by Anya Sharpe
“Ms. Sommers. A genuine pleasure to run into you. I was terribly disappointed to learn you were unable to join me this evening.” The words slither out of his mouth in his slick Aussie accent. I’m sure the accent alone has women lining up to open their legs for him. Well, that and the fact the guy is considered sexy hot by a good portion of the female population.
He reaches for Erynne’s hand and pulls it to his lips for the second time. A slight shiver emanates from her. Dante’s greasy grin interprets it as a pleasurable response to his kiss. I’m pretty sure Erynne wants to go take a shower.
Dante cocks his head toward me, reluctantly acknowledging my presence. “Giamatti. You’re one fortunate bastard. I admit I’m rather envious of your stunning company this evening.”
“Mr. Gregorius…” Erynne starts.
“Oh, heavens…Dante, my dear.” His lust-filled eyes openly graze over her.
Are you kidding me?
“Dante…I’m confident you’ll find a lovely woman who’s available and eager for your company.” Her smile is so genuine and sweet I think I developed a tooth-ache. She pats him on his arm once or twice, before wrapping it affectionately around my waist. “Lovely running into you again, however, I’m anxious to get started with Evan’s plans for us tonight.”
The loving look she gives me makes me inclined to reconsider everything and carry her back to the nearest bed. Or wall. Either will do nicely. Instead, I set a meaningful but short kiss on her lips while pushing the elevator button. Gratefully, the door opens without delay.
“Later, Dante,” I say, enjoying his displeased expression.
****
Several evenings later, Erynne’s snuggled up next to me reading a book as I watch the game. My arm is slung around her, and damn this feels so good, so right. I glance down. She’s absorbed in the book, allowing me to study her.
What I see is a relaxed, beautiful woman. She’s wearing her favorite well-worn flannel pajama bottoms, legs tucked underneath her, a pale pink camisole that clings to her braless breasts, making my mouth water. Her hair is haphazardly pinned up, strands escaping here and there.
“What?” she says.
“Nothing.”
“You’re smiling…and checking me out.”
“Busted.”
Shaking her head, she returns her attention to reading. The words spill out.
“Move in with me.”
She freezes.
Did she hear me?
“Erynne?”
“Huh?”
“Move in with me. I love you. This. Us. It’s perfect.” Truer words were never uttered.
“Don’t you think it’s a little soon?” She’s twisting the tie on her pants.
“I don’t. But if it is for you, I get it. I’ll wait.”
“I don’t know if it is or isn’t.”
“The offer is open. You have a key. When you decide the time is right, tell me. Until then, be here all the time, okay?”
“You crack me up, Evan Giamatti. Keep being so irresistible and you may never get rid of me,” she teases, poking my shirtless chest.
“Silly girl,” I say in a low, sexy voice. “That’s exactly what I want.”
I take her book away, push her onto the sofa and show her what else I want.
****
My phone rings. I’ve been at my desk for an hour and a half trying to accomplish something, anything. And I’m not succeeding. Erynne is two doors down. I miss her presence, but she has her own accounts to take care of today.
“Hey man, you still talking to me?”
“Good morning, Lance. To answer your question, barely.” Lance was quite embarrassed when he walked in on Erynne and me mid-climax.
“Should I start calling first?”
“Splendid idea.” I weigh my next statement. “I asked her to move in.”
“Jesus, you don’t waste any time. When’s that happening?”
Sighing, I say, “She’s not quite ready. We agreed she’d be spending most of her time there with me.”
I change the subject, even though I’d rather continue visualizing Erynne living in my apartment. “What do you need this morning? Or did you call to chat?”
“Can we meet around two? At my office.”
We almost never meet at Jonas Software. Something’s up. I scroll through the calendar. Erynne and I had planned to go over his account today.
“Just me?”
“Yeah. It’s about the business.”
“I’ll be there.”
I send an email to Erynne.
To ESommers: Hey, babe!
Hah, still love calling her babe.
Something came up at Jonas. Gotta go meet Lance this afternoon. Can you handle accounts?
To EGiamatti: Ditching me already? LOL. Sure, I got it. Anything I can do?
To ESommers: Nah. I don’t know what he needs. Dinner? I’ll swing back here, and pick you up. Where would you like to go?
To EGiamatti: Aww. So sweet. Surprise me.
To ESommers: You got it.
There’s a slight pause.
To EGiamatti: Hey. You won’t cancel on me?
Goddamn Derrick. It’s going to be hard for her to trust implicitly for a while.
To ESommers: Never.
I pick up my cell and tap out a text:
I love you. Always.
Send.
Couldn’t say that on company email. “Babe” was risky enough.
Ding!
You know how to make a girl go mushy, Ace. ;)
A big stupid smile grows on my face.
“I’m glad your job keeps you so happy, Giamatti.” Roger taps once or twice before entering and taking a seat across from me.
“Yeah, well, some parts are better than others, but it’s all good.” The Erynne part, in particular. I don’t say this out loud.
“So, how are things?”
This sounds an awful lot like fishing. I raise an eyebrow at my boss. “Going well.”
