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Smoldering eyes. I gulp.
The doors shut, and I find myself frozen.
He moves back and smiles.
He let’s go.
“Somethin’ about elevators?” he quips, and my face burns hot as I remember the tie. The CG tie. Has he read those books? Has some girl dragged him to the movies so they can act out some of the scenes afterwards?
And I’m just absolutely statue-still. I don’t remember how to breathe for a second. Maybe I’ll have a red room dream tonight.
He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and looks at me like the cat that got the cream.
I remember how to breathe. I straighten up. I close my mouth. Shit. My lips had parted, and my head had tilted. AND HE TOTALLY FUCKING KNOWS IT!!!
He winks and then the elevator dings and the doors open. We’re at the parking level.
I’m blinking and unable to think straight as we walk out of the elevator. Then it dawns he’s grabbed my hand again.
I yank it back. He laughs. Laughs!
This parking garage is filled with cars, some of them luxury cars. We get two rows over from the elevator and I see his motorcycle. The light over that spot isn’t out. I guess it doesn’t matter. His point got made.
He pulls keys from his pocket and a car beeps and lights flash beside the motorcycle. The trunk pops up on the black Crossfire. He reaches in and pulls out a shiny gold helmet and pops it on my head. It’s odd that he’s got this old car when he’s so wealthy. It’s in mint condition, but it’s surrounded by luxury cars.
He puts a black one that’s sitting on the seat of the motorcycle onto his own head.
We get to the office without incident, Aiden carries the two helmets inside with us. We walk by Bill, the IT guy, and Aiden gives Bill a dirty look. Bill blinks and looks away.
Aiden’s mood has shifted and now he’s kind of acting angry. I wonder what’s between him and Bill. Aiden was rude to him yesterday, too, when Bill was joking with me at the end of the day.
I say nothing. I make as little eye contact with people as possible. But, people are looking at us. Through the lobby, and then on our floor as well. People saw me arrive on the back of his motorcycle, my arms around his abs.
His hard abs. My body was plastered against his strong broad back. Why didn’t he take the Crossfire to work? I’d bet money, if I had any, that the motorcycle was intentional, to create more opportunities for touching.
He was walking beside me as we passed Bill, but as we did, Aiden moved closer to me. Now I’m going to be pegged as sleeping with the boss. Fabulous.
“Uh… thanks for that,” I say as we get to my cubicle.
His eyes hit mine and there’s awkwardness. Something weird is crackling between us. I wasn’t being awkward or sarcastic. I do appreciate him making that statement to the security guy and I think he gets it because his expression changes and he jerks his chin up and then goes into his office.
***
It’s four o’clock and nothing has gone wrong today. Nothing. It’s been an exceptionally good day. He hasn’t been in his office, so I haven’t felt the burn of his stare into my back or the urge to keep looking over my shoulder at him to see if he’s staring or not.
Ally brought a cornucopia of pastries and baked delights for Friday treats and for lunch, and Mr. C bought several large pizzas to celebrate the fiscal year end.
I’m thinking about the weekend, about walking the neighborhood around the building to see what else is a close-by amenity. I can’t spend any money on the weekend, and Ally’s already told me we’re having dinner at hers and Meryl’s apartment and then going clubbing Saturday. Sunday, maybe we’ll spend our day down at the pool or pack a picnic and go to the beach.
Alice pops by and hands me an envelope.
“Company Amex card.”
“Oh?” I ask.
“It’s for any NYC-related expenses or other CC expenses. There’s an expense guideline sheet in your onboarding binder. If you do have to use it for any personal expenses, you have to report that when you submit a copy of your statement and you can’t carry a balance on this card, so you have to pay any of your own spending by the due date of each statement.”
“Oh, okay.” Relief is flooding me.
