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I slide my hands to her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. I hate that I don’t have words for this, but I’m out of my depth. As much as it stings to admit it, this past week is the first time I’ve ever given gender politics much thought.
I’ve neverhadto think about it before because it doesn’t affect me personally.
Kind of proves her whole point…
“It’s crazy.” Ellie rises from the desk and begins to pace the office. “Most of the time, childcare, healthcare, and other domestic responsibilities fall to women, but women are working outside the home just as much as men. So what happens when a parent has to stay home with a sick kid? Or someone has to take Grandma to the doctor? And what about single parents? Should a mom be punished for leaving the office for a family emergency, even if she’s able to make up the work at a later time?” She stops pacing and turns toward me, hands on her hips. “Serious questions, Jack.”
I blink as I lean back to sit on the edge of my desk. “I guess it depends on the nature of the job, and what the person’s manager—”
“What if the manager is a jerk? Shouldn’t there be policies in place to protect employees in this kind of situation? A neurosurgeon can’t walk away in the middle of brain surgery, but Seyfried and Holt isn’t a hospital. There’s no reason why loyal, hardworking employees can’t occasionally work from home so they’re not forced to choose between their child’s health and their ability to put food on the table. Job security shouldn’t come down to face-time at the office.”
Ellie’s cheeks are red, her eyes fiery with emotion that tells me this is much more than an assignment to her. It’s a cause. And it’s personal.
“I admit we haven’t considered anything like that before,” I say, “but if we set up ground rules and clarify expectations, I have no problem test-driving that kind of arrangement.”
“Maybeyoudon’t, but some of your senior managers do. Which is messed up, because studies prove workers are more efficient and productive when they’re given trust and flexibility. Which tells me that the managers who vehemently oppose the idea are either control freaks, misogynists, or both.”
“I hear you, El. I guess I’m just…” I run a hand through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this? Your brother and I work hard to cultivate an open-door policy with all of our employees.”
Her gaze softens. “But you’re not everyone’s manager, Jack. Most people aren’t comfortable going above their direct supervisors.”
I mentally scan through the list of non-executive women on our payroll. Admittedly, I can’t even remember most of their faces, let alone name them all. “So none of these women have logged formal complaints?”
“It sounds like there may have been one or two who did so in the past, but I’m told they were let go soon after. I’m still trying to track down the paper trail on that, though—hence my request.”
“Okay.” It’s a lot to process, but I’m ready to tackle this head on, no matter what. “What do you need?”
“Can I get access to the actual personnel database? The printouts were helpful with the hiring issues, but if I want to investigate these other complaints, I’m going to need more data.”
“I can set you up with admin access,” I tell her. Ryan wouldn’t like it—neither would Blair—but we need to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll just need you to sign a confidentiality agreement so our bases are covered in case anyone starts digging.”
“Of course. And I promise I won’t use any identifying information in my article or even in my notes.”
“I trust you,” I say, surprised at how easily the words come out. But then, everything with Ellie feels so natural, so right, so easy in a way that has nothing to do with how long I’ve known her family and everything to do with who she is. With how I feel when I’m with her.
“So, anything else on the work front?” I continue, no longer able to hide my smile. I’ll stay focused as long as she needs me to, but seeing Ellie all fired up is doing nothing to cool off the situation below my belt.
“That’s it,” she says. “I just want you to know that I hold myself to the highest ethical standards in journalism.”
“I know, El.” I push away from my desk.
“And in life.”
“No question.” I stalk slowly across the room.
“I understand the importance of protecting my sources, and it means a lot to—”
“Ellie?” I stop in front of her, holding her gaze.
Her lips part as she exhales. “Yes?”
“Can we please stop talking?” I pull her back into my arms, nuzzling her neck, just above her starched collar. It’s become one of my favorite places to linger, along with the hollow of her throat and the bottom of her ribcage—her most ticklish spot. “Or at least stop talking file access? Because right now all I can think about is how much I want access to your man-pants.”
Ellie’s laughter transforms into a moan of pleasure as I back her up against the wall behind my desk and slide my hand into her waistband. Despite her steadfast commitment to authenticity, under the uninspiring beige suit she’sallwoman. My fingers skim beneath the lace trim of her lingerie, eagerly seeking her wet heat.
“Have you been thinking up that line…all day?” she asks, digging her fingers into my shoulders as I glide over her clit. I dip a finger inside her, dragging it out slowly before pulsing back in again, loving the way she melts at my touch.
“Longer than that,” I admit, kissing her jaw, her ear. Everything about her is silky and delicious. No matter how often I touch and taste her, I can’t get enough. “I have a rotating stock. A pun for every occasion.”
