Take it, p.2
Take It, page 2
Sinking into my office chair, I make myself a deal—no a promise. If a man like that ever walks back into my life and offers me a ride of any sort, I’m taking it. I’ve done everything this firm has asked of me and have had to work twice as hard to get ahead. I’ve been a bridesmaid to a dozen girls and been at their beck and call. I’ve sat through hundreds of dates listening to talk of mind-numbing jobs and stamp collections. I’ve hooked up with a handful of them and am always left faking an orgasm for the sake of efficiency. I’m done. From now on I will embrace the bad choices that lead to the best moments. I will act first and think later. I might screw up, but I'll screw people worth screwing.
I slam my hand down on my desk assertively, as though that motion locks my new credo into the law books. That’s it; I’m officially a fuck-up who plans to get herself laid by someone who gives a shit. Get in the damn car next time Jenny . . . if there is ever a next time.
My assistant steps into my office with a stack of files and plops them heavily on my desk. “Looks like you’re going to have a long night. Mr. Jones says all of these are for you. You got the big promotion, but you still get the big pile of work. Sorry,” she says, looking genuinely apologetic that I am the dumping ground for all the paperwork. That’s a twelve-hour pile starring right at me. So all that take-the-bull-by-the-horns excitement—or the-guy-by-the-cock—will have to wait another day.
“Thanks, Sky.” I smile back as I dig into the pile.
“No coffee this morning?” she inquires with concern as she looks over my desk for my usual. It pisses me off that I am so predictable that someone can notice the absence of my drink.
“I had to try a new place, and it didn’t work out.” If I were like any other woman in this office I’d go into graphic detail with her about my failed encounter with Scott as well as my proposition by a mysterious man this morning. I see and overhear this all the time from every secretary and assistant in the building. They swap stories like high school girls and I always feel bad for them. It’s as if they don’t know how much it holds them back in their careers to over share about their personal lives and treat each other like friends. There is no room for friendship at work.
There are only so many buckets women can fit into. You can be a slut. You can be a bitch. You can be a prude. You can be a frumpy asexual lump. Or if you’re lucky like me, you can be somewhere in between. You can be just nice enough to make the men think you would be lucky to be with them. You can be just bitchy enough to get your subordinates to do what you need. You can be reserved enough to not mess around with any coworkers in the copy room and keep your personal life to yourself. Like a clown at the circus I’ve managed keep all the balls up in the air as I juggle the persona I’ve built. It’s not impossible, but most people don’t give it enough thought.
“A new place? That’s great,” Sky chirps, lighting up as though I’m a non-verbal hermit who just uttered my first few words. She’s far too excited about the fact that I broke my routine. Memo: change my fucking life—stat.
“Oh yeah exciting stuff. I think I’ll give it another try tomorrow,” I say, flipping open the first file. I don’t mean to direct my snarkiness at her. I’m angry with myself for letting my life get so dull right before my eyes. Somehow I didn’t realize it was so apparent to everyone around me.
“Stick with it Miss Collins. It can be hard to try new things, but that’s how the best experiences happen. Just last week my boyfriend and I went to this club where you dress like vampires. It was epic. Everything was bathed in this red light, and most of the people wore black leather, corsets and stuff. Except the vics . . . those are the ones who come wanting to be bitten. They dress in plain clothes and just kind of wait.”
"You mean there are people who actually like that stuff—to be bitten on the throat, I mean?" I take my hand and run it across my own throat, knowing exactly what I’d do if someone tried to bite my neck. There would be blood alright, but it wouldn’t be mine.
"Oh, throats are one of the last places people want bitten. I'm sure you can imagine where they bite a guy, can't you, Miss Collins?" Sky’s face flashes red as she realizes I might not be the right audience for this conversation. Does she actually think I don’t know what oral is? Is that who I am here? Sister Jenny Marie or something? If she only knew what I was doing in this very office last night. Just twelve hours ago I was right here faking an orgasm with a loser. Wait, whose case am I making again?
