Chapter 3

Claire

Today was one of those days when I honestly felt like I’d wasted the best years of my life. I’d spent all morning watching the Lifetime channel, going through old photo albums, and listening to one of my other San Fran friends—Helen, talk about how she’d been nominated for “Lawyer of the Year.”

She went on and on about how the ceremony was going to be in Vegas, how they’d booked a celebrity for a guest speaker, and how she just couldn’t wait to lounge in a rooftop pool; all the nominees were entitled to the five star treatment, which included having their own penthouse suite. 

Although I was extremely happy for her, I was also slightly jealous. Helen was thirty nine years old too, but unlike me, she seemed to have it all together: She had her own law firm, traveled somewhere new and exciting every month, and the stories she told me about her sex life made me wish I’d had more experience before tying myself down to Ryan.

As a matter of fact, anytime Helen, Sandra, and I had a ‘girls’ night,’ she always overwhelmed us with salacious stories about her newest lover. At first, I thought she was just doing it to brag, but after a while I realized that she was doing me a favor. She was making me see how pathetic my nonexistent sex life was, trying to help me get in tune with something called an “inner goddess.”

But, since I refused to date, I relied on vibrating friends to get the job done: They were effective, easy, and I didn’t have to worry about them cheating on me.

Once I was off the phone with Helen, I decided to do some work. I started looking over my associates’ latest slogan submissions and proposed ad ideas. I read through three of them and shut the folder, making an immediate break for my car.

I’m going to need some serious wine to get through this today...

I rushed over to the grocery store and made my way to the magazine section. I figured I would buy yet another set of magazines to show my associates the difference between good advertisements and bad advertisements.

I picked up InStyle, Vogue, Us Weekly, and stilled once I caught a magazine with “Divorce Edition” scrawled across its cover.

I picked it up and flipped through the pages, shaking my head at the stupid advice the so-called “experienced divorcées” were giving: “Forgive him and let it go! That’s the easy part!” “Try to schedule time for yourself to cry in private!” “Travel alone and see the world as soon as the ink on the papers dries!”

Any woman who was cheated on and says her self-esteem wasn’t crushed is a goddamn liar...

I stopped reading the “How I Kept My Esteem Intact After the Affair” article and sauntered down the spices aisle.

Pepper...Bay leaves...Parsley...Paprika...Paprika? Ryan’s favorite...

I picked up the paprika and froze. I was supposed to brush the thought of him away as soon as he entered my mind. I was supposed to say, “The collapse of my marriage was not my fault,” take a deep breath, and move on to doing something else.

That didn’t work today.

I felt a soft lump rise up my throat and choked back a sob. I closed my eyes and tried to think of a happy memory, but only the worst one came...

––––––––

I was trembling, shaking so violently I wasn’t sure how I was standing up straight. I was in my kitchen, staring at Ryan, watching him pick up the incriminating photos off the floor.

“Claire...” He picked up the last one and sighed. “Can we please talk about this?”

“About what?” I hissed.

“About what you...about me having an affair.”

“Oh yes! My husband fucking my best friend! For over a year! Let’s discuss that, shall we?”

“You don’t have to be so loud, Claire. I’m trying to—”

“I can be as loud as I want! You’re having an affair with Amanda! She was my maid of honor for Christ’s sake! I don’t even know where to start, Ryan! How could you?”

“Our daughters are upstairs. We—”

“Our daughters? Our daughters! Don’t try to act like you suddenly give a damn about this family! You weren’t thinking about any of us when your dick was buried in—”

“Enough!” He began to cry and walked over to me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...I messed up and—”

“You messed up?” I felt my heart constrict.

“Yes...I messed up and I’m—”

“Ryan...” I put my hand over my chest to prevent my heart from jumping out. “Messing up is picking the girls up late from school. Messing up is leaving the chicken in the oven for too long. Messing up is forgetting our anniversary—which is in two weeks, by the way. Cheating on me? Sleeping with my best friend? That’s fucked up. And it’s unforgivable. How long has it really been going on?”

