Stormy Night

by Jade Stratton

  “That’s not true…” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew it was a lie. She had been just as guilty of seeing Jack, or not seeing him, as anyone else.

  “All I’ve wanted, nearly since the first time I laid eyes on you, was to have a chance,” he told her, ignoring her last words. “This, what we had tonight…maybe it could lead to something more, maybe it wouldn’t. But I want to know, Anne. I at least want the chance to find out. Don’t you?”

  Of all the things she’d had to do in her life, the hardest one was for her to say, “I can’t, Jack. We can’t be together. Not here.” She turned away, unable to suffer the silent accusation in his eyes any longer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

  Without another word, Jack scooped up his clothes and strode out of her office. Pausing at his cubicle near the back just long enough to get dressed, he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Biting back the tears, Anne sank into her chair, the sticky wetness between her legs now a cold reminder of what could have been something special before it was destroyed by reality. Letting the blanket fall from her shoulders, not caring that she was naked underneath, she focused her mind on the data displayed by her computer and forced herself to get to work.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Anne rode up the elevator on Monday morning, fighting a constant onslaught of vicious butterflies in her stomach that threatened to morph into full-blown nausea. While she had managed to fix the mistakes in the account Friday night after Jack had left, she had been a complete wreck for the rest of the weekend. Alternately wracked with guilt and self-pity, both of which were unaccustomed emotions for her, she had gotten little sleep. She had wanted to call Jack and had picked up her phone half a dozen times to call the firm’s answering service for his number, but had never gotten up the courage to dial. You spineless bitch, she thought. It gave her some small appreciation for what Jack must have endured in his quest to ask her out. But even had she screwed up the courage to call him, what could she have said? As much as she wanted the same thing he did, a chance to see if they could be something together, she simply wasn’t going to risk her career. And I shouldn’t have to, dammit.

  But what she was dreading most this morning was seeing Jack. She was terrified that she’d give in to the urge to just take him in her arms and kiss him, right in the middle of the office where everyone could see. Fuck the partners, fuck everyone else. And she was equally terrified that she would do what the cold part of her mind wanted him to do: completely ignore her, so it would be easier for her to ignore what she was feeling, to act as if their stormy night had never happened.

  She just couldn’t decide which would be worse.

  After getting out of the elevator, she forced herself toward the etched glass door that led to the firm’s receiving lounge. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door and plunged inside. Giving a curt nod to the perky secretary at the reception desk, she turned right and strode down the hallway that led to the firm’s inner sanctum where the work was actually done. Where her office and those of the other senior account managers and partners were. Where Jack would be, for he was always in early.

  Not allowing herself to slow down, she opened the door and stepped through. The usual cast of characters were already there. They nodded to her or gave their typical good morning greeting, and she nodded absently in return. Her eyes darted to the cubicle in the corner where Jack worked. It was empty. She scanned the rest of the expansive space, past the desks and handful of cubicles along the wall, through the doorways to the surrounding individual offices that happened to be open.

  There was no sign of Jack.

  Her secretary, whose desk was just outside Anne’s personal office, was already waiting for her. “You have a message from Mr. Rockwell, and…”

  Holding up her hand to forestall the rest of the young blonde’s report, Anne said, “I need to see Jack right away about a glitch that came up Friday night.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the secretary said in an all too cheery voice, her hand instantly reaching for the phone to do Anne’s bidding.

  Anne stopped in her tracks, realizing that she treated her secretary just like Jack had said everyone treated him: as an invisible automaton. Over her shoulder, she said, “Thank you, Stephanie.” Her secretary stared at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And I want you out of here no later than noon. Take a few days off. You haven’t taken a single day of leave for the last eight months.”

  Stephanie’s jaw dropped.

  Anne gave the young woman a wan smile before stepping into the office. She stood in the doorway a moment, staring at her desk and chair. Then, after taking off her coat and putting her purse in one of the desk drawers, she ran her fingers over the dark stain on the leather blotter that she had made with the juices of her passion with Jack. The memory brought another wave of regret, along with a tingle of arousal. Stop it, she chastised herself.

  She was startled by a knock at her door. Whirling around, her lips turning up in a smile, her heart hammering with a mixture of fear and joy, she said, “Jack, we need to…”

  Her smile faltered as she saw that it wasn’t Jack. “Who are you?”

  “Hi,” said the young man, who looked like he was barely out of high school. “I’m Oliver. You said you had a computer issue?”

  “Where’s Jack?”

