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Iwas late for my very first day of torture. I dragged myself out of bed, pulled on a sweater and scrambled to get my work bag, before running out the door.
I was just exiting the elevator and fumbling in my purse for my phone when I saw him. “Shit,” I exclaimed under my breath. I scurried back into the hallway and ducked into the little alcove next to the elevator.
As if my thoughts had summoned him from hell, there was Andrew, stretching in some sort of athletic get-up. Were those shorts? It was 27 degrees out. This was definitive proof that he was not human. I had to tell Cynthia. I was about to text her when he pulled up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.
I gulped, my eyes arrowing to his abs. Damn. How did he maintain that body while working 14 hours a day and eating takeout? He lifted the shirt higher to get his forehead and the back of his neck, bracing his arm against the window. My heart rate quickened. This was practically porn. His abs clenched and the muscles of his arm flexed as he seemed to revel in rubbing himself down in full view of the street. I could just barely see his tan line above the waist band of his shorts. He rolled his head from side to side and I caught a glimpse of his firm pectorals and flat nipples before he dropped the shirt and threw his head back to gulp water.
I leaned against the wall, feel slightly shaken. It was undeniable. He was the world’s biggest jerk and the hottest man I had ever seen. It was also undeniable that I was incredibly attracted to him. I couldn’t help but remember that insane office kiss. Insane because only a crazy person would make out with her nemesis in the office and insane because I could not stop thinking about it.What if he had continued?I could have run my tongue across those abs. My thighs clenched together and I felt hot all over. Damn him.
I took another peek and saw him opening the door. Oh no. If he went to the elevator, he would definitely see me. The alcove was right next to the elevator after the entrance to the stairs. I did not want him to know I had been spying on him. He would never let me live it down.
I scooted further into the alcove and lay flat against the wall, trying not to think about how dusty it was. I heard him walk down the hall and a few clicks that told me he was typing an email. “Fuck you, Gerald,” I heard him mutter. I almost snorted a laugh. I had done the exact same thing countless times. I could hear his fingers flying over the phone keyboard. He was so engrossed in his rage typing that the elevator arrived and he got on, never seeing me holding my breath just a few feet away.
I supposed I had Gerald to thank for this. I shook my head ruefully. I had never thought I would see the day.
I rushed out the door as soon as the elevator doors closed, grateful for the cold air on my overheated cheeks. He had no business being that fit. Lawyers were supposed to be at best polished, or maybe attractive in a nerdy way. And after nearly a decade of late nights, too much caffeine, boozing in the office and eating pizza for dinner, I knew we all looked a little rough.
Except Andrew, of course, who was going to cruise into making partner while looking like a model. Well, not cruise, I supposed. I worked hard but the devil worked just as hard. Every time Cynthia and I had been working late before the holidays, or on a Friday night, he had been there too, slaving away in his perfectly pristine office, alone, always alone. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Cynthia and I had been clear allies, and once Caroline and Ben had left, he’d never been close with anyone.
Until now, I hadn’t really considered how sad that was. Even when Caroline and Ben had been there, Andrew hadn’t really been true friends with them, not in the way he had been with me. I knew how much he liked to tease, how sharp his wit was. That was a side of him that he rarely showed the world, and somehow it felt even rarer now. I shook my head. Andrew’s moodiness was not my problem to solve. I just needed to get through today.
* * *
I hada nine am meeting in the main conference room to go over clean-up items from the Langford closing, and by the time I arrived at our shared office, Andrew was already seated at the small conference table we’d been provided. I could see him working through the glass wall since he’d chosen not to lower the privacy blinds.
His head was bent over a document and his pen moved with assurance as he marked it up. I paused briefly to admire his dark hair still damp and curling from his morning shower. He had removed his suit jacket as he usually did while reviewing documents and his fine cotton shirt highlighted the breadth of his shoulders.
I pushed open the office door and he glanced up and smiled. My stomach flipped but I returned it, tentatively, just a lifting of my lips at the sides.
“You didn’t want to choose your desk first?” I had expected to fight him for the better seat.
“Nope. I’m just as generous as they say.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table. Across the top, I saw he had writtenRules of Engagement.“Take a seat. We need to talk.”
I dropped my bag on the floor and took the seat across from him. This table was too small and his knees were nearly brushing mine. I was close enough to see the fine lines just starting to appear near his eyes and the five o’clock shadow that always seemed to be present on his jaw. That stubble had felt like heaven abrading my skin. I had the insane urged to reach out and run a finger along it and I nearly laughed. Only five minutes in and I was already losing it.
Andrew cocked his head and I took the paper from him.
“Rules?”
He nodded. “I want to give us the best chance. We need rules for sharing.”
I bit my lip. Rules weren’t a terrible idea but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to negotiate against him. The key with Andrew was to always keep him on his back foot. I used the same tactics dealing with him that I did when negotiating with opposing counsel. Let them show the first weakness, let them make the first move. In our case, we had an unwritten rule that emotion was weakness. Good lawyers were cool, unruffled, logical. The only appropriate emotions were stress (meaning you were busy and in demand) or anger (meaning you were in demand and trying to win).That’s totally what I felt around him. Anger. Stress. Not lust. No lust over here, folks.
“We need to make it work, Margo.” His voice was urgent. “I know you hate me but wehaveto put that aside.”
I looked over at him. He was giving me hisI’m a serious lawyerface. His green eyes were deep and earnestbut his jaw was set. I felt my own clench. Why did he have to pretend like this was all my doing? He gave as good as he got. I was sick of it looking like Andrew was the reasonable one.
“Ok, well how do you propose we ‘make it work’ then?” I snapped. “Are you planning to apologize for all the shit you’ve pulled over the years? What about the time we were staffed together and you refused to cc me on emails? I looked like an ass in front of the client.”
He sat up straighter at my tone. His eyes were lit with fire. “Areyouplanning to apologize? Because if I remember correctly, you went line by line showing every mistake on those deal docs to the senior associate,” he retorted. He was right. I had done that. After he had insulted me to my face in a meeting.
“You can go first. Age before beauty after all.” I imagined my eyes shooting daggers at his perfect face.
“Cute, Margo. Real cute.” He snorted.
“Yeah, well, you started it.” Not the most mature response, but he made me feel like a little girl being teased on the playground, so it seemed fitting.
His eyes glittered with malice. “Howexactlydid I start this?”
