“So you didn’t have trouble falling asleep last night, huh?”
When she started to blush and attempted to busy herself at unpacking her box, I knew I was on to something. Curious, I walked into her office and around to the other side of her desk so I could see her face even though she was looking down and unpacking.
I ducked my head and looked up to catch her eyes. “You masturbated last night, didn’t you?”
Her blush reddened. “Did you?” she countered.
Deflecting. We all know what that means. I grinned. “I did. And this morning, too. Wanna know what I was thinking about while I did it?”
“No!”
“You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”
Even though she was red-faced, I loved that she pushed through it and faced me. “Don’t you have any marriages to desecrate, pervert?”
“Come on. Admit it. You masturbated last night, and that’s why you had such a good night’s sleep and got to work on time for a change.”
“Why do you care?”
“I like to be right.”
“You’re really a giant egomaniac.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Will you drop the subject if I tell you the truth?”
I nodded. “I will.”
She looked me directly in the eye. “I did.”
“What?”
“What do you mean what? You know what I mean.”
Of course I do. “I’m not sure I do. Why don’t you explain what you’re referring to?”
“Get out.”
“Say you masturbated, and I’ll get out.”
“Why? So you can get off on the thought of me masturbating?”
“I thought you didn’t want to hear what I was thinking about this morning when I took care of myself?”
I chuckled. Emerie was trying to be tough, but her voice told me she was more embarrassed and amused than pissed off. Feeling unusually kind, I decided to let her off the hook before I pushed my luck.
“I have a conference at ten today that will probably turn into lunch with my client afterward. There are menus in the top right drawer of the reception desk if you want to order in.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stopped just outside of her doorway. “One other thing.”
“Hmm?”
“Were you thinking of me when you masturbated?”
I’d said it just to be an ass, but her sudden deer-in-the-headlights face told me I’d actually hit the nail on the head. Well, shit. Coming to work just got even better. A part of me (a very large part of me, of course) wanted to stay and push that interesting tidbit of information even more, but I’d suddenly turned into a twelve-year-old boy and could feel my cock swelling. Thanks to her dirty thoughts, Little Miss Oklahoma with the great ass got a reprieve after all.
“That’s not the fucking problem. The problem is your inability to cook a decent meal without burning it.”
Hearing that type of statement yelled wasn’t new to these walls. Only this time, it wasn’t coming from one of my clients.
I’d just returned to the office after a late lunch with Henry Archer, and the sound of an angry man echoed through the hall. Emerie’s office door was slightly open, and I debated checking in with her, making sure everything was okay. Listening, I heard her ask the guy to settle down and then another woman began to speak. So I went back to my office to mind my own business.
Fifteen minutes later, there it was again. I was on the phone when that same guy’s voice carried down the hall and straight into my office.
“I was on the fence about marrying you in the first place. Should have called it off after you couldn’t even carry our kid.”
The hair on the back of my neck rose. What he’d said was horrible. But I’d heard spouses spit vile things back and forth at each other during a divorce. Not much shocked me anymore. Yet this guy—it wasn’t what he said but how he said it. His voice was laced with anger and intimidation, threatening while insulting. I hadn’t even seen his face, but my gut told me he was more than just a verbal abuser. Unfortunately, I’d seen physical abusers over the years, too. There was just something about the way the scumbags yelled that set them apart from your run-of-the-mill, I-hate-you-and-want-to-injure-your-soul spouse.
I rushed the client I’d been speaking to off the phone and went to check on Emerie. Before I could reach her office, a loud crashing sound sent me running.
When I got to the door, the guy was sitting in his seat while his wife knelt on her hands and knees to clean something up. Emerie was standing.
“What’s going on in here? Everything okay?”
Emerie hesitated and caught my eye when she spoke. She was trying to diffuse the situation. I saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice.
“Mr. Dawson was a little excited and knocked over a glass award I had sitting on my desk.”
The heavy paperweight she’d lugged on the subway in her box was shattered all over the floor.
“Take a walk and cool off, buddy.”
The asshole’s head whipped around. “Are you talking to me?”
“I am.”