Her Artist (Love Games, #2)

by Allyson Lindt

  “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. Or in this case, fuck and tell.” The new voice almost froze Chloe’s feet to the ground. She knew who it was before they rounded the corner and she saw Mr. Gorgeous in the middle of a block of cubicles, talking to the group he’d been in the bar with Friday night.

  She swallowed back the sick rising in her throat.

  “What was her name? Dude, did you even get it?” Someone asked from the confines of their desk.

  Zach cleared his throat, and Mr. Gorgeous looked up. His laughter evaporated, and his face went pale when his gaze met Chloe’s. If Zach noticed, it didn’t show. “Jordan, everyone, this is our new writer. Storylines are her domain.”

  “Chloe.” She stepped forward, hand extended. “Nice to meet you.” She wasn’t going to be sick. She wouldn’t react.

  A few heads popped out from behind their walls, and suddenly the room erupted in whistles.

  God, she couldn’t do this. This was the part where she needed to tell Zach she couldn’t work in an environment like this. She’d made a mistake. Her mind whirred a million miles a minute—was she willing to surrender her dream job over something like this?

  No.

  “Jordan will take things from here,” Zach was saying. Another round of catcalls burst through the room. “The entire staff will be on their best behavior, because they know regardless of job title, they don’t act like children at the office.” Warning crept into his tone.

  “I’ll show you your desk and introduce you around.” Jordan kept his distance. Was he going to play it cool? Pretend nothing happened? Maybe that was okay.

  Except every time Chloe looked at him, she’d remember Friday night, and how much fun it had been. How good not only the sex, but the conversation was. And everyone else already knew too. They certainly weren’t pretending it didn’t happen, whether or not they knew details.

  On top of that, she didn’t want to walk away from this job. Writing the scripts for video games, for an up and coming, privately owned company, that had a reputation for pushing limits.

  “Are you all right?” Zach asked.

  Chloe forced a smile into place, and hoped over the next few hours or days it would turn natural. “Never better. I can’t wait to get started.”

  “Great. Welcome to the team. You have my extension, and you know where my office is if you need anything.” Zach stepped back.

  More whistles.

  “Hey.” Jordan’s bark echoed off walls. “Knock it off. Back to work.” He gave Chloe a smile far too similar to the one that had seduced her out of her panties. “Let’s get you started.”

  She braced herself for more jeers, but only heard a couple quiet snickers. That meant they’d gotten it out of their systems, right? Please let their fascination with our hookup fade quickly.

  Jordan was one-hundred percent professional as he showed her to her cubicle, gave her login information, and a run-down of what to expect from the job. She’d join him in meetings until she was more comfortable in her position. Apparently he was the head of art, and creatives had to stick together.

  Apparently his definition of stick together was tell every other guy in the office that he’d gotten lucky. How many details did he share before she got there?

  The rest of the brief orientation passed without too much incident. He pulled up a list of company procedural documents, apologized for the dry reading, and told her to familiarize herself with internal policies before lunch. Then he excused himself back to his desk.

  Chloe dragged in a few calming breaths, to settle her churning gut. She could do this. One day at a time, that’s how she’d make it through. Things would probably get better.

  Moments later, something flashed on the bottom of her screen. A messenger app, and a note from Jordan.

  I’d rather do this face-to-face, you deserve that. And I’ll tell those assholes to can it every time they speak up. But the last thing you need is for them to have more to talk about.

  She clenched her fists, hands shaking. She didn’t know if she was grateful for the reprieve, or just the tiniest bit pissed off he made that decision for her. Or at least, blamed it on her. Another message chimed in.

  I’m not sorry about the other night. I am sorry about the way they’re acting and that they know.

  What was she supposed to say to that? If she was sucking it up, she couldn’t tell off her counterpart. It’s done. I’ll deal with the consequences. Thanks for not sharing details at least.

  She prayed that was true.

  It’s between you and me. I promise.

  She stared at the words a little longer, not sure how she felt amid the bubble of confusion already churning inside, then turned back to her reading.

  The minutes ticked away, and the room fell silent. A glance at the clock told her it was almost ten-thirty. She’d made it through half a morning. The next... entire rest of her career would be no problem.

  Something rustled in the background, chairs shifting, people moving around, and she ignored it. Then her messenger flashed.

  Mason—which one was he?—said, I’m pulling together some early models. Do you want to watch while I work?

  Good. What she was here for. Sure. Where are you?

  Men’s bathroom.

  Snickers rolled through the room, and her face heated red-hot. She wouldn’t respond. No reason to feed the trolls. She swallowed her embarrassment and focused on the documents.

  Then the messages spilled in.

  I’ve got a male to female converter. Know where I can find a port to stick it in?

  One every few seconds.

  Help me stop my dongle from dangling?

  With snickers after each.

  I’m testing an open port sniffer. Want to volunteer?

  Until she lost track of who sent them.

  Need to use a back door to get rid of some dirty cache. I hear you’re an expert.

  The entire room exploded in laughter. She had two choices—tattle to Zach, or ignore it and hope they got bored.

