Thin Walls

by Lawson, Cassandra

  Mercy sent me a quick text to thank me for getting someone to come by and deal with her plants. I didn’t see her for the rest of the weekend. Sunday, I had plans with my friends while she’d already told me she was working on her cookbook all day. It had been very tempting to find an excuse to stop by for a quick visit. I could lie and say I wanted to see what she was baking, but I just wanted to see Mercy. I was proud of myself for resisting temptation.

  Smiling and whistling, I went to pick Mercy up for work Monday morning. Even the annoying mess on her front door and window couldn’t take away from my good mood. We’d only be working a half-day since I needed to deal with the work on Mercy’s porch. I hoped to convince her to have dinner with me after that.

  “Good morning.” I greeted her with a smile when she opened the door. That day, she wore a long teal dress. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, and she already had her laptop bag slung over her shoulder.

  “Good morning,” she replied. “I want to thank you again for getting someone out here to repot my plants. I was afraid they’d all die, but they seem to be doing fine.”

  “You can thank my mum,” I told her on the way to my car.

  “Your mom came out here to do it?” she asked.

  I shook my head as I handed her the key fob “She walked me through the process. I’ve done some gardening with her, but I’m no expert.”

  “You took care of my plants?” she asked when she was seated behind the wheel.

  “With advice from my mum,” I reminded her.

  “Thank you,” she told me. “I wasn’t even thinking about cleaning up the plants until I parked after painting with my mom. I didn’t think I could save them.”

  “Your mother seems very nice,” I remarked.

  “And nosy,” she added. “Sorry if she scared you off a little.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “Mia told me to marry you the day she met you, and my mum is already considering moving our family Christmas gathering out here so we can celebrate with your family. The only thing that may stop her is my reminder that your family has their own Christmas traditions.”

  “Does your mom do this with every woman you date?” she asked.

  “Are we officially dating?” I asked with a grin.

  “We’re officially keeping it platonic until after my contract is up,” she reminded me.

  “Right,” I agreed with a nod. “In answer to your question, Mum normally doesn’t take this much interest in my love life. You can blame Mia this time. She told her about you before I had a chance. How about you? Does your mother usually take a strong interest in the men you date?”

  “You mean before I became a workaholic who never went out?” she asked.

  “Yes, before then,” I replied.

  “I didn’t stay with too many long enough to introduce them to my mom,” she admitted. “I’ve been a workaholic since before I was old enough to date. Back in school, I did all sorts of volunteer work and got good grades. I was on the tennis and swim teams.”

  “Wow! Was there ever a time when you weren’t busy?”

  “Not that I can remember,” she replied. “I’ve always been very competitive with my sister. She’s a few years older than me, and I had a lot of teachers tell me how amazing Bennie was at everything. I never felt jealous. It always felt like a challenge. If Bennie got perfect scores, then I was going to get perfect scores.”

  “Are the two of you still competing?” I asked.

  “Nah,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “We’re way past that. Each of us succeeded in our own area, and Bennie realized she needed to do more than work all the time.”

  “How about you?” I asked. “Have you realized you need to do more than work?”

  “I’m not quite there yet,” she admitted. “How about you?”

  “I’m probably better at taking time for myself than you are,” I replied. “Of course, I work longer hours when we have a bigger client load, and I have to travel as part of my job.”

  “Do you enjoy your job?” she asked.

  “There are days when I think I’m ready for a change,” I replied. “That’s a little harder since I’ve never worked for anyone other than my father.”

  “What do you want to do?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Back in school, they’d ask me what I wanted to do when I grew up, and I always had great answers.”

  “Such as?” she prompted.

  “Firefighter. Jet pilot. I think I even told them I wanted to be an actor,” I replied. “There were more jobs, but my answers were all lies. From a young age, I knew I’d work for my dad. This isn’t one of those woe-is-me, poor little rich boy complaints. It was nice knowing I didn’t have the same worries a lot of other kids did. I wasn’t trying to figure out what I needed to do to reach my goal. When I neared graduation, I didn’t have to worry that I wouldn’t be able to find a job and pay my bills.”

  “That must have been nice,” she remarked.

  “It was,” I agreed. “Of course, that security meant I didn’t do as much fantasizing about various careers. At the same time, I didn’t want to tell people I planned to have some boring corporate job when I grew up. When I was younger, I didn’t even understand what I’d be doing. I just knew my dad had nice cars and a nice house. It all sounded good to me.”

  “I can see how it might seem boring, and a little confusing, to school kids, but your job doesn’t seem boring to me,” she stated.

  “What did you want to do when you were in school?” I asked.

  “I wanted to be on the supreme court,” she replied. “That dream lasted about a week. I also had dreams of being a ballerina, even though I was an utter failure in ballet class. Back in first grade, I thought some famous ballerina would come along and see my potential. She’d train me, and I’d take my place with the Russian ballet. Don’t ask me why that dream only involved the Russian ballet. I’m not sure where I got that from.”

  “How long did you take ballet?” I asked.

  “Six months. I sucked,” she admitted.

