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“I don’t run,” I scoffed. “Just because, what, I’m not climbing all over you?” His gaze turned hungry and my stomach tightened.I did want to climb him, but there was no way I would ever tell him that.
“It would be amazing and you know it.” Smooth, dark words. Tempting me. But I couldn’t stop seeing the calculation in eyes and remembering the past. Times when I had given a little too much of myself to him and he had used it against me. I stood up straighter and crossed my arms. He had so many female associates eating out of the palm of his hand, but I would not be one of them.
“Go find someone else to torture.Thisis never going to happen.” I gestured between us. “You are not my type.”
His expression shuttered. “And you’re not mine,” he bit out. I dug my nails into my palm. He couldn’t hurt me, not now when I was so close to having it all and being the boss.
“Oh, so you prefer someone younger, blonder, meeker? Someone who doesn’t challenge you? I know that runs in the blood for you Connecticut types.” The words slipped out.
With each word, Andrew’s brows drew lower on his face. I hoped he was shocked. Had I maybe gone a little too far? I wasn’t sure it mattered. This wasn’t our first knock-down drag-out fight, but our tolerance for each other seemed to be draining by the day. I didn’t know how we would sit across the table from each other as partners when we couldn’t spend 15 minutes alone.
He looked like he wanted to throttle me, but his voice came out steady and sure. “When I’m partner, I look forward to working you so hard, you don’t have time to think about anything but that. And if you have a problem with my hot young wife, don’t forget, I can always get you fired.”
I shoved past him and stalked to the door. He watched me go, chest rising and and falling with his deep breaths, his hands fisted at his sides. The look in his eyes was somewhat crazed, as if he might leap across the room and finish what he started. I shook my head. “Go fuck yourself, Andrew. And stay the hell away from me while you do it.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but I was already out the door, shutting it quietly even though I wanted to slam it into his head. No one could know what just transpired. I hurried down the hall to my office, sure that someone had heard or seen us, but all was quiet.
I sank into my office chair, my face burning. Stupid, stupid, stupid. There was nothing to be gained from screwing around at work. I had seen lots of associates make this mistake. And I couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than sharing a moment, whatever that was, with your sworn enemy, only for them to throw it back in your face.You’re doing exactly what I expected of you.What had he even meant by “running?” I’d be an idiot to screw around with him at the office. Besides, Andrew was way too calculated to get carried away with a coworker who had once put salt in his coffee. He was toying with me in his typical Andrew Markman fashion, putting me off my game so I would screw something up, clearing the way for his elevation to partner.
Just in case, I texted Cynthia. “We need to talk.”
10
Margo
“So what’s up?” Cynthia asked.
I was in her office, having a cup of coffee and admiring how her bright lipstick clashed in an amazing way with her fiery red hair. She looked like a movie star.
“Distract me, please. Andrew is messing with me again.”
She gave me a look that said we’d be coming back to that but then leaned in. “You’re not going to believe this, but I just learned that Jason Elliott will be at my closing drinks later.”
“You mean your nemesis?” Cynthia did not like Jason. In fact, I suspected she had a voodoo doll made of him by a friend of her mother’s. Cynthia’s mother was highly superstitious.
“The very same. I gotta get out of here in just a few minutes.” She checked her watch and shook her head. “I think I can get this draft out the door before I head over, but if not, the other side is getting my best post-martini work.”
I grinned. “Good thing your drunken work product is better than most lawyers produce on their best days. But why is he going to be there? Are they doing joint closing drinks or something?”
She shrugged. “Nope. Apparently it’s a complete coincidence. With all the bars in New York, and they pick the same one. Maybe I’ll accidentally spill a drink on him later.” She sounded excited, and I laughed.
“I don’t know. Wait to spill anything on him until you spend time with him. Maybe you can charm him into sleeping with you.” Jason Elliott was seriously hot and we had giggled over him on conference calls any number of times.
Cynthia snorted. “You mean the man we nicknamed “The Closer”? Margo, I don’t think he has ever seen a woman naked. He wouldn’t know the first thing to do. He probably gave up his apartment to sleep in his office.”
I giggled. “It’s hard to imagine, but don’t forget the other reason we gave him that nickname.”
At the same time, we both said “You could close the deal with me anytime,” before breaking down in delirious laughter.
“Too bad he’s so robotic he makes Andrew look relaxed.” She made a face.
“I could use the excitement.” I grinned at her. My good mood was short lived, however, as I debated whether to tell her the truth about my encounter with Andrew. I didn’t know what to make of it, and I was uncomfortable with how much I cared about his reactions to me. But maybe she would have some insight that I lacked.
“Cynthia, a weird thing happened to me today.”
She immediately perked up and gave me a wide-eyed “go on” look.
I chewed on my lip nervously before continuing. “So, Andrew and I had a moment.”