  Fuck this. She wasn’t starting her career this way, cowering in the corner, hoping someone else fought her battles. Her palms hit the desk with a loud slap when she stood. “Fine. Let’s do this,” she said loud enough for her voice to carry, without yelling.

  She kept her back straight, and her gaze forward as she strode toward Jordan’s desk in what she hoped was an even gait. If the cubicles were shorter, would she see heads popping over the walls like gophers if she turned around? Were they doing that anyway?

  Jordan was on his feet when she reached him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  She held up a hand, palm out, in a stop gesture, and prayed her voice would stay steady. It wasn’t about the job anymore. This was her dignity. “Let’s get this out of the way now.”

  Jordan raised his brows.

  Her next words stalled in her throat. Misspeaking could get her fired, and it wouldn’t be the kind of thing she’d come back from. Not easily. But it was better than cowering. If it came to losing her job, she’d find a way through.

  “Yes, that was me at the bar Friday night.” She spoke loud enough—she hoped—for the room to hear her. “No, I didn’t know him before then. It doesn’t have anything to do with work. I don’t expect to be treated differently in either direction.” She inhaled deeply before continuing. “And it doesn’t mean I owe any of you anything similar, or any details. I’m not going to tattle, or hide from this. It is what it is. You’re adults. Deal with it.”

  That sounded too harsh. But she couldn’t think of a better way to phrase her thoughts, without leaving room for argument or misinterpretation.

  She risked a look at Jordan, who still watched her, eyes wide. He shook his head, and stepped toward her. She moved back enough to keep out of his way, trying not to look like she was retreating.

  “Are we done now?” He locked his gaze on her, his tone a similar volume to hers.

  “Yes.”

  “Everyone else. Are you do
ne?” he called.

  A murmur of yesses bled across the floor.

  “Good.” Jordan clipped the single word off. He stared at Chloe, expression an impassive mask. “Subject is closed. Anyone brings it up again, and we’ve got issues.”

  Chapter Four

  TWO YEARS LATER

  Jordan shifted from one foot to the other to try and ward off February’s creeping cold. It was Valentine’s Day, he was on call, and their servers had crashed. Worse, he’d forgotten the data center password, and was stuck outside in subzero temps until his on-call counterpart arrived.

  Working for a small company had a lot of benefits. But one of the downsides was everybody with tech knowledge took a turn being the emergency contact if something failed. Even the Director of Art and Design.

  He shoved his gloved hands into his slacks pockets, but it still didn’t warm his fingers. In spite of all that, he was relieved to have gotten the automated text that things were down. He fingered the silk fabric in his pocket. He couldn’t feel the texture, but he knew exactly what it was.

  Everything breaking gave him an escape from a disaster dinner that cost him two days’ salary, and a six-month relationship. Though really, things with Cherise were bound to fall apart sooner rather than later.

  Another car pulled into the parking lot. It had taken Chloe less than ten minutes to get here. He’d known he wouldn’t be waiting long. Managers sucked it up and took the holidays, and as had been the case since she started her job, his other was the Director of Creative.

  He tried not to stare as Chloe strode toward the building. Her black dress hugged her curves. Even her leather jacket snugged around all the right places. He’d enjoy the view, but that wasn’t why he was grateful she was his counterpart tonight.

  “Waiting for me? I’m touched.” Her tone was almost as cool as the air, and she stepped around him to punch into the building. The data center hosted servers for a dozen large corporations, so their security was tighter than most banks. Key code to get in. Fingerprint scanner after that. And guard checking ID’s before entering the server room itself.

  “I just got here.” Not a complete lie. The restaurant was only a few minutes away. He hadn’t planned it that way, but maybe subconsciously he’d hoped for it.

  They checked in, and made their way toward the locked cages with their racks. “Hope it didn’t ruin your evening.” There was no malice in her tone. Or sympathy. Or any other emotion.

  She didn’t expect a response. It was why her name on the roster made him grateful. “Messages say Snowbird is up and down. Reboot services?” he asked. All of their servers were named after local ski resorts.

  With that simple exchange, the both slid into work mode. The exchanges were all technical and about the issue at hand.

  Since she started two years ago, he’d watched her shift into a different person. Both more forward and more withdrawn, if that was possible. He still remembered her first day in the office distinctly. The stand she took, and how fierce she looked doing so.

  She’d made it her mission to prove she earned her job. Not only because her sister’s ex-boyfriend ran the company, but as her personal mission to remind everyone she wasn’t the office slut joke.

  And she more than deserved her title. She ran her department efficiently and fairly, and their games had won awards based on the storylines she came up with.

  The harassment had never stopped. She didn’t mention it, but he heard the snickers. She was always polite, to him and everyone else, but never more than professionally friendly. The first few months he offered repeatedly to step in, and the few times he’d done so anyway, she shut him down.

  Now they had this. A colleague who would ask him about his weekend, never expecting to hear more than It was great, yours? Someone who was incredible at her job. And the least likely person in the entire company to ask him about his Valentine’s Day.

  Exactly what he wanted tonight. From anyone but her. The thought rushed in, startling him, and he tucked it aside.

  She typed away on one system, checking her side of things, while he looked into his. Silence settled into the room, punctuated by keystrokes, and the occasional back and forth.

