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“Yes, ma’am,” Barrett says.
Mia lets out a little harrumph like she’s offended at the “ma’am” but I notice she fluffs her hair before trudging back to her office. The door closes behind her, and I slump in my chair.
“Can I help?” I ask. “Pour you a cup of coffee? Do it for you?”
“Not necessary. Gotta get to work, Kitty Cat.” Then he gives me a wink that sends my heart aflutter. “You look pretty today. I like you in black.”
I pull my shoulders, draped in a fifties-style little black dress that skims down my body to just below my knees. My incredibly sexually satisfied knees.
When he sits at his desk and unpacks his laptop, I stand and shuffle to the break room, deciding to fetch him a cup of coffee anyway.
By quarter after eleven (aka forty-five minutes till deadline), I’m ignoring my work and staring worriedly at Barrett over the top of my laptop. He’s pecking away, unbelievably slowly, before swiping the touchpad to look at a different screen. He lingers there for a while before going back to his one-fingered hunting and pecking.
I force my attention back to the article I was reading promising “wild dating ideas” but it doesn’t hold my attention for long. Barrett folds his hands at the back of his head and stretches, elbows wide and biceps flexing. He closes his eyes and blows out a breath. A subtle head shake precedes him standing up.
When he comes my direction, I put my fingers on the keyboard and start tapping random keys. Google doesn’t know what to make of my gobbledygook.
“Kitty Cat.”
“Yes. Hi, Fox. What’s up?”
“Want some lunch? I have to get out of here.” He pulls a hand over his face and shoots a longing glance at the window.
I glance at the clock. “It’s almost 11:30.”
“Right. Lunchtime. I’m starving.” His heated gaze trickles from my face to my chest. I squirm in my seat at the memory of what he was starving for a few hours ago. Me.
I shake off the X-rated thought. “You only have thirty minutes to finish your column. Are you close?”
“Sure.” He laughs.
I don’t laugh. I’m not amused.
“Come on. Lunch.” He tilts his head toward the exit and starts away from me. “My treat.”
“Barrett!”
“I’m going. With or without you.” His playful smile is missing. He’s serious.
“Wait.” I slip my bare feet into my high heels and run after him as quickly as my tight-around-the-knees skirt allows. He watches my approach, his eyes hooded.
“I really like that dress.”
I ignore the suggestive husk in his voice.
“I know I’ve been acting like a besotted idiot in every other aspect of our relationship,” I whisper, sending a cautious glance around the empty-ish office, “but I refuse to let you walk out of this building before your column is done. Mia said noon.”
“It’s going to take longer than that.” He shrugs. Shrugs!
“It...it can’t!”
“Well. It is.” He turns away again.
“Fox, you can’t leave when you’re on deadline!” The pleading inflection in my voice doesn’t slow him down a bit.
“Watch me.” He punches the elevator button. I start to chase after him before stopping myself. I said I wouldn’t act besotted. I owe myself the decency of keeping that promise.
Once he’s inside the elevator, waving goodbye for effect, I turn back to my desk and try and think of an excuse to appease our harried editor.
