“All things considered, you showed up remarkably quickly. I think we can excuse a tardy for a wardrobe malfunction. I assume it’s been corrected?” Oh fuck—Ciaran’s mouth obviously showed up without his brain.
All of the color drained from her face for approximately twenty seconds as she released his hand and crossed the room in silence to join Jack on the chesterfield. Yeah, he’d want to get away from him too if he were in her place. What possessed him to say that to her? She took a deep breath and smoothed the back of her skirt as she sat, crossing her ankles like a charm school debutant. Jack on the other hand, shifted to give Ciaran a questioning glare as he typed furiously on his tablet.
Jack: Are you always this rude to new hires? What’s wrong with you?
Briar licked her lips, and pressed them together, her cheeks regaining color in a deeper shade than before as she spoke. “Yes—the unfortunate incident. It’s been handled.”
Ciaran wanted to sink into a hole. If he had to hazard a guess, she probably felt similarly at this point. Jack was already looking between them, putting pieces together where there were none. If he didn’t get himself and this damn situation under some kind of control he was going to be the butt of every piece of office gossip. He did not need this distraction. He needed her out of his office, not handed to him on a silver platter that he could never touch—and damn did he want to touch the silky stocking covered legs. He wanted to run his hands up their smooth length and pull her across his desk until she—enough. The lawsuit potential alone should be scaring him off this line of thought.
This was so bad. Five days in a working week. Five days trapped with her. Fuck.
Jack led Briar out into the hall, but they didn’t go far. In fact, they only crossed and walked to the corner before he stopped, which of course she wasn’t prepared for. She walked right into his back. She took a step back and mumbled an apology—something she’d been doing frequently since she set foot in this building. The office they stood in front of had two glass walls and a clear view of both the cubicle village of office support staff and a direct view of Ciaran’s office door.
What a nightmare.
The hot jerk from the lobby was her boss. How could she stare at his door all day wearing the skirt that had her in this mess? Briar shifted back and forth in her heels. She needed to move—any movement really, although running would have been better—to relieve the rising tension in her muscles.
Flipping on a light switch about made her jump out of her skin. Jack held the glass door open for her. “Here you go. You’re new home away from home.”
She stepped past him and turned in a tight circle, taking it all in—blank white walls, double monitors, and the dock for her laptop connection, beige, metal, and glass. It was all standard issue office. More importantly, it represented a clean slate. A place to remake herself—right after she fixed her skirt.
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m going to get your new laptop and the phone number to IT so you can start getting logged into everything. Need anything in the mean time?”
“Directions to the nearest bathroom,” Briar smiled innocently.
She’d closed the gap at the top of the split with the only safety pin she could find in the bottom of her purse, but it would only hold for so long. She needed Ann and a little privacy to vent about this awful start to her morning.
“Back towards the elevators and hang a right. You can’t miss them.” Jack met her strained smile with a sympathetic one as he backed out the door and returning to his cubicle, wherever that was.
“Thanks,” but she was talking to herself.
Leaving her portfolio and other papers on the corner of the new desk, she clutched her phone to her chest and made a beeline in the direction that Jack indicated. She was texting Ann before the bathroom door even swung closed.
Briar: S.O.S. Ladies’ room sixth floor to the left of the elevators. Hurry!
Briar chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the bubbles dance across the screen indicating Ann was already messaging her back.
Ann: Bad morning?
Briar: Do you have safety pins? Wardrobe emergency.
Ann: Be there in five.
That seemed like a lifetime to pace and imagine her fresh start do a tailspin down the toilet. Ciaran was an even bigger asshole on meeting him for a second time and now he was her boss. How could she be expected to sit across from him every day and not launch herself across the conference room table to rub herself all over him like a damn cat—wait, no.
Briar didn’t want Ciaran Rand. She had enough close encounters with assholes for one life time. If she ever dipped her toe in the dating pool again, she wanted a nice guy—someone sweet like Gigi had in Roman.
She stopped pacing and leaned on the white quartz counters, facing herself in the mirror, taking her own measure. Clearly, she needed to get real with herself. Her flushed skin and dilated pupils were enough of a giveaway. She wanted something alright, or rather, someone. Shit, her whole body tingled.
If anyone could tell her what to do about this mess—Ann would. If Briar had learned anything about her new friend in the weeks since deciding to make the move down here, Ann came prepared for everything and was quick with an opinion and a plan. God bless planners, everyone should have one.
Briar leaned against the cold tile wall beside the last bathroom stall. She wanted to close her eyes but all she could see were Ciaran’s eyes watching her. Navy, like dark placid water. They surprised her with what they expressed even though he didn’t say the thoughts behind them—shock first of all and then heat. That scared her more than any of the rest.
The door gave up a soft squeal, as it swung open. “What took you so long?” Briar’s voice was horse with all the emotions she was forcing herself to swallow.
Ann’s eyes widened, eyebrows going up as she raised a small zipper pouch like a shield. “I'm sorry. I had to find my sewing kit. Safety pins can only do so much.”
