Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

“Morning, Mon,” I said coolly as possible.

“Don’t ‘morning Mon’ me, smartass, get inside so we can talk!” The grin didn’t leave her face; even when we got into my office and shut the door.

“What do you want me to tell you? That just because we happened to have a meeting with Bo yesterday I would break whatever plans we had this week? Yesterday’s meeting was informational, set up before we met him, and he wasn’t even supposed to be here.” Why am I speaking so fast?

“Ember, relax. I just want to know how he is in bed.” She arched her eyebrow as she sipped coffee.

“Monica!”

“A hot man like that does not find himself at your apartment in the morning without having been there the night before. And, to the best of my knowledge, you don’t make a habit of platonic sleep overs with the opposite sex.” She could have been on CNN with the seriousness she used to deliver that line.

I caved. “It was intense. We had this rhythm - it wasn’t awkward. I felt him on a different level I’ve ever felt anything, or anyone. He took his time, touched and kissed what seemed like every single part of my body, didn’t rush. His eyes were on me the whole time, Mon . . . like he was at a museum, looking at art - or something. He was slow and sweet - holy shit. And this morning he brought me coffee in bed for Christ’s sake!”

“Miss November, I do believe you’re blushing,” She exaggerated a southern drawl as she fanned herself.

“Seriously, seeing him in here yesterday only made me more attracted to him. Do we have everything in common? Jesus, I don’t know what to do. By the way we’re doing a lunch meeting tomorrow to further discuss the collaboration.” I flopped down in my chair and sighed.

“Em . . .” Monica sat down across from me.

“I know. This could be a real nightmare.”

Monica and I majored in Public Relations; sex “scandals” are both the easiest thing to avoid and the most damaging for an agency.

“We’ll figure it out Ember. Just be cautious until all the cards are on the table and we know what we’re dealing with.” She seemed relaxed, which helped.

During the rest of the morning I researched what I could on DROP. I already knew their major benefactor, but it was clear that they needed internet assistance. I emailed their grant writer, William Holder, to get a read on him. William offered that he and “Spencer” had known each other since high school and he had a lot of emotional stake in the success of DROP. I seriously hoped Bo didn’t share personal things with Will, at least about us.

Monica was able to connect with Tristan MacMillian, DROP’s community educator, and start a rapport with him as well. The four of us agreed that we would need to meet sometime soon to see if we felt comfortable on a personnel level. Our boss was pleased.

“Ladies, you continue to amaze me,” Carrie congratulated us in her office Tuesday afternoon. “Your professionalism is stupendous, especially considering that you two are friends; it doesn’t always work out this well. I’ve spoken with David Bryson, and he said he would coordinate a time for the DROP team to come down and meet us. I suggested that we’d like a trip to New Hampshire, as well. We could see their community center, and you two could meet with William and Tristan. I’ll be out of town for the rest of the week for that conference in D.C., but we can talk about this more when I get back.”

I looked forward to seeing where Bo grew up, and it made me realize how far into him I’d fallen. Shit. Ethically, I needed to rein things in with Bo. Spiritually, I couldn’t force myself to do it. Realistically, I shouldn’t be excited to see the hometown of someone I was “just” having fun with, and might be working with in a professional capacity. Double shit.

We thanked Carrie, wished her well on her trip, and headed home for the day. I went to Monica’s house for dinner. Josh was waiting for us; he’d spent most of the day hanging out and preparing dinner, since he didn’t work on Tuesdays. As I headed up her stairs my phone dinged with a text message.

Bo: Hey, sorry I didn’t text all day-crazy busy. R we all still meeting 4 lunch tomorrow?

I was both relieved and bummed by his casual sounding message.

Me: It’s ok-busy 4 me too. Boss will be out of town for the rest of the week. Tomorrow’s still good-come by office at noon. At Mon’s for dinner. Text you when I get home.

As soon as I hit send, I wondered if I should have asked him to come to dinner - what with the amazing sex we had and all. But, I needed a minute to clear my head and talk with Monica, outside of the office, about the possible ramifications of all of this, work and soul.

“Ember! Good to see you - get your nose out of your damn phone!” Josh hugged me with the sincerity of a big brother.

“Shut up Josh, I text maybe once a day.”

“Was that lover boy?” Josh elbowed me and I glowered at him just before Monica piped in.

“Shut it, Josh.” She sounded as tense as I felt.

“What the hell?” Josh looked at both of us.