“You’ll do it with me, so I’m not alone, right?”
I smile, biting the corner of my lip. And because it feels right, I lean forward and grin. “Oh, baby, you won’t know what hit you when you Electric Slide with me.”
It’s funny. We’re laughing, and it’s playful and innocent and fine…until it’s not. Until the laughter fades, and we’re left in the dust of whatever flirtatious thing this was. His eyes are on my face, and mine are on his. Our hands are still linked on the desk.
He swallows, and I swallow.
And I want so badly to kiss him. Just to see if I would even like it or if it would be too strange. And to see if these weird feelings in my body are what I think they are. If I’m really growing attached to Emerson in a sexual way or if it’s just my imagination getting away with itself.
His fingers squeeze my hand, one finger gently stroking my palm, and it’s like a scream. It’s so subtle, naked to the eye, but I feel it, and it’s telling me to lean forward, so I do.
Then he leans forward.
And when I feel his breath on my lips, my body cries for me to kiss him. Close the distance. While my brain has alarms going off, red flags and sirens blaring. No, no, no, no! This is Beau’s dad—his freaking dad, Charlie. What are you doing? You can’t kiss him! Because then what? After you kiss him, what if he wants more? Are you going to let him take your clothes off? Have sex with him?
Okay, that sounds both terrifying and amazing.
But then what? You can’t stay in this job after you’ve fucked him. You’ll get emotionally attached and maybe you’ll sleep together a couple more times, if you like it, and then he’ll move on, and you’ll be devastated.
And my rational mind has a point. This is a terrible idea, but his lips are already brushing mine, and it’s too late to back out now. It’s a soft touch, barely even a kiss, but the moment our lips graze each other, we slide into an intimate space where only we exist, and it’s so delicate that I don’t dare to move.
His hand slides up my arm and he leans in to deepen the kiss, but before he can, the phone rings.
Compared to the silence we’re in, it sounds like a machine gun going off right next to us. I gasp, pulling away in a rush. I don’t stop, jumping up from the chair and walking briskly across the room.
The ringing stops, and I turn to see he’s silenced the call. His eyes are on me, watching me with concern.
“Charlotte,” he calls with that authoritative tone. “What’s wrong? Come sit down.”
“That was stupid of me. I’m sorry. I got carried away. It was just the heat of the moment, I guess. I don’t know—”
“Charlotte,” he barks
“I should go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t go,” he calls, but I’m already to the foyer, grabbing my jacket from the closet and my purse from the bench. When I spin around again, he’s only a foot away.
“I’m really sorry. I’m so embarrassed.” My hands fly up to my face, and my cheeks are hot against my hands. And everything just comes barreling to the forefront of my mind.
I kissed Beau’s dad. My boss. Beau’s dad. A forty-year-old man.
His touch is soft against my wrists as he nudges my hands from my face.
“Are you okay?”
“No!” I shriek.
“Why?”
“Because…” My eyes widen.
“Because we kissed.”
“Oh my God,” I cry out, trying to cover my face again.
“Charlotte, calm down.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t leave. Sit down.”
He leads me to the formal living room at the front of the house with large bay windows that face the quiet neighborhood. His comforting hand is at the small of my back again, and I relax into the secure way it makes me feel.
It’s quiet for so long before he finally speaks. “I think you were right. We just got carried away in the moment, which was not your fault.”
There’s a but hanging on the end of his sentence and I’m sort of dreading it. As much as I hate the idea of kissing him again, I also sort of…love the idea of kissing him again. Which is so, so wrong. And most of all, I don’t want him turning me down. It hurts to even think about.
“But the two of us getting involved with each other physically is a very bad idea.”
“I agree,” I stammer, unable to meet his eyes.
“I don’t want you to leave like this. I’m sorry it happened, but if you need to leave, I understand.”
I don’t want to leave. Suddenly, I find myself glued to his presence, craving that comforting touch again. One little brush of our lips and I’m already attached. Stupid, stupid Charlie.
“I’ll stay.”
In my head is a chorus of self-deprecation walloping my ego. Why would he want you anyway? Stupid girl. You really tried to kiss Emerson Grant. A handsome millionaire who could have anyone. Why would he want you?
My eyes are trained on the floor, my hands working anxiously as I let the words have their way, running through my mind until I’m on the verge of tears.
And suddenly, he’s touching my chin. And I glance up in surprise as he lifts my gaze upward until we’re staring at each other.
“It’s not because I don’t want you. Understand?”
It’s eerie how well he reads my mind. He’s just being nice, though. Solemnly, I nod.
Then his fingers gently stroke my chin for a moment as he seems to get lost, staring first at my eyes, and then my lips.
“You’re such a good girl, Charlotte.”
My shoulders relax, seeming to melt down at my sides as I gaze up at him, those beautiful words washing over me like warm water. Suddenly, I’m all gooey and compliant, like that one little phrase put me in a trance. He could literally do anything to me in this state.
And I sort of want him to.
Sadly, he releases my hold and moves to stand. “All right then. Let’s get back to work and pretend this never happened.”
And since I would do just about anything for his praise, that’s exactly what I do.
RULE #12: FOOT RUBS ARE SEXUAL.
Emerson
My palm has been itching for days. Every chance I get, I stare down at the lines that stretch from my wrist to my fingers and back again, thinking hard about what Charlotte said.
I’m destined for some great love. I laughed at it for the first day or two. Then, the idea began to settle in my mind. After Marie, Beau’s mother, I wrote off the idea of love. Truthfully, long before that. What we had was fun, vibrant days of sex and youth when forever felt possible until we had an unexpected pregnancy and had to face the reality of parenting and adulthood.
It’s hard to believe it’s been twenty years since I gave love a good effort. That was a long time ago, and the idea of a relationship started sounding like more of a hassle than it was worth.
So, something about Charlotte’s little palm reading changed the course of my thoughts. And I can’t stop thinking about how she looked, lips parted and eyes dilated. The hope, the fear, the arousal on her face. Maybe a hint of excitement too, if I’m being honest.
Charlotte has had an effect on me since she started working here. And not in a good way. At least not if I want to get my son back and stay out of her pants. Although this plan is falling apart more and more each day. How can she be of any use to me if she doesn’t speak to him anymore?
While she’s out for lunch, I pull out my phone and dial his number again. Unsurprisingly, it goes to voicemail after only one and a half rings, which means he declined my call, again.
And this time, I do something I haven’t done yet.
“Hi, son. I was just talking to Charlotte…er, Charlie, I mean. I’m sure you know by now she’s working for me. She makes a great secretary, and she talks about you so much. It makes me miss you. I hope you’re well. Please call me.”
When I hit the red button, I sit in my silence. I sound so fucking desperate. Is this what he wants? For me to beg? To make a fool of myself for him, or does it make him lose respect for me?
A moment later, the front door opens and Charlotte carries in a bag from the deli down the street.