Chapter Nineteen

Matt lends me one of his dress shirts. It’s so big, it looks almost like a real dress on me, the hem ending at mid-thigh. Folded wrap and nightgown draped over a forearm, I walk the short distance between our houses.

I suppose this is the Walk of Shame, although I don’t know why it’s called that. Shame is the last thing on my mind. I feel awesome about spending the night at Matt’s. Like I want to dance across the distance awesome, if it weren’t for the possibility of slipping and breaking something, which I don’t want to do. Plus I’d probably flash the neighborhood en route to a broken bone; I’m still going commando.

Too much thinking again. I’m going to wear the Clark Kent glasses and drive Matt insane with lust so we can spend tonight together, preferably rolling around naked. I suppress a giggle bubbling in my throat because it’s such a naughty little plan.

The moment I walk into the house, Sammi calls out, “You got laid!” from the kitchen.

“Yes!” I say.

“Woohoo! Finally! Do tell.”

“Well…I lost it. That’s all.”

“Oh come on!” Sammi says.

“All you have to know is that he was ah-may-zing! And yes, you were totally right about the advantage of doing it with Matt, because him being our neighbor? Perfect.”

“So it’s going to be a repeat thing?” Michelle says, coming downstairs. She’s neatly put together as usual, her brown hair curled into a bountiful bounciness and her makeup perfect. Hmm. I note that although her eyes aren’t exactly smoky, she’s done something fancy with them to make them stand out, and her face is definitely contoured. New things YouTube tutorials make you notice about your best friend.

I grin. “Yup. Gotta shower and get ready for work.”

As I walk upstairs, I hear Sammi say, “Damn. ThaYuMNDo must’ve been divine. Look at the spring in her step.”

“Somebody’s got a magic dick,” Michelle says.

I giggle, then toss Matt’s shirt on my unmade bed and go into the shower. The hot water feels incredible on my sore muscles. But I hurry because I don’t have a lot of time. I lingered over breakfast for way too long. If Michelle’s ready and downstairs, it means she’s there to get coffee and a granola bar. She always arrives at work exactly ten minutes early. Says it’s good for the career and worth sacrificing ten minutes of her sacred sleep.

I have precisely fifteen minutes before I have to walk out the door, but that’s enough. When my hair’s sufficiently dry, I twist it into a topknot and put on some fast and simple makeup since I don’t have time to do anything fancy like Michelle even if I knew how. But I remember to grab the pair of Clark Kent glasses and put on a fitted black dress with three-quarter sleeves and a skirt that ends exactly at my knees. I cinch my waist with a thin hot pink patent leather belt and slip into strappy fuck-me stilettos in black.

It’s crazy how much I’m looking forward to work. I catch myself humming while driving my Altima to Sweetridge. The traffic’s not too terrible, considering this is northern Virginia. Before I get out of the car, I adjust my glasses to a precise degree of superheroic sexiness…then make it to the fourteenth floor with two minutes to spare. Woohoo! Go me!

On my desk is a small box bearing the logo of a local mom-and-pop bakery. I open it and squeal at the sight of a cupcake with chocolate frosting, topped with two pairs of glasses, one blue and one pink. There’s no card, but I don’t need one to know who left it. I grin like an idiot. This is so adorable.

“That’s a pretty cupcake.”

I almost flinch when Izzy breathes at my neck. Ugh. I do not need this. Her breath is like misting hyena saliva. Not that a hyena ever got this close and personal with me, but if we could all shift shapes, she’d be a werehyena with an extra-annoying laugh. I start to wipe the spot at the nape of my neck, but think better of it and use a Kleenex to blot the offending moisture.

“What’s the occasion? Your birthday isn’t for a couple of weeks yet.”

Of course the biggest gossip in the office would remember that. I close the lid. “Nothing.” I turn around to face her. She’s dressed in a supertight top. I’m surprised her nipples or bra outlines aren’t showing. And her skirt… She has to be going commando. Not that I feel the need to personally confirm anything. Ignorance truly is bliss when dealing with her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just wondering if you heard anything about the opening.”

“What opening?”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “You know Dick’s secretary quit when he did, which means Matt needs a new legal secretary. Sooo…”

“And you’re asking me because…?”

