Chapter Four
Amy
I felt like a little girl leaving Disneyland for the first time, wondering if she’d ever get to go back, wondering why the whole world couldn’t just be magic all the time. I tried to rid my thougths of how comfortable and casual the past hour had been. So, while Tristan was on his phone talking with some of the other agents in the firm, I started going through emails, pretending to be extremely busy and efficient when all I was really doing was trying to keep the emotions from showing on my face.
Wentworth sat silent and focused in the driver’s seat ahead of us, professional up there in the front like I should have been in the back sitting next to our boss. There I was, tapping on my phone and out of the corner of my eye, looking at his knee — of all things. His expensive dark slacks fell off it into their crease like the sail of Sinbad’s ship. A hint of hard muscle pushed against the fabric, bunched yet relaxed, curving hard against his kneecap. I don’t even want to admit what suddenly flashed in my head, but it might have been worthy of a modern Kama Sutra illustration. I took a deep breath and shook my head, like something in my email frustrated me, and was thankful he didn’t notice.
We made it back to the office without me climbing on top of him, but if there had been a tinted glass divide between us and Wentworth, I might actually have lost control and seen about making that stereotypical limo fantasy come true for the both of us. It probably would have cost me my job, either immediately or soon after, and that’s one reason I was feeling so messed up inside.
It was maddening and wonderful all at the same time. Every time he dropped his guard and let the warmth inside of him show a little bit, I felt more warmth blossom in my chest. Until he’d realized he was opening up and stopped himself. Then he was suddenly back to all-business. I wanted to tell him it was okay to be himself and open up to me. We were going to be working together, I hoped for years, and professionalism was fine, but there didn’t need to be walls between us.
Part of me knew I was being unrealistic, but that’s how I felt. I thanked Tristan again as we exited the elevator and he nodded, still on the phone. I took a detour before reaching our office to freshen up. And by freshen up, I meant get a grip on myself.
The reflection staring back at me in the bathroom mirror would have been amusing, had it not been so disturbing. Hands gripping the marble counter, trying to steady the shaky knees beneath me, heaving chest, flushed skin. In my entire life, I had never been like this — so hot and bothered I thought I might need to satisfy myself just to be able to focus. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. If this is what men deal with when they get all worked up, I feel for them.
I splashed cold water on my face. It helped. Getting angry also helped.
“Amy,” I said into the mirror. “We’re going to have to spend most of our waking hours with that man, so you might try keeping your panties on.”
The attitude helped as much as the cold water. It was unfair, at least a bit, but it was the only thing I could think of. I knew my earlier Disneyland mood was the little girl in me who still wanted to believe in fairytales, but she should know better by now. I was a grown woman not even a full month into the job she had dreamed of landing for years. I needed to snap out of it.
“Get a hold of yourself, Amy.” I stared into my own eyes, vowing not to let my little Disneyland fantasy ruin my life. Tristan was my boss and my co-worker. We were on the same team, but we weren’t friends, and we absolutely were not lovers. I nodded firmly. The instant I broke eye contact with the face in the mirror, I found myself wishing for a Fairy Godmother so I could reinforce my promise. I was going to need all the help I could get.
I got to my desk and heard him on the phone through the open door of his office. “Peyton, I’m meeting with Parker tomorrow. I know you weren’t planning on being in until the morning, but I thought we should put our heads together. Oh. You’re here already? Great. Fifteen minutes is perfect.”
Bitch.
Where in the hell did that thought come from? I wondered.
Peyton had been right there with Drake in his living room in that cookie cutter McMansion of his, down near the team’s stadium. More than that, she actually helped me talk him into staying with Tristan. If you asked me, it was the least she could do, and she had seemed sincere at the time, not like someone who was just trying to assuage a little guilt at the way she’d thrown Tristan over at light friggin’ speed.
God, Amy. Get it together.
I am not the kind of woman that fits the stereotype of being jealously infatuated with someone. Scratch that. I prayed I wasn’t. I’d really never been in the situation before. Peyton was beautiful, smart, knew sports . . . maybe even as well as I did, but not better. Not that Tristan knew that about me. I’d heard him talking about Peyton being some kind of encyclopedia of sports statistics, and I found myself wishing he would set up an office competition. I’d kick her ass so hard she’d be afraid to talk about YAC, WHIP, or DReb% for the rest of her life. I’d shove the stat sheets so far down her throat—
I just about smacked myself and then pretended to look at something on my screen. What on earth was happening to me? I forced myself to look at just the facts, like the old TV show. Peyton was about the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I didn’t think I cared about that stuff, but if I wasn’t squarely in the straight camp, she could have tempted me to experiment. She was smart and, I hated to admit it, seemed kind, in spite of the way she’d handled her short relationship with Tristan. I don’t think she’d ever worked a day in her life. That widened my eyes. Even more than her looks, I felt my temper rise at that fact, fast.
I’d put myself through college, all while paying for my little sister to attend boarding school, and I’d spent every penny of the inheritance our parents had left us to do it before I even took my first college class.
It wasn’t how I’d wanted life to go — her in boarding school instead of with me — but with both of our parents gone, it was the only choice I had if I was going to make anything of myself and be able to take care of her..
Putting yourself through college is not that big of a deal, really. Lots of people have done that. Men do it and people just give them the big thumbs up, Proud of ya, Ace, you’re gonna kick ass for sure. Women do it and people get this whiny, concerned look of abject pity on their faces, like oh, you poor lamb. It’s a wonder nobody had ever actually come right out and said to me, “Couldn’t you find a husband?”
I worked hard, bought cheap clothes, tried not to eat too much ramen, and graduated magna cum laude in business administration with a minor in English. Sitting there at my desk analyzing the situation, I realized two things: One, the dark side of me was the green-eyed monster, oozing a flaming black tar of jealousy wherever I roamed. And two, the mousy, good side of me hiding in a corner was sincerely concerned that Tristan was going to get his sorely wounded heart stomped on again. What in the hell was he thinking, hiring her?
I forced myself to let go of the jealousy. I’d do whatever I could to help Tristan because we were on the same team, and I considered it my job. But I was not going to overstep my bounds or act like some catty, jealous, queen bee bitch. They call it All-Pro in football. A player made the All-Pro team when he was voted one of the best at his position in the entire sport. I was going to be Tristan’s All-Pro even if that meant locking my emotions up.
A shadow fell over my computer screen.
“Phew, I’m half tempted to take a nap,” Tristan said from his doorway.
“Sissy,” I responded.
In the sports world, talking trash was considered professional, but he still looked surprised. Then he laughed. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Actually, I was thinking about sneaking back for another steak for dinner.”
“Careful, you might turn into a cow.”
“Mooooo,” I joked, just as Peyton was walking in.
Tristan stifled his laughter and shook his head.
“Hey, Peyton. Come on in,” he SAID, still smiling at my cow impression.
She looked at me for just an instant as though I might have been directing the noise at her, which wasn’t very fair considering I was turned toward Tristan at the moment, but there was no point in trying to explain. They had already gone in and shut the damn door which pissed me off for an entirely different reason. I was part of the team. I knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, include me on every meeting, but this was virtually a training session for Peyton. It could have been for me, too. It would have been smart for Tristan to have me in there. That’s what I told myself, anyway.