Page 17 of My Favorite Boss

Yes, the ice storm has passed. Where are you?

At my club. I didn’t dare go home in case she checked. She’s called four times, and I haven’t answered. I’m waiting for her to get tired.

I pursed my lips. He had a club? I didn’t know there were such things anymore. Unless…

My fingers flew before I could change my mind.

Like a sex club?

I could almost hear his teeth gnashing and see his eyes rolling.

Completely inappropriate, Myers. And no, there is a private dining club downtown I belong to. I’m sitting in the lounge, working.

Fine.

I’ll work from home tomorrow. I’ll see you on Monday.

Fine.

I realize you think you’re being coy, but I know what you’re doing.

No idea what you are referring to. See you Monday.

I waited, disappointed he didn’t return my text. And feeling oddly sad I wouldn’t see him again this week. I returned to my task, working quickly and sorting the files. The afternoon flew by as I did. I put on some quiet music while I went through papers, separating into current, past, and future files. Putting older ones in storage boxes I found in the supply closet down the hall. It was small but well stocked, although the door stuck a little. For a moment, I panicked since I didn’t like enclosed spaces, but I got it open. I made a mental note to take something to stop the door from fully closing behind me next time.

I kept busy all day Friday. I rearranged my little outer office to better suit me. I shoved the desk over a foot to cover the cord that kept tripping me. Angled it a little to make it look more welcoming. Adjusted the two visitor chairs. Called building maintenance and had them hang some framed photos I’d found in the walk-in storage area behind my desk on the empty walls. I had no doubt the pictures were of Bane’s work. They needed to be shown off, not hidden. When I sat at my desk, it gave me something nice to look at rather than the modern art print that used to hang on the wall opposite me. Once I cleaned out the desk drawers and added a desk lamp I found in the storage area, it looked nice. Part of me wanted to add a few other personal things, but I had a feeling my boss wouldn’t like that. He preferred a more minimal style. I thought the small space looked much improved.

I had a few texts from Bane. Additions to his calendar, adjusting some meetings. A request to book his upcoming travel, going, ironically, to Vancouver. Every message was straight and to the point. Nothing personal. There were no thank-yous or pleases in the messages, but I wasn’t surprised. As I was finding out, praise from him was rare, and I doubted he even thought to do so. I wondered how much of his nature came from his mother. She had called, demanding to know why her son hadn’t replied to her phone calls.

“Mrs. Johnstone,” I said with barely concealed patience. “Your son is away on a business trip. I haven’t spoken to him either. Unless it is a dire emergency, I suggest you stop calling him. The more he is interrupted, the longer he will be away.”

That stopped her, and she hung up.

By six, I was done. I looked around the outer office, pleased. I had made it through the first week, mostly unscathed and still employed. I called it a win.

And now, I had the entire weekend Bane free.

Yay.

BANE

Saturday, the sun was bright and the air warm. I decided to go for a run. I needed the release that the long, steady rhythm would give me. After dressing and stretching, I headed out, aiming for the large park not far from my condo. It covered a huge piece of land, dividing two neighborhoods. The one I lived in was filled with skyscrapers and modern buildings. Expensive shops and attractions. On the other side of the park were older houses, more family-oriented. Low-rise apartments and lots of little locally owned shops and vendors. I liked both areas. Although, the more modern area appealed to me more. But the gardens and wider streets of the older area called to my senses. At times, I wandered the streets, checking out the landscaping and lawns. The greenery. All rare in Toronto, yet so vital to the city. All greenspaces were.

My feet pounded on the pavement, the sound and cadence helping to clear my mind. Running always did that for me. I sorted my week into compartments, putting aside those things that didn’t matter and concentrating on what did. My mother’s visit was actually a godsend. Taking me out of the office and putting some distance between Myers and me had been a good thing. I was able to concentrate and work on a design that had been plaguing me because the client was constantly changing their mind. I didn’t have the distraction of her answering the phone. Wondering if her footsteps meant she would be coming into my office to tempt me with her sweet voice and soft fragrance. Tease me over something she found amusing, forcing me to be even terser with her than I should be.

She was a temptation I was finding harder to resist each day.

When she burst through my door, informing me I had to leave for my business trip and interrupting my mother’s diatribe, I could have kissed her for her ingenuity. I had lingered briefly outside the office door, listening to the way she handled my mother, shocked at her ability to do so. Then I headed downstairs, waiting in the alley for my car and driver to show up, and headed to the club. It was the safest place. My mother had no idea I belonged to the club, so she wouldn’t show up. And the best part was, even if she did, she couldn’t get past the security downstairs. It had been productive.

I went around a group of women out for a run. Or a gab session, more likely, since they were walking—not even very quickly—and they were all chatting. I heard a few low whistles as I went by, but I ignored them. I kept going, finally wiping at my brow, pausing by a small bridge to stop and take a drink of water. I glanced around, surprised not to see many people enjoying the park, then laughed when I reminded myself it was barely past nine. Another couple of hours and the place would be teeming with people. By then, I would be back in my condo, hard at work.

I began running again, slowing my pace. Around a corner, I spied a woman ahead of me, power walking. Or trying to. She wore a tank and leggings but had a heavy, patterned shirt of some kind tied around her waist. It kept getting tangled in her legs, and she would pause and adjust, then start again. I chuckled to myself. For added warmth, she’d be better with a light jacket that wasn’t so big, like the one I was wearing. She tripped again, readjusting herself, and I chuckled as she pulled off the flannel, shaking it out.

I stopped for another drink, watching her. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t see her face. My gaze dropped to her ass. It was rounded and perky. Quite spectacular in her tight leggings. Then she wound the flannel around her waist again and began to move. She broke into a slow jog, her ponytail swinging with the movement. Again, I felt the sensation of familiarity, but why, I was unsure. I began to run, planning to pass her and then double back and head home. I would see her profile then and perhaps know where I recognized her from.

Except, her foot caught on something, and I watched as she stumbled, falling to the grass with a hard exhale of air. I sped up, dropping to my knee next to her. I automatically reached for the ankle she was holding. “Are you all right?”

I heard a small gasp that was more than familiar.