by Tasha Fawkes
I didn't do anything wrong, I remind myself as I close the door behind me before speaking, though the last thing I want is to be stuck in his office. No, that’s not the last thing. The last thing I want is for anybody outside the door to know what happened between us. That isn't the sort of reputation I want to have here.
“Like I said last night, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. What happened was a mistake. I shouldn’t have started things in the first place.” If I could just go back and undo that kiss…
He turns to me, and I wish I could understand the look on his face. I can’t tell if he’s wounded or angry or just plain annoyed. “You think I'm upset because you didn't have sex with me?”
I frown, puzzled. “Aren't you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t get you.”
“What’s not to get?” I offer, still unsure what he's thinking. “I’m a pretty simple person.”
“You’re about as simple as a Rubik’s cube, and I could never solve one of those damned things.” He rubs the back of his neck. “No, Jane, you’re not simple at all. Because here I was, thinking there was something happening between us, and then you run off without an explanation.”
My heart skips a beat. “You did?”
“Yeah. I was almost sure of it. I mean, I feel it inside.”
He comes to me, and there’s nowhere for me to go. I back away until I’m against the door with him only a few feet away. He doesn't crowd me to the point where I'm claustrophobic, but it's close.
“You have every right to stop if something makes you uncomfortable.” His voice is quiet. “But I wish you'd tell me what's going on in that head of yours.”
I want to tell him. That’s the craziest thing of all. I wish I could unburden myself, lay it all out, tell him it’s not his fault. That the person who's responsible for me being this way is in prison because another girl had more courage than I did. I want to tell him he’s not crazy, that I feel it, too. Oh, boy, do I feel it.
Dammit. I was wrong, all the way around. I should’ve put up a wall between us and kept it there instead of being weak and falling for his charm. We could’ve been professional and gotten along well. I could’ve made a home here at James Enterprises, worked my way up in the company. I could’ve had a wonderful enough life with work and a friend like Chloe. I should’ve been satisfied with that future instead of trying to pursue something that I knew wasn't going to work. Not because of anything to do with Anthony.
It's all me.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, and I watch the light go out of his eyes. My eyes are burning and my heart is in my throat, but I make myself say the words. Make myself let him go so he can find someone better. “I think it’s better for us to work together and leave it there. Maybe, someday, we can be friends, but for now, we should keep it professional.”
I fumble for the doorknob, turn it, and slip through the door before he can offer any further argument. He’ll never understand how hard that was for me. He’ll never know how much I wish I could’ve told him that yes, I feel what’s happening between us. That I want to try to see if we can make things work between us.
He’s smart enough to leave me alone for most of the day. Or maybe he's pissed enough. I don't know. I keep my head down and my eyes on five o’clock, just desperate to get out and be alone again. He’s stirred up a lot for me, more than he could ever understand, even if I had the guts to explain it all. I want it to be all good memories and the normal fear that comes with starting something new. But I can't tell him that there are moments when I feel like I can hardly breathe, much less think straight. Too many ugly memories press on me from every side.
Which is why Chloe is the last person I want to see, even though it's been hours since my 'talk' with Anthony. I can’t make happy or lighthearted for her sake today. The sound of her voice puts my teeth on edge, though it isn’t her fault. I remind myself of that very fact when she appears at my desk. I’m pretty sure the smile I plaster on my face is more like a grimace. She doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been going through my contacts.” She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through. “I think I have a few strong candidates.”
My head is spinning. She’s good at catching me off guard, like she’s always a few steps ahead of me. What is she talking about? “Candidates for what?”
She frowns. “For you, goof. Remember? I’m looking for the perfect man for you.”
Oh.
I can’t help myself. All the sadness and disappointment and pain come bubbling up to the surface. “Why can’t you take a hint?” I snap.
Her frown deepens. She takes a step away, eyes wide. “Are you joking?”
Her voice is hesitant, and I hate myself for making her feel this way, but everything inside me is so raw that my walls go up automatically, even for her.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I give up. This day is just too much. It’s around three, and I’ve gotten all my work done. If there’s anything else, I can manage it from home. I start packing up as fast as I can. “I told you I’m not interested, Chloe, and I meant it. Mind your own damn business.”
Her jaw drops, and for a moment, I have the sort of vicious satisfaction that only comes when a person can pawn off their foul mood on someone else.
“Wow, Jane.” She scowls at me. “You could have just told me no. You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”
She storms off, and I’m just too fed up to care whether I hurt her feelings. Besides, I did tell her no. Constantly. And she didn't listen. Is it my fault that she doesn't know when to let things go? She should just stay out of my business. Why can’t the entire world just leave me alone? It never gave a shit about me before. Why is this any different?
I do my own storming off, not even bothering to tell Anthony I’m leaving, much less ask whether it’s okay to go. I wonder if he'll even notice I'm gone. If anyone will for that matter.
Chapter 18
Anthony
“Man, I need to get out tonight.”