"Sounds positively disgus—interesting.” I try to keep an open mind, remembering where I’ve gotten myself so far, on my own. Maybe taking Sky’s advice isn’t such a bad idea. But all I can think is how unsanitary that club must have been and how unsafe all that biting would be. Do they hand out hand sanitizer at the door? Tetnus shots?
And just like that, the gap between the two of us is split wide open and becomes an expansive canyon. There is only an eight-year age difference, but it might as well be a hundred years the way we live our lives. Sure, I have the good job and a decent apartment in a newly renovated area of Boston while she is in a fourth floor walk-up and has to take two busses to get here. But she’s living . . . like vampire-party living. The closest thing I’ve done to that lately is read a trashy vampire romance novel while running on the treadmill. Even in that department I’m stagnant. With all that running I don’t get anywhere. I never get too damn far from my apartment or my boring existence.
“Thank you, Sky. I’m going to get right to work,” I say, pointing down at the pile on my desk.
“You know, Miss Collins,” Sky continues, tapping her press-on nails against my door before she steps out, “I have a cousin, Lenny, and he’s always looking for someone to spend time with.” Her voice is bubbly and optimistic, but it isn’t enough to keep me from wanting to sprint over to her and slap the cherry-red lip gloss off her face.
“I’m fine,” I insist, forcing a grin on my face as she turns to leave. I’ve dated every Lenny, Timmy, and Jeff out there, and they’re all the same. I’ve heard every case being made for someone’s first cousin, their neighbor’s son, or their dentists brother. They all love role-playing, but not in the kinky way I might fantasize about. More like let’s get five of our friends together and pretend to be wizards. I am done with all the Lennys. I’m moving on to coffee shop guy. Yes, Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous, I’m making room for you. I’m getting in that car next time. Right after I finish this pile of work.
Chapter Three
It has been four mornings. Four embarrassing starts to my day full of lingering around that coffee shop, waiting to see Mr. Sexy Jackass again. All my waiting got me was late for work, and I’m pretty sure people at this new coffee shop already have a nickname for me that includes the word lurking.
But, serendipitously, as I walk through the lobby of my office this morning, there he is. His crisp, tight-fitting gray suit and the shadow of a beard gets me instantly excited. Luckily I see him before he sees me. Ducking to the left I head straight for the ladies room to fix the damage the long walk from the coffee shop has done to my wild red hair. I roll on another coat of the pink lipstick I put on earlier this morning with him in mind. It felt ridiculous back at my place looking in my mirror getting fixed up for a guy I’d likely never see again. But here he is. He’s about the only thing I’ve had on my mind. In my dreams. In my fantasies. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so caught up in the idea of a guy I don’t even know. Making my way back out to the lobby I pray I haven’t missed him.
He’s sitting with his legs casually crossed, staring at his phone as if he's reading something important. I take a second to soak him in. I’ve known plenty of men in my life who are arrogant, but it’s taking me years to be able to distinguish that feature from confidence. The two can be easily confused but this mystery man is unequivocally the latter. It’s in the way he keeps his eyes focused only on what he’s doing. He doesn’t glance up and keep checking the room or adjusting his suit to make sure he’s perfectly polished.
“So here you don’t mind waiting your turn?” I ask, a line I came up with in the bathroom and practiced with every step I took toward him.
“Excuse me?” he asks with a friendly smile, but I feel a punch to my gut as I realize his face doesn’t light with recognition. In a crowded stadium with dim lighting and heavy smoke, I would be able to point this man out. The fact that just a few days later, in perfectly good lighting, he has no clue who I am should tell me something. And frankly, it does. Loud and clear.
“Oh sorry, nothing,” I murmur as I hide my face and head for my office. The problem with being a redhead, besides the freckles and the inability to blend in, is that when you blush, you mean it. You don’t just go pink in the cheeks, you go fire engine red all over.