He sighed and I slowly backed away from our cutlery set.

“Hello? Ryan! How long has it been going on?”

“Claire, listen to me—”

“Tell me! Tell me right now!” I looked away from his eyes because deep down I didn’t really want to know.

“I’ve always had feelings for Amanda...”

My heart gave out and crumbled inside my chest. My knees buckled and my body slumped down to the floor.

He continued, “I had feelings for her but I never acted on them because...” He sat down on the floor. “Because I was in love with you. I never intended to act on those feelings, but last January we were both drinking and one thing led to another and—”

“And you had sex?”

“Yes...And I—”

“Where?”

“Where, what?”

I took a deep breath. “Where did you have sex that time? Where was this happening?”

He avoided my eyes. “Here...You were out of town at that Parker Brothers conference...And I know that I should’ve stopped that day. I should’ve told you, but I couldn’t. I honestly didn’t know how to break it to you because it was more than just sex between us. It was—”

“Are you the father of her baby?” I needed to hear him say it.

He didn’t answer.

“Are you the father of her baby?!” I screamed.

“Yes.” His voice cracked. “I...I’m so sorry you had to find out this way and that I put you through this...I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. I’ll have to pay her child support, but I’ll let her go. I’ll go to counseling and we can—”

“Are you in love with her?”

“Claire, don’t—”

“Answer me! Are you in love with her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Of course I love you, Claire. I—”

“Are you in love with me?”

His silence was the loudest answer he’d given all night. His lack of words unraveled me and forced me to break down right in front of him.

He began talking over my cries, saying words of some kind, but all I could hear was the roaring of blood in my ears, the literal shattering of my heart.

I curled into the fetal position and cried my eyes out. I kept saying, “Get away from me, it’s over,” but he wrapped his cold arms around me and refused to let me go.

I wanted to believe that we could get through this together, that he could fall in love with me again and we could put this affair behind us. But as his clammy fingers caressed my shoulders, I realized that I didn’t trust him anymore. And I didn’t want to hurt myself even more by having to learn how to trust him again.

In the morning, with the one shred of dignity I had left, I calmly told him that I wanted a divorce.

––––––––

“The collapse of my marriage was not my fault.” I exhaled and opened my eyes.

I felt my phone vibrating and held it up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Mom, I need some Pop-Tarts.”

“Caroline, you have a car and a part-time job. Go to the store and buy them yourself.”

“I spent my last check on an iPod! Besides, Ashley said you were at the grocery store and I can’t do my work without Pop-tarts. Can you get some for me and drop them off at the library? Please?”

Sometimes, I swore that my daughters weren’t related to me. They couldn’t be. At sixteen years old, they had all the book smarts in the world, but their common sense IQ was probably negative.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.” She sighed. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Let me call you back mom! The ice cream truck is coming up the street! I have to get an Elmo-sicle!”

Just as I was about to put my phone back into my purse, my other daughter called. “Yes, Ashley?”

“How long was I supposed to keep that bread in the oven?”

“You weren’t supposed to touch that bread at all, Ashley. I said it was for dinner. It was going to go with the spaghetti and—”

“I was hungry! What was I supposed to eat?”

“Leftover chicken salad, sushi—”

“I’m a vegan since last night mom.” She gave me one of her ‘you-just-don’t-understand-me’ groans. “Remember? I can’t eat meat. Can you get me some soy products while you’re out? And I’m totally sorry, but I completely burned that bread...Shouldn’t the oven have made a sound to alert me? And why does every plastic pan I put in the oven burn up? What’s that about?”

Oh my god...

“I’ll see you when I get home, Ashley.” I hung up.

My daughters were not related to me. If I was sixteen years old with a job and a shared car, I wouldn’t be calling my mother about anything. Then again—I scrolled down my phone’s list and called my own mother. “Mom, are you still coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Sure. What time should I be there?”

