Chapter 30

I whirled around and came face-to-face with Paisley, who was wearing an annoyingly familiar black dress – mine, in fact. Her eyes were wild, and she was trembling with apparent rage.

She practically spat in my face. "You bitch!"

I drew back. "What?"

"I knew you liked him!"

Obviously, she meant the professor. But she was crazy. I didn't like him. I barely knew him, and I wanted to keep it that way.

In the calmest voice I could muster, I said, "Sorry, but you've got it all wrong."

Her gaze zoomed in on the flowers, and she gave a snort of disbelief. "Do I?"

I looked down at the flower arrangement still clutched in my hand. My fingers were tight around the neck of the vase, and for the briefest instant, I wanted to hurl the whole thing, vase and all, straight at the professor. Or cripes, even onto the floor.

Instead, I thrust the flowers out in Paisley's direction and said, "If you want them, you can have them."

She eyed the flowers with obvious disgust. "I don't want them. They're used."

Behind me, the professor mumbled, "They are not. I got them an hour ago."

God, what a dumb-ass. I turned toward him and said, "You know what? Why don't you and Paisley go out to lunch and settle this like adults?"

Behind me, Paisley demanded, "What are you saying? That I'm immature?"

Oh, for crying out loud. Once again, I turned to face her. "I'm not saying anything. I just think the two of you need to settle this somewhere else."

"Oh suuuure," Paisley sneered, "you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, actually." I glanced toward the professor. "And besides, your boyfriend was just leaving."

Paisley gave a little sniff. "That's right. My boyfriend, not yours."

I muttered, "Thank God."

Her gaze narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Or least, nothing I wanted to discuss here.

At work.

In front of an audience.

I was still holding the door, and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I just let it go. Would it smack Paisley in the face? And if so, would it knock any sense into her?

Her beloved professor was a cheater and a creep. Whatever Paisley was feeling, he wasn't worth it – not that she was any prize herself.

I snuck a quick glance at Carla. She'd given up on pretending not to notice and was now watching the theatrics with obvious concern. I could totally relate. I was getting pretty concerned myself.

So far, I'd been incredibly lucky that Carla was the only person witnessing this spectacle. But my luck couldn't last forever.

I gave the professor a pleading look. "You said you wanted Chinese, right? Well, Paisley loves Chinese."

"I do not!" Paisley said.

Liar. Just last week, I'd splurged on Chinese takeout on my way home from work. After walking in through the front door, I'd set the takeout on the kitchen table, and dashed into my bedroom to change. Five minutes later, I'd returned to find the food mostly gone – into Paisley's mouth.

I gave Paisley an irritated look. "Oh, stop it. You own your own chopsticks."

"So?" she said. "That doesn't prove anything." Her voice became shrill. "You think you're an expert on me? Well, you're not. So stop pretending that you are!"

She leaned around me to glare at the professor. "I knew there was someone else."

Under my breath, I said, "Yeah, his wife."

In unison, Paisley and the professor said, "Ex-wife."

Well, at least they agreed on something. Probably, these two deserved each other. Regardless, I wanted no part of it.

Once again, I glanced at the door that I was still holding. Probably, I should let it smack me in the face, if only to put me out of my misery.

I looked back to Paisley and said, "Honestly, I don't even like him."

"You do, too," she insisted. "I see the way you look at him."

"Oh, please," I said. "I don't even know his name."

Behind me, the professor said, "You do, too."

I turned to tell him, "I do not."

"Oh come on," he said, looking decidedly disgruntled. "It's Fergus."

Huh. Weird. I definitely would've remembered that.

The professor pointed to the flowers. "It's on the card."

I looked down. Attached to the arrangement was a little red envelope with no name on the front. In my haste to get rid of the guy, I hadn't even opened it.

In a flash, Paisley reached out and snatched the envelope away. She ripped it open and pulled out a small pink card. She let the envelope flutter to the floor as she pulled the card closer to read it.

When she finished, she gave a little gasp. She looked up and yelled, "You pig!"

At me.

Not at him.

What the hell?