He stands quickly, and his face looks apologetic as if he remembers who I am, but it’s too late for me. If I haven’t been hanging out even in the corners of his mind then anything I say at this point will just be embarrassing. I increase my speed, way too much for it to look natural in an office hallway, but it doesn’t matter as his hand catches my elbow.
“I’m glad to see you took my advice and didn’t eat all those scones. Everything is still perfectly intact.” His voice is as sexy as I remember and has me almost in shivers.
It doesn’t take me more than a second to remember he’s talking about my ass. And that is the most exciting thing anyone has said to me . . . well, since he mentioned my ass last time. In his defense, my butt is exceptional. Why wouldn’t it be? When you have as much time on your hands as I do, you find yourself running your sexual frustration off on the treadmill whenever the mood strikes you. If I can get a vibrator built into that thing, I may never leave the house.
“You would have deserved the big bill,” I retort, only turning around halfway, not wanting to rob him of taking another peek at my backside if he wants to.
“Oh, you’ve already met our Jenny.” I hear Mr. Jones’s voice and I cringe at the thought of him ruining this moment. Nothing like a groping, balding boss wrecking your exchange with a gorgeous man.
“Not officially,” Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome says as he extends a hand to Mr. Jones.
“Well Jenny here will be working with you and bringing your drug through its final stages. Harrison, we’re really looking forward to having your company become part of our team.” Mr. Jones is talking in his ass-kissing voice that tells me this man is a client and an important one. Which should instantly change everything for me, but it doesn’t. I still want to fuck him. I probably won’t, but I still want to.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jenny. I look forward to working with you. I’m Harrison Burke,” he says, extending his hand to me. All I can think is, Yes, you certainly are Harrison. Because Harrison is not Lenny or Buck or any of the other men I’ve dated in the last four years. Harrison is hot.
With his back is arrow straight, held that way by his very sexy confidence he locks eyes with me. The way his hair is styled, longer than most of the men in the corporate world, screams he has a bit of a wild side.
“Good morning,” I manage, feeling uneasy and hoping the touch of his hand in mine doesn’t send me into full orgasmic convulsions. As he shakes my hand firmly I feel his middle finger curl slightly to graze my palm. Electric.
“Jenny be a doll, and show Harrison around the office, then take a look at the paperwork he’s brought in. I’d like to get his trial set up as soon as possible.” Like usual, Mr. Jones doesn’t spare me much attention as he talks. I’m usually addressed as an afterthought while he looks down at an email on his phone or checks his watch.
“Yes, Mr. Jones,” I reply with my normal obedient tone.
“I appreciate the help, Mr. Jones,” Harrison shoots back in a commanding voice as he nods his goodbye.
“Please, call me Mel,” my boss calls back with the wave of his hand. Yes, call him Mel, I think as I wave a goodbye. I’m the only idiot in the office who still has to call him Mr. Jones, like he’s my ninth grade science teacher.
Letting out an audible hum I take in deep breath of Harrison’s cologne. Time to get my head away from fucking and into business. But images of him bending me over my desk while I’m screaming Harrison, his hands firmly fisted in my hair—stop . . . I need a new game plan. This is not going to work if we plan to get anything done. I can’t be gazing at him like a doe eyed schoolgirl every time I get a whiff of him.
Showing him to my office, I try to get myself together as he speaks. “So let’s talk about us,” he says as he crosses his legs and lounges back in the chair across from my desk. I see the flex of his biceps; his cologne wafts toward me again, putting me under a spell.
I wasn’t expecting his candidness, not after he didn’t even recognize me in the lobby, but I’m certainly not going to play coy at this point. Not when I’m this engrossed in fantasies of him. If he’s putting it out there, I’m going respond just as bluntly.
“Well, I have to say I’ve certainly been giving ‘us’ a lot of thought. I mean that day at the coffee shop, I’ve been giving it some consideration. I’ve been thinking about you and how I should have gotten in that car.” I try to seductively toss my hair off my shoulder as I bat my eyelashes at him. None of this feels particularly natural to me but something about Harrison is making me want to put myself out there.