“Good to hear. Good to hear.” He studies me, trying to decide how to approach whatever subject is on his mind. I’ve got a pretty good idea what it might be, based on his body language. “Spill it, Roger. Something’s got your brain in knots.”
“True. Not sure how to ask this…”
“Just say it. Are you canning my ass?” I’m joking. Sort of.
I’m relieved when he chuckles. Apparently, it was the ice-breaker he needed. “Don’t think so. Not today, anyway.” There’s a heavy pause. “Some rumors are going around, Ev.”
I nod. Yep. I know which highway we were headed down, but decide to play dumb. In case I’m wrong.
“Those rumors would be?” I lean back trying to appear confident and comfortable.
“Jesus, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
I raise my eyebrow again. “You’re the boss.” I’m pointing out the obvious.
“Are you seeing Erynne Sommers?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. “Why? She’s divorced.”
“Right. Aside from the fact this seems rather…soon…for Erynne, I need to know if anything about this…relationship…I should be concerned about?”
There it is. The sexual harassment question.
After clearing my throat, I lean forward and carefully weigh my answer. “Roger. My relationship with Erynne outside this office is as serious as a heart attack. Feel free to approach her and assure yourself.” I consider his discomfort before adding, “What exactly are those rumors and who is spreading them?”
“No one came to me directly. I overheard Sandra talking to Lucy in the break room. She said she’d seen ‘the way you were ogling Erynne’ and how inappropriate she thought it was. Frankly, I think she was a little put-out you weren’t ogling her.”
“And Lucy?”
“She said you two seemed close at the weekly happy hours you all attend. Sandra made several comments about watching you ‘grope’ Erynne.”
Erynne bursts into my office. “Tell
me I didn’t hear that, Roger.”
She slams the door behind her and walks over to my side of the desk, across from Roger.
“I’m sorry, Erynne,” Roger says.
“People are spreading rumors?” She’s gone pale.
“A few,” he admits. “Uh, Evan tells me…claims…”
“Yes. We’re seeing each other. No, he didn’t force himself on me. Everything is consensual. Would you like that in writing, Roger?”
Her hands are on her hips, and Erynne is…pissed. Whoa.
“Babe, settle down.” I take her hand in mine. Of course, Roger’s eyes zero right in on the gesture, and his ears perk at the endearment.
Erynne’s not done. She riffles through a stack of stuff on my desk, extracts a legal pad, snags my good pen and begins scribbling. Meanwhile, I’m having difficulty stuffing down the laughter threatening to erupt. Roger is wide-eyed. I’m guessing he’s never seen this side of her.
“Here.” She rips the page off the tablet and thrusts the paper at Roger, who is more than tentative about reading it. But he does. Aloud.
I, Erynne Sommers, hereby declare the acting partners of Ridley & Peters (Roger Ridley and Arvid Peters) exempt from the threat or action of lawsuits in regard to a consensual relationship between myself and Evan Giamatti.
Signed,
Erynne Sommers.
Roger smiles and chortles, walks over to my shredder, and inserts Erynne’s diatribe. “I don’t think we need an affidavit, Erynne. You’ve pretty much backed up everything Evan told me.” After a second he adds, “Erynne, I’m sorry for all the BS with your divorce. If you two are happy together, you’ve got my blessing. I’m sure Arvid will be on board, as well.”
“Uh, Rog?” Erynne’s bluster has died down.
“Yes?”
“Um…Do I need to quit?”
“What? Why?”
“Some kind of conflict or something?”
He lets out a gargantuan belly laugh. “Hell no, Erynne. You’re both fine. You’re an awesome team. You’ve proved it.” He pats her on the shoulder and shakes my hand, wandering out the office wiping a tear from his cheek.
****
“You’re awfully quiet,” she tells me over dinner. “Is this about the thing with Roger? If you’re having second thoughts…”
I drop my fork with a clank and snag her hand. She looks like she’s going to burst into tears.
“Do not go there. I told you how I feel and what I want. I love you. I want you. I want you to move in with me. Nothing between us has changed.” I can’t help but tease a little bit. “Unless you’re ready to say those three words we talked about…”
The pending tears evaporate in her eyes, and she offers a shaky smile. “Getting there, Ace.”
I want to tell her to hurry up. Instead, I caress her hand.
****
Later, Erynne is cuddled up close against me, her arm draped across my abs. I’m stroking her hair like I do every night we’re together in bed. Her breathing is even and soft, having slipped into sleep.
She’s mumbling something unintelligible.
Then, I hear it.
“I love you, Ev.”
My heart explodes.
About the Author
Anya Sharpe is a former journalist and teacher who has been addicted to reading her whole life. Unlocking Love, Book One in the Hearts on the Line Series, is her second novel. When she isn’t writing or with her nose stuck in a book, she loves to travel—especially anywhere there is a sunny beach—scuba dive, ski, and try interesting restaurants. She’s a pretty good cook, too. Anya lives in Arizona with her husband, son, and daughter, along with her side-kicks, The Dog and The Cat.
~*~
Visit Anya at
www.anyasharpe.com
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To chat with Anya Sharpe and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.
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