I’m glad Tyler’s only on the phone so he can’t see when I roll my eyes. He’s going to have to get over his girl eventually or stop using her as an excuse to go out every night. My patience with him is finally wearing thin.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” I ask, my voice edged with annoyance.
I’ve spent the past twenty minutes telling him about Jane, and all he can think about is wanting to go out because his girlfriend dumped him a month ago. I feel bad for him, but it took a lot for me to share with him like that. I mean, we’re close, and I would do anything for him, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy baring my soul. That would be why I don’t do it much, and he knows it. I don't ask for much in my friendships, but this one time, I wish he would actually think about someone other than himself.
He sighs, and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should let me finish.”
I frown but say, “Okay. Go ahead.”
“I was gonna say, I need to get out tonight and so do you. You need to get laid, buddy. Get that girl out of your head.” He says it like it's going to be easy.
Except I’m not sure getting laid will do it. It’s Monday, four days after the last time I saw her in my office, and I sure as hell haven’t stopped thinking about her. I can’t get the taste of her skin off my mind, the sound of her voice as she moaned my name. There’s an email sitting up on my monitor, and it’s from her. It’s completely professional and totally lacking, as if what happened between us was erased from her memory. She’s not kidding. She really wants to forget all of it, to the point where she’s willing to risk her job by calling off for two days.
The worst part is, she’s brilliant. I can’t even get mad at her for not being around because she’s still doing all the work she needs to do, and she's sharing ideas with me. They’re all genius, which I know means she's an amazing asset for the company. But that’s all she’ll give me. No answers, no explanations. Every time I ask a question that isn't
business related, she ignores it. She won’t even tell me why she won’t come to work, even though I know very well why. She isn't as unaffected as she pretends. She can't see me and still keep her distance. I could make a big deal about it, but I know damn well if I go to HR about Jane's attendance, she could counter with my behavior making for a hostile work environment, and that's the sort of press my father might very well use as an excuse to kill me.
As always, Tyler has some pretty strong opinions. Which I'm sure aren't colored at all by his own recent romantic issues. “Dude. She’s crazy. I mean, she practically threw herself at you and then she acted all nuts and ran off. She doesn’t know what she wants. Forget about her and come out with me tonight. Get some ass. You won’t even remember her in the morning.”
I doubt it, but I agree anyway. It’s not like I’ve never regretted agreeing to something Tyler wants to do. At least I won't be sitting at home on my couch, replaying that night over and over, trying to figure out when things went wrong. Or, worse, fantasizing about how things would have progressed if I'd done one thing or another differently.
I need to avoid going home as much as possible. If nothing else, being with Tyler gives me an excuse to get drunk on a work night. At least an excuse that's better than me drinking alone in the dark in my apartment.
Why not. Things can't possibly get any worse.
Hours later, he sidles up to me with a frown. “What’s your problem, man? You need another drink?”
I shake my head and wish I had gone home after work instead of going out to the club. Drinking in the dark holds more appeal right now than all of this. Not that I can explain it to him. Hell, I can't explain it to myself.
“Nah. I don’t know. I’m just not into it tonight.” I try to shrug it off. Would it be ridiculous if I tell him I have a headache?
Tyler glances at the girl I just turned away as she walks back to the table full of her friends. She’s hot—smokin’ hot. Tall, leggy, with pouty lips I would normally imagine sliding up and down my dick within about three seconds of talking with her. When she came over and introduced herself, I didn’t feel anything. I haven’t felt anything all night, actually. Not for any of the girls who’ve given me the eye or “accidentally” bumped into me. I’ve been turning down ass all night. And he knows how unlike me that is. I know how unlike me that is.
“You’ve got it bad, brother.” He has a smug sort of smirk on his face as he raises a glass in a toast. The douche is lucky we’re out in public, where I can’t get away with hitting him.
I’m lucky nothing came out about the fist fight I got in over Jane, and a second brawl would be pushing my luck. Dad's finally not treating me like a disappointment, and getting a shot in at Tyler isn't worth losing that.
“I don’t have anything bad. I’m just not in the mood tonight. Is it against the law for me not to be in the mood to fuck around?” I finish my drink in a single gulp and decide that the buzz I have isn't enough.
“Then you’re getting old, Anthony. It’s one or the other.”
“Fine. I’m getting old.” I turn away from him and look over the room again because it’s easier to do that than to keep listening to my best friend trying to get under my skin. Did I give him shit when he broke up and the whole world ended? No. I was there as his friend. I’m glad he thinks it’s so funny that I’m going through something I’ve never dealt with before.
Someone catches my attention from across the room. A curvy blonde is taking off her jacket by the door, and I can't help dipping my gaze down to check out her ass.
Killer.
If she looks that good from behind, I can make it work. She wouldn't be the first woman I preferred to take doggy-style because that showed off her best assets. Some women might think that makes me a pig, but I'm always upfront that all I'm looking for is sex. That's what tonight's about too, right? The sort of fucking that will push aside any lingering attraction I have for Jane.
