Accidental Rivals_An Office Romance

by River Laurent

  We go to the kitchen from there. “I would kill for the chance to own a stove like this one. I believe it was flown in from England,” I say when we walk in. “Six burners, plus a built-in grill, beside a dual oven. What I couldn’t do with that.”

  “You enjoy cooking?” Kent asks, amused.

  “I love it. I wish I had more time to do it. Work.” I shrug. “You know how it is.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, I know very well. But if I didn’t work as hard as I do, I wouldn’t be in the market for a home like this, would I?”

  “It would appear as though you and I think along the same lines, Mr. Holloway.”

  We share another warm smile as Zack fumes silently.

  This is rapidly turning into one of my favorite showings of all time. Maybe one of my favorite days ever—full stop.

  “What do you think about the bathrooms?” Kent asks as we walk along the second-floor hallway. “Would you consider the master bath worthy of a sophisticated, worldly woman such as yourself?”

  “Is it lavish enough, do you mean?” I grin.

  “Precisely.”

  “I believe so.” We step in together, Zack trailing behind. “I mean, the walk-in tub with sixteen jets? That alone would be reason to spend half my life in this room. Then, you have the massive shower, a steam room, heated floors. It’s like a trip to the spa without ever having to leave the comfort of home. Combine that with an adjacent walk-in closet bigger than my current bedroom and I’m in heaven.”

  He laughs, the rich sound echoing off the floor and walls. “You sound like an easy woman to please.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” I smirk, shaking my head. “I’m also a fan of the ten years still left on the roof’s warrantee, the brand-new dual zone HVAC system, and the energy efficient windows. Without those things, the cost of keeping a home this size comfortable would be unimaginable. I’m a very practical woman, too.”

  “So I see,” he murmurs. “I’ve been so busy admiring all this beauty, I forgot to ask the really tough questions. I thank you for anticipating my interest.”

  “That’s my job, after all.”

  We all but link arms as we leave the master suite, exploring the other bedrooms and discussing trivialities. If he wants the house, he knows it by now. I don’t think he does, but playing nice like this is clearly ruining Zack’s day.

  That makes the charade so worthwhile.

  “Are you a sailing man, Mr. Holloway?” I ask as we step outside, where amber rays of sun sparkle on the lake. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore is hypnotic, utterly relaxing.

  “I’ve been known to sail on occasion, but I would much rather just sit out here and take in the view. Are there fish in the lake?”

  “Oh, yes,” Zack interjects. “Great fishing out here.”

  Kent blinks in surprise before letting out that booming laugh of his. “Good lord! I almost forgot you were with us!” He laughs again.

  I join in while staring straight at my so-called partner. “I’m sure you could be forgiven, with all of this to take in at once.” I spread my arms wide, indicating the lake and the property behind us. “I don’t think I’d ever go to the office again, if I had a home like this.”

  “By all means, let’s arrange for you to get one right away.” Zack smiles at me.

  “What would you do without me?” I tease, shooting daggers his way when Kent isn’t looking.

  “I’m sure the sight of you walking into the office every morning is a real treat for all those who have the pleasure of working with you,” Kent observes, his eyes warm and familiar as he smiles down at me.

  “Hmm. I think Zack might beg to differ. We haven’t always worked together. I’m afraid I’ve given him a run for his money on more than one property. Isn’t that right?” I walk off before he has the chance to answer, back up to the house.

  Kent follows at my heels, the way I’d expect him to, while Zack brings up the rear.

  Just the way it should be.

  Sienna

  Two days pass without much friction between the two of us. I’m pretty sure he’s learned his lesson now.

  I’m sure it helps that I was the bigger person on the whole Kent Holloway thing. I didn’t call Zack out on his shenanigans when Kent drove away, and he didn’t give me any grief about it. Even I can admit he’s smart enough not to need things spelled out for him.

  He messes with the bull, he gets the horns. It’s as simple as that.

  Of course, Kent called me later that evening to see if I’d be interested in going to dinner with him. I told him I appreciated the offer and was flattered, but didn’t think it would be right. “After all, how would it look if anyone else discovered I went to dinner with a potential buyer?” I asked.

  “I don’t need to be a potential buyer, if that’s what’s standing in your way,” he offered.

  He had the nerve to act surprised when I wasn’t bowled over by his chivalry. I guess I should have expected it. The way I was flirting with him. I would never have done that if I had been so desperate to annoy Zack and ruin his showing. On the bright side, the Kent situation did serve a purpose.

  Zack knows for sure who he’s dealing with. I think it might even have humbled him a little, since I haven’t had the dubious honor of dealing with him since then. To be fair, he hasn’t been sneaking around, either. He’s always in the office, either on a call or furiously pounding out messages on his laptop.

  I know, because I’ve been making the rounds. I’ve fixed and choked down more cups of hideous coffee than I care to remember, all in the spirit of giving me an excuse to walk past his cubicle.

  Just after such an excursion, while sitting back down at my desk, I see that I have a new message. The subject: Open House.

