Chapter Four

In about an hour, the office comes to life as my coworkers begin to arrive and the distinct aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates the place. Grandma doesn’t believe in cheap java for her staff. The carefully ground, organic beans come from plantations overseas where growers practice sustainable and responsible farming.

My phone buzzes. It’s Loretta from reception. She and I have been close since we went through orientation together and were in the same group for the team building exercises.

–Loretta: Fresh donut alert!

I raise my eyebrows.

–Jan: What’s the occasion?

–Loretta: A new hire. Wow. He’s hot. Hope he’s not taken or gay. The good ones are never available.

I take this with a couple cups of salt. She’s on the rebound and desperate to hook up—any halfway decent guy would do.

–Jan: That’s how you know they’re good. A hottie who isn’t taken yet? Weird.

–Loretta: Somebody has to be the first. >:( Why can’t it be me?!

I can feel a palpable pout through the text, which is no minor feat.

–Jan: Somebody usually is the first, except it only happens while the good ones are jailbait.

–Loretta: I know. I’m still bitter about breaking up with my first boyfriend. Do you know he’s now worth at least ten million and totally hot?

–Jan: There’ll be other chances…just not with somebody at the company. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be more awkward and embarrassing than having a strip of toilet paper trailing out of your panties.

–Loretta: LOL.

I spot the tall, dark head of David moving my way. Twenty-nine years old, he’s probably going to be somebody big and important at Sweet Darlings Inc. He’s too smart and driven not to succeed, and he loves his job. He’s in a blue dress shirt and black slacks, no tie. He hates ties, calling them socially mandated nooses.

–Jan: Boss sighting. Gotta go.

I put away my phone and smile. “Good morning, David.”

“Morning.” His gray gaze drops to the stack of paper on my desk. “You’re in early.”

“Decided to get a jump-start on the day!”

As he enters his office, I get up and start toward the break room. He told me I didn’t have to, but I always get him a fresh coffee when he arrives because everyone else’s assistant does. As bosses go, he’s not bad…although he does take me into important meetings and then ask me to give input, even though I’m just an assistant and he knows I don’t enjoy speaking up in front of everyone. He also works me hard, making me study and analyze data on our customer base. Sometimes I end up writing more memos on our audience segmentation than the analysts on our marketing team. There are times when I wonder if he’s secretly hazing me.

About halfway there, I spot a dark-haired guy in a well-fitted navy pinstriped suit with a box of donuts. Must be the new hire Loretta was talking about. I can see why she went on about him in such an admiring way. The clothes fit his broad shoulders and lean torso perfectly, and although the jacket hides his butt from view, it’s obvious from the way his slacks skim over the lean lines of his legs that he has one extraordinary ass.

He’s facing away from me, chatting with Cora Darling, another of my cousins. She’s in finance. Unlike her older sister, who’s a model in New York City, Cora believes in sugar and fat with extra gluten. In spite of her love of junk food, she’s slim with superb bone structure, having inherited both from her parents. Combined with glossy black hair and bright amber eyes, she’s probably the best-looking woman in the building.

I pour a big mugful of fresh coffee for David, dump in a packet of Splenda—which is exactly how he likes it—then walk back to my desk to pick up a folder with the week’s agenda and a few items he needs to review. The new hire’s no longer at Cora’s desk, probably having served her the donut of her choice.

Smart man. Fresh donuts are a cheap way to introduce and endear yourself to other people on the floor.

Cora notices me and gestures me over. I go, keeping an eye on the coffee to make sure it stays hot and fresh. As much as I love Cora, she can be a bit long-winded when she gets on a roll, and I can tell she’s bursting with things to say.

She leans closer. “Have you met the new hire?”

“Not yet.”

“You should.”

“To get myself a donut?” I tease.

“No, silly. I mean, yeah, his donuts are great too. And you really should get one before all the good ones are gone.”

“I thought all donuts are equally good.”

“Nope. The best ones come with extra gluten and chocolate filling.” She winks.

I giggle at how incorrigible she is. Her anti-healthy diet is partly a rebellion against her older sister, who’s so healthy it’s sickening. How much juiced kale can one ingest in a day without throwing up?

