Simon

On Monday morning I sipped black coffee in the hotel lobby while waiting on Emma to join me. I had my suitcase in hand because today we’d be moving over to corporate housing. The place was only a few miles from the office. I was anxious to have my own kitchen for the next couple of weeks. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I could manage eggs, and I wanted a blender for my protein shakes.

I smiled, thinking of Peyton and her affinity for fast-food hash browns. No doubt she kept her body in shape, but she wasn’t afraid to indulge. The thought of how much we’d indulged in during the limo ride home would stay etched in my brain forever. Her body, her little moans, the fact I couldn’t get enough. The thoughts of her naked made me have to shift in my suit.

I got myself under control just in time, as Emma came off the lift with two of the largest suitcases known to man.

“You could’ve rung for a bell hop,” I admonished.

She shrugged. “I could’ve, but I figured you’d thank me for the manly exercise I’m giving you the next time you’re wooing your woman. Which reminds me—how was your weekend?”

Since Emma had coordinated the limo at the last moment and also had assisted in putting together my date with Peyton in New York, there was no use pretending nothing happened. “It was brilliant, but if I’m being honest, this coming week will be new territory. Mixing the personal and professional.”

She laughed, while we both waited for the valets to get our cars. “You must really like her.”

Because she said it from a place of sincerity, I answered with simple truthfulness. “I really do.” However, I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“And it doesn’t, you know, freak you out?”

Emma and I had the same feeling about letting people get close to us. We didn’t do it. So, I could understand her surprise at learning someone had somehow penetrated my force field.

“A bit at first, but she understands I’m only here for a couple more weeks.”

“So maybe understanding it’s temporary helps ease the fear?”

I thought about her question. I’d never had a long-term relationship. Didn’t believe I was the type who could ever sustain one. As Peyton had pointed out, I spent most of my time working.

“By the end of the next couple of weeks, we’ll probably be sick of each other, and all the magic will be gone.”

Emma remained uncharacteristically quiet while our vehicles were brought around.

“What?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d like to believe there could be magic some day for the cynics.”

Even if it was possible, a couple of weeks wouldn’t be enough time to find it. But for some reason, I didn’t dispel her of the notion.

***

I didn’t see or talk to Peyton on Monday. I was swamped with managing the logistics of the acquisition. Tomorrow would be much the same, with George coming in to the office to make the official announcement about the sale of the company. That meant, come Wednesday, the employee interviews would start.

But all this work didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking of her. Wasn’t picturing her up against the wall in my flat. Her on her knees in my shower and the wicked things she could do with her tongue. But the memory forever etched in my mind would be her touching herself in the limo. And had she mentioned a Tumblr account? That was something I definitely needed to get my hands on. Too many times, I literally had to pull myself from my thoughts and focus back on work.

I had to schedule everyone for their interviews. Along with this necessity, there was a pile I had to go through containing the employee reviews and compensation history from the last few years, as well as the recommendations from the various directors.

I’d been on the phone with New York and Philip, trying to glean information about Peyton’s interview. All he’d provided was that the board had been impressed, but they had more external candidates to consider. It had been on the tip of my tongue to reiterate how important I thought it would be to have a person with a company legacy in the position, but I kept my mouth shut. I never would’ve inserted my opinion before I’d met her.

That was the most frustrating part of this new dynamic. Second guessing everything. Would I text her if we didn’t work together? Would I be as anxious for her to become CFO if I didn’t care about her? Would I? The list went on. This is why I went radio silent on her. What I hadn’t expected was that she wouldn’t reach out to me, either.

By Tuesday, I started to get anxious and second guess—again. Maybe I should have reached out yesterday, after all. Was she angry? Should I text her today? What would I say? How ironic that I’d wanted some distance to put me back in control, yet here I was in my office in the late afternoon feeling anything but.

I walked down to her office, intending to ask how everyone was taking the news of the sale as an excuse to see her.

Part of me wondered if she was as anxious to see me as I was to see her.

After knocking on her door, I heard her voice say, “Come in.”

She looked surprised when I walked in.

I shut the door and took the visitor’s chair across from her desk. The air suddenly felt thicker, the walls felt closer, and I found myself rooted to my seat, drinking in the vision of her. She had her hair up, a black dress on, and soft makeup. Fuck, I’d missed her.

“Hello.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Hello to you.”

We sat there, both of us simply lost in the sight of one another.

“What are you thinking about this very moment?” I queried, my voice husky. I needed to know if I’d been on her mind as much as she’d been on mine.

“Very unprofessional thoughts.”

My lips twitched. “What kind of unprofessional thoughts?”

She swept the papers on her desk to the side. “The type that would scatter everything on my desk to the floor.”

I hissed before adjusting to the discomfort of an instant hard-on. “How am I supposed to get through the rest of day now?”