  “I think I can overlook that flaw,” I assured her. “Any other dream jobs?”

  “Nothing too exciting,” she replied. “I feel good about what I’ve accomplished, and who knows what else I’ll do?”

  “No desire to pick one career and stick to it?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she replied with a shrug. “It’s not that I’m afraid of committing to one career. I simply haven’t found the right one yet.”

  “How about guys?” I asked. “Are you waiting to find the right one? Or do you still feel like you don’t have the time?”

  Chapter 28

  Mercy

  I was impressed with Spencer’s smooth transition between discussing careers and asking about dating.

  “Commitment isn’t an issue for me,” I assured him. “I don’t even have a problem committing to my jobs. I simply haven’t found the job or guy to marry yet.”

  “Your mum says you don’t date much,” he remarked.

  “So, we can’t go back to talking about careers?” I asked.

  “We can if you really want to,” he replied with a laugh.

  “I fell into a slump of dating selfish men,” I admitted.

  “So, they wanted all your time and hated that you worked so much?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” I hedged. “They were selfish in bed. My last semi-serious boyfriend complained because I refused to fake orgasms. According to him, I was selfish and needed to consider his ego.”

  A beat of silence passed before Spencer asked, “You’re joking, right?”

  “I wish I was joking. Before him, I’d had two boyfriends who didn’t act all that concerned with my satisfaction, but this guy took the cake.” I shook my head at the memory. “He even suggested I watch porn to learn how to fake an orgasm the right way. Apparently, a man needs to feel like he’s doing well in bed.”

  “Only if he’s doing well in bed,” Spencer added. “
What the hell was wrong with that guy? I’ve never asked a woman to fake an orgasm.”

  “But has a woman ever faked an orgasm with you?” My question was meant to tease Spencer, but at the same time, I wanted to know if he’d go with the arrogant male response and scoff at the mere thought of any woman ever needing to fake an orgasm with him. I liked confidence in a man, but I didn’t think any man was romance-novel good in bed.

  “I don’t believe they have,” he replied thoughtfully. “It’s always possible that one of them thought she needed to. I did go through my awkward teen phase.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not possible,” I insisted with mock horror. “I’ve heard that men never go through clumsy phases.”

  “Yes, we’re born innately knowing how to please a woman,” he replied with a laugh.

  “How did you learn to please a woman?” I asked.

  “Let’s make a deal,” he began, his voice slightly rough as if the idea turned him on. “I’ll tell you how I learned to pleasure a woman if you answer the same question for me.”

  “I’ve never been with a woman,” I replied.

  “Perhaps, I should rephrase that,” he stated. “I want to know how you learned to pleasure yourself.”

  Our conversation had rapidly gone from mild to bordering on wild. I say bordering because neither of us had ventured further than a hypothetical discussion.

  “Too much?” he asked. “Should we save this conversation for another time?”

  I heard the challenge in his voice, and the bigger part of me wanted to take him up on that challenge. The logical part of my brain reminded me that the Bay Bridge during commute time fit the description of wrong time and place.

  “How about if we save this conversation for later?” I asked.

  “Tonight?” Spencer suggested. “Over the phone so we keep to our platonic rule.”

  I snorted. “Platonic? Yeah, I’m not sure talking dirty on the phone counts as platonic.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot more platonic than it would be if I had you alone at my place while we talk dirty,” he murmured, and damn if I didn’t nearly moan at the thought of Spencer telling me how he’d learned to make a woman scream in ecstasy as he demonstrated his skills for me.

  Chapter 29

  Spencer

  I’d never had a longer Monday, and it was only a half-day at the office. Of course, I’d had a hard time focusing after my commute conversation with Mercy. I still wasn’t sure what had possessed me to turn our talk about careers into one about dating before moving on to sex. After hearing about the guy who’d asked her to fake her orgasms, I’d been unable to get my mind to refocus on a safe topic. I wanted to show Mercy that I’d never need to ask her to fake anything.

  “Sign here.”

  I blinked twice and looked at the guy who’d spoken. That’s right; he was telling me how much I owed to get Mercy’s porch cleaned up. The number matched my quote, so I decided it was okay that I’d missed the breakdown. It didn’t matter since I could see from the bottom of the steps leading up to Mercy’s condo that everything looked fine.

  “Thank you for coming out on such short notice,” I told the guy.

  “No problem,” he replied. “I hope your girlfriend doesn’t have any more problems. She’s a real sweet lady. She even gave me cookies.”

  “Mercy is great.” I didn’t correct his assumption about her being my girlfriend.

  After paying, I headed up to Mercy’s—just to make sure she was happy with the work. I liked that line and decided to stick with it even if I didn’t buy it.

  Mercy answered the door dressed in jeans and a red sweater. She had an apron on, and I could smell the cookies from the front door.

  “Did you come over to try to pilfer some of my cookies?” she asked with a sweet smile.

  “I came to see if you want to grab dinner and to make sure you’re happy with the work on your porch,” I replied.