“Seven o’ clock. And I need you to bring some bread over. I had some ready but Ashley put another plastic pan in the oven.”

“You need to get those girls checked out, Claire. I told you they were born with half a brain.”

“Tell me about it. See you tonight, mom. I’ll—”

“Wait! Robert Millington told me you still haven’t called him. He really wants to take you out. I think he’d be good for you!”

I tried not to groan. Robert was the son of my mom’s best friend. He was two years older than me, but he wasn’t attractive and he was extremely dull—worse-than-watching-paint-dry dull. His idea of great conversation was discussing the differences between American and British politics.

“No thanks, mom. Not interested.”

“Why not? He’s a good guy! He has his own law firm, he’s in great shape—”

“And he’s boring. I’ll pass. See you tonight, mom.” I hung up.

I made my way down the beverage aisle and grabbed a carton of dry milk. I headed for the meat section and grabbed a few pounds of beef—soy beef.

As I walked by, I looked up at the reflective glass that hung over the chicken display. I still had problems recognizing myself on some days. I was still coming to terms with the new and improved me—the woman who actually enjoyed putting on make-up and spending more than twenty minutes on her hair.

You still got it...You still got it...You still—

I pushed my basket straight into a display of cereal boxes.

Great...

Stooping down, I began putting it back together the best way I could. I wanted to fix everything before the snotty manager came over and said his infamous, “Mistakes like this are what drive our prices up.”

“Need some help?” A deep voice said from behind.

“Sure.” I didn’t look up. I kept stacking the red boxes in between the yellow ones, making sure each box was perfectly aligned into the tacky half diamond formation.

As I stacked the last cereal box atop the display, I turned to look at the man who’d helped me out.

OH. MY. GOD...

He had one of those faces that belonged in a Ralph Lauren ad—stark blue eyes that gleamed with the faintest hint of light, a perfectly chiseled jaw line with a light sexy stubble, and full, well-defined lips that looked inviting enough to kiss all day.

He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black sweat shirt with “San Fran” in white letters. And for some odd reason, he was smiling at me.

He’s probably a student at the law school down the street....If only I could go back in time...Oh well...

“Umm...Thank you for your help.” I turned away and went back to my basket.

“Wait a minute,” he said as he walked over. “I didn’t catch your name.”

How cute...

“Claire.”

“Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Jonathan.” He reached out to shake my hand. “I know this may seem forward, but I can’t leave the store without knowing if I can I take you out tonight.”

What? Did he just ask me out? For tonight?

“Umm...”

“You can pick the place.” He smiled a perfect white smile and ran a hand through his jet black hair. “And we can meet there if you don’t want me to pick you up.”

Stop looking at his smile and avert your gaze somewhere lower...Not that lower!

“I would but...” I literally couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen—his face had to have been personally sculpted by the Gods, and I was starting to feel this strange rush of warmth coursing through my veins. “I can’t.”

“Is it because you’re seeing someone else?” His eyes veered to my bare left hand. “Are you married?”

He has to be kidding me...

“No. I’m not married or seeing anyone else. I’m—”

“So would eight o’ clock tonight be fine? Where exactly do you want to meet?” He looked directly into my eyes and I almost collapsed onto the floor.

The look he was giving me should’ve been reserved for a seductive scene in a romance movie and his dreamy smile was lethal...

“Look, I’m completely flattered but you look kind of young.”

He furrowed his eyebrow. “That’s very nice of you to say, but that doesn’t answer my question. Where do you want to—”

“How old are you, Jonathan?”

“Twenty eight.” His beautiful eyes lit up.

Twenty eight?! Why am I still standing here entertaining him? He’s eleven years younger than me! No thanks...

“Well, that’s way too young for me. I have a little cousin that’s more in your age range. She’s currently studying law, but if you want I can call and ask her if—”

“You don’t want to go out with me?”

“No. I’m way too old for you and I’m not a cougar or a cradle robber. I have two daughters and I would feel some type of way if they dated someone who had our age difference.”

