with divided interest.
“My time is not a bargaining chip. If Ken expects me to do his cover art for free in order to keep his business, I’ll take my talent elsewhere.”
It was the same song Ethan had heard before, and Bill’s complaints couldn’t have come at a worse time. Just as the man dropped his little bomb, Roger left. Frustrated and angry, Ethan shot from his chair, making Bill jump backward. He leaned in with a snarl. “I’ll look into it,” was all he said before storming toward the break room.
“And don’t throw that commission business in my face,” Bill yelled after him. “If you can’t keep a client, it’s hardly my fault!”
Since Bill was salaried, Master Ink owned the work he produced for them, not the other way around; therefore, Ethan couldn’t give two shits if Ken decided to give his work away for free. Let Bill quit. There was other secret-weapon-caliber talent out there that would welcome Ken’s fat paycheck.
Face to face with the vending machine, Ethan wanted to kick it. The few bits of conversation he’d picked up between Brooke and Roger revealed little, but it was probably better that way. If he could just take back the entire day…forget all about it…maybe he could enjoy a little blissful ignorance too.
An irritating blade of guilt wedged its way into his soul. He fought it back, told himself Brooke didn’t need to know. Leave it up to fate. If she was meant to go on thinking she’d just experienced a beautiful thing, then he was perfectly willing to let her. Because if he had his way, she’d never find out it wasn’t.
10
IT DIDN’T TAKE BROOKE LONG TO REALIZE THAT she actually loved the lingering sensation of a man between her legs. It was a raw kind of hurt that came after a long dry spell, but it was sweet enough to nurture the dreamy kind of memories a girl would want to relive.
Roger. Wow. Since when had he started lifting weights? She’d definitely expected a softer physique, but not having seen him without long sleeves, she just assumed he wasn’t the type. And the biting! The feel of his teeth grazing her skin had been incredibly arousing. It seemed Mr. Kerrigan possessed a dark side that Brooke found mouth-wateringly sexy.
As she wrapped up her last call for the day and shut down her computer, she had a thought about the man who sat quietly in the next cubicle. Ethan had barely uttered a word since their liquor-store challenge, reinforcing her belief that he was a hopeless sore loser. She didn’t doubt that he would pull no punches next week in order to gain the lead.
But she was ready.
She grabbed her purse and briefcase and turned off the light. As she passed his desk, she said jovially, “Have a wonderful weekend, Mr.Wolf.”
His lack of a response piqued her interest enough to make her backtrack a few steps. Indeed, she found him hunched over his desk, steeped in a cloud of what looked like dejection. It was so unlike him. It was…weird.
But Brooke felt so good, she actually thought of offering a kind word without the attitude this time. She opened her mouth.
“Are you lost, Monroe?” he growled, his back to her.
Ah. There he was: the Ethan she knew and hated. “Not anymore,” she answered, and then caught sight of the framed photograph of him, his family, and his racecar…or rather his shattered dream. Knowing something about those, Brooke decided to give the man a little slack, but only because she was in such a good mood. He was still a prick for accusing her of cheating, which had totally ruined any kind thoughts of him she’d developed after her conversation with Harper.
“Look, I know Ken is getting tired of the fighting,” she said with a sigh. “Frankly, so am I. If you’re willing, I’d like to get through next week without it.”
“Better late than never, I guess.”
His clipped response told her to go away. Rolling her eyes, she shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other and nudged him in the back. “I mean it, Wolf. Let’s just do our thing and then have the decency to congratulate whoever comes out on top.”
When he turned around, the burning fire in his eyes took her aback. He was quiet for so long, watching her, it seemed he wouldn’t answer. Then he stood up, moved close and propped an arm on the partition beside her. “Tell me something, Brooke.”
She blinked back a jolt of surprise. “What?”
“Would you really be able to work under me?”
His close proximity was messing with her concentration. She swallowed, decided to throw out a compliment and see if it stuck. “If you’re as good as everyone says you are, I guess I’d take it one day at a time.” Her lashes lifted to find him studying her. A shade of whiskers tinted his lower jaw, giving him a rugged appeal she’d never noticed before. “What about you? Would you be able to work under me?”
Instead of giving her an answer, Ethan looked up and around. After a moment of quiet reflection, his gaze returned, hooded and somewhat cold. “Don’t forget to bring a change of clothes on Monday.”
Taking that as a no, Brooke backed up a step, her own expression carefully blank. “Thanks for the reminder,” she said stiffly. “But when I make a deal, I honor it no matter what.”
When she left him there, she sensed him watching her until she was out of sight. Why did she let him unnerve her like that, even when she was in the best of moods? The man was incorrigible, throwing out a reminder of her failures when she’d extended something of an olive branch. That impending car wash had haunted her for days. The humiliation she would endure while he barked orders at her from his lawn chair…how could she endure it?
The elevator doors opened just as a solution presented itself. As she watched a delicious scenario play out in her head, other Friday stragglers who’d collected in the lobby walked around her and got on.
“Going down?”
Her focus returned to find several faces watching her with blatant irritation. “Oh!” she blurted with a nervous laugh. “Yes, sorry.”