Briar turned to reveal her damaged skirt as Ann knelt down beside her. “How did you make it this long in that skirt!”
“A safety pin and a prayer. I couldn’t stomach the idea of being anymore late.”
“So how did it go? I mean other than the late thing.”
“It's a total disaster. When my skirt split, this amazing guy—straight out of Mad Men—I swear to God—he stopped to help me.” Briar’s mind drifted back to that moment—seeing him standing there—a sexy corporate titan at her rescue. She couldn’t help but fan herself as she felt the flush creeping across her chest. “Then he ruined it with a snide comment about how I was out of dress code. I mean, really. Like I needed to hear that right at that moment.”
Ann tugged at the fabric as she worked. “Wow, seriously?”
“That's not even the worst part. The hottie with the terrible verbal diarrhea, yeah—he's my boss.” Briar craned her neck to look back at her friend as she spoke. “All along I’ve been dealing with Jack White and it turns out he’s the executive assistant. I never would have guessed that I reported directly to the CFO.”
Ann swatted her leg and spoke through teeth clenched around a needle. “Hold still.” She removed her tiny bit of metal from her mouth and started to sew before she continued. “So he’s a jerk huh? I’ve heard stories about Ciaran Rand being made of ice. But I’ve never had to run into the guy on my floor.”
“Yeah, and he commented about how nice it was to see I was back in dress code and that he could forgive me being late in light of the circumstances.”
“How magnanimous of him.” The implied eye roll dripped from her voice.
“That's the thing. Seeing how he watched me, holy cow—smoldering is an understatement. He looked like he wanted to follow me into the bathroom he directed me to and I might have let him if he hadn’t been such an ass. God that sounds awful doesn’t it. It just doesn’t add up. If he’s interested, why is he acting like a jerk?”
“Makes sense to me. Now he knows you’re his employee and doesn't want
to get in trouble for saying something inappropriate to the HR Director of all people. Don’t forget that’s who you are now. The last thing that man needs is a sexual harassment charge within his own company.”
Briar shook her head, but Ann’s assessment loosened the knot in her stomach by several degrees. “He has nothing to worry about. Regardless of what my hormones want, I’m not ready to date, and if I was, it wouldn’t be someone I work with.”
“Hey, there's nothing wrong with that.” In the mirror, Briar could see Ann’s chin dip down, hiding her face.
“Which part?” Briar’s eyebrows went up at the red creeping up her friend’s neck. “Are you having a little extracurricular activity at work?”
“Maybe.” Ann’s voice was small, like she wasn’t necessarily proud of herself. That didn’t sit well with what Briar knew of Ann.
Briar kept her own voice even, doing her best not to let any judgment leak in, especially considering how supportive Ann had been with nothing more than Gigi to recommend Briar as a friend. “I thought I heard there was something going on with you and Declan?”
“That would be my brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law meddling. I know she was your roommate and she has the best intentions.” Ann sat back on her heels and tugged at the Peter Pan collar of her high-necked blouse before resuming her sewing efforts. “She’s my best friend and I practically handpicked her to be my sister-in-law, but there's history she doesn’t know about. I just—I can't go back. He’s a great guy. He deserves a great girl. I'm just not her.”
“So office fraternization isn’t against the rules here.”
“Well you know—we keep it on the down low. The guy isn’t my boss. He’s in another department but we’re colleagues. He does have the potential to be my boss someday.” Then Ann smiled, a bit of that cocky confidence shining back through. “That won’t happen. I'll get there first, of course.”
Briar met the reflection of Ann’s eyes in the mirror. “Was there ever a doubt?”
Ann swatted Briar’s butt and she let out a soft yelp of surprise making them both laugh. “There. That’s the best I can do. Don’t do any crazy bending or anything like that, but it should hold you to the end of the workday.”
Briar turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder to inspect the skirt. “Thank you. You’re such a lifesaver. It amazes me that you’re so prepared.”
“Don’t mention it. You'll get me back at some point.” Ann winked and then disappeared out the ladies’ room door to wherever in this building her office happened to be.
Ann’s confession got her thinking, was it true that the fraternization here is really no big deal? Because my God—Ciaran Rand—of all the things that could've woken up her desire to be touched, he should not be it. She should block it from her mind. Her husband hadn’t even shown his face to be served with the divorce papers. At least when that happens, she could feel a lot better about it—not that she should feel any guilt at all.
Procrastination wasn’t going to get her through this day. She needed to get back to her desk and get setup. At the very least, she could drown herself in work. There had to be a project somewhere on her calendar that she could sink her teeth into.
Briar washed her hands for good measure and pushed the door open to head back out. She strode down the hall toward her new office with confidence she’d been faking before Ann’s intervention. All of which came to a heart stuttering halt at the sight of Ciaran standing outside her door speaking to Jack.
It didn’t stop her though. She looked up at him through her lashes, head down as she mumbled, “Excuse me gentleman.”