“Because I figure you heard something at Alexandra’s party? Duh.”

“No. She doesn’t talk business with family during social events.”

She snorts skeptically. “And your HR housemate?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Michelle hates Izzy, calls her “that worthless loudmouth.”

“I already did—this morning—but she wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Wow. This must be the first time Izzy’s come to work early. She always arrives either exactly on time or slightly late.

“Well…” I give her a saintly shrug and smile. “Sorry. I don’t know anything.”

“Ugh. So I came in early for nothing,” she says. “By the way, why are you wearing glasses these days?”

I shrug. “My eyes get tired after staring at my laptop for hours.”

She nods sagely. “Good idea. You gotta be careful about that kind of stuff. No guy likes nerdy four-eyed girls, you know.” She sweeps her gaze up and down my body. “Not that you’re our new counsel’s type. A moment on the lips…” Her eyes slide to the cupcake.

My jaw drops. Good thing she’s walking away after that remark, because if she’d stayed a moment longer I don’t know what I would’ve done. Right now, I’m imagining picking her up by one scrawny chicken leg and smashing her face into the concrete floor a few times, the way the Hulk did to Loki in The Avengers. Or maybe I could be a wizard like Harry Potter and use a wand to make a piano drop on her. Is there a spell like that in the series? I can’t remember. I recall dark magic, but I don’t want to be a dark lord—or lady—with a permanent serpentine face (Voldemort really was ugly, even though he was played by Ralph Fiennes) so I’ll have to settle for maiming her with the piano.

“Why is there murder in your eyes?”

I start. I was so intent on mentally thrashing Izzy that I didn’t notice David walking up to my desk. “It’s nothing,” I say quickly, pasting on a smile.

He looks skeptical, but doesn’t probe. “Alexandra wasn’t thrilled you didn’t show last night.”

“You gave her my regards, right?”

“Yeah, but she really wants you to take your mom’s things.”

I sigh. “I’ll do it. Tell her not to worry.” David opens his mouth, and since I really don’t want to talk about my mom’s things or Alexandra, I say, “We have our bimonthly meeting. I’ll get you some coffee and we can go.”

He nods. I grab two cups—one for him and one for me—snatch a couple of legal notepads and my laptop from my desk. We go to the huge conference room where the marketing, app dev, and finance teams are gathering. Sweet Darlings Inc. has bimonthly interdepartmental powwows, and they’re mandatory so we know what each group’s up to. Not all the teams are invited—it’s usually on a need-to-know basis to avoid wasting time.

I spot Matt in one of the seats and falter for a moment before catching myself. He gives me a small smile, his blue eyes brighter than a sunny sky, and I feel my cheeks warm. He’s so gorgeous sitting there in his navy pinstriped suit, a burgundy tie neatly knotted and lying against a snowy white dress shirt. A pair of super-sexy black-rimmed glasses sits on his face, making him look extra yummy. Like, nerd-hot combined with jock-hot. He checks me out just as thoroughly, starting from my face to my shoes then back up. The blue in his eyes sizzles, and I feel his gaze like a silken caress. Delicious goosebumps break out over my skin.

How did he end up in here? I’m pretty sure the legal department isn’t involved in today’s meeting. It’s my job to remember stuff like that.

Still, I can’t complain too much. He’s seated between two guys from app dev who are happily married, and Sammi’s too far away to interrogate him under her breath during the meeting. I take a wheeled chair across from him so I can ogle him from the most optimal angle, with David sitting on my right and a marketing intern to my left.

The meeting’s mostly about three new features the app dev team has been wanting to implement. Given the timeline and other constraints, they can only do one before the year’s over, and the main discussion is focused on which to deploy first.

I take tons of notes so I can create a detailed executive memo for David. It’s one of the things he insists I do.

Suddenly, he says, “Jan, what do you think?”

Uh… I look up from my legal pad. Why is he asking me? I’m not an analyst. Still, every gaze in the room swings around, boring into me like so many nails. He’s never asked me to speak up in an interdepartmental meeting, and my throat tightens.

