Joshua

I sent the text and waited, hoping Ella was willing to give us a chance. I didn't expect her to show up. In fact, I expected her to ignore me completely. I sat and checked my cell, then watched outside the window at the street, hoping to see her and her long brown hair come bobbing along the street.

Nothing.

I checked my watch and it was already 7:15. If she was coming, she was late, but I had to expect that since she was new in Manhattan and the trains could be delayed during rush hour.

Then I saw her.

She wore a short jean skirt, a sweater and heels and looked casually delicious, her long hair pulled back in a braid that fell over one shoulder. She opened the door to the restaurant and glanced around until her eyes finally met mine.

I think I saw the slightest bit of a smile on her face and that tiny quirk of her lips gave me hope. I stood and held out a chair. She remained in the entrance, as if she was rethinking her decision to join me. I saw her bite her bottom lip and so I knew she needed some extra enticement. I held up the basket of fresh bread sticks and mouthed, 'They're fantastic!' and kissed my fingers the way an Italian chef would.

This time, she smiled broadly and I felt a surge of adrenaline go through me.

She approached the table, stopping when she got to the chair I held out for her.

"Ella, thanks for coming," I said and gestured to the chair. "I know you're concerned about being with me because of who I am, but I want you to feel completely comfortable about it. What will it take to make you less concerned?"

"I don't know," she said and sat down.

I pulled out her napkin and draped it on her lap. Then I sat beside her instead of across from her so I was closer. I turned my chair so we faced each other.

"Let's be totally honest with each other from this time forward. You can ask me anything, and I'll tell you the honest truth. Anything you want. Total open book."

"Anything?" she said and sat down.

"Anything."

She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "What's your favorite porn indulgence?"

That threw me. My eyes widened at her question. "That's pretty... hard to answer, really. I mean, a man sees porn like a glutton sees a smorgasbord. It's hard to choose and pretty much anything is tasty. It's all food. Well, except the illegal stuff, but I don't go there."

She rested her chin on her hand and batted her eyelashes. "Give me one thing that you go back to over and over."

I laughed and leaned back, surprised but charmed by her forthrightness. "I should be like my father and say I don't need to look at porn because I have dozens of women willing to take part in a pas de deux with me. He made that argument to me once when he found me watching porn on the internet and I challenged him about what he watched. Except, he said he didn't look at porn because he had my mother, which made me go all gross."

"Gross? You thought your mother was gross?"

"No, I mean, I thought my parents having sex was gross. When he found me, I was eleven and thought that married people only had sex to procreate."

She nodded. "A good Catholic, are you?"

"A failed Catholic, actually."

She folded her arms and looked at me pointedly. "Your favorite go-to porn. Chop chop."

"Chop chop?" I said, stalling for time. What did I like that I felt comfortable sharing? "I like watching," I said keeping my voice as low as possible, "when a woman uses a dildo and makes herself orgasm."

She raised her eyebrows. "Voyeur, are you?"

"A bit."

"Why?" she asked, leaning closer. "What do you like about it?"

I tilted my head to the side, considering. "I like to see a woman's desire. Her need. I like to see her fulfilled."

The waitress came to our table to take a drink order, interrupting our little conversation and I hoped that was it with the intimate questions.

"Feel like some Italian red to go along with the meatballs?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied.

I turned to the waitress. "Tell your bartender to pick a red for us. We'll be having the spaghetti and meatballs."

The waitress smiled and left us.

I turned to her, trying to shift the line of questioning from my porn preferences to anything else.

"I'm glad you decided to come," I said and leaned in closer."

"Tell me more about you," she said and picked up one of the breadsticks, her lips closing over the end of it in all-too suggestive way that made my mind go to her sliding my dick into her mouth instead. Then she bit down-- hard and chewed, smiling.

She knew what she did to me. I smiled to myself. She was playful. And a bit of a tease.

I liked it.

"I'm Joshua Macintyre Jr, oldest brother of five. I'm the one who obeyed all the rules and always asked permission, while my younger siblings broke all the rules and asked for forgiveness," I said with a laugh, because it was true. "I'm the responsible one. The one everyone can count on to do the right thing."

She nodded and her gaze moved over my face. "Why do you think your fiancée cheated on you?"

That set me back a bit. "Wow." I actually physically leaned back in my chair. "Let me think." I bit my bottom lip and narrowed my eyes. "Because she never really loved me but she loved the idea of being the wife of Joshua Macintyre Jr and starting a dynasty between our two families."