Monday morning couldn’t come soon enough. Though Roger had been adorably humble about their sexual encounter, she was a bit disappointed he hadn’t tried to call her over the weekend. Then again, he knew all about her past with Brandon and probably thought he shouldn’t push. She’d been notoriously against office hanky-panky despite Brandon’s many attempts to get her into the darkroom. But now that she knew how good it could be, she wanted more.
Roger may be taking it slow, but she’d have him again soon, even if it meant adjusting her standards. This new feeling of freedom and empowerment was definitely worth the risk. He actually made her feel sexy, daring, and unafraid to try new things.
Amy had said it was just the orgasm talking. Even if that were true, who cared? Roger was the one who showed her it was possible to have one, and she’d make sure he gave her another—just not at work this time.
The plan was to take advantage of her moment of shame. Make a fine wine out of sour grapes. Monday after work when she was expected to wash Ethan’s car before a crowd of spectators, Roger would be among them as her only cheering section. If she had to get wet and dirty, it might as well end up with him hosing her down in her own shower. To accomplish that, Amy and Miranda had taken her shopping for the appropriate “carwash” attire. Nothing too sexy or revealing, just enough to pique Roger’s curiosity.
Finally, Brooke no longer cared if the coming workday ended in her favor or Ethan’s. It would end with a bang, and one she was bound to feel good about despite Ethan’s quest to humiliate her.
When she arrived at work, she left the elevator with her hair down and an unusually bright smile on her face. Letreece sat behind the reception desk checking messages with a yawn. “Good morning,” Brooke sing-songed on her way by.
The woman frowned. “Unless you got a Friday in your pocket, I don’t see what’s so good about
it.”
Brooke only laughed and waved without breaking her confident stride. Even the sight of Shannon propped on the corner of Ethan’s desk failed to stir her animosity, though it appeared she’d walked in on a tumultuous conversation. She put on her sweetest smile. “Trouble in paradise?”
Ethan, wearing a charcoal gray suit and tie that looked fantastically expensive, watched her closely. Too closely. Brooke stopped in her tracks. “Let me guess. You dressed for the occasion.”
“What occasion?” Shannon asked with her signature phony innocence.
Ethan’s gaze never wavered. “I even brought my lawn chair.”
He was goading her. Not thirty seconds into their first day of the week, and the jerk was determined to spoil her mood.
Shannon brightened suddenly. “Oh, the carwash.” Then she followed Brooke to her desk. “I hope you brought a change of clothes. You wouldn’t want to get that outfit dirty.”
Brooke looked down at the juniper-green pantsuit Miranda had picked out for her during their shopping spree. It was a form-fitting number that supposedly matched her eyes and complemented the reddish gold of her hair. “This old thing? It’s washable.”
“If I didn’t know better,” Shannon said with a tilt of her head, “I’d swear you actually look happy today.”
Brooke tossed her hair over a shoulder, opened her briefcase, and took out a small mesh bag. “I had a busy weekend. Probably got some sun on my face.”
Shannon sipped her latte as she continued her assessment of Brooke’s appearance. “No,” she said finally. “That’s not it. You look like a woman in love.”
The neighboring cubicle exploded with a round of choked coughs. Brooke stood on tiptoes and peered over the partition. “Something go down the wrong pipe?” Ethan nodded, still hacking into his hand. She brushed off his discomfort and tucked her small bag into the bottom drawer of her desk.
“You wore your hair down today,” Shannon continued with ruthless determination, “and I believe that black stuff on your lashes is actually mascara.”
“So?”
“So, I’ve never seen you in anything but that boring ponytail. And look at those shoes. Damn, girl, paired with those pants, they make your legs look a mile long.”
“Shannon, didn’t Ken want to see you first thing this morning?” came Ethan’s voice as Brooke sat down and looked at her beige heels with the gem-studded design. They’d been a present from her mother who had always wanted her to dress better. This was the first time she’d actually worn them.
Shannon whirled around, saw Ken entering his office, and jumped. “Oh, right. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” Brooke mumbled, turning on her light and computer screen. The woman had obviously been goading her since genuine compliments weren’t in her wheelhouse.
Seconds later, Brooke was going through her scheduled meetings for the week when Ethan appeared in her peripheral vision.
“Tell me you at least brought a poncho,” he said with wry amusement.
She answered without sparing him a glance. “I don’t need one since I don’t plan to get that wet.”
“You can’t spend more than ten seconds outside without getting wet.”
She looked up at him with a sweet smile. “Guess it’s a good thing I brought a change of clothes.”
He put his hands in the air. “Just making sure you hold up your end of the deal.”
“Don’t worry, Ethan, you’ll get your day,” she said through her teeth. And I’ll get mine. The thought of ending it in Roger’s arms sent a delicious thrill throughout her body.
When five o’clock rolled around, it came with no small disappointment. Roger had been in training all day and Ethan had inched closer toward a victory since it appeared that he’d win Romcore’s business after all. It must have taken quite a bribe to get Bill Knight to agree to the terms, but they were offering free cover art from the diva lead illustrator himself. They’d scheduled a meeting for Wednesday to go over the new proposal with Romcore’s president. Until then, Brooke’s chance of winning was bleak unless she could score a bigger client than Romcore.
