Professional Boundaries

by Jennifer Peel

  So I wasn’t doing well in not trying to think about him. Stupid, good smelling, handsome man!

  After thirty minutes of walking, I felt a little better, but I knew I couldn’t stay out there forever. Good news, though, the trees around the lake were beginning to bud. Spring was just around the corner. Thank goodness! More good news, when I made it back upstairs to my office, the conference room was devoid of people. I walked back to my office in peace and finished the rest of my day on the phone with potential clients. I was more than ready to leave when five rolled around. I walked out to an empty reception area; Delfia had gone home for the day as had Boss. I didn’t think he planned on working full days for the remainder of the week. It seemed like his brain was already set on retirement.

  With high hopes, I approached the conference room, but it seemed where Ian was concerned, my hopes would always be dashed. There he was, still working away. I planned to just walk on by and not say anything. Yes, that was unprofessional, but I think where he was concerned, the less I had to do with him, probably the better for both of us. He, unfortunately, had other ideas.

  “Do you have a few moments?” he said as I walked by.

  Reluctantly, I stopped and leaned against the door frame. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him like, sure, whatever.

  He gave me a wry smile as he sat there. “I hope I didn’t give you the impression that I’m anything but impressed with your work and vision. You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you. Have a nice evening,” I said dully.

  I think he expected more. He seemed disappointed with my response. “Good evening,” he replied.

  I took that as my cue to skip out of there. There were a few account managers left on the lower floor finishing up their day. I said my goodbyes to them. A couple of them expressed their wishes that I had been made the new director. I wasn’t sure how to respond other than to thank them and lie by telling them Boss knew what he was doing and I was sure Mr. Greyson was beyond capable. That wasn’t a total lie, I had no doubt he was capable, I just didn’t like his methods thus far.

  It was a little depressing thinking about the could-have-beens as I walked out to my car. Oh well, I got a raise out of it, right? It didn’t help much; money wasn’t the most important thing to me. I’ve learned more money didn’t equal more happiness, but I had to admit that it did buy trips to the Virgin Islands, and that could make me happy. On that happy note, I threw my satchel in the car as I heard my name.

  “Kelli!”

  Really? I turned around to face him. “Don’t you mean, Ms. Bryant?” I mocked.

  “No. We’re off the clock,” he said it like it should be obvious.

  “You can’t have it both ways,” I countered.

  He grinned. “Sure I can.”

  “Well, Mr. Greyson, it’s either one or the other for me. Do you want to be Ian or Mr. Greyson?”

  He stepped closer. “How about we discuss it over dinner?”

  Why does he keep asking me to eat or drink with him? And why is so he pleasant outside of the office?

  I didn’t know whether to make heads or tails of him, so I just took a moment to stare at him with a furrowed brow.

  He just kept smiling like a fool. “Kelli?”

  “Tell me who you are first. Ian or Mr. Greyson?’

  “I’m both.”

  “That doesn’t work for me.”

  He frowned. “Why do you have to complicate things?”

  That phrase caused me to place my hand over my heart as if I was trying to protect it. That was his response when I had told him I loved him. It was a complication to him. I knew it shouldn’t have affected me, but hearing him say those words to me again triggered the emotions of that night so long ago, all of the pain and the confusion.

  “I guess it’s just something I’m good at, isn’t it? Goodnight, Mr. Greyson,” I said quietly.

  At least I was the one who got to walk away this time. I got in my car quickly. I heard him swear as I shut my door. He watched me drive off. I could see him in my rearview mirror, standing there running his fingers through his hair.

  Chapter 7

  After that fun first day, the week was less interesting, thank goodness. We didn’t avoid each other, but we both seemed to make it a point to spend as little time together as possible, which was A-OK in my book. And when we did have to be in each other’s presence, it was filled with that forced politeness that makes everyone uncomfortable. I could tell this worried Boss, but I assured him it would all get ironed out as we got used to one another. It was a big fat fib, but what’s done is done, and I wanted Boss to have the best retirement ever.

  To help Boss feel better, I just took my licks, in a matter of speaking, and then just nursed the wounds at home. And there seemed to be plenty every day. Mr. Greyson had suggestions for everything from my PowerPoints to the way I formatted my proposals. They weren’t really suggestions; he expected for them to be to his liking and specification. I think he kept looking for me to fight back, and believe me I wanted to, but I figured what good would it do?

  Then Friday came, and Boss moved all of his personal belongings out of the big office and Mr. Greyson moved in. I couldn’t help it, I cried. I was losing my mentor and my champion. I felt like an idiot crying in the office for the world to see, but it had been a rough week, and now reality was really setting in. As Boss held on to me, Delfia and Mr. Greyson looked on. I wanted them to look away or go away, but they didn’t.

  When my soft crying finally came to an end, Boss kissed me on the forehead. “Make me proud, kiddo.”

  I shook my head yes.

  “You always have,” he said as he gave me a little squeeze.

  More tears came. Would it be shameful if I grabbed on to his legs and begged him not to leave?

