“How about we go across the street?” I suggest to Lori.
There’s a Paradise Bakery close by, which has good coffee and excellent baked goods, salads, and sandwiches. The line is long, but we take our place. Lori attracts attention wherever she goes—she loves it, but pretends to be annoyed. It’s one of her many irritating faults. I’m beginning to wonder what I ever saw in her.
“What would you like?” I ask.
She leans in and runs her fingers up my chest. “You.” She smiles, and I know she’d prefer to head to a hotel and have a nooner. We’ve done that before, but I’m not interested anymore.
I need to be honest with her. “About that… I’ve met someone.”
She steps back and eyes me carefully. “What does that mean?”
“We shouldn’t be together in private.”
“Are you playing hard to get? Because, baby, you’ve got me, and I have this desire to make every one of your fantasies come true. I’m so wet right now…” She bats her eyelashes.
I study her. She’s a Botox-addicted, surgically enhanced woman looking for a payday. That’s not what I want. “I promise I’m not playing hard to get. I think we should take a break.”
“I’ve never tied you down—although the idea does sound appealing.” She laughs huskily.
My cock has no response. That’s certainly telling.
“We don’t have to tell anyone. I work evenings, and I’m always open to meeting you at the Fairmont. You can eat me for lunch.”
She licks her lips, and I wonder if she realizes it’s repulsive when she does that. “I don’t think so.”
A look of hurt crosses her face, and I regret being so direct.
“I’ll be here when you tire of her,” she says in baby talk, playing with the buttons on my shirt.
I give her a small smile. My regret for being direct is done. Nope. She doesn’t understand that I’m not interested. I step up to the counter and motion for her to order.
“I’d like a green salad with no dressing and a black coffee.”
She doesn’t even eat real food. Ugh. Another massive peeve of mine.
“Just a drip coffee for me.” I hand over my credit card.
“You’re not eating?”
“No, I need to get back to the office.”
Her hand wanders to my cock, and I step back. She giggles salaciously.
I definitely don’t want this. “Enjoy your lunch.”
I pick up my coffee and walk back to the office, leaving her waiting for her plain lettuce and caffeine. A huge weight is lifted from my shoulders.
The afternoon screams by, and the next thing I realize, the sun is setting. I look out across the office and notice Tinsley isn’t sitting at her desk. Did she go home already?
I stand up and look around, and I find her and her team huddled over a computer, discussing something. The software she designed removes a final barrier to open communication with anyone, and our goal is to eventually include almost all sixty-five hundred languages. It’s a fantastic complement to our platform, which gives personal devices the ability to communicate anywhere in the world—no more dead spots, even in the middle of the ocean or deep in a forest.
I wander out to hear what they’re discussing. It’s definitely all about the coding—fixing a variable that isn’t working. I watch the way she and her team bounce from one thought to the next, and I’m blown away by how seamlessly they work together.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
I get grins from most of the team, but Tinsley bristles. “We’re good. We’re just wrapping up for the day.”
“Great. Can I take you all out for drinks?”
I get nods from the team, but a scowl from Tinsley. She’s upset, although I’m not sure why.
“I’ll see who else is still here, and we can meet at the elevator bank in ten minutes,” I tell them. “There’s a great place just up the block we can walk to and get to know one another.”
I look out across our bullpen and spot a few of my more senior staff still hanging around. “Anyone up for joining us for drinks at Whitley’s?”
A few nod and seem interested.
“I’m taking the Translations team out, if you’re interested. First round on me. We’re meeting at the elevators in ten.”
I get a few nods, and as I head back to my office, I send Claire a quick text.
Me: I’m taking the Translations team and a few of the guys out for drinks at Whitley’s if you want to join us.
Claire: Have fun. Be sure to buy. I’m catching up with Nick tonight. See you in the morning.
We’re a scraggly-looking group as we walk down the street to Whitley’s. “I wonder if they have a coatroom?” I ask, trying to get a reaction out of Tinsley, but she doesn’t even acknowledge my comment. Great. What could she be pissed about? This is going to be fun.
The happy hour crowd has dissipated, so we’re able to get a good-size table that seats all of us. It’s great to see my team and the former Translations team begin to integrate. The server arrives to take our drink order.
“First round is on me,” I inform her.
She nods.
After she orders, Tinsley excuses herself and heads to the restrooms. I’d really like to know what’s upsetting her.
I walk over to the old-fashioned jukebox and pretend to study the songs. When Tinsley walks out of the ladies room, I pull her in. “Pretend you’re helping me pick some songs to play and tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t even glare at me when I asked if the bar had a coatroom.”
She smiles. “I didn’t hear you. I