Which means a blonde is best since I don't think I can be with a brunette right now and not think of Jane. Of how I want to have her on her knees in front of me, my hand tangled in her hair as she takes me in her mouth. Her hair spread out on my pillow as I move above her. Those wide gray eyes glazed with pleasure...fuck.
Tyler's right. I need to get laid.
I turn my attention back to the blonde just as she turns around. I'm already psyching myself up to go over to her when I realize that I know those eyes, and that smile, and every inch of her paid-for curves.
Trinity. And she’s coming my way.
I should turn away from her, make it clear that I'm not checking her out. I should make sure Tyler keeps his mouth shut about why we're here, because as much as he dislikes Trinity, with as many shots as he's been knocking back, he might think it's a good idea to mention my recent women troubles.
Trinity will bring me nothing but grief. I know this as much as I know that pretty much anyone I hook up with tonight is going to pale in comparison to Jane. Which means no one is going to be exactly what I'm looking for, and it'll only be for tonight. We'll go to a hotel, fuck, and then I'll leave as soon as we're done. I'll tell whoever I'm with that she can stay the night, then take off before she can ask any questions. That won't work with Trinity since she knows where I live. And she might come into things expecting us to go back to the way we were.
But isn’t there something to be said for the devil we know? At least I know what I’m getting myself into with that one. I can make sure I'm clear about this only being a random hook-up, a one-time thing, and if she doesn't accept that, I'll walk away. And if she says she accepts it, then changes her mind, that's on her, not me. Whatever little scenario her mind may cook up is her responsibility, not mine.
So why is this a bad idea?
Hell, it might even be kismet, her being here tonight. And who am I to say no to fate?
Chapter 19
Jane
I should get used to being alone. I’ll be alone for the rest of my life, after all. I mean, if I can't manage to put my past aside for a guy I really like, a guy as amazing as Anthony, then I'll never be able to be with anyone. I should’ve known better. I mean, the first guy who ever tried to kiss me, I slapped. And then when, even after that, Clay Shore got up enough nerve to ask me out, I freaked. Once that story made the rounds, no one bothered me again.
At least the sound of the TV keeps me company now. I’m lucky I found one so cheap, otherwise, silence might be my only companion. I lean against the window frame and peer through the cloudy old glass to the street below. It’s raining, nasty-looking. The sort of winter day that makes even me hate the winter. I usually like snow and cold, bundling up inside with some hot cocoa.
I can feel the cold seeping through the gaps between the glass and the wood, and I shiver. I wrap my arms around myself, the thick cardigan I pulled on over my pajamas at least keeping me moderately comfortable, though definitely not fashionable. What does it matter? Nobody will see me. Nobody’s seen me in days, though that’s going to have to change soon. I’ll eventually run out of groceries and have to venture outside. That's when I'll worry about looking presentable.
The city is moving from late afternoon to early evening as I watch. All the street lamps are on already, and talk shows have changed to local news. The news is my main connection to the outside world after cutting myself off for days. I’m going to have to get back into the world soon. I don’t have a choice. I wish I did. I wish I could just order everything online and never have to leave my apartment.
Healthy, I know. I took a few psychology classes in college, telling myself that they would be good to help me figure out marketing stuff. Knowing how people think, why they think the way they do. And it made sense at the time, but even as I sat in one class after another, I knew the real reason I signed up for all those classes outside my major.
I wanted to figure myself out. Wanted to find a way to heal what's broken. I still do want that, but I've since accepted that it will never happen. I can
't fix what's wrong with me, and I can't trust anyone else to do it either.
A knock at the door shakes me out of my stupor. Crap. I'll just ignore it. I go back to looking out the window, intent on forgetting I ever heard anything. Nobody visits me, anyway. They probably got the wrong door, and they'll realize it when I don't answer or when they text whoever they're supposed to be meeting...
“Jane? I know you’re home. I hear the TV on in there.”
Shit.
I can’t decide if I’m annoyed with Chloe or glad that she’s tenacious. I’ve been sick with guilt over the way I talked to her. She doesn’t know any other way to be, and I already knew that. She's this way with everyone. Nobody ever told her there are situations that can’t be smoothed over with a forceful personality or charm.
I must hesitate too long, because she continues. “Come on. Please. Let me in. I came to make peace.”
It’s not her fault, I remind myself, as I open the door. It’s not anybody’s fault but his. My uncle’s face is in my head as I open the door to find Chloe holding up a six pack of beer. “I come with gifts. I’m sorry. It hasn’t been the same at the office without you.”
I can’t help but smile in spite of myself. She's so genuine that I feel even worse about how I behaved. “I’ve only worked there for a week. How can you say that?”
She shrugs. “It’s true, though. I miss you around the place.”
How can I turn her away? Instead, I step aside to let her in, then sit next to her and take the beer she offers me. I don’t usually drink beer—just the scent is enough to send my mind places I don't want it to go—but I need a drink if I’m going to get through my story.