"But you loved her for herself," she said and took another bite off the end of her breadstick. "There was nothing shallow in your relationship with her. She was beautiful. Tall, blonde hair, perfect skin from what I could see. Very shapely. Obviously from a wealthy family."

"I thought I loved her," I admitted. "I loved us as a couple. We were a power couple. Two big business families joined, two fortunes united. I could see it all from where I sat. Charity balls, exotic vacations, our children going to the best private schools, Ivy League colleges, inheriting the business or starting their own dynasties. But she was really in love with one of my mid-level managers from a middle-class background." I shrugged, helpless. "It was true love on their part but she couldn't marry him. He wasn't rich enough. That hurt."

"Yeah, same story on my part," she said and glanced away, her expression still pained.

"I know your pain," I said, hearing the edge of sadness in her voice. "Wounds still fresh?"

"Too fresh," she replied. "Not enough scar tissue yet. Still raw."

"Say no more. I'm in the same boat."

"We're a pair," she said and smiled. "Losers at love."

"Losers at love," I replied and held out my breadstick. We taped them together and chewed, each of us probably thinking about our cheating exes.

"Hopefully winners at life in general. We need something to make up for it."

"Have you dated anyone since you split?" I asked, interested in her romantic life.

She shook her head. "Nope. I swore off men for a full year."

"You came with me to the apartment..."

"I'm weak."

"So, you're ready to try again?"

"I was," she said softly. "Unfortunately, I ran into a really nice guy who ended up being my boss and I was pretty much ready to throw in the towel for the rest of the year because I promised myself I'd never do an office romance."

I shook my head. "Office romances aren't all that bad..."

She smiled at me, her smile warm. "My BFF told me I was being an idiot. That I was being prejudiced because I would have kept seeing you if you were only a bicycle courier."

"You liked me in spite of thinking I was just a bicycle courier putting myself through college with dreams of buying a newspaper one day."

She leaned back when the waitress brought the bottle of wine and we stopped talking while she uncorked it and poured me a sample. I nodded in approval and we were quiet while she poured us each a glass. Once she was gone, I held up my glass.

"To us. Losers at love. Winners at life."

"To us," she replied and we both took a sip.

"What do you think?" I asked when she put her glass down. "Do you approve?"

She shrugged and wagged her eyebrows. "Honestly, I wouldn't know a good wine from vinegar."

I laughed. "Well, this is a good Italian red. Dry and perfect for the world's best meatballs."

We talked for a while about her job and what it entailed. How she'd met Sharon at a conference, hitting it off during their meeting.

"So, tell me what you're writing. I'm a publisher. I might be interested."

She laughed. "Nah, I don't think so. I plan on writing a romantic comedy one day, but right now, I'm in this group of women who are all writing erotica."

"You write erotica?" I said, my body responding to the idea she was a hot little number under the innocent exterior.

"I do." She smiled and took a sip of her wine, her eyes twinkling. She was enjoying teasing me. She had to know what it did to me to think of her writing erotica. Of me reading the erotica she wrote.

"You have to let me read some."

"Not on your life," she said and laughed. "It's for women, not men."

"Come on," I said and pouted. "You can't do that to a guy -- tell him you write erotica and then not let him read it."

"You couldn't handle it," she said.

"What do you mean? Why couldn't I handle it? Is it kinky? I can handle kinky."

"Nuh, uh. Not telling you."

"Dammit, woman. You can't do that. It's totally unfair."

She only smiled in response.

Our food arrived and I waited impatiently for her to try the meatballs, my mind thankfully diverted from thoughts of her writing erotica to her response to the meatballs. She poked one of them with her fork and opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around it. Of course, my mind went there right away and I watched as she bit down and chewed.

"Oh, God," she said, closing her eyes in ecstasy. Which, of course, made my mind go there again.

"You like?"

"Oh, these are the best," she said and ate the rest of the meatball, then twirled some spaghetti with tomato marinara sauce. She sat and ate meatball after meatball, pausing only to dip her breadstick into the sauce. "I swear, this is the best I've ever eaten. Not that I've eaten much authentic Italian, but it's definitely the best."

"Told you," I said and drank some wine, smiling. "You can trust me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Will you be mad when I tell you I'm not coming home with you tonight, despite how good the meatballs are?"

I leaned closer and looked in her eyes, trying to put on as sincere an expression as I could.

"Not mad. Sad. I was hoping you'd come back home with me tonight and finish what we started."

She leaned forward. "If you weren't my boss, I would." She smiled and poked her last meatball then took a bite. "I make it a rule not to boink the boss. I thought I'd be nice and tell you in person. Considering both of us have been burned by office romances gone bad, I'd think you'd agree."