“But forget the donuts. Even if there aren’t any left, you should still go see him. Just to check him out. That is one fine man. If I’d known that we’d replace Dick Button with a guy this hot, I would’ve campaigned for him to retire sooner.”

“So he’s the new in-house counsel?”

“Yup.”

Fascinating. I’d heard that we hired a new one, but I didn’t know he was attractive enough to make Cora notice. She’s really picky about men, but then she can afford to be. “I’ll try to run into him if I can. Gotta go though. David’s waiting for his coffee.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know why you bother. He should be getting his own.”

“I don’t mind. Gives me a chance to get away from my desk.” And a steady supply of caffeine keeps him happy.

On my way to David’s office, I grab the folder from my desk. I knock once and enter without waiting for an answer.

I stop so abruptly that I almost spill the coffee on my hand. I must be hallucinating because there’s no way Matt, a.k.a. One-Night Stand Number Five, can be seated here. To clear my vision, I blink a few times. But nope. He’s still in front of me, in one of the two chairs reserved for visitors.

Unlike before, he’s in a suit—a navy pinstriped suit. There’s a box of donuts, and…

“Oh, great,” David says perkily. “Jan, meet Matt Aston. He’s our new in-house counsel.”

My gaze swings his way, then back at Matt. The hot guy Loretta and Cora were talking about. Of course. My brain scrambles to keep up, because how the hell do you think when your lungs are struggling to draw in enough air, and all you can hear is a loud roar in your head?

Without handing over the coffee, I turn right around and leave, letting the door close behind me with a click. Then I gulp in some air, my mouth moving like a goldfish’s.

My new reality starts to sink in slowly.

Holy mother of God! Number Five is the new hire? What the hell am I going to do?

Is there anything I can do?

I think over the staccato beating of my heart. There’s no reason to panic. Yes, ideally we would never see each other again, but this isn’t a total disaster. I introduced myself on Friday using my one-night stand persona—Bella from Maryland who moved to Brooklyn three years ago. And Bella wore a skintight dress and hooker heels and her hair was wild and curled, her face fully made-up with bold colors I never use otherwise. I, as Jan Doe, look totally different in glasses and with my hair knotted tightly at my nape. Even my outfit’s professional and on the conservative side. He might think I look similar to the girl he almost slept with, but so what? It’s not like he’s going to ask, “Hey, are you the girl who went down on me Friday night, and then left?”

Besides, he got to come. So what does he have to complain about?

“Um. Jan, are you okay?” comes David’s voice over the intercom on my desk.

Crap. I grab a pen from my desk, stick it into the folder and return to the office. “Sorry about that,” I say with a broad smile and hand the coffee to David. “Had to go get my lucky pen.” I take the only empty seat left, right next to the one Matt is occupying.

“I didn’t know you had a lucky pen,” David says.

“Well, I do,” I say, twirling it around.

“That’s a Bic from the supply room.”

Oh shut up, shut up. I put the end in my mouth and bite until my teeth cut into the plastic. “There. The mark of luck.”

My cousin gives me a look that says, “I don’t get women,” while Matt’s studying me. I avoid looking at him, even though I can feel the weight of his gaze skimming over me from top to bottom, then back up, leaving my body hyperaware.

But keeping my eyes off him doesn’t insulate me from his aftershave, which smells expensive and incredibly sexy. He had the same scent mingled with a hint of musky male and soap when we first met.

Warmth unfurls in my belly. Why does he have to smell so divine? I stay rigid so I don’t squirm. Stick to the plan, I tell myself while adjusting my glasses.

“Anyway,” David begins, “Matt, this is my assistant and cousin, Jan Doe. And Jan, in case you missed my earlier intro, this is Matt Aston, the new in-house counsel. He’s a good friend of mine from Harvard, and I couldn’t be happier that he’s joining us.”

Can my life get any worse? Matt isn’t some random guy from New York City. He’s David’s good friend. I wonder if Alexandra knows him, too. At the rate things are going, the answer’s going to be yes because Jan’s Law is still in effect.