It’s short lived as his gaped mouth and hesitation put a rock in my stomach. Have I rendered him speechless with my forwardness? I made a deal with myself to go after what I want in this world and not let opportunities for excitement pass me by, but maybe I’ve come on too strong?
“I’m so sorry,” he shoots back, flipping open the file on his lap. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the trial information yet. The drug, it’s called Ultimate Glucose Solution. It’s a treatment for runaway diabetes. I’ve been working with it for so long, we just use the abbreviation ‘US’ when we’re talking about it.” His eyes are locked on the paperwork in front of him, and I realize he’s sparing me the overwhelming embarrassment that would come from eye contact with him right now.
“I . . . um . . . I.” Stuttering isn’t making this situation any better, but I’ve literally forgotten what language I speak or how to form a sentence.
“You’ve been thinking about me?” he asks, his eyes turning up finally, but his head directed down toward the paperwork in his lap still. It’s impossible for him to hide the pleasure this knowledge is giving him.
An important skill in my field is being articulate. I have a scientific intellect and a strong handle on how to manage a tough situation. With that in mind, I muster up my courage and meet his gaze. “I’m currently reevaluating the state of my personal life. I’m prone to cautiousness and generally make very safe choices and as a result have found myself in a cyclical result pattern. I’m not satisfied with that and have been spending time thinking about what choices I could alter. One example would be getting in that car with you, rather than walking away. So you see I wasn’t exactly thinking about you, more like my decision as it related to you.” I take in a deep breath and raise my chin feeling confident that I’ve saved face.
“What exactly did you think we would do on that car ride?” Harrison smiles slyly at me, and I feel my body responding like someone has just flipped a switch. “It seems as though you thought it would result in some excitement for you?”
“I haven’t drawn that conclusion. That’s an unknown. My point is: I do know what happens when I walk away. So I’ve been weighing the alternative. That’s all.” As hard as I fight to keep my face from flushing it’s futile, and Harrison can see right through my lies.
“That was a very smooth recovery,” he admits, letting me off the hook as he grins and slides the file onto my desk. “That makes the idea of working with you on this clinical trial very promising. You’re quick on your feet. So where is the rest of your team? Who will be overseeing the filing of the paperwork, managing the schedule, and leading the staff?” His change of subject is a relief. I narrowly escape complete mortification. I put a point in his column for being benevolent enough to not exploit my mistake. A lesser man would not have let me off the hook and moved on so quickly.
“I do all that,” I explain, returning to the business at hand. “I assure you I have it all under control.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs looking tentative. “I thought I’d have someone more senior in the company for this project. It has the potential to be incredibly lucrative and could make tremendous steps forward in the medical world. Maybe I should follow up with Mel.”
“I’ve overseen the last fifteen large trials for BioSim. You won’t get a person closer to the process than me or more dedicated to the task at hand.” I don’t really take offense to Harrison’s concerns. I’d be more worried if he didn’t wonder why I didn’t have more people at my disposal. But I am very confident in my abilities, and I’ll make sure he feels the same way.
“So, why don’t you have any staff? Are you one of those micromanagers who thinks she can do everything better than everyone else?” He’s scrutinizing me with those icy blue eyes I’ve been fantasizing about for days.
“No,” I say defensively. “The partners here know I’m capable, and they like to run things thin at times. I’m sure at some point they’ll give me more staff.”
“How long have you been with this company, or in the field for that matter?” This is feeling more like an interview than a business conversation. And, as usual, I’m in a position where I have to prove myself. This is not the position I was hoping to be in with this man. I was thinking of something much more elaborate and sexy. Like tied up or bent over.
“I’ve been with this company for eight years. I have a masters degree in Pharmaceutical Analysis and Procedures and have been involved in over three hundred case studies and test trials. I’m thoroughly experienced.”
