Page 22 of Rory: His to Discipline

“So, Winston, what do you do for fun?” she asked, picking up an antique glass paperweight that had a gold scale of justice inside.

It had belonged to his great grandfather and been handed down through the generations. Reaching across the desk, Del snatched it out of her hand and carefully set it back down out of her reach. Her green eyes looked at him curiously before she shrugged her shoulders and continued.

“Fun, Winston, do you know what that is?”

The question caught him off guard. What did he do for fun?

Bridget was standing in front of a large bookcase with her head back, studying the top row. Her honey hair cascaded almost to her waist in this position and Del swallowed hard.

“I don’t have much time for frivolous pursuits, Ms. O’Malley. What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know,” Bridget replied. “What do you do on your time off? Do you like football? Do you ever go out partying?”

“Partying?”

“You know, drinking and dancing,” she elaborated, moving her little hips in a sexy faux dance.

“I do not party. I occasionally enjoy a brandy with my father. I am not interested in sports. Mostly I spend my free time taking care of chores and studying for my bar exam. Now if there is nothing else you want to know, I would appreciate it if you let me get back to work.”

Bridget walked over behind his desk and dropped her apple core in the trash can. Leaning over him, she slid her arms around his neck from behind and whispered in his ear.

“You know what they say about all work and no play, Winston,” she sighed, gently biting his ear. “I think I might just have to take you out and show you how the rest of the world lives.”

“I hardly think that’s appropriate, Ms. O’Malley. We have absolutely nothing in common,” he stammered, sliding one finger inside his collar as though it had become too tight. His face was red, his heart pounding.

“Oh, I’ll bet we could find something in common,” she replied with a grin as she slipped into her jacket and walked slowly out of the room.

Watching her walk away in those skin-tight jeans almost made putting up with her nonsense worth it, Del thought.

“I guess I’ll grab a cab and head over to the hospital,” Bridget informed him with a pout. “If you don’t want to come along, that is,” she sighed, looking over her shoulder. The man’s eyes were glued to her ass and she grinned, this was a good sign. Winston was pretty attractive in general, for a tie guy. If he would lose the suit and get some regular clothes, he might even be presentable to her friends. She’d yanked his chain pretty hard a couple of times now and the most he did was get red in the face and spout off some big words.

Del would have liked to get up, push her out of his office and close his door, but the erection that was tenting the front of his trousers prevented it. Bridget was leaning against the door frame, her pretty green eyes pleading. “Certainly not, Ms. O’Malley, now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do,” he told her as coldly as he could.

“Okay, Winston, don’t get your shorts in a knot. I’m going. Bye,” she called back as she strolled out, her ass giving an exaggerated wiggle. Pulling out her cell phone she called for a cab and waited outside.

Looking for a new man, Bridget considered all of her criteria. He had to be intelligent. Despite her dumb blonde act, Bridget was smart. He had to have a bright future. She wasn’t going to school so she could support some lazy ass man. Good looks were pretty important, not drop dead gorgeous though. In her opinion, there was such a thing as a man being too handsome, especially if he knew it. It was much better being the best looking one in a relationship. Then they were thankful to have you and you didn’t have to worry about them running around. It also helped if you didn’t have to watch your own girlfriends every second they were around. Her man had to be laid back. No bossy, dominant men for her.

Yes, Winston seemed a likely candidate. She had to admit that he was awfully cute, especially when he got all flustered. Of course, the name was a drawback. Delbert wasn’t exactly a manly name but then again, he didn’t know anything about sports and that was a plus. That meant he would probably be available to do the kind of things she enjoyed, like shopping and movies. He wouldn’t be hanging out in front of the big screen TV at her parents’ house every Sunday watching football, drinking beer and farting. Ugh!

Yes, all in all, Winston might be just what she was looking for. Not a lot of old girlfriends for her to compete with and certainly not as experienced as her. Hopefully, she could mold him into exactly the kind of man she wanted. Yup, putty in her hands. He might even be a virgin, and she could teach him exactly what she liked in bed. She had no doubt he had all the right equipment, he was quite a large man. Now, if she could just show him how to use it.

Del watched from the window as Bridget got into the cab. At twenty-five, the girl should have better work ethics, he thought. He had never met Mr. & Mrs. O’Malley, but he felt sorry for them. Bridget was a hellion and he couldn’t imagine what they must have gone through when she was a teenager. No wonder her brother warned him. Well, he didn’t have to be told twice. He knew Bridget O’Malley was more than he wanted to deal with on any kind of regular basis. In fact, it would please him if she never came into the office again. His reaction to her was unprecedented.

Del had been attracted to several girls over the years, but none affected him as Bridget had and he’d certainly never had to hide behind a desk to conceal a raging hard on. The limited self-control he had over his physical response was embarrassing. Yes, Bridget O’Malley was trouble with a capital ‘T’ and he planned to stay as far away from her as possible.

* * *

Juliana Kord was born at four forty-three that afternoon, weighing in at seven pounds even and twenty inches long. Although her father was in the delivery room, he was there as a patient. Mason’s unfortunate incident as Rebecca was calling it resulted in several stitches and a concussion. Mason was in a wheelchair under doctor’s orders and was not, under any circumstances, to get out of it or he would be removed from the room.

Rebecca was very sweet and supportive to Mason now that she was no longer in pain and wanting to snatch him bald. While he’d been able to hold Rebecca’s hand and offer encouragement during the delivery, his view had been somewhat obstructed, for which he would be eternally grateful. So far, nothing had been what he expected and frankly, he didn’t think he could handle any more surprises. Mason always prided himself on being a strong and capable man, able to handle any crisis. Apparently, that did not extend to needles being pushed into the spine of the woman he loved while she screamed bloody murder. Giving a shiver, he took the small bundle the nurse placed in his arms. Of course, she wouldn’t let him hold her without her assistance, but it was better than nothing.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Rebecca whispered in awe. “I can’t believe we did it. I don’t think it was so bad. I mean after I got the shot, I felt much better and if you hadn’t .…”

Mason turned and looked at her, his eyes squinting in the bright light and his head pounding.

“It’s a good thing Rory and Nick were here, huh?” she continued. “I mean they are family, right? It’s not like they laughed right in front of you and really you can’t be sure the laughing you heard coming from the waiting room was actually them, can you? And even if it was, they did help get you up and onto the stretcher. I think the ER doctor did a great job stitching you up, why there will hardly be any scar at all .…” Rebecca rambled on. “I’m so glad we reserved a suite, aren’t you? Now, at least you will be in the same room with Juliana and me instead of off somewhere on another floor for the night.”

Mason’s arms were curved as though he still held his daughter, even after the nurse had scurried away with her moments before. His mouth hung open in shock and his blue eyes stared at his wife, unable to process a single thought. Not sure if it was the concussion or not, Mason snapped his mouth shut. Better to not say anything at all, he thought, just before he blurted out. “Is she on some kind of speed?” he asked Dr. Maxwell, who had his back to them and was making some sort of snorting sound.