I inhale, then face Matt since there’s no way to avoid him without looking rude. He gives me a megawatt smile, probably the kind reserved for occasions like crushing his enemies, except I’m not a courtroom nemesis. There’s a speculative gleam in his sharp blue gaze that makes me wonder if he already knows everything, but that’s an absurd assumption.

He extends a hand. I stare at it a beat longer than is polite. America’s supposed to be this big melting pot…yet we haven’t adopted the Asian custom of bowing to each other. That’s surely better than touching skin-to-skin.

Come on, Jan. You’re playing a woman who just met a guy.

Wishing I had Michelle’s acting skills, I shake his hand. His palm is dry and warm, and he pumps firmly and confidently, just like the way he moved…

My cheeks heat. Stop thinking about that night!

A corner of his lips lifts for a second. Wait. Did he just smirk?

Before I can process what it means, Matt offers me a donut. There are still plenty left in the box. I grab a glazed one with chocolate filling because if I’m going to suffer through this, a treat is the least I deserve. “Thanks,” I say.

“My pleasure.”

I raise an eyebrow and peer at him over the rim of my glasses. Did I imagine it, or was there that satisfied kitten-like purr to his tone?

“So how was your weekend?” Matt asks.

I almost choke on the donut, but catch myself. “It was great. I went shopping.” Men hate hearing about shopping. Now the convo about my weekend is finished.

“How’s Kathleen?” David asks.

Or not. “You know how she is. Always doing fantastic,” I say.

“Does she work here too?” Matt asks.

“No,” I say, leaving it at that.

David of course ruins it by adding, “She’s a model now. Very busy. We almost never see her unless we go to New York.”

God. I could kill David with my bare hands. Or at least I should start spitting in his coffee. Why does he have to air our family stuff in front of the company’s in-house counsel?

I mean Kathleen being a model is totally cool, but Matt doesn’t need to know what she does or—more importantly—where she lives.

The donut tastes like an inner tube filled with toothpicks, and is about as comfortable to swallow with my mouth so dry. This is why I don’t lie—at least not to people I’m going to see again. When I get found out I can’t just brazen my way through the way Michelle can.

I stand up, placing the folder on David’s desk. “Please review this,” I say, although my voice is too hoarse for my liking. “Excuse me.” I spin around and leave.

On my way to the bathroom, I grab my phone. This calls for an emergency regrouping session.

Sitting on one of the toilets, I text Sammi and Michelle.

–Jan: You won’t believe what just happened!

A few seconds later, I get a response.

–Sammi: What?

–Jan: ThaYuMNDo is here!

–Michelle: Aren’t you at work?

–Jan: Yes. But he’s here. He’s Dick’s replacement!

–Michelle: Dick from legal?

Is she serious? She’s Miss HR. She should know there are no other replaced Dicks.

–Jan: YES!

–Michelle: Does this mean you don’t have to get up early now?

I drop my head. I can’t believe what she’s focused on.

–Jan: That is so not the point!

–Michelle: What is the point?

–Sammi: Look, you walked out on the prime piece, so you gotta own it.

–Michelle: Yup. I mean, unless the guy’s a rapist or something, he knows a woman can change her mind. He won’t hold it against you.

–Sammi: He better not. I gotta go. Meeting in ten. Chat after work? I have a working lunch.

–Michelle: So do I. You joining us today?

–Sammi: For gossip? Hell yeah!

I sigh. At least my sex life—or lack thereof—merits Sammi joining us at the state-of-the-art company gym. Michelle and I do yoga there four times a week, and Sammi never bothers since she’s already in such great shape.

I flush the toilet, sacrificing gallons of water at the altar of not looking weird. Maybe if I were more brazen, the way Sammi is, I could just walk out, not caring if anybody notices I didn’t flush. But I don’t want anybody to wonder why I was in the stall for so long without having the appropriate…you know…movements.

Izzy Friday from accounting glances at me when I start washing my hands. Twenty-seven years old, she’s the biggest gossip in the entire building, and there’s nothing that escapes the owlish brown eyes peering out from under her licorice-colored bangs. I honestly have no clue how she has time for her own life plus tracking everyone else’s, but somehow she manages. Must be her extraordinary attention to detail. Too bad she doesn’t apply that to accounting. She isn’t the best accountant we have at Sweet Darlings Inc. I overheard Alexandra complain about her work once.