  “The work is great,” she assured me. “Thanks again for having it cleaned up. My insurance would have covered part of the cleanup after my deductible, but this was faster.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” I assured her. “So, dinner?”

  “I’m going to stay in tonight,” she replied. “I’m tired of eating out, so I’m also going to spend the evening making some lunches to take into work this week.”

  “All right.” If I sounded disappointed, it wasn’t my fault. It seemed I was becoming addicted to Mercy’s presence.

  “I’m also not sure I trust myself around you after our talk on the way to work,” she admitted. “We kept it tame on the way home, but maybe we shouldn’t push our luck.”

  I quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to say more. To keep from reaching out and hauling her into my arms, I shoved my hands into my front pockets.

  Her hands went to her hips. “You aren’t going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, are you?”

  “Not at all,” I replied with a grin. “I simply want to hear you say the words.”

  “I don’t want to end up in bed with you,” she explained. “No, that’s not even close to true. I really do want to end up in bed with you. That’s part of the problem. We work together, and Suri vandalized my condo. We’ve both agreed that we need to wait. Waiting is the right move, and yet I keep throwing out mixed signals.”

  “We both keep contradicting our words with our actions,” I finished for her.

  “Exactly!” she agreed. “It’s so freaking annoying when we do that. We’re not a couple of teens who can’t control our hormones, and I’m not the type of woman who plays games with men.”

  “Maybe we need to reevaluate the situation and set more realistic guidelines for our relationship,” I suggested.

  “You’re right,” she agreed with a nod. “It might help if we stop commuting together.”

  That idea wasn’t going to work for me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Because of the traffic?” she asked.

  “Because I like seeing you on the way to and from work,” I admitted. “I don’t want to stop commuting with you.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s both sleep on this, and we’ll come up with a new plan to discuss tomorrow.”

  One corner of my mouth lifted as I took my hands out of my pockets and stepped forward. “Are you penciling me in for an appointment to discuss our relationship?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she replied as she eyed me warily. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “How am I looking at you?” I asked.

  “Like you’re about to pounce on me,” she explained.

  “The thought has crossed my mind about a dozen times since I got to your front porch,” I admitted. “I wouldn’t complain if you pounced on me again instead.”

  She shook her head and put a hand up. “We agreed to reevaluate and discuss this in the morning.”

  I caught her hand and brought her palm up to my lips. My gaze locked with hers as I moved her hand to my heart. “I know you like control. It makes you feel safe to have everything go the way you expect. Relationships aren’t always like that. There are times when you have to let go and enjoy yourself.”

  “But work,” Mercy replied helplessly.

  I smiled, happy with the lack of conviction in her voice. She was arguing with herself rather than me, and it seemed she was losing that argument. “Yes, we need to consider work. We’re not children who can get so caught up in the moment that they lose all sense of reason, but that doesn’t mean we have to cling to reason at all times. Let go and enjoy what we have.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?” Her voice was breathy, and the hand I held against my heart trembled slightly.

  “The same way you did the other night,” I told her. “Throw caution to the wind and admit that we both want each other, and that there’s nothing wrong with our mutual desire.”

  Her lips parted, but no words came out. I was pushing her, and one could argue that it wa
s a dick move after she’d asked me for time to think about our next step. Something told me Mercy needed to let go more, like she had Thursday night when she’d kissed me. I was dying to make her let go completely so I could hear her scream my name.

  Leaning in, I brushed my lips against hers, teasing us both with that slight touch before I released her hand and took a step back. “Call me when you’re all ready for bed, and we’ll finish the conversation we started in the car.”

  Before the logical part of her brain kicked in and told her to avoid any bedtime discussions about sex, I turned and walked away. It wasn’t easy. I wanted to take that brief kiss further. I longed to push her inside and kiss her until we were both panting and ready to beg for release, but Mercy wasn’t ready for that.

  At least, I now had a solid plan. There would be no more waiting. I wouldn’t seduce Mercy at work, but that still left me with plenty of other opportunities to make her mine.

  Chapter 30

  Mercy

  I burned a batch of cookies and barely managed to get my lunches together for the rest of the week. I seemed incapable of focusing on anything other than Spencer.

  Though I didn’t usually admit it to others, I knew some of my past relationships hadn’t progressed beyond the early stages because of my inability to get my mind to shut off. That didn’t seem to be a problem with Spencer. Rather than having trouble getting my brain to shut off, I seemed to have trouble getting it to work sometimes around him.

  Phone sex with Spencer was likely a bad idea, and I could get out of it. Spencer wasn’t some pushy jerk who’d keep calling me if I told him I didn’t want to have that conversation yet. It was simple; all I had to do was say I didn’t want to have phone sex. Of course, I wanted to have phone sex, even knowing it might be best to wait. I’d been turned on since Spencer had made the suggestion in his car, and our talk on my porch had only made it worse.

  I took my shower and got ready for bed as my body hummed with excitement. When I got to the bedroom, I held my phone as I tried to decide what I was supposed to do. It’s not that I didn’t know how phone sex works. I’d talked dirty on the phone a few times. I’d read about it in books. It seemed crazy that I was nervous.