  Any thoughts on the open house?

  I roll my eyes and fight the urge to stand on my chair and yell at him across the field of cubicles between us. I just walked by, for heaven’s sake. He saw me. I know he did. But he chose to be passive aggressive and send an email, instead.

  Wimp. Taking the easy way out and avoiding face-to-face confrontation.

  Wait. What am I so irritated over? I prefer it this way. Not having to look at his smug smile. It’s like he’s giving me a present.

  I look back over his extremely articulate and well-thought-out email before firing off a quick reply: Lots and lots.

  I can’t help giggling a little as I send it, wondering what his reaction will be. For the first time, I wish we sat closer than we do. I would like to hear the sounds he makes.

  Almost instantly, he sends a reply of his own.

  Care to share with the rest of the team?

  “No, I damn well wouldn’t,” I whisper, growling a little in the back of my throat. My fingers fly over the keys.

  What about you? I don’t like the feeling that I’m the lab partner who does all the work while the other one only pretends.

  This time, I hear his response loud and clear. “Only pretends?” It carries across the room, laced with more than a little rancor.

  Before he has the chance to send anything, I add,

  It’s just an example. If it cuts a little too close, maybe you’re feeling guilty?

  I’m rewarded with the sound of sputtering from the other side of the office, which leaves me leaning back in my chair with a satisfied smile. Getting under his skin is almost better than sex.

  Not that I’ve had the real thing any time recently to make a fair comparison.

  He has a point, of course. He generally does. He just stinks at getting it across. The open house is in two days and it’s got to be spectacular. I have a list of the vendors I normally use for events of a higher magnitude, but I’ve never sold a house like this before. Still, they should do just fine.

  But what about him? What does he like to do for events such as this? He is right. I have to talk to him about it and without starting a fight, without name calling, or flinging thinly-veiled insults at each other. I hate to admit that h
e might have a better game plan in place than me, but the most important concern is landing the sale.

  My pride might have to be put on the back burner for now.

  I step out of my cubicle with every intention of going to him and suggesting a truce when I slam into a brick wall, instead. A brick wall dressed in a thin-striped blue and white shirt and matching blue tie.

  The tie matches his eyes, I realize on looking up into them. Son of a bitch. He even matched his tie to his eyes.

  Those eyes narrow as he stares down at me. “Here.” He steps back and thrusts toward me a now-crumpled piece of paper, thanks to our collision.

  My body tingles. “What’s this?”

  “A list of the vendors I had in mind for the open house. What do you think? A lab report?” He sneers, not bothering to hide the fact that my off-handed remark got to him.

  I wasn’t even trying, for Pete’s sake.

  “Oh. Thank you. I was about to come over and talk to you—”

  “Yeah, well, there’s no need for that now. Is there?”

  “I guess not. But don’t you think—”

  “Don’t I think what?” he demands with a sigh.

  I look down at the list, my cheeks burning more than just a little. I wish he didn’t make me blush like this. Why am I blushing in the first place? That’s a better question, come to think of it. “Don’t you think we should decide who to use, between your list and mine? I mean, I have a list of my own.”

  “I had expected as much,” he replies with all the patience of a man who has something else he’d much rather be doing right now. “But since you seem to know so much about the house and you have the vision and everything, I thought you would want to be the one to deal with this.”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” I warn, drawing myself up to my full height in preparation for a fight. Why does it always have to come to this with us?

  “No, you wait a minute. You’ve been at the controls all along, so why would you have a problem with remaining there now?”

  “Because… because I thought we might, in fact, work better as a team. I’m not the one scheduling secret showings behind the other one’s back.”

  “Oh, aren’t you?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up. “You might want to have a talk with yourself about truth and your idea of it before you go around slinging bald-faced lies like that one.”

  “And what do you mean by that?”

  “I mean just what I said,” he sneers. “Save the innocent act for someone who’ll buy it, because I don’t. You’re insulting me and degrading yourself.”

  The paper crumples even further in my hand as it clenches in a tight fist. “How dare you?” I hiss. “You’re lucky we’re in the office right now and not out in the street somewhere, because I’d tell you just exactly what I think of you.”

  “Why don’t you just send it in an email?” he asks smugly, knowing he got the last word as he turns and saunters away.

  I’m too furious to move. Blood rushes in my ears. My knees are weak. There’s a tightness in my chest. I want to scream.

  Yes, and get fired. No matter how great my sales record is, nobody wants to work with someone who loses control, screams, and causes a ruckus.

  I settle for going back to my desk, closing the door, and opening my mouth in a silent scream. That doesn’t do much to assuage my fury.

  God, who does he think he is?

  Sienna

  The knock at the door rips me out of my scream and makes me freeze. “Who is it?”

  “Becca.” She opens the door a crack and peeks in. “You don’t usually ask who’s knocking. Is everything all right?”

  “Of course.” I take a deep, shuddery breath before sitting down. “Sorry. I was just a little worked up at that exact moment. I’m fine now. I didn’t mean to be rude.” My legs are still shaking with unspent rage.

