Gabe looked at him, his expression serious now. “OK, then. Here you go. Here’s my best shot. I’m not sure what the answer is going to be for you guys. I don’t want to sound like a Hallmark card, but if it’s meant to be, if it matters enough, you’ll work it out. And nobody ever actually died of sexual frustration, you know. It just feels like it.”
“Oh, and another thing?” he added as Alyssa burst out the back door, grabbed the basketball from him, and began dribbling around the parked cars, Joe following behind her at a more leisurely pace, nodding to the brothers on his way out to the makeshift court.
Gabe waited until Joe was out of earshot, then continued. “If you ever do have this conversation with her, here’s a tip. The part about not sleeping with anybody else sounds good. But don’t tell her about what you did on the day of your first meeting. Just say, ‘since the day of that first meeting with you.’ Going to go over a lot better.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Alec glowered at his brother. “I have a little experience here, you know.”
“Yes, you do,” Gabe replied cheerfully. “At casual sex, you’ve definitely got me beat. At being in love? Not so much.”
Casual Sex
“So how was the drive back? I kept an eye out for ridiculously tiny red clown cars, but I didn’t see you.”
He was grinning at her again. And sitting on the edge of her desk again. And looking good again. She needed to tell him to go away. Yeah. She needed to tell him that.
“Hey.” She leaned back in her reclining desk chair, stretched out her legs in the skirt she’d worn on purpose this morning, just because it stopped an inch above the knee. And watched his gaze drop to her bare legs, right on cue.
She swiveled a little, felt the skirt inch up just a little bit more. “Thirty-five miles to the gallon on the freeway. How much does your car get?”
“Less.” Still smiling, but his eyes had kindled, and he’d shifted position a bit. And she felt powerful, and feminine, and pretty damn sexy. She swiveled again.
“It was nice of your mom to invite my grandma and me to lunch,” she said. “I enjoyed that.”
“Yeah. I enjoyed seeing you too.”
“You’re different, with your family,” she said.
“Am I?” He was still smiling, but it was the kind of smile she could imagine a jungle cat might have on its face just before it pounced. Because he looked just that intent, and that dangerous. “How?”
She shrugged, leaned back a little more, pushed off with a toe. “More relaxed. More . . . normal.”
He laughed at that. “More normal? What does that mean? That I’m abnormal, normally?”
“No.” She forgot to be sexy, sat up again. “Just . . . successful. In charge. Rich. None of which is exactly normal.”
“You aren’t doing too badly yourself,” he said, “and you’re pretty normal. Well, except for the efficiency thing.”
She shrugged. “Not in your league, not that I’m not thrilled at getting this far. But not in your league, and you know it.”
“Well, now you know that we come from just about the same place,” he offered. “Which should help. Now that we’ve sat with our families and eaten lunch together.”
“Including a delicious Jell-O salad,” she pointed out.
He made a little face, rubbed his ear. “Uh . . . yeah. Thanks for bringing that up. Because what the hell am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know.” She had to laugh at his expression. “I can’t wait.”
“If I say that I liked it,” he complained, “she’ll make it for me again next time. And if I say that I didn’t, I’ll have insulted your grandmother. And I may be slow, but I’m not stupid. I already figured out that that’d be a deal-breaker.”
“Yes. That would be.”
He paused a moment. “So, can I ask? What’s the story with that? With you being with your grandmother, I mean.”
“You don’t want my sad life story, Alec.”
“Yes, I do. I really do.”
All the heat was gone, and she felt the familiar walls closing in, the door slamming shut. She glanced at her computer. “It’s after eight. I need to go home, and so do you. And this is . . .” She hesitated. “This is dangerous, and stupid.”
“Huh? What?”
She looked up at him sitting there, looking so good. Like every fantasy she’d ever had, of a strong, handsome, good man who would whisk her away from all the struggles and all the worries and all the heartaches in her life. Like every dangerously enticing escape she’d ever yearned for, when life was so scary, and so lonely, and so damn hard that it seemed like she’d never make it.
And she knew it was time to draw the line. No matter how much fun this was, how much she’d thought about him, and dreamed about him, and wanted to do more. No matter how much she wanted him to show her what it would be like to do everything. Six ways from Sunday.
“Alec.” Time to say it. “You need to stop sitting on my desk. We need to stop this, this flirting. I know you do it all the time, but it’s not appropriate, and I’m not . . .” She stopped, went on again. “I’m not in your league in this either. I can’t flirt, not the way you do. Not for . . . for nothing.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?” He actually looked shocked. Hadn’t anybody ever called him on this stuff?
She sighed. “Of course that’s what you’re doing. I’m not saying you’re a bad person. I like you a lot. But I don’t have time or space in my life for casual relationships. And this matters to me, this job. You can just move on to the next project, the next big deal. But everything I do, every single job, it has to work. This is my life. Because we don’t come from the same place, not really. You’ve got a net, don’t you see? I don’t have a net. I don’t even have a rope. I’ve just got me here to keep me from falling. And not just me, my grandma too. For you, this is fun. And for me, it’s life and death. It matters.”