“Our age difference?”

“Yes. I’m thirty nine, which means that when you were eight years old and learning how to build fires with the Boy Scouts, I was nineteen and in college. It means that when you were nineteen and trying to figure out what major you wanted to pick, I was thirty trying to build a career in marketing. And just in case you don’t realize how many years there are that separate us, there are eleven. Do you not see the problem with that?”

“Not really.” He grinned. “But I can’t force someone to go out with me, can I? Could I at least give you my number just in case you change your mind?”

“Sure.” I took out my phone and vowed to delete his number later.

“It’s 555-9845...I really hope you change your mind, Claire.” He gave me another one of those seductive glances and walked away.

––––––––

“What are you waiting for? Call him, Claire! Tonight!”

“Shhhh! I don’t want everyone here in my personal life, Sands!”

“Whatever,” she whispered. “Why can’t you go out with him?”

“He’s twenty eight!”

“Which means he’s practically thirty! What’s the problem? He didn’t ask you to marry him. He simply asked you out and told you to suggest the place.”

“Wouldn’t that make me a cougar though? Eleven years younger than me? Wait, twelve years younger than me once Friday gets here...What would my mom think? What about his mother?”

“Claire, it’s a simple date. At the very least, maybe you two will hit it off, go out a few more times, and then you can finally get some sex! How long has it been again?”

My associates all looked up at me.

“Get back to work!” I waited for them to look away from me and glared at Sandra. “I’ve only been here a few years. Could we try not to have my associates gossiping about me?”

“Sorry.” She followed me into my corner office. “You hate it here anyway...All I’m trying to say is that you haven’t been on a date in a while and—”

“I went out last month, remember? Tucker Williams. He was a pediatric surgeon and—”

“Please! He didn’t ask a single thing about you the entire night and he cursed at you once you didn’t invite him in. Now that I think about it, that’s the only date you’ve been on since you moved here! In four years! You really need to start dating again.”

I sighed. “I will, I will—only men that are my age or a little older though.”

“Fine, but you don’t have a good reason not to take this Jonathan guy up on his offer. Who cares if he’s younger? You did say he was attractive, right?”

He’s more than just “attractive”...

“Yeah.” I leaned against my desk. “He is...”

“So go for it! You can still search for a more mature guy in the meantime, but can’t you have a little fun until you find one?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll call him tonight.”

“Miss Gracen?” My assistant buzzed in.

“Yes, Rita?”

“Mr. Barnes wants all the directors in the conference room for the weekly overview session.”

“I’ll be right there.” I hit the end button on my office intercom and gave Sandra a hug.

“I guess I should get back to my practice huh?” She shrugged. “Don’t forget to call me after you talk to him.” She walked towards the east elevators and I walked towards the north ones. 

Another overview session with Mr. Barnes and the rest of the directors was the last thing I wanted to do today. No one ever had anything remotely interesting to discuss in those meetings. It usually just entailed Mr. Barnes spewing out brainstorming ideas until Bob from demographic research fell asleep and banged his head on the table—everyone’s cue that another dreadful meeting was over.

I took my place at the glass conference table and sat down.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Mr. Barnes seemed extremely chipper today. “As usual, we have some very important ventures and promotional plans we need to discuss. But, before we get into that, I want to introduce you to someone who has never visited us before...All the way from the fiftieth floor, founding member and CEO Jonathan Statham!”

Everyone stood and clapped as he walked into the room. I gave a soft clap and was about to begin my standard “tuning everything out” routine, until I noticed that all the female directors were salivating—yes, salivating, at whoever had walked through those doors.

I turned my head to the left and saw that the “Jonathan” I’d met at the grocery store last week was the Jonathan Statham.

My jaw dropped as I looked him over. He was even sexier in his navy blue suit. He’d shaved his stubble and his dark sleek hair was combed off his face —not a single strand was out of place. His eyes were gleaming in a seductive hue of blue, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips...or that smile...