All of that quickly dissipated when Roger finally appeared at her desk and helped her gather her things. “Hi,” he said with a warm smile.
Brooke smiled back, removed her glasses with the pretense of cleaning them, and let him take her briefcase. “Busy day?” she asked his blurry form, satisfied knowing that he was scoping out the way her blouse flared open at the top. “I haven’t seen you.”
He nodded. When she put the glasses back on, it was to see he was, indeed, virtually salivating over her attire. “You look…stunning in that outfit,” he said with a gulp.
Seeing the desire in his eyes made her heart trip with joy. It hadn’t been her imagination after all, and the shaft of doubt telling her that she’d just been a quick distraction for him completely faded away. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Wait ’til you see what I brought for the carwash.”
His smile broadened. “ I can’t wait.”
They started walking. Ethan was more reserved than usual when they passed by, especially for a guy who liked to gloat. Had he heard their whispered exchange? She quickly forgot the possibility, thinking that the man wouldn’t give a hoot what she and Roger discussed. With purse and mesh bag in hand, she walked with Roger toward the hallway. “So that means you’ll be there, right?”
Roger nodded. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”
When they reached the reception area, she indicated her briefcase. “I’m going to change in the bathroom. I can take that with me.”
He jerked his head toward the bank of elevators. “We’re parked beside each other. Give me your keys and I’ll put it in your car for you, along with your other stuff.”
How sweet was that? Brooke gave him a grateful smile as she shrugged out of her form-fitting jacket and handed it to him along with her purse and keys. “Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
He took the whole load and disappeared into the elevator along with a handful of other employees. Letreece whistled behind her desk as she gathered her own things. “It looks like we have ourselves a couple of love birds.”
Brooke felt her ears get warm. “We’re just friends,” she hedged with an artificial smile. “That’s all.”
“How many men you gonna be friends with, darlin’? In my opinion, you should have quit while you were ahead.”
Brooke’s smile faltered with confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, right.” When the woman skirted around her, she gave her a playful bump with her hip. “I’m not supposed to go there. Sorry.”
With her bag in hand, Brooke began to rethink things as she headed for the ladies room. Maybe she should tone it down a bit. If Letreece sensed something going on between her and Roger, Ken would too. But what the hell was that comment about being friends with other men? It almost sounded like the woman thought she was sleeping around.
Once inside the bathroom, she took out the pink halter top she’d purchased at Nordstrom and held it up against her shoulders. After a turn or two in the mirror, a wicked grin lit up her face.
Tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, she’d tone it down.
Moments later, Brooke breezed through the parking lot with her business suit thrown over a shoulder, high heels dangling at her hips, and a smile on her face. It was damned hot, the sun burning brightly from its 5:30 position in the sky. With the humidity, her skin instantly started to sweat, but she was dressed for it in her halter top and denim Capri pants.
As soon as she unloaded the rest of her stuff into the backseat of her car, and since Roger was nowhere around, Brooke made one last discreet inspection of her cleavage, fluffed her hair, and checked the status of her lip gloss in the rearview mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she found her prescription shades and an elastic hair band and tucked both items into her pockets. Then she reached for the two extra sponges she’d brought because Ethan would probably on
ly provide one.
And one simply wouldn’t be enough.
When she finally made her way to the front parking lot, it was to find Ethan’s car parked beside a yellow bucket. The Mazda’s sleek paint was covered in grime with a thick layer of bug guts coating the grill and windshield. A garden hose was stretched across the lawn from behind a row of manicured bushes.
Not one, but several lawn chairs had been placed on the front walk. She found out whom they belonged to when a group of men from the creative department appeared lugging a cooler between them.
So, Ethan had put a lot of effort into making her a source of entertainment, which was okay by her. She checked the time on her phone. Backup should arrive any minute now…
The sloshing of ice stopped. The cooler thumped to the ground.
“Holy shit!”
Brooke looked up to find the men staring open-mouthed in her direction. So unused to the attention, she glanced behind her first before realizing they were staring at her.
Just as Roger appeared from the building’s double doors, a red Mustang pulled into the lot and parked nearby. While Amy and Miranda stepped out of it, Roger approached her with a look of approval. “Nice,” he crooned. “You brought reinforcements.” Then his eyes scanned her appearance once again, blatantly showing his appreciation for her choice of apparel.
Brooke extended her glasses in his direction. “Hold them for me?”
Since he was too caught up in her cleavage, she shoved her glasses inside his breast pocket. When she gave it a pat, it was with the hope of feeling that hard muscle she’d discovered in the darkroom. But he must have been wearing an undershirt or something because there was a lot more “padding” this time.
Roger backed away from her touch with an embarrassed nod. “Sure, uh…don’t worry, I’ll take good care of them.”
Of course, she shouldn’t be touching him like that in front of everyone, even though Ken Stevens had already gone home for the day. She donned her shades and looked through the crowd for anyone who might have noticed.