My heart was racing, and my stomach was in knots. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now. Fearing the worst, I looked to Carla.

Sure enough, she was already reaching for the phone. When she saw me looking, she said, "I'm calling security."

"No!" I blurted out.

She froze in mid-motion. "No?"

"Everything's fine," I told her. "I'll handle it."

Behind me, Paisley yelled, "Oh yeah? Just like you handle his cock?"

I almost shuddered. The guy was so not my type. I turned to tell her, "I haven't even touched him. And I don't want to. So just give it up."

"Give him up, you mean?" Her voice broke. "Well, I'm not gonna. So you give him up."

"Fine," I said. "Whatever. But you really need to go."

"Why?" She gave a choked sob. "So you can screw him on your desk?"

By now, I almost felt like sobbing too, but for entirely different reasons. Already, I could see my job slipping away, consumed by drama that wasn't even my fault.

I turned to glare at the professor. "You," I said. "Get out. Now."

"Why me?" he demanded. "I’m not causing a scene."

Behind me, Paisley was crying openly now. "You've got everything," she sobbed, "and I've got nothing." She finished by wailing, "Not even Fergus!"

I turned and stifled a curse. Rounding the corner just behind her was someone new. It was a guy in his early thirties, with blond hair and a slight build. He was wearing a suit and tie, and had his cell phone pressed to his ear.

He stopped in mid-stride and stared at the scene in front of him – Paisley sobbing, me holding the door, and behind us, the professor doing who-knows-what.

The guy's brow wrinkled, and he said into his phone. "I'll call you back later, okay?" He put the phone in his pocket and turned his full attention to us. He asked, "Is there a problem?"

There were so many problems, I hardly knew where to begin. Still, I stammered out, "No, this is just—"

Paisley sobbed, "She stole my boyfriend!"

Damn it. "I did not," I said through gritted teeth, "as I've already explained."

But Paisley wasn't done yet. She wailed, "And she's a liar, too!"

The stranger's gaze zoomed in on me, and he frowned like he actually believed her.

I told him, "I’m not a liar."

And why was I even explaining myself to this guy? After all, he was a total stranger – or so I thought, until he said, "I know you from somewhere."

Did he? I didn't think so. Maybe he'd seen me on TV?

Paisley turned to the guy and said, "Oh, great. Have you fucked her, too?"

I wanted to strangle her. "Listen," I snapped, "I don't need this. Not here. So why you don't take your drama somewhere else?"

The guy's frown deepened. He looked to me and said, "Can't you see she's upset?"

Oh yeah. I could see. And I could hear. Probably, so could everyone within a five-mile radius. I snuck another quick glance at Carla. She was still holding the phone's receiver, as if unsure what to do.

That made two of us.

And of course, it wasn't lost on me that the guy who'd caused all of the trouble, Fergus the Lumberjacking Professor, was letting me bear the brunt of this attack.

I turned to him and said, "Didn't you hear me? I told you to get out!"

Once again, he didn't budge. "But we're not done," he insisted.

I wanted to scream in frustration. "With what?"

"Plans," he said. "You said we'd meet up later tonight."

At this, Paisley gave another sob. "I knew it." And then, obviously speaking to the stranger, she said, "And she's my roommate, too."

I didn't even turn to look, but in the background, I could hear the new guy making soothing sounds to my sobbing roommate. "Oh, come on," he was saying, "You're worth ten of her."

Well, this was nice.

Paisley gave another choked sob. "You really think so?"

"Sure," he soothed. "And you don't need this. You know that, right?"

After a pause and a stifle, Paisley mumbled, "I guess so."

As for me, I was still glaring at the professor. "Get out," I told him, "or I'll have you thrown out."

He lifted his bearded chin. "No."

I made a sound of frustration, "What do you mean, 'no'?"

In the background, the new guy was still talking to Paisley. "Now come on," he soothed, "give me a smile." There was another sniffle, followed by another pause. A moment later, the guy said, "See? It's not so bad."

Turns out, he was wrong. It was bad. Very bad. Because the door behind Carla had just swung open, and there he was – my boss.

And he didn't look happy.