  “I think we need to reboot Brighton,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Dave. I can’t let you do that.”

  He looked up to see a smile twitching on her face. She met his gaze for the briefest second, before turning back to her work and saying, “Give me a minute to close connections.”

  More tapping filled the air, along with the frequent groans of, That’s not good, and, Shit, are you kidding me, then finally, Fuck.

  With that one, he gave Chloe his full attention again. When she wielded foul language in casual conversation, instead of killing off characters in her frustration, it was a bad sign. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Corruption is severe. We need to do a full restore.”

  In other words, it was going to be a long night.

  Jordan could almost hear the clock ticking in his skull as they worked to swap everything over. The worst part would be waiting for the backup to restore. Nothing to do in the meantime but sit, and hope it went smoothly.

  He leaned back in his seat as the restore kicked off, and raked his fingers through his hair.

  “I always hate this part.” Her tone had softened from crisp professionalism to something more casual. Somewhere along the way, she’d stripped off her coat, and now that he had time to look, he struggled to drag his gaze away again.

  The black knit dress hugged her torso, followed her waist, and didn’t even come close to reaching her knees where they crossed. Black stockings contoured her long legs, and ended in heels that made her as tall as him when she was standing.

  At least one of them should enjoy the night. “I can monitor this, if you want to get back to dinner.”

  “So you can take all the glory?” She gave a tiny laugh and shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll pick things up another time.”

  “At least he understands being on call, right?” The other day in the breakroom, everyone had been swapping their plans for the night, or lack thereof.

  He’d watched Chloe try and slide in and out without being noticed, but she’d gotten sucked into the conversation, and spilled that a friend had set her up with a med student.

  “I hope you enjoyed the time you got.” What was he doing? This wasn’t the kind of small talk he wanted to make. Movie quotes were fine. Digging into a co-worker’s love life—Chloe’s specifically—was so low on his list of things he needed to know.

  “It was indescribable.” Some of the cool flashed back into her words. Was that because she didn’t want to talk about it? Most likely. “He was gorgeous and intelligent. Donates his free time to children with cancer. He was pre-grad top of his class.”

  “So he was a humorless dick?” The retort slipped out before Jordan could stop it.

  “Why would you say that?”

  That was a good question. Why had he? “Because you like a sense of humor and it’s not top on his list of traits. Besides, you’re talking about him in past tense. So either you don’t plan to ever see him again, or he’s dead. Which, I suppose, same result still.”

  She gave a half-laugh, half-exhale, and her shoulders relaxed. “He was a humorless dick. He said something—I couldn’t even tell you what—and I made the mistake of letting my inner geek show, and replied with, Remember, hacking is more than just a crime. It's a survival trait.”

  “Not a fan of Hackers, then?” Jordan didn’t think that made the guy humorless. The movie was campy.

  “Not a fan of jokes, apparently. He spent the next half hour lecturing me on why that wasn’t appropriate because the number of homeless children and runaways in Portland is so high.”

  Jordan furrowed his brow. “Sad and horrific, definitely. How are Hackers and Portland runaways related?”

  “I’m not going to subject you to his logic.” She shook her head. “Take my word for it when I a
ssure you they are.”

  Apparently Jordan wasn’t the only person a sever crash had rescued. “So getting the call tonight?”

  “Saved my ass.” Her smile had moved in full-time.

  It was wrong of him to hope the restore went smoothly, but still took most of the night. That didn’t stop the thought from taking up residence in his head. “Did you at least get a nice dinner out of it?”

  “Not really. Late reservations, so we were on the bread when the texts came in.”

  “In that case, my lady, allow me to treat you to the evening of your life.” He stood and gave her an exaggerated bow.

  Pink dotted her cheeks. He hadn’t seen her blush in... well, two years. Fuck if it wasn’t just as enticing now.

  Chapter Five

  ALMOST THREE HOURS after arriving, they finally had everything back online. Chloe didn’t know if she wanted the night to come to an end yet. Which was ridiculous. They’d part ways in a few minutes, and life would go on.

  She wouldn’t linger on all the reasons she’d enjoyed an evening that should have been terrible. That Jordan’s idea of treating her to dinner, since they couldn’t leave the facility, was to raid the vending machines and bring back her favorite chips and soda.

  She had no idea he’d ever noticed. Had he also seen how his offer of the night of her life drove into the one memory she struggled to squelch every time he was around? Ignoring the teasing over the past couple years had become second nature. It still stung, but she could brush it away.

  Ignoring him—forcing her cool mask into place when they were in the same room—that always took a force of will. At least in here, while cameras watched, there was no sound. She could let down her verbal guard.

  He clicked a few more things on one of the servers. “If you want to take off, I’ll finish up.”

  “I’ll stick around until we’re all set.” She should take the offer and go. Head back home to her wine and ice cream, and enjoy the night the way she was meant to. Secure in her singleness.

  “I’m behind you in less than two minutes. We’re set.” He fumbled with something in his pocket, and a flash of bright red fluttered to the ground. “Fuck.” He snatched it and tucked it away again before she could register what it was.