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I’m so sucked in that I don’t budge from my seat until we’re dismissed with our assignments. The moment I rise from my chair, the effects of the coffee Hannah so graciously kept flowing hit me all at once.
Note to self: don’t underestimate the power of a bold French Roast on your microscopic bladder.
I cruise into the men’s room only to stop dead at the sign hanging on the one and only stall—Out of Order.
“Shoot,” I hiss, eyeing the three urinals on the wall, trying to imagine any way I might be able to make that happen.
I’m considering locking the main door to the bathroom when Frame and Wallace, two other junior account execs, push through it, talking animatedly as they head for the urinals. I turn toward the sinks, washing my hands as if I’ve already finished my business.
But I haven’t finished, and the warm water rushing over my hands only intensifies the urgency building to critical levels behind my zipper. Trusting my gut—which says contorting myself into some insane position to align female anatomy with a male toilet isn’t the best call—I make a break for my brother’s office.
Yes, it’s risky, but Ryan has a private bathroom, and right now privacy is of the utmost importance.
But when I reach Ryan’s office, I nearly crash into the person rushing out of it.
Blair.
Her mouth presses into a firm line of pseudo-authority, but not before I catch the flicker of surprise—and guilt—in her eyes.
“Something I can help you with, Mr. Webb?” She quips, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as ifI’mthe one who just got caught sneaking out of my superior’s office.
I’m dying to know what she’s up to, but I don’t have time for her power games. One more minute and I’m literally going to explode.
“Just doing a few laps around the office to keep the heart pumping,” I say, breezing past her with a chipper smile. “Sitting is the new smoking, Blair.”
Jaw clenched and sweat breaking out on my forehead, I wiggle around the corner toward the senior executive lounge. There’s a bathroom in there, and Eric is new enough to pretend he has no idea he isn’t supposed to be trespassing in SeniorExecVille, right? I near the door and am about to reach for the handle when an older gentleman I vaguely recognize emerges with a delectable-looking sandwich.
Feigning great interest in my watch, I lean against the wall near the lounge door, cursing beneath my breath as I hear Rictor holding court from within about his Au Jus and roast beef sandwich preferences. If it were anyone else but him, I might be able to sneak in undetected.
But Rictor won’t let this go. Rictor will shame Eric on principle, to show him his place, and not give a damn if Eric has irritable bowel syndrome or something that necessitates the use of a stall over a urinal.
Seriously, what are the rest of the underling men in this joint going to do if nature rings bell number two instead of number one?
I’m concerned for them, I really am, but at the moment I’m more concerned about peeing my pants.
Biting the inside of my cheek, hoping the pain will distract from my bladder’s banshee howl long enough for me to get downstairs to the street, buy a coffee, and get a token for the lavatory from the militant, bathroom-defending woman who runs Cup of Joes, I walk-squirm down the hall. I’m nearly to the T-intersection that will lead to the exit, when Jack swings around the corner.
The moment he sees me, his brows snap together in disapproval. He glances over his shoulder before crossing quickly to where I’m hugging the wall. “What’s wrong? What happened to the walk? You were doing so well.”
“That was before the only stall in the men’s bathroom was broken,” I whisper, toes squirming inside my too-large men’s dress shoes as I clench my thighs together, briefly wondering how absorbent my tube sock really is.
Jack’s eyes widen in immediate understanding. With another quick glance over his shoulder, he takes me by the upper arm, half dragging me down the hall, unlocking his door, and guiding me into his private office.
And there, across the room, near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking lower Manhattan, is the door to Jack’s private bathroom.
Thank.
God.
Without another thought, I rush for the door, slamming it behind me as I flip on the light.
Several minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom limp with relief to find Jack leaning against his desk with an amused smile on his face.
“Better?” he asks.
“So much better.” I sigh, shoulders sagging as my eyes roll heavenward. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I put a call into maintenance about fixing the stall ASAP. In the meantime, use the senior exec lounge. I’ll make sure all the guys on the team know it’s free for their use.”
