Page 87 of Letters From A Stalker

She reaches for another piece of pizza. “What about Michael?”

The sudden change of subject almost gives me whiplash. “What about him?”

“If you miss sex and you already know he wants you, there is a very attractive solution currently walking around your office in expensive shirts.”

I laugh. “You would sleep with Michael.”

“If I were single and Michael looked at me the way you say he looks at you, I would have already made several questionable choices near a photocopier.”

“You are exactly why human resources departments exist.”

“I said questionable, not illegal.” She wiggles her eyebrows and takes a sip.

“He’s a partner.”

“And not your direct supervisor.”

“That doesn’t magically make it a good idea.”

Tessa settles her glass against her stomach. “It doesn’t have to become a relationship. You’re allowed to have sex with somebody because you want sex.”

“I know.”

“And you’re attracted to him.”

“I know that too.”

“Then I fail to see the tragedy.”

I shift until I’m sitting more comfortably against the cushions. “The problem is that I don’t think Michael is asking because he wants to sleep with me once.”

Tessa’s expression becomes more thoughtful.

“He remembers my coffee order. He finds reasons to stop at my desk that have nothing to do with whatever he supposedly came over for. When he asked me out, he didn’t ask whether I wanted to get a drink after work or suggest some vague late-night thing that could become sex if both of us happened to feel like it. He asked me to dinner.”

“Men have occasionally been known to eat before intercourse.”

“Thank you for that anthropological insight.”

“I’m here to educate.”

I smile, but continue. “You know what I mean. The way he approaches me doesn’t feel casual. Maybe I’m wrong, but if I sleep with him and he wants something more afterward, I haven’t solved anything. I’ve just created exactly the situation I was trying to avoid.”

“And you genuinely don’t want to date him?”

I think about that before answering. “Not enough to risk work.”

Tessa watches me. “That’s actually a very clear answer.”

“I know.”

“Hot Doctor would be proud.”

“Please stop bringing my psychiatrist into my hypothetical sex life.”

“Oh, babe, I didn’t bring him there. Your face did that all by itself.”

My head turns toward her so quickly she bursts out laughing. “What face?”