He nodded his head at each and every one of us, raising his eyebrow once his eyes found mine.

His lips curved into a wry smile and he began to speak. “It’s an honor to be at your meeting today. With over four thousand employees, it’s hard to know everyone, but this year I want to make myself more transparent, more available.” His eyes met mine again.

“I’m sorry I don’t tell you how much I value you every day, but I really do,” he continued. “As you know, we’re going through a restructuring phase. We’re going to be shaking a few things up over the coming weeks by hiring new talent. Not to worry though, no one is losing a job. We’re about to sign four major clients and we want to make sure our marketing team is as strong as it can possibly be.”

Just fire everyone and start over if that’s the case...

“I’ll turn things back over to you now, Mr. Barnes.” Jonathan walked around the table and took a seat directly across from me.

The art director who was sitting next to him blushed bright pink.

Everyone was on their best behavior for a change. People were participating in the brainstorming session and contributing ideas instead of scrolling away on their phones or looking out the windows.

I contributed whenever I was called, and couldn’t help but notice that Jonathan was watching my every move. Occasionally, he would redirect his focus to the projector screen or on whoever was speaking, but his piercing blue eyes always found their way back to me.

Why is he staring at me? And why is he making it so damn obvious?

I answered another question about our latest ad campaign and caught Jonathan winking at me as he poured himself a glass of water. I tried to look away from him, but it was too damn hard.

He was too damn sexy.

I was glad I’d perfected the poker face a few years ago; I was a master at looking unaffected.

Maybe Sandra’s right. Maybe I can date him and at least get some good sex out of it. I haven’t had sex in a long time. A very long time...Wait, is four years really that long of a time?

“Miss Gracen?” Mr. Barnes interrupted my thought-fest.

“Yes?”

“Are you still willing to work as team coordinator rather than going to the company’s IPO ball this summer? You sure you want to gift your ticket to an intern?”

Jonathan tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” I swiveled my chair around. “I don’t want to go. I think we should gift it to the intern that works the hardest over the next few months.”

“Excellent idea!” He began to say other things and I made a conscious effort to keep my eyes glued on the presentation.

I looked at my watch every five seconds, hoping the meeting would come to an end so I could jump up and leave. I thought that there had to be something wrong with me. I couldn’t believe I was actually fantasizing about a man who was eleven years younger than me.

“Miss Gracen, did you bring that segment data with you?” Mr. Barnes intruded my thoughts again. “Did you include the latest prototype research?”

Could you please end this fucking meeting?!

“Yes.” I held up a blue folder.

“Great! Could you give that to Mr. Statham please? And how about you, Mrs. Turner? Did you happen to find out if—”

I tuned him out. I wanted to jump across the table and thrash him for dragging this meeting on longer than necessary, pretending like we actually did anything productive just because we were in front of the CEO.

I turned my chair around and saw Jonathan beaming at me with his hand outstretched. I didn’t bother placing the folder into his hand—I didn’t want any bodily contact between us, especially not with that panty-dropper smile of his.

I slid it across the table and turned back around.

The meeting came to an end an hour later, without Bob’s head bang as a gavel, and everyone made a move for the door.

I leapt out of my chair and squeezed between Mr. Barnes and the regional director. I was about to step outside the room when Jonathan grabbed my hand, causing a sudden shock of electricity to ripple through me.

He must have felt it too because he immediately let my hand go.

“May I please have a word with you, Miss Gracen?” he asked.

“Sure, Mr. Statham...” I moved to the other side of the room.

He waited for the last director to leave the room and shut the door before walking over to me.

“How long have you been working here, Miss Gracen?” He placed subtle emphasis on the word ‘Miss’ and smiled.

“About four years.”

“Hmmm. I can’t believe I’m just now finding you.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you like it?”

There has to be a better word than “sexy” to describe you...

“Do I like what?”

“Your job, this company.”

“You want me to be completely honest?”

“That would be nice.”