“I know it matters.” He looked more upset than ever now, actually distressed. “And I know it isn’t casual. None of it. Not the job, and not me. I’m not just flirting.”
“So, what?” She could feel the tension gripping her shoulders, her thighs, tightening her throat so her voice came out pinched, instead of her usual calm, measured tones, but she couldn’t help it. “You want to have sex with me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You must know I do.” He stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess I haven’t been as cool as I thought. But, yes. Since we’re putting it on the line, I want to have sex with you.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen.” She clicked on her computer to shut it down, pulled out her purse, her laptop case. “I need to go home. It’s late.”
“And that’s it?” he demanded. “That’s all the talking we’re going to do about this?”
“What else is there to say?” She stopped fiddling with her things and looked at him squarely. “It’s all a sort of game for you, I get that. And lots of women are fine with that. They know the rules, and they know how to play. But I don’t. I’m just not that kind of person. I’d get hurt. So, since I know it’s really all the same to you,” she said, the pain in her chest telling her that she was right, that she had to end this now, “go choose somebody else to play the game with, OK? Because I’m an amateur, and I’ll lose.”
“Desiree—“
“No.” She stuffed her laptop into her case and pulled the zipper closed, shoved the strap over her shoulder and stood up. “I mean it, Alec. This has to end. This is done.”
“And my name,” she said fiercely, pushing past him, feeling the tears threatening, knowing she had to get out of there right that minute, “is Rae.”
Alec walked out of her office behind her, feeling like he’d been hit in the head with a brick. Watched her pull her keys out of her purse with fingers that trembled, lock her door, and walk across to the exit without looking back at him. Back straight, as always. Head high. And hurting. He could see it, and it was kil
ling him.
He walked back into his own office, dropped into his chair. Swiveled to look out of his window at the plaza below, empty and forlorn in the occasional lights set into the pavement, casting half-circles onto the concrete and brick. The wind blowing through the bare branches of the newly-planted trees. And Desiree, her foreshortened figure appearing amidst them, on her way home, alone in the cold December dark. To wherever she lived, which she’d never trusted him to know. Just like she didn’t trust him to know her, or to care about her either.
He’d always thought he was so smart, only involving himself with women who were willing to play by his rules, to keep it casual, to keep it fun. And now, when he wanted more, when he wanted it all, he couldn’t have it. Because of everything he’d done before, because she thought this was the same old thing. Another flirtation. Another fling. Another fun time for Alec Kincaid, Master of the Universe.
It was so ironic, he could have laughed, except that it felt too bad. And he couldn’t see how to change it, or how to fix it. How to show her that she mattered, that she didn’t have to worry about falling. How to be her net.
A Hostile Work Environment
Desiree walked through the office, the fluorescent lights working overtime to combat the dark gray skies and steady rain that were turning a late January morning into something that looked more like night. Her automatic sweep for trouble spots found empty fast-food wrappers and Dr. Pepper cans littering Simon’s cube. Again. And he was lounging against the reception desk, talking to Veronica. Also again.
“Excuse me,” she said when she reached the two of them.
“Back to the salt mines,” Simon told Veronica. “But remember what I said.”
“One moment.” Desiree put a hand out to stop him, stepped away from the desk a pace or two, kept her voice low. “When you get back to your desk, please dispose of your trash. We don’t want ants in here.”
She saw the sullen expression, but didn’t let it deter her. Waited for his answer, which was nothing but a nod, but at least it was there.
“Don’t let him waste your time,” she warned Veronica once Simon had headed back to his desk.
“Oh, no,” the young woman said hastily, and Desiree could see the flush growing. It was heady stuff, she knew, working in an office full of young single men. Veronica seemed to have got over her crush on Alec, his clear lack of encouragement having had its effect, but Desiree had seen her eyes following Brandon more than once in recent weeks, and that was an even worse idea. And Simon . . . She sighed.
“I know it can be tough to know how to say it,” she coached the younger woman now, “but you can always go with, ‘Well, I’d better get back to work.’ And then you look at your computer and click your mouse.”
Veronica flushed a little more, hearing the reprimand under the advice as Desiree had meant her to, and uttered something inarticulate and apologetic.
And that was enough, Desiree judged. Time to move on. “How’s it going working with Thomas?” she asked next, and all right, maybe that was a bit of a nudge. Thomas Hsieh, the quiet young IT whiz she’d hired to provide the in-house tech support Alec had insisted on, had been working out well, and she’d decided on Veronica as his backup. A good opportunity for the young woman, who, despite her romantic tendencies, was bright, a good, hard worker, and eager to get ahead, the reasons Desiree had hired her in the first place. And if Desiree thought the two of them would make a nice couple, that was merely a bonus.
“It’s fine. I’m learning a lot,” Veronica assured her, and that didn’t sound like romance was blooming. It was really a shame that women were so often attracted to bad boys, and that bad boys were so often, well, bad. But she wasn’t a dating service, and Veronica’s foolish heart wasn’t actually her responsibility, so she left it there.
Alec rapped once on Rae’s door, stuck his head inside. Not out for lunch, of course. He’d figured as much. Intent on her computer, as always, but she looked up at the sound and gave him a smile. A cautious one, the kind she’d been offering him for a month now, ever since she’d drawn the line.