  Boss let me go and turned toward Mr. Greyson and shook his hand. “Well Ian, I trust I’m leaving my company in good hands. I expect nothing less than greatness and high profit margins.” Then Boss looked between me and him and then stared sternly at Mr. Greyson. “Ian, don’t forget our earlier conversation.”

  Mr. Greyson looked toward me. “You have my word.”

  I wondered what that cryptic conversation was about. Delfia looked perplexed too.

  Boss hugged me one more time. “Well, I guess I’m off.” He waved to everyone. “See you all next weekend.”

  He and Holly were leaving the next morning for Cancun. They would be back for his retirement party the next weekend. He looked so happy. Unfortunately, I was the exact opposite. As soon as he exited, I went to my office and closed the door and cried a little more. I was terrible with change, and this had been a week of nothing but change, and not the good kind either.

  In the midst of my mourning, there was a knock on the shared door. No one ever knocked on that door. Boss and I had an open door policy; no one ever needed an invitation. I wiped the last straggling tears. “Come in,” I called out.

  Mr. Greyson took a moment to look at me before he spoke. His eyes were softer than I had seen them in days. “Would you join me in my office? I would like to get your opinion on the new company logo,” he asked kindly.

  “You want my opinion?”

  “Why does that surprise you?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “Ms. Bryant, please.”

  I stood up and walked toward his office. He smiled with lips pressed together as I neared him. He waited for me at the door and held it open, and when I passed him, he touched my shoulder and I stopped.

  “I know this is a difficult transition for you and I’m sorry.”

  I half smiled and shrugged my shoulders. It was a nice gesture. I hadn’t been this close to him in years. I got another glimpse of my Ian, but this time it lasted more than just a few seconds. Neither of us moved as we searched each other’s eyes. He even kept his hand on my shoulder. The feel of it wasn’t lost on me. My body said, Ahhh, isn’t this nice, but then my head said, Girl, get your head in the game.
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  “Are you ready to show me the prototypes?” I asked once out of my brief stupor.

  He dropped his hand slowly and cleared his throat. “Please have a seat.”

  He had already changed the office around. Boss’ desk used to face the adjoining door just like mine, but now his desk was facing the door toward the reception area. He also added some pictures of the Colorado landscape. They were breathtaking. As I looked at them, I thought someday I really should go back and visit that place. I had loved living there, and the Colorado mountain scenery was second to none. One picture of note was of the hot springs near his parents’ place. I had a very fond memory of that place. During Thanksgiving break, Mr. Greyson, aka Ian, had taken me there. We spent a very enjoyable day in each other’s arms with the steam rising all around us and the snow lightly falling down. Just the thought made me blush. I had needed some hefty amounts of chapstick and lotion after that day, but it had been well worth it. The man was a master kisser. His kisses always conveyed what mood he was in. That day had been one of those rare Ian moments where his mind wasn’t wrapped around fifty different things. He had let go that day and only let “us” occupy his thoughts. I think it was the first day he finally gave himself permission to really let me in and see the real him. It was the day he said to heck with what everyone would say about our age difference; he wanted to be with me, and so he was going to be.

  I came out of my memory to find Mr. Greyson smiling at me. I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear. “Nice pictures,” I said lamely.

  He looked to the right of him at the picture I had just been admiring. “That’s my favorite.”

  I wanted to say “Mine too,” but that was just ridiculous. He probably didn’t even remember that day, and if he did, I didn’t want him to know I remembered. I’m sure it was his favorite because it reminded him of his home.

  “Ok, so logos.”

  “Yes, logos,” he replied.

  He turned his monitor toward me, and showed me three different designs. Right away I abhorred two of them. I wasn’t sure who had done the design, but tacky was putting it nicely. The third design had some promise. I honed in on that one and suggested the C in Chandler be more prominent and that we use more rounded lower case letters and increase the font size by two. It would give it a more modern and clean feel. I felt if those changes were made, it would encompass our new direction as a company nicely.

  He looked at me thoughtfully when I finished my suggestions.

  I raised my left eyebrow. “Surprised again?”

  “As always, when it comes to you.”

  I smiled. “I’ll let that slide.”

  “I meant it as a compliment.”

  I stood up. “You might want to work on that.” I smiled at him and then walked back to my office. I immediately got a cool drink of water and tried to think of all the reasons I disliked my new boss because it was better than picturing him shirtless with my arms around him kissing him until my lips threw up a white flag and surrendered. And what was I doing using my flirty voice there at the end of our conversation? I think it was time for me to go home.

  It was my plan to just take the weekend and unwind. I was thinking a marathon weekend of cheesy Netflix movies and ordering in food was the ticket. That seemed to work well on Friday night, but I got up on Saturday feeling crappy about stuffing myself the night before and just lying lazily on the couch with Charlie, so I figured I better get my butt to the Y and maybe do some grocery shopping.

  Walking outside reminded me it was March, and boy was it coming in like a lion. The rain was coming down in sheets. As I ran to my car, I noticed a moving truck and I thought, sucks for them. I would hate to be moving in this weather. After hitting it hard at the Y, I felt much better and not like such a slug. I also made sure to make an extra effort to fill my cart with lots of fresh produce. Don’t get me wrong, there were some sugar laden treats, but it was mainly healthy.