“I absolutely hate it here, but the offices are decorated quite nicely. The interior designers did one hell of a job.”

“Good to know.” He laughed. “I take it that since you haven’t called, you’re not interested in going out with me?”

I nodded weakly. “Clearly.”

“May I ask why, Miss Gracen?”

He needs to stop saying my name like that...

“There are several reasons why.”

“Name the best ones.” He stepped in front of me and looked deep into my eyes. “But your age and the fact that you have kids aren’t good enough reasons for me.”

Poker face...Poker face... “Well, as I’m sure you already know, it’s against company policy.”

“I can have that rewritten by the end of the week.”

“It’s also completely immoral and highly inappropriate.”

“That’s...debatable.” He reached out and pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Is that all?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything.

I was too busy getting lost in his incredible eyes. I realized that they weren’t entirely blue; his irises were outlined in a wispy cloud of charcoal gray and there were speckles of emerald green gleaming within them.

“Miss Gracen? Are there any other excuses?” He inched even closer to me, slightly rubbing his nose against mine.

Why am I so turned on right now? I shouldn’t be feeling this way...He’s way too young for me, way too young for me...

“I’m not attracted to you.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Hmmm. Well, I guess that is a good enough reason.” He looked at his watch. “I have another meeting to go to...” He stepped away from me. “It was nice running into you again. I’ll see you around?”

“I guess so.” I nodded and watched him leave the room.

––––––––

I wrote a few notes in my “Zen” journal and sighed. “I love my job....I love my job...”

Nope. Still not working...

No matter how many times I said it aloud, I still hated my job. With an undying passion.

I went through another stack of proposal campaigns and tossed them all into my “No way in hell” pile. My associates were really starting to annoy me. All their recent ideas were more terrible than usual; it was like they weren’t even trying.

I started typing yet another inspirational email to invigorate them, to inspire them to think of something that didn’t suck, but an email flagged as “important” popped up on my screen.

––––––––

From: Statham, Jonathan

To: Gracen, Claire

Subject: Employee Relations

Date: January 8, 2013 2:30 PM

Miss Gracen,

I know you rejected my earlier proposal, but there are a few things I would like to discuss with you. Would you happen to have any free time this Friday evening?

Statham Industries CEO,

Jonathan Statham

––––––––

From Gracen, Claire

To: Statham, Jonathan

Subject: Re: Employee Relations

Date: January 8, 2013 2:35 PM

Mr. Statham,

Once 5:00 pm arrives on Friday, I will have no desire to discuss anything related to Statham Industries, especially since I am paid by the hour and overtime is strictly forbidden. The next hour that I will be available to discuss these so called “employee relations” will be Monday morning. At 8:00.

Please make an appointment with my secretary,

Executive Marketing Director,

Claire Gracen

––––––––

I hit send and shut down my computer. I walked over to my wall calendar, sighing at the date that was circled, and crossed off yesterday’s date with a red marker.

Four more days ‘til the big 4-0...

“Miss Gracen!” Mr. Barnes rushed into my office. “Is there any chance you could run our latest board up to the art department? The other directors and I have just been called into an emergency strategy meeting with Mr. Statham.”

What! Why wasn’t I called? Is he going to blackball my career because I turned him down? How immature...

As if he’d read my mind, he gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure they’re not letting you go...I’d put up a hell of a fight to get you to stay.”

“Thanks.” I stood up and took the board from his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! We can’t use this!”

“What? Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? This is racist!”

“How so?”

I sighed. This was yet another reason why I hated working here.

We were supposed to be coming up with ways to market the new “sPhone Blue” but my department had missed the mark, once again: On the board was a picture of a cotton field, but instead of cotton blooms growing atop the plants, there were sPhones. There were slaves with baskets at their hips, smiling widely as they “picked” the crop. At the bottom of the picture were the words: “Bring back the good old days, the new sPhone Blue.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Barnes, I’m not taking this shit up there. We need to come up with something else.”