She unapologetically shrugged. “You did ask.”

“You’re right, I did. And it’s a shame we won’t be partaking in any office shenanigans.”

She leaned back in her chair, smiling. “It is a shame.”

I glanced around at her desk, noting it managed to look messier than it had last week. “Do the papers on your desk multiply overnight?”

“Yes. Like bunnies on a warm Texas night. Why? Does this bother you?” She tipped a stack of four folders over, creating more disarray.

“Nope.” I was lying. Not only did I want to straighten the mess, but I also wanted to label all the folders, file the papers in them, and put them in drawers.

Challenge held in her eyes along with a hefty dose of humor. “Mm-hm. What about this?” This time she emptied her paperclip holder into the middle of the desk.

I twitched.

“Or this?” She held a stack of business cards above her desk, about to let them fall.

“Wait.”

She lifted a brow questioningly, pausing in her torture.

“You’d thank me later for it since you wouldn’t want to clean up the mess.”

She shrugged and let the cards go. “Actually I’ve been meaning to go through them. Now admit it. You’re a neat freak.”

I scoffed. “I’m no such thing. I simply happen to prefer order and efficiency.”

“Uh-huh. In other words: neat freak. Not saying it’s a bad thing. But it does bother you.”

I couldn’t stand it any longer. I scooped up the cards and began straightening them back into a pile. “Maybe. But if I’m a neat freak, then you are a hot mess.”

She flashed a grin. “Agreed. I am.”

“Are we done with the let’s-break-Simon torture show?”

There was humor in her voice. “I suppose. For now.”

She went back to her computer, leaving me to shake my head that she wasn’t bothering to clean up the paper clips. “Isn’t that aggravating you?”

Her head went back with laughter. “Nope. But since it annoys you so much, here.” She quickly put them back where they belonged.

So maybe I was a bit of a neat freak. But since the alternative made me want to break out in hives, I went with it. I’d never been called on it, however. Emma would say I was particular or organized. Leave it to Peyton to do the calling out, but do it in a way where she made fun of herself, too, and didn’t put me on the defensive.

She put a pen to her lips as if she was considering a business offer. “Do you have a schedule for interviewing my staff?”

Whiplash back into the professional. “I do.”

“Terrific. I’d love a copy showing when you’re meeting with each of my people over the next couple of days.”

“For what purpose?”

Annoyance flashed in her eyes, making her even more sexy. Here was a woman who didn’t back down, whether it involved something business or personal. “For the purpose of keeping this place running. Each of them has a job to do. If you are holding interviews that take them away from their current workload, then I need to accommodate for it and provide coverage. This sale may be your first priority, but mine is to ensure we take care of all necessary daily tasks.”

I had to hide my grin. “Certainly. I’ll have Emma send it down.”

She huffed a breath. “Good.”

“How did everyone take George’s announcement?” It was the first time I’d cared about the effects of an acquisition. Knowing how much she would seemed to make all the difference.

“They took it okay. But it shocked a lot of them. People are nervous. Especially about these ‘meetings’ which we both know is actually code for interviews. Guess it’s good they don’t officially know that.”

“It’s effective when they don’t feel like they’re interviewing.”

“Despite the fact you’re doing exactly that.”

“Yes. Emma will put two hours on your calendar for tomorrow so you can give us your thoughts on each of your people.”

She took the change in stride, putting her chin on the hand she had propped on the desk. “All the directors will be doing this?”

“Yes.”

“But only about their people, not about anyone outside of their own department, correct?”

“What are you asking me?” She wasn’t hard to read. There was a reason she was fishing.

“A couple people in my department used to report to Jeff before I rescued them. I don’t want him commenting on them.”

“Because?”

“He wouldn’t have nice things to say.”

“About?”

“About anyone, but particularly Megan.”

“Your accounting manager?”

“Yes. My right-hand person. The best accounting manager—”

I held up my hand. I could hear the emotion in her voice and knew this was personal for her. “I get it. And to answer your question, I don’t care about a former supervisor’s opinion of someone who decided to leave their department.”

“Good.” She let out a sigh of relief and leaned back in her chair.

“Peyton, you can’t take this process personally.”

Wrong thing to say as her eyes narrowed. “Careful, or you’ll start sounding like Tom.”

I had to keep myself from wincing at the implication. “I only meant to say I recognize how much your staff means to you. But if they do the job and do it well, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Fair enough.” Glancing at her clock, she gave me one more look. “I have a four o’clock call.”

“Is this about not reaching out yesterday?”

Surprise jumped into her expression, and then she slowly flipped her monitor so I could see the call scheduled on her calendar. “No. I don’t play those types of games.”

I felt my face heat with the insinuation I might. “Okay. I’ll let you get to it.” I stood up and turned around, noticing she was already dialing.

I’d been properly dismissed.