They stepped back to allow her past. Jack gave her plenty of room, but Ciaran gave her just enough. Not touching, but so close that the strange charge between them had no trouble making the leap. She forced down the full body shudder crawling up her spine—not an icky feeling at all. Oh no, this was delicious and she was only on Monday. Dear God, this was going to be a long week if she couldn’t get a handle on these hormones. Judging from the banked heat in Ciaran’s eyes and the way he clenched his fist at his side—the side facing away from Jack—he felt it too. Oh boy.
Threading through the rambling stream of business professionals funneling up the sidewalk, Briar moved with the light step of someone on time—and damn, did that make today better than yesterday. The commute was easier for one. She’d even managed a parking spot on the first attempt.
Her cell phone vibrated inside her purse as her building came in sight. She slid the device from her bag and swiped at the screen without looking to see who it was. Only a handful of people had her number anyway.
Before she could even get out the required hello, Todd’s shrill tenor—a weird hybrid of growl and whine—blared through the line. “Who are these people living in my house and why are the fucking locks changed? What did you do?”
“If I were you, I would leave before someone calls the cops. Trespassing is illegal.” Briar couldn’t help the satisfied smile that tugged up the corners of her mouth. It put an extra bounce in her step. “It’s not your house. It never was—and I sold it.”
She heard a car door slam on the other end of the line. “Why did you sell our house?”
“Why did you fuck my mother?” She shot back at him. Clearly he only heard the parts he wanted to hear, like usual.
Todd’s tone softened, cajoling. “Come on baby. Don't be like that. You know I love you.”
She disconnected the call. The days where that still excused his behavior were over and she had shit to do—like work.
Briar pushed the gleaming glass door of her office building with her hip as she scrolled through her contact list and gave a jaunty little wave to the snooty receptionist as she passed on her way to the elevators. Her phone rang again in her hand. She sent Todd’s call straight to voicemail as she pulled up her private investigator’s phone number and hit dial.
After two rings, the line connected and a gruff male voice came on the line. “What can I do for you, Ms. Goodall?” At least one of them used the caller ID.
“Todd's back in town. Can you get him and serve the papers? I want this divorce finished.” She stepped onto the elevator, smiling politely at the other people entering with her.
“And just how do you know that little lady?”
“Because he just called me and asked about people living in the house I sold a month ago. Do me a favor and get to it fast please.” She kept her voice low and smile firmly in place.
“Consider it done.”
The line disconnected and she scrolled through her contacts looking for the next number she needed, her lawyer. She hit send and let it ring. She needed to act fast or Todd would be gone again. He was likely on his way to the bank and their empty accounts.
This time she got voicemail. “Jay, I think we got him. I'll let you know for sure when I get the confirmation from the contact you referred me to. Todd called me; he’s back in St. Cloud.”
She ended the call as the elevator doors opened. She stepped out, her head down, searching for the next number she needed and right into the arms of her boss.
Ciaran’s hands closed around her arms, steadying her. Oh my—he smelled good—like warm leather and aftershave. She should not be having these kinds of thoughts about her boss. But damn she couldn’t help the urge to rub her face against him like a cat. Briar took a deep steadying breath and stepped back out of his grip.
“I'm so sorry. I really should've paid more attention to where I was going instead of getting wrapped up in a phone call.” Heat flushed her cheeks as she spoke and his hands dropped from her.
Was that a smile on Rand’s face? Oh, my God, he was smiling at her and it was a damn nice smile. A Michael Fassbender kind of smile, you know, the hotness that played Mr. Rochester in that new version of Jane Eyre that she practically watched on auto repeat on her bad days. He smiled in that roguish kind of way that set her on fire. If she were Jane, she’d never have run away—never mind that he had
a crazy wife in the attic. She would absolutely have lived in sin. It was also highly unprofessional to be standing here having these thoughts. That needed to stop now.
“Briar—my office, coffee in five minutes.” His eyes slid over her and then quickly away, as his deep voice snapped out the command. He stepped to the side away, unblocking her path and continued toward his office.
Just like that. No good morning. No hello—just giving an order and walking away. She sighed in exasperation. At least he didn't say something rude this time.
As the thought flitted through, from behind her, his voice broke through the lusty mire that already had her prepared to forgive him for his abruptness.
“And, Briar? You’re out of dress code.”
What the actual fuck?
Briar looked down at herself as she hurried past rows of cubicles toward her glass-walled office she thought of as the fishbowl. She was not out of dress code. This was a perfectly respectable skirt. Yes, the pencil skirt was above the knee, but there was no rule against that. She should know—she spent half her evening with a gin and tonic in one hand and the policy handbook queued up on her tablet in the other. It couldn’t be her tattoos. They weren’t offensive in image or language, per the rules she read. Even if they were, they were covered up—at least for today.
This would grate at her nerves until she routed out the deficiency and corrected it. Her skin prickled with heat and she was at least ninety percent sure that if she looked down at her chest she would be splotchy with hives—stress had a way of doing that to her. This was only day two. If she felt this way now, how bad would it be in a month? Couple that with her suddenly raging hormones over her boss—an unfortunately hot asshole—and she was living a recipe for disaster.
BUSINESS CASUAL: AN INK & BRAZEN WOMEN NOVELLA Page 3