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"Thomas?" I say and extend my hand. "Marina's told me all about you."
For his part, Thomas stands up straight and takes my hand, kissing my knuckles gallantly. Beside him, Jon snorts and glances away, a muscle in his jaw pulsing. God, he's going to be a real problem.
What the hell was Marina thinking, bringing Thomas to this party? Of all times to have me meet a potential date. Jon thinks I'm some kind of machine, working sixteen-hour days and doing nothing but spending time with the team. He really doesn't think I'm a human – or a woman.
I'm just his damn CTO. That's all I am to him. A workhorse.
Well, I need some romance in my life. It isn’t going to find me, so I have to find it. I realized that after Marina pointed out how much I work. How little time I get away from the team and Jon.
I intend to stop that at least a little tonight.
Thomas pulls out my chair and I sit down, smiling at him, pleased to be pampered just a bit. I don't mind a bit of chivalry now and then, although I don't want to be treated like I'm some kind of fragile flower. In fact, I want a strong man to take control. A man who knows what he wants and is confident enough to take it. A girl does get tired sometimes, and a nice strong man holding the door for you or pulling out your chair or kissing your knuckles is a welcome change from business as usual.
We talk for a while, and I feel everyone's eyes on us – especially Jon's eyes. I'm nervous and slightly self-conscious. Hell, completely self-conscious. People are smiling at us, their grins knowing. Pete, our software engineer, punches Jon in the arm playfully, eliciting a sneer from him. Jon’s on his third beer and I can see a little bit of his wildness come out.
While I'm listening to Thomas talk about his course load with half an ear, I'm watching Jon, imagining him living in Norway back in Viking times. He's built, and he works out. He's gorgeous, if you like blond Viking gods. When we first met in freshman year, people joked about his background and called him Ragnar – "Where's your boat, Ragnar?"
Back then, he was totally ripped, his hair buzzed short. Former Army Ranger. Now, he looks like he belongs on the set of Vikings, all rippling muscles and longish hair bleached by the sun. Scruffy chin and jaw. Dark blue tribal tats on his body.
If looks could kill, Thomas would be dead.
I try to ignore Jon and focus on Thomas. He's nice, if a bit taken with himself, regaling us about his lecture at Harvard, how he was delayed because of the enthusiastic crowd of students mobbing him afterward. He tells us about his latest non-fiction book, Philosophy and Star Wars, that's being published this year and how he's going to do a book tour to promote it.
Yeah, he's handsome in a man-next-door sort of way, with dark eyes and hair, a touch of grey at his sideburns. A brilliant smile. Neatly trimmed goatee. He just doesn't do it for me.
There's no throbbing in my lady parts at the thought of being in bed with him.
Not the way they throb when I think of Jon – but he's such a manslut that there's no way I'd want anything to happen between us. I'd just be one more notch on Jon's belt and I deserve more.
I know it would not be good for me to go there.
So, I never go there.
There have been times I thought something might happen, but then he picks up some girl he's met in a bar or at a conference or out surfing.
Jon's a wild man, with enough looks and ambition to have whatever woman he wants for whatever he wants. Which is mostly just a hookup and nothing more.
That's not good enough for me, so I don't even think of Jon in that way, despite how gorgeous and hunky he is. He's just a rogue when it comes to women and relationships, and I am all about something deep and meaningful.
Jon doesn't do deep, unless it's Pacifica. His idea of meaningful is seeing that bottom line improve.
If he wasn't so damn sexy…
It's hell working for him, seeing him all day, every day walking around the office in his casually sexy way, muscle shirt and Bermuda shorts, flip-flops on his feet, his body tanned, his hair all messed from surfing in the early morning. It’s hell, after a long day in the office, watching him pick up woman after woman at the bar for a quick meaningless fuck later that night.
Once we nail this new set of defense contracts, I'm out. I'll resign from Pacifica and I'm heading to Manhattan. It's been a dream of mine since I was a girl. After all these years of hard work, I'm ready to live my dreams. Start fresh.
Blaine said he'd be there if and when I decided to follow him to Manhattan, but he couldn’t commit to being exclusive. And I couldn’t give up what I had in San Francisco unless I knew that we'd be a couple.
So, for the past year, I've been licking my wounds and trying to recover. I'll be sad to say goodbye to Jon and the team at Pacifica, but I need to think about my future for a change, and not just the company.
There's more to life than your bank account balance.
Life has to have some kind of meaning beyond survival or success – else why be alive in the first place? That's something my parents have hammered into my head since I was a child. Make your life meaningful.
I watch Jon's face while I sip my drink. He's listening to Thomas talk about his current course, teaching philosophy to first-year students. Jon's chewing on some nuts out of the bowl in the middle of the table. He keeps dropping them like he's not really paying attention, and I can tell he's bored by what Thomas is saying and pissed that Thomas is taking up all the oxygen in the room.
He meets my eyes across the table and his widen meaningfully, like he's sending me a telepathic message. Is this guy for real? Is this really your date? WTF, India? He'll bore you to death.
