Sweet Release
MACY
I sorted through the few, remaining memos on my desk, searching for some work to help pass the time. Coming up empty, I sighed. Yet another to-do list completed before lunch. Yet another glaringly obvious sign that I was overqualified for this position.
Not a huge surprise, though. I’d figured as much when I applied for the job six months ago but at the time it was more about getting back on my feet than finding something perfectly suited. I’d left perfect far behind in my old life. Perfect wasn’t all it cracked up to be.
I was always expected to be the smart daughter, the loyal girlfriend, the dependable employee. But, little by little, things unraveled until I found myself here in this glorified secretary position, thanking the universe for my foresight to cushion my savings account while things were still good. Though at the time it was a nest egg for a house or a new car. I’d never expected my life to take such a sharp detour.
And I’d never expected someone like Brenn Michaels to be into someone like me.
But he was.
I could tell by the way he watched me from his open door while I bustled around in the outer office. I could tell by the way he leaned in close over my shoulder while going over his daily schedule. I could definitely tell by the way his eyes would drift over my body. And if there was any question left in my mind, then that time in the boardroom sealed the deal.
And a few months ago when I found out I was pregnant, it wasn’t the deal breaker I was expecting it to be. I assumed once I started to show and my body started changing he would back off and we’d morph back into a mostly professional, albeit awkward, relationship again.
Not the case.
The bump could no longer be hidden under an extra layer, but Brenn’s interest hadn’t waned. Not yet, anyways. Just the opposite; he seemed drawn to my new curves. His mouth no longer nibbled at my tits, but feasted.
And I tried my best to ignore the way his hands floated, lingered, over my stomach. I resisted the urge to flinch away from his attention, not yet accustomed myself with the unfamiliarity of my own body. If he noticed my hesitation, he was good at hiding it.
I’d spent a lot of time, too much time, wondering why someone like Brenn would be interested in me and my baggage. He’s smart enough to run this business, which from everything I knew was successful. He’s able to speak in full and complete sentences around a woman. And good god, he’s handsome and definitely knows his way around a vagina, so no problems there.
Why in the hell he was with a woman who, after learning her boyfriend was a cheater and her parents would rather see her married than happy, quit her well-paying job as a nurse, packed as much as she could into her tiny car, and ran, was beyond me.
And really, at this point in my life where I’d made so many bad decisions, Brenn hardly seemed like the worst thing. Even if I didn’t fully understand his interest in me, I trusted him and that wasn’t something I could say about many people. I would take his cute, tailored-suit-clad ass for as long as he’d have me.
And not because I loved him. Not at all. Because admitting that would be one of the worst decisions I could make. A one-way ticket to disaster. Six months in and one baby on the way was the absolute wrong time to explore those thoughts.
My stomach rumbled, a jack hammer pounding against me, jumbling my thoughts, and I looked at the clock. Lunch time.
Brenn’s door was closed. The little light on my phone indicating he was still talking to Mr. Merrell. I leaned back in my chair to peer through the glass transom that bordered his office door. His brow was etched in thought, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
His serious face. Shaking his head and talking into the phone, brows pushed together, I could hear the tone of his voice in my head, the deep rumble as he bit out commands and I felt a hunger for something much better than anything the cafeteria had to offer.
Yep. Definitely not smitten.
My body ached like some kind of Pavlovian conditioning. Noon on the clock signaled a locked door and an hour of privacy with Brenn. I glanced again at that light on my phone and cursed these damn hormones for making me ache for him. Shameless.
My stomach rumbled again and I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that the baby was going to win this round. I closed my eyes and practiced a few, deep breaths to stymie the throb that pulsed between my legs before grabbing my purse and heading down to the cafeteria.
Brenn’s company, which he co-owned and ran the day to day, held two floors in the building. The remaining floors were owned by other companies with a shared, independently owned cafeteria in the middle. This job was miles from working at the hospitals and clinics I was used to, but cafeteria food remained the same.
Stepping through the doors, I scanned the message board for today’s menu and groaned at the all too familiar sensation. How can soup make me nauseous? Grabbing a dinner roll, an apple juice, and a couple packets of individually packaged cheese, I turned to find a table.
From the far end of the room an arm shot up and I moved toward the friendly face.
“I haven’t seen you in the cafeteria in weeks. I was beginning to wonder if I should call in a search party.” My friend Alison smiled at me from across the table.
I’d met Alison my first day here. Though she worked a few floors above me for an investment firm, she seemed to know the gossip throughout the whole building. An invaluable ally turned great friend when I needed one the most. Seeing her was my second favorite time of the day.
“Sorry,” I said around a mouthful of bread. “Busy with work.”
“I call bullshit, but I’ll let it slide. Only because it looks like you might eat me if I disagree with you,” she said, eyeing my random collection of food and the mouthful I was working on.
I swallowed and cracked my juice before answering her. “Ugh, I know. I can’t help it, though. It’s like my body has a mind of its own.”
“Now if you would have told me you’d been busy getting ready for that impending mind-of-its-own, I would have believed you.”
I cringed. Truth was I hadn’t done much to prepare myself yet. And it wasn’t like I could put it off. It was happening. It was easy to forget what was coming at first, but now, with my first pair of maternity pants sitting in my closet and a pint of cherry-chocolate ice cream calling my name from the dessert fridge, there was little room for me to be procrastinating anymore.
“I wish that were the case,” I said, unwrapping a piece of cheese.
“Why don’t we head to that cute, little boutique over on Monroe this weekend? Might get you in the spirit of things.”
I shook my head. “I can’t this weekend. It’s the Stakeholders Gala on Saturday.”
“What about Sunday, then?”
“I’ll be running around all day today and into the night Saturday for the Gala, so I’m thinking that Sunday will be filled with my new favorite hobby: sleeping.”
“I don’t know much about babies and I can appreciate the minimalist approach, but I think at the very least you’ll have to find a place for it to sleep. And I’m guessing there are other things out there that are considered necessities.”
“You’re probably right. I should read a book or something. I just can’t seem to find the time. Or energy.” I reached for another piece of cheese and frowned when I realized there were only wrappers left. I balled them up and tossed them onto Alison’s tray. I leaned back in my chair and shook my head. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Maybe it’s that nice piece of distraction that’s looking at you like you’re the last pork chop in the buffet.” Alison motioned behind me with her carrot stick.
I followed her eyes to the door where Brenn was standing, looking amazing in his charcoal suit, and every bit as hungry as I felt. The fact that he couldn’t wait for me to get back upstairs echoed my own urgency. My body warmed under his gaze even from across the busy room and I stamped my foot against the hitch in my breath, against the flutter I felt when our eyes met.
Shit. I definitely, absolutely wasn’t in love with Brenn Michaels.