  When I returned to my complex, the rain was still coming down, not as hard, but enough that I knew I would be soaked by the time I made it to my apartment. My sister’s words rang in my head, “You could have an attached garage if you would just buy a home.” Yeah, but how lonely would a big empty house be with just me and Charlie?

  I laded myself with all of my grocery bags. I was doing this in one trip. I figured I was showering when I got home anyway, so who needed an umbrella. On my walk in, I noticed the moving truck was still there, and I saw two soaked men that looked like the movers. I hoped they were getting a good tip. Gratefully, as someone was moving in, the gate was open and I didn’t have to maneuver it with full arms and hands, but I quickly became ungrateful as I literally ran into him. You know, the “him” that was causing regular disruption in my life as of late. Yeah, that “him.” Mr. Greyson.

  I stood there, just looking at him as the rain fell on me. “Mr. Greyson, at the point of becoming redundant, what are you doing here?”

  He grinned slyly as I was getting soaked and he was high and dry under his large umbrella. I guess, in a gentlemanly move, he realized just that and placed the umbrella over both of us. Then he looked at my full arms. “Let me help with those.”

  I declined. I just wanted to know why the heck he was at my apartment again. Then a terrible realization hit me before he even spoke.

  “Kelli, as of today, I live here.”

  I shook my head no.

  He smiled at my reaction.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding,” I begged.

  He wouldn’t say it. All he did was continue to smile at me. Why wouldn’t he say this was some kind of sick prank? All I could do was walk toward my apartment, and the idiot followed me, keeping the rain off of me as I went in a zombie-like mode. I couldn’t even speak, but if I could have, I would have told him to hit the road. There were also a bunch of other things I would have liked to say, too, but I was taught to always speak like a lady; my dad would turn over in his grave if he could hear the thoughts in my head at that moment.

  We made it to my door, and I immediately dropped my bags and got my key out. I turned to him. “Thank you, Mr. Greyson. I’ve got it from here.”

  It was like he was laughing at me. Humor just danced in his gorgeous eyes. “Are you ever going to call me Ian again?”

  “Nope. I think Mr. Greyson fits you.”

  He quit smiling and pressed his lips together. “Kelli …”

  I turned from him, opened my door, and started picking my bags back up. He picked up a couple too.

  “I’ve got it,” I snapped.

  “I’m sure you do,” he snapped back, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing some more of the bags and coming right into my apartment uninvited. His audacity was stunning.

  “I told you I don’t invite men into my apartment.”

  “No, you said you didn’t invite in strangers, and we both know I’m not one and that this isn’t the first time I’ve been in one of your apartments.” Then he looked around and grinned. “But this one is a lot nicer than the last.”

  I really was stunned. Two weeks ago, I would have never in a million years imagined this could ever happen. I just kept blankly staring at the grinning idiot. I finally managed to find my words again. “Did you just wake up one morning and think, I haven’t tortured Kelli Bryant in years. I need to get on that?”

  He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “You got me,” he said as he walked toward me, grinning wickedly, his eyes never leaving mine. He set the grocery bags on my counter. Once his hands were empty, he edged closer to me as I stood there dumfounded.

  “Or maybe this has nothing to do with you at all,” he whispered in my ear.

  I had to stop myself from shivering, but goose bumps erupted. Darn him.

  On that note, he walked toward my door laughing. He turned before he walked out. “I’m in 211B, just in case you wanted to know. And by the way, I welcome women into my apartment.”

  Chapter 8

  Just like that, he left. I so badly wanted to c
huck something at his head. What an egotistical pig. For several minutes I just stood there in a stupor, surrounded by groceries that really needed to be put away and Charlie who kept rubbing up against my leg, begging for attention. Surely this wasn’t happening. The man was infiltrating every space of my life, and his whole “this has nothing to do with you” comment bugged me. Of course it wasn’t about me, but still.

  When I came to, I called Amanda. She was probably sick of all the calls this week, but I knew she would want to hear about this turn of events; at least I wasn’t crying this time.

  “Whaaaat!” She exclaimed.

  “You heard me right.”

  “I knew it.”

  “You knew what?”

  “He still has feelings for you.”

  I adamantly disagreed with her for the hundredth time on the subject and told her about his “nothing to do with me” comment.

  She just laughed. “Yep, he’s got it bad for you.”

  “Did you just hear what I said?”

  “Loud and clear, my dear sister. Hold on, I want to tell Zane.”

  I could hear Zane laughing in the background as she told him, and then I heard him ask if he should come over and talk to the guy.

  “Tell Zane that’s not necessary.”

  “Well I think I’m going to come over; I want to see this guy for myself.”

  “Amanda, you will do no such thing. Plus, you can meet him at the retirement party. And I expect you to keep your incorrect conjectures to yourself.”

  “Oh honey, I’m not the wrong one here. Even Zane agrees with me.”

  “Well then, that makes it all true.”

  “So snarky this morning, Kelli Jelly.”

  “Yeah, after the week I’ve had, snarky is the nicest of my emotions right now.”