  “I was told he’s not here anymore.” He gave her a smile of reassurance. “But don’t worry, I’m up to speed on all the systems and software. Whatever the problem is, I’ll get it sorted out for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, brushing past him, “don’t worry about it.” She made a beeline for Bob’s office, a red hot rush of anger taking hold of her. He must have somehow found out about their tryst Friday night, she concluded, and fired Jack. Well, you fucker, we’ll see about that!

  Storming past Bob’s protesting secretary, she burst through Bob’s door, just as he was tossing down the last of a glass of morning whiskey.

  “I want Jack back,” Anne demanded. She jabbed her index finger into his chest. “You fired him, you rehire him.”

  Bob, coughing after nearly choking on the whiskey, sputtered, “What the hell are you talking about?” Taking a step back, he added, “I didn’t fire him, he quit!”

  “What?”

  “He quit! He called me last night and said he had some emergency personal issues and had to bail. He took leave in lieu of two weeks notice and even recommended a replacement.”

  “Oliver,” Anne said in a wooden voice.

  “Yeah, him. Oliver brought in Jack’s company phone, pass, and keys, and my secretary sent his automatic deposit for his severance this morning. Didn’t even leave a forwarding address or number. He’s done. Gone. Outta here.” He frowned. “Now, if you’re done harassing me, I’d appreciate it if you’d get the hell outta here, too, before I call security.”

  She leaned toward him, her face a cold, angry mask, and he recoiled from her. “Just try it,” she hissed before whirling on her heel and storming out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The rest of the day was nothing more than a foggy blur in Anne’s memory by the time she arrived home. Dark clouds hung above the city, a portent of another storm that was moving in. It was just starting to rain as she got out of her car, the grape-sized drops splattering across the parking lot.

  “Shit,” she muttered as she reached into her bag for her umbrella, only to realize that it had fallen victim to Friday’s storm and she hadn’t yet bothered to replace it. Resigning herself to being soaked yet again, this time in her good clothes, she stalked off toward the building entrance, then came to a halt at the sight of a man holding an umbrella, a dark silhouette framed by the building’s lights. A momentary shiver of fear ran down her spine, mimicking the chill of the rain that now pelted her head and shoulders.

  He began to walk toward her, and she was torn with indecision: should she run or stand her ground? After a moment’s consideration, she decided
to stand her ground. She wasn’t going to run, from herself or anyone else. Not again.

  “What is it with you and rain? You’re going to get soaked again.”

  She blinked as the figure came closer. “Jack?”

  “Who else do you think would be idiot enough to stand out here in the rain, waiting for you?”

  Dropping her bag, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down to kiss him, hard. He wrapped his free arm around her and crushed her against his chest, returning her kiss with equal passion.

  When she finally, reluctantly, came up for air, she asked, “Why did you leave?”

  “I thought that would be obvious. If we couldn’t be together while we were both in the office, one of us had to go.”

  “But you just gave up your job!”

  He shrugged. “To me, it’s just a job. I enjoy it, but it doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as yours does to you. I’ve got plenty of money stashed away to tide me over, and I can find another job easily enough.” He caressed her cheek. “But finding another woman like you, that’s something I don’t think I’d ever be able to do.”

  “So,” Anne said, “should we take a chance together?”

  Jack smiled. “Yeah. And let’s get the hell out of this storm.”

  ***

  Six months later, Anne stood up from her desk in the corner office once occupied by Bob. Bob, who was now working at another firm. The shiny name plate on Anne’s door bore both her name and, in slightly smaller letters underneath, the word Partner.

  “Have a good evening, Stephanie,” Anne said with a smile as she passed by her secretary’s desk. “And don’t stay too late.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stephanie beamed.

  Anne went home, but hardly remembered the drive, her mood was so good. Grabbing her bag, she headed to her apartment, a smile on her face. As she opened the door, she breathed in the delightful aroma of whatever Jack was cooking for dinner. Among his other qualities, he also turned out to be an excellent cook, and really enjoyed cooking.

  “It’s about time,” Jack said quietly. He was leaning against the door frame of the bedroom in what he called his home office attire for the contract work he now did: jeans and a t-shirt. Or, as now, just jeans. He looked great the first night they’d made love, but he was rock solid now. Looking down at his crotch, she saw something else that was rock solid.

  Dropping her bag on the couch, she approached him slowly, putting one foot in front of the other with a seductive sway of her hips. “Time for what?” she said in an innocent voice. Of course, she knew perfectly well what. She was wet before she’d left work, thinking about what awaited her at home, and now her panties were drenched. “Dinner, maybe?”

  “I think we’ll have an appetizer first.” He took her in his arms, and she lost herself in his kiss before he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

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