“Fine.” He snatched the board back. “Well, at least go get the boards back from yesterday. I’ll come get them from you after the emergency meeting.” He definitely stressed the word ‘meeting’ to irk me since I wasn’t invited.

As soon as he left my office, I headed for the elevators. I told myself that after I picked up the artwork, I would take a second lunch break since the other directors were more important than I was.

Five more years and I can quit....Only five more years...

I boarded an empty elevator and hit thirty, but it went down to the basement. Then it went to level two. Then it went to level four.

I was about to step off and try another elevator, but Jonathan Statham stepped on.

Every nerve in my body ran wild. My heart started fluttering against my chest—I could literally hear it, and tingles started crawling up and down my spine.

He turned around and smiled at me, and like a teenage girl with a high school crush, I turned away from him. I didn’t want him to know that he was affecting me.

I kept my eyes focused on the golden buttons that lit up as we passed every floor: Ten...Eleven...Twelve...

The elevator came to a sudden halt.

I looked over and realized he’d hit the stop button.

“Your reason for not going out with me doesn’t make any sense.” He turned around to face me. “Tell me the truth.”

“Please do yourself a favor and move on with your life, Mr. Statham. I’m sure you have far more important things to do than harass a mid-level employee. I told you that I’m not attracted to you.”

“And I think you’re lying.” He stepped closer. “You are attracted to me.”

I’m well aware...

“Are you normally this cocky? Surely you can accept the fact that I’m just not attracted to boys.”

“Boys?” His eyes hardened.

“Yes...” My breath hitched. “That would make me a pedophile.”

“Going out with me would make you a pedophile?”

“Going out with you would make my life a little more complicated than I need it to be. You clearly can’t handle rejection, probably lack emotional maturity, and are definitely more compatible with some vapid twenty year old who still doesn’t know the difference between emotions and—”

He pushed me against the wall and kissed me—forcing my lips apart, trying to control my tongue with his.

I tried to push him away, tried to shut my lips back together and act like this wasn’t turning me on, but once I felt his arms slipping around my waist, I slowly gave in and kissed him back.

I pressed myself back against him, stifling a moan as he bit my bottom lip, as he pinned me against the wall with his hips.

“Wait...Stop...” I pulled away from him. “I should get back to work.”

“Tell me the truth.” He stepped back. “Tell me that you do want to go out with me.”

“Maybe I do, but...”

“Pick the place.”

“I’m not sure if that would be very appropri—”

He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me harder than before, leaving me utterly breathless. “Pick. The. Place.”

“I...” I sucked in a breath. “I can’t go on Friday...What about Saturday?”

“Why can’t you go out on Friday?” He tightened his arms around me.

“It’s my birthday...My friends have a table reserved for me at Havana.”

“Interesting. Can I come?”

What? Why?

“If you want to...Sure...”

“Okay.” He released me and hit the start button. “I’ll see you Friday. We can discuss our date for Saturday then.” He kept his eyes on me as he moved to the other side of the elevator.

I leaned against the wall and inhaled several times to bring my breathing back to normal. “I know you don’t work in HR or anything, but I was the only director who wasn’t invited to the mock-up meeting this afternoon. You said no one was losing their job but...Am I being let go? Are you trying to soften the blow by being nice to me during my last week here?”

“What? Why would you even think—Of course not.” He laughed. “How else was I supposed to get you alone?”

The doors opened on twenty four and he stepped off. 

“Oh, and Miss Gracen?” He turned around and held the doors open. “Before I forget...When you were thirty and expanding your marketing career, I was nineteen, but I wasn’t picking out my major. I was dropping out and starting my own software company, the very company you hate working for today.” He moved his hands from the doors and they closed on his seductive smile.

I went back down to my office and changed my panties in the bathroom for the second time this week. I knew my stash of emergency panties would come in handy at some point, but I was thinking more along the lines of wasting coffee on my pants, not getting aroused as soon as I looked at Jonathan Statham.

This is not good...This is not good...