I leaned back, resigned to the fact that she was not going to come home with me. She was not going to see where this thing between us was going to go -- on principle. Part of me was upset of course. I wanted her. The prelude to sex we had both played the previous night had been good. Really good.

I wanted her.

The other part of me admired her for sticking to her principles. In contrast, I'd be willing to throw mine out the window for a chance to fuck her brains out.

"Your fortitude is admirable," I said. "On the other hand, I'd throw caution to the wind and gladly take you home with me. Boss or no boss."

She mopped up some of her sauce with a piece of breadstick. "As my grandfather would say, any port in a storm."

I laughed. "Your grandfather was a mariner?"

"Navy. Worked at the Navy Shipyard in Portsmouth, Maine until 1982 when he retired."

"How'd you end up in Concord, New Hampshire?"

"After my father graduated, he moved to Manchester and worked as a lawyer for a few years, he became involved in politics and moved to Concord. That's where I was born."

"My father was in the Navy as an aviator before he started MBS. I was as well. All of us boys served in some capacity."

"That's admirable," she said and her eyes, which were sharp, softened just a bit. "Not many really rich people send their sons and daughters to join the military."

I shrugged. "My father had ethics. He saw wealth as a byproduct of doing what he really loved, rather than an end in itself."

She exhaled and placed her fork on the table. "This was really good," she said and took a sip of her wine. "All of it. The restaurant. The meatballs. The wine."

"The company?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"The company, too. I wanted to thank you for helping me out when you didn't have to. Sharon came through with the first and last month's rent cashier check so you're officially off the hook but I wanted to thank you for the offer. I really needed the cell you lent me. It's been a godsend. I'm going tomorrow to pick up my new iPhone from this tech store. I paid for it online and it should be ready in the morning so I'll return this to you once I get it. I'm also getting a new tablet that can double as a laptop for writing."

"Your homage to Sex and the City?" I said, realizing she was giving me the, 'I like you but I'm not going out with you again' letdown.

"Something like that," she said with a soft smile. "I can't see you again, though. It's not good to date someone in your office. Especially not the boss. The whole power imbalance thing isn't really healthy."

"You figure you'd have me wrapped around your little finger too easily, do you?" I said and grinned at her, feeling sad that we weren't going to go home together.

She shook her head and smiled. I think I detected a slight bit of regret in her eyes.

"If you change your mind, I'll be only too willing to forgo my ethical stance against office romance."

She laughed. "I thought you were the good brother who always followed the rules and asked permission."

"In most things, yes. In this, I'll throw caution to the wind. So if you decide you want a totally meaningless no-strings attached relationship based on pure mutual pleasure, you know where to find me."

"I do," she said, smiling, her green eyes crinkling in the corners. "But I won't."

"Damn," I said and snapped my fingers. "My offer stands. Take me up on it anytime."

"Well, I better go," she said when the waitress dropped the bill off. She reached into her bag to retrieve her wallet and I stopped her, my hand on hers.

"Don't worry about the bill," I said. "I made the offer. Let me get this."

"Thanks," she said and stood. "Sharon said you spend most of your time on the paper and so we likely won't see you around the office much."

"No," I said and dropped a few bills on the table. I pulled on my jacket. "I have to attend periodic meetings with my managers at the various offices of MBS, but I'm going to focus on getting the Chronicle up and running again. We'll still be in the same office building though."

"Hopefully, we won't run into each other very often."

"Don't say that," I said, opening the door for her. "We can be friendly. We should go out for a meal now and then, so I can see how you're doing and try my hand at seducing you again in the hopes you'll finally succumb."

She laughed. "It's better this way," she said and stuffed her hands in her sweater pockets. "Don't want to tempt each other."

"I've already been more than tempted."

She smiled and then turned away, walking down the street.

"Can I give you a ride home at least?" I called out.

"Not on your life," she said after turning around and walking backwards for a few feet. "You're not going to tempt me."

"Damn," I said and smiled. "A guy's gotta try."

Then she turned around and walked out of my life.

I got home about fifteen minutes later after parking my vehicle in the parking garage and stopping to pick up a package from the front desk. I really enjoyed my meal with Ella, and wished she wasn't my employee. I had a feeling that if she wasn't, we might be on our way upstairs.

I went to bed alone, my thoughts going to her in her tiny apartment, writing erotica late into the night with her group of women writers, and of course, it made it impossible to sleep without taking care of my raging erection. So instead of sleeping with her the way I had hoped the night would end, it ended instead with me alone in my bed, my cock in hand, wishing it was her.