“Got a sec?” he asked.
“Sure.” She pushed back a bit. She was wearing a long brown sweater today, falling open in gentle folds over a matching brown top, stretchy cream-colored pants, and boots. All very covered-up, very winter-weather-appropriate, very professional. Man, he missed her skirts. The top and pants were fairly tight, but still.
He took a seat opposite her. “We need to add some programmers,” he began.
She nodded, clicked her mouse a couple times, started typing. “How many?”
“Eight.”
“Same ad? Same basic requirements?”
“Yeah.”
More typing. “I’ll be recruiting on some Women in Tech sites. We need to make a genuine effort. You’ve got fifteen guys out there now, which doesn’t look great. I need to know you’ll be giving female candidates equal consideration.”
“Of course. Not our fault, though, that startups are full of young guys. Not too many grandmas doing cutting-edge programming.”
“I know the statistics. Equal consideration. That’s all I’m saying.”
“And I’m answering. Yes. Of course. Moving on, can we fit that many more without going to another floor?”
“Up to seventeen more,” she assured him. “Lots of room.”
“You sure? It doesn’t look that way to me.”
She swiveled and pulled out the big horizontal file drawer in her credenza. Reached an unerring hand out for the file she wanted, shoved the drawer shut, and swiveled back to Alec again.
She laid the file on the desk, opened it and pulled out a large sheet of paper, folded neatly down the middle. Spread it out on her desk facing him.
“Here and here,” she pointed. “That’s where your two new four-person cube setups go.”
“Oh. OK.” Of course she’d already figured this out.
“We’ll have to take out that communal work space to do it,” she went on. “Move them into the conference room for group work. Probably just as well to keep things a little more contained. A little more professional.”
He nodded agreement. “And on that note, you’ll probably want to get somebody different to do the installation.”
She gave him her first real smile of the day, and there was that dimple again, winking at him from the corner of her pretty mouth. “Well, I could just sic you on my pal with the power tools. You could take him outside and beat him down for me.”
“I could.” He smiled back, saw her own smile grow. “And I would, if it would make you happy.”
She looked down again, made a business of folding up her drawing and putting it back in the folder. “Actually,” she said, “I’ll get them to do the work on a Saturday, keep the disruption to a minimum.”
“Probably pay double,” he pointed out.
“Hey. You poaching on my territory? I’m the one doing the cost-benefit analysis. You’re the big idea man. You just go back there and have ideas, write some brilliant code.” She flapped a hand at the door. “I’ll handle this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked a chastened head, grinned at her, saw the answering smile escaping her stern expression, and laughed.
“One more thing,” he said. “The Super Bowl is on Sunday.”
“Yes,” she said gravely. “I’d heard that. But thanks for the reminder.”
He laughed again. “You never make it easy, do you? But, yeah. The Super Bowl, and then, you know, that other thing. The premiere of my show. America Alive: 1885.”
“I’d heard that too. I’ve seen the promos. I’ve even taken a look at the website. No escape, because my neighbor thinks you look good on TV. He has that picture of you and your brother as his screen saver, and he tells me he’s not the only one. Imagine that, you’ve got fans already, and the show hasn’t even started yet. You could have a whole new career.”
She seemed to catch herself, went on after a moment. “Besides, I’ve okaye
d all the bills for the PR blitz, remember? Good work getting on a reality TV show right before you launched a new venture. That’s some good marketing right there.”
“Well, even if you weren’t planning to watch,” he said, “at least I know your neighbor is, that there’ll be an audience besides my mom and dad. What a relief. I poll pretty well in the gay demographic, that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s the word I’m getting,” she said, the smile peeking out again.
He grinned. He loved it when he could get her to relax like this. It had been way too long. “Good to know. But anyway. Brandon and Joe are coming over to my place for the game, and then the show, and we thought you might like to join us.”
In fact, neither of his partners had been thrilled at the idea.
“What?” Joe had objected when he’d brought it up the previous Friday night at Ziggurat, where they’d repaired as usual at the end of the workweek. “It’s always been the three of us. Why?”
“Because she’s on the team,” Alec said. “Because look at us. Doing this again.” He gestured around him. “This is exactly what women complain about. That they’re shut out of the informal stuff where a lot of the discussion happens, where the decisions get made. Besides, she’s got a lot to offer, and we should be taking advantage of that.”
“She’s operations,” Joe argued. “We tell her what we need in support, she makes it happen. She doesn’t need to be in on the decisions before that.”
“Oh, I think it’s a little more than that,” Alec said. “Look at the logo. Look at the trade show stuff. She’s got one hell of a marketing brain, and let’s remember that we’re marketing a consumer product. Women are going to make up half our market. That’s a change for us. We’ve got a resource, and I want to use it.”
“I know you want to use it,” Joe growled, but he subsided at Alec’s warning glare.
“Thanks, man.” That was Brandon. “You saying I can’t market to women? Just because I don’t have . . . ovaries?” he amended at the last moment, after another glare. “That’s some vote of confidence.”
Nothing Personal (The Kincaids) Page 11