“There are no right and wrong answers,” he adds. “And since this is a pretty significant feature that’s going to take up a lot of our time and resources until the year end, I want to get as many points of view as possible.”

Right. Of course, everyone’s opinion counts. Except I’m a big believer in keeping my mouth shut and appearing to be an idiot rather than opening it and removing all doubt. But I can’t just sit here when everyone—including Matt—is looking at me expectantly. Keeping silent now means I might as well start wearing a scarlet S—for Stupid—on my chest.

I clear my throat. “I think the second option is best. It’s the easiest to implement based on our architecture, and it’ll appeal to our core audience. We can also leverage it to attract a new segment of people who are similar to our main customers. I sent everyone an analysis on that last month, and it’s the group I labeled New Target A. I think they can be lucrative, since their taste and socioeconomic status in particular are similar to our, um, core audience.”

Doing my best not to fidget, I stop. Cold sweat pops along my spine, and blood roars in my head. I take a sip from a glass of water in front of me, hoping I didn’t sound like a total moron, especially in front of Matt. I’m pretty sure saying stupid stuff turns me from sexy librarian into four-eyed idiot.

A quick stolen glance through my lashes shows Matt’s smiling. Maybe that’s a good sign. Ugh, David! Why did he have to call on me like that? I swear, it’s some kind of hazing. If I didn’t like him as a cousin, I’d probably spit in his coffee tomorrow. I still might, if I end up looking like an imbecile.

“I agree with Jan.”

Tim Friedman is the first to speak after I’m done. He’s one of the dev app team leads, and he doesn’t mince words. As a matter of fact, Michelle told me HR despairs of his inability to sugarcoat his criticism. The only reason developers don’t quit is because they think Tim’s caustic comments are hilarious. I don’t think he’s hilarious, but super supportive. And let’s not forget sweet. The kind of boss everyone should have. I should use the money I’ve set aside for David’s Christmas gift to get something for Tim instead. He deserves it more.

He adds, “I’m impressed she knew about our architecture, too.”

I flush, then clear my throat. “I just read some documents on our Intranet.”

Thankfully the leads start talking again, and I’m free to return to note-taking. After a moment of scribbling, I sense somebody watching me, and from the way my skin prickles, I don’t even have to lift my gaze to know it’s Matt. Surreptitiously I look at him over the rim of my glasses. He’s studying me with something that feels like half-lust and half-admiration in his eyes. The temperature in the conference room jumps another ten degrees, and oh wow, maybe I should start fanning my face so I don’t end up looking like an overripe tomato.

Still, I’m a pro, so I give him a warm, secret smile, then dive back to my task since no matter how distracting and hot Matt is, I still have work to do. I’m just happy I didn’t end up looking like a fool in front of everyone.

After the meeting, I gather my things and march out with David as usual. But I really wish we had an excuse to stay behind so I could be in the same room as Matt a little longer. Matt stands to follow, but Cora intercepts him. Damn it.

I sigh, but then shake myself mentally. Even if there’s no explicit rule against interoffice dating, Alexandra has made it clear she isn’t crazy about the idea, so I shouldn’t get too obvious with Matt. I don’t think it’s going to hurt my career here—although rumors would suck—but I don’t know about Matt. He’s a great lawyer, but Alexandra can be surprisingly ruthless at times. Her motto is nobody is irreplaceable…except family.

Sammi catches up with me, then whispers, “Matt was eating you alive, girl. If you’d just catch his eye!”

“Shut up,” I whisper back.

“He’s gonna drag you to a nearby hotel, push you against a wall and fuck you silly.”

Holy shit. The image is scorching—he’s so turned on he can’t even take me to the bed. Sore or not, I’d love that because being in that conference room with him, even though there were tons of other people in it? That got my panties damp. But I’m not going to fantasize about it, not when I’m surrounded by a bunch of team members. “Shut up,” I hiss.

“Shut up. Shut up,” she sing-songs. “That’s so sad. You should come up with something better.”

“Okay—shut up and go back to your floor,” I say, as I turn left and she turns right. The app dev team uses the entire eleventh floor.

“Yeah, yeah. Lunch. You and me. I’m buying,” Sammi says, walking backward toward the elevators.