  “But you’re okay?” She doesn’t look convinced.

  “I’m definitely okay.” I smile to prove my point. “What’s up?”

  “I was just stopping by to see how things were going between you and Mr. Gorgeous.” She bats her eyelashes, fanning herself.

  My smile slips a notch. “Oh. Him.”

  “Yeah, him.” She giggles. “I saw the two of you talking just now. I swear, I was waiting for one of you to jump the other’s bones.”

  That’s the last thing I expected to hear and definitely, the last thing I was in the mood to do when he was in front of me. I scowl at her. “You are deeply disturbed, Becca.”

  “You mean to tell me you don’t feel it? I mean, Jesus. The temperature jumped past the boiling point, and you weren’t even touching each other.”

  “Did you hear what we were saying?” I venture.

  “No. Unfortunately, I could only see your mouths moving from over at my desk,” she admits, “but the passion was clearly there.”

  “Passion? You’ve been reading too many books with ripped bodices,” I tease. “Things like that don’t happen in real life.”

  “What things?”

  “You know. The two of us having such a passionate conversation that we suddenly start tearing at each other’s clothes. It doesn’t happen. Especially not between the two of us.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure about anything in my life. If you’re looking to play matchmaker, or expecting to walk in on the two of us banging it out in the supply closet, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “Boo.” She leans against the filing cabinet, arms crossed.

  The gesture reminds me of what Zack did, just a couple of days ago. I wish I could stop thinking about him at random times. “Sorry to disappoint you,” I singsong, shrugging.

  “I’m not the only one who would be disappointed, you know.”

  For half a second, maybe less, I think she’s going to say Zack would be disappointed if nothing were to happen between us. Could that be true? I wouldn’t put it past him. He probably thinks I’m dying with love for him and would be annoyed if he found out I couldn’t care less about his many charms.

  She continues, “Half the office would hate finding out they were wrong about you guys.”

  Oh, this is much worse than anything I could’ve come up with on my own. “Wait. What are you saying?”

  She leans closer, eyes wide, whispering, “I’m saying, everybody’s talking about the two of you working together, that’s what. Everybody has seen the sparks flying.”

  She might as well have poured a bucket of ice water over my head. “Oh, no. That’s not true, is it?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “I don’t know, but I wish you were.” To my surprise, I do something I’ve never done before. The distress is such I wring my hands. This is just about the worst thing that could’ve happened. Any little bit of credibility I’ve fought for in this company would be for nothing. I can’t have them looking at me as some bubble-headed, hair-brained weakling who can’t keep a good head on her shoulders when there’s a handsome man in the vicinity.

  “Don’t take it so seriously,” she urges, waving her hands. “It’s not as if we’re placing bets on the wedding date, for God’s sake. You always take everything too seriously.”

  “My work is serious to me.”

  “Understood,” she whispers, placating me.

  I hate that. As if I were a toddler, she’s calming.

  “No, you don’t understand.” I wish there was a way to explain the hurricane of emotion roaring in my head, but I can’t even explain it to myself. She wouldn’t understand how touchy the subject of Zack really is to me.

  Even if she’s the only person in the company, who’s anywhere close to a friend I can’t tell her how frustrating it is to work with him. The last thing I need is for Rodney’s assistant to know how difficult a time we’re having with working together.

  “He’s really got you worked up, hasn’t he?”

  I shake my head in the face of her knowing smile. This, right here,
is why making work friends is a hassle. “No, not the way you think. He’s a challenge, for sure. We’re both pretty set in our ways, but it’s going well. And not the way you think, either.”

  “All right, all right.” She pouts a little as she straightens up, her hand on the doorknob. “Forgive me for thinking it was fun that the two hottest people in the company are about to give us a bit of interesting gossip. This place is so boring, we all need a little something to brighten our days.”

  “The two hottest?” I smirk, rolling my eyes. “Doubtful. And I’m sorry to ruin your diversions. I don’t mean to.”

  “Yeah, right. Spoilsport.” She sticks her tongue out at me just before leaving.

  I repay the compliment as the door closes with a soft click.

  Then I bury my head in my arms and wish I were dead.

  This can’t be happening. How long have they all been whispering? All week, I guess. And they probably notice when I walk past Zack’s door, and how many times a day I’ve been doing it. Plus, they were probably watching while the two of us argued outside my cubicle. Granted, it was quiet enough that it didn’t sound like an argument, but I’m not sure if I’d rather they know what it was or not. What’s worse, arguing or having a lover’s spat?

  Either way, it was not very professional of me. Either way, I’m screwed.

  Only one person comes to mind. I pick up my phone and dial almost without having to look at the screen. “Tami? I need a drink. Can you meet me tonight?”

  “Sure thing!” she bubbles. “There’s so much I want to talk over with you too. About the wedding.”

  Good. It’ll give me something to think about other than my misery. “Terrific. I can hardly wait.”

  So now, it’s just a matter of making it through the rest of the day without taking an early Happy Hour. Is it considered poor form to start drinking before noon?