“Hey, girl,” she says, looking at me in the mirror. “Have you checked out our new legal dick?”

“His name is Matt,” I point out.

She undoes an extra button on her pale yellow blouse, then puts a hand inside to push her tits up, creating a more pronounced cleavage, the kind you can stick a wad of cash into and never see it again. “I know, but everyone in legal is a dick, so…” She giggles, adjusting her skirt to make it appear shorter. “But if every dick looked like that, who cares, right?”

I force a smile, although it annoys me she’s talking about Matt like this—a piece of meat to be pursued. He isn’t mine, and certainly any woman can date him, but not Izzy. “Aren’t you dating somebody?”

“Nah. We’re just fucking, nothing serious, but only because he’s better than my B.O.B.” She applies a fresh coat of bright red lipstick, then turns to me. “What do you think?”

“Looks nice,” I say with less than full enthusiasm. The shade is dramatic with her pixie face and dark coloring.

Apparently oblivious to my mood, she turns back to the mirror. “More than nice. I had pink before, but it just doesn’t highlight the pucker, you know?”

“Are you going to do Matt while you’re seeing your other guy?”

“Why not? Neither of them will care. Men love sex, and I bet Matt never goes a night without getting laid…unless maybe he’s sick.”

She’s making me sick with her commentary…but she’s probably right. I’m sure Matt doesn’t lack for fuck buddies if that’s what he wants. Look how easily he got me into his hotel room, and I’m probably the only one from that encounter fretting about…

You know, I don’t even know exactly what I’m worried about regarding that particular incident. And that only makes me more annoyed.

It annoys me I didn’t just go all the way like I should have, because I lost my chance with Matt.

It annoys me that I can’t seem to want a relationship.

And it annoys me I can’t take sex casually, like so many women do.

It’s not even that I have some deep, religious or moral reason for my reluctance. I have no problem with sex in general, and I’m not particularly religious either, although I am spiritual. But sex to me isn’t just sex. It’s a risk.

A risk that I may become infatuated.

A risk that I might do something stupid, like get pregnant with the wrong guy’s baby.

A risk that I might end up hurting the people who matter the most.

Just like my mom.

That’s why even though I’m a virgin and don’t need it to regulate my period or anything like that, I’m fanatical about birth control. I take mine every morning at seven thirty like clockwork. But somehow that’s not enough because I keep thinking that it’s not foolproof. It can fail. It has failed countless other women.

“What do you think?” Izzy is looking at me expectantly.

I stare at her. She looks like a young woman on the prowl to get laid, not an accountant at work on a Monday, but I’m sure that isn’t what she’s asking. “Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve been daydreaming, haven’t you? Ugh. I wanted to know if you could get me an invite to Alexandra’s birthday party.”

“Why do you want to go?” Izzy doesn’t work closely with my grandmother, and she doesn’t know any of my cousins that well.

“To network. Rub elbows. I mean, all the people who matter from the company are going to be there.”

“Yeah, like the C-suite guys, which is going to be boring. And the family, who have to be there. It’s just a birthday get-together, no big deal, and it’s going to be too crowded if she invites everyone from work,” I say, trying to downplay the party. Knowing Grandma, the event’s going to be great with fantastic music, amazing food and even better company. “The really big one is the party on Friday.” Her assistant is planning a secret ceremony for Alexandra in the office. Well. “Secret”…but I’m sure my grandmother already knows about it. Nothing escapes her notice.

I clear my throat. “Anyway, I need to go. Got a meeting with David,” I lie. Otherwise Izzy will never shut up. She’s like a beady-eyed octopus intent on prey when she’s found someone to gossip with.

She shrugs. “That’s too bad. Have fun.”

I give her a smile—or at least I hope it’s a smile, since I bared my teeth and curved my lips. Then I make a big loop to avoid legal, which is located right smack between finance and marketing on this floor.

If I get super-lucky, Matt will be assigned to the legal team up on the fifteenth floor. But the universe is still being a rude bitch, continuing from yesterday, and I bet the fifty million dollar jackpot I’ll never win that ThaYuMNDo is on my floor.