I raise both of my eyebrows. “Really? You’re buying?” Sammi never pays for anybody’s meals, and she doesn’t expect anybody to pay for hers either, except maybe on birthdays. I’m sure her dates appreciate the attitude, since she can drink like a fish.

“Of course not. But lunch anyway. I’m inviting Michelle, too. You have to come or else.”

Sighing, I walk to my desk. Knowing Sammi, she’s dying to interrogate me, and my not showing up would be like waving a red flag in front of an overly excited bull. She’s developed a spy app that transmits everything, video and sound, to her. She demoed it for me and asked me to install it on David’s phone—or his girlfriend’s—which I of course declined to do since I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. And besides, does she really want visual and audio of when he uses the bathroom and does other gross bodily functions? But I wouldn’t put it past her to put that app on my phone in retaliation for denying her a chance to channel her inner CIA.

Just as I reach my desk, David gestures at me to follow him into his office, then asks me to sit down and waits until I do before opening his mouth. “There’s something I want to bring up. I wasn’t so sure if I should say something, but I’m almost certain it’s going to happen after today, and you should know so you can prepare…” He shrugs with a grin.

Oh crap. Is he going to finally propose to the girl he’s been dating for the last five years? I mean, I guess that makes sense. Five years is a long time to date if you aren’t serious, and he probably wants me to help him locate a good venue for a proposal or something. Maybe even help him pick out a ring, just to make sure it’s the kind of rock that a girl would love…although I think he should do that himself because he should know what his girlfriend likes. At the same time, helping the boss is what assistants do, right? And I’m also his cousin, so it’s probably in my contract that I’m supposed to help, regardless. Also, Alexandra has repeatedly told me and everyone else that since I don’t have any siblings, I’m everyone’s honorary sister. Although I’d rather just be a real cousin than somebody’s honorary anything.

Poor Sammi. She’s going to be devastated when she hears. Maybe I should withhold the news until later. If I tell her now, she might do something totally insane. Like bleach her hair white. No, too tame. Breaking into David’s fiancée-to-be’s house and installing the spy app on her phone would be more like it. Actually, the most probable scenario is going to be far beyond my ability to imagine, because that’s just how my bestie rolls.

David’s about to talk. I inhale deeply and get ready to act totally thrilled for him.

“It’s about the semiannual review,” he says.

I clasp my hands, smiling broadly. “I knew it! I’m so happy for you—” Wait, what? Did he just say semiannual review?

He laughs. “I have no idea what you heard, but I’m not up for anything that exciting. I mean your semiannual review.”

“Mine?” I squeak. I stare at him, certain I’ve misheard. The person who would review me is David, since he’s my direct supervisor, and it’s going to be my first at Sweet Darlings Inc. But it’s not for another two months at least, unless the dates have changed, so why is he telling me this and why now?

“I’m putting you up to be promoted within the marketing team as an analyst. I think you’ve demonstrated amazing aptitude for it.”

“You are? I have?”

He nods. “I know, I know, you said you wouldn’t be that good, because you studied finance. But I think you really have a talent for it.”

Wow. I had no idea. I mean, sometimes it takes me all evening to do an analysis he wants me to complete. I thought it was David’s way of…hazing a new hire. Or some kind of newbie boot camp. Not that I’d ever tell him that, since he’s still my boss. “But…” I fumble around for something to say. “We don’t have any openings.”

“Actually we do.” David smiles. “The Marketing VP will have to sign off on it, but I think he will.”

Yeah…because that’s Uncle Eddie, David’s father.

“I know Alexandra asked you to apply for the opening on the app dev team. If you’d rather do that, I’ll support your decision. I want you to be happy.”

News travels fast. Did she tell everyone in the company—or just the family? “Great. Thank you, David. I appreciate it. Do you need anything else from me?”

“Nope.”

Dismissed, I return to my desk in a daze. It feels surreal. I know it really bothers Alexandra and my uncles that I’m David’s assistant. They seem to believe I shouldn’t be in such a lowly position. But I don’t want to move up the chain just because the family wants me to, instead of because I really deserve to. I’m just not naturally gifted and smart the way they are.

And David pushing me into the analyst position feels like a noose closing around my neck.