Casey poured herself a glass of water, then dialed Hugh’s number.
“I was wondering who was calling me from the New York office,” he said, studying the caller ID box near his phone. “Hello, Casey Cat. I had given up on you. Almost.”
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Come on over and have a drink with me.” He didn’t expect her to say yes. But it was always better to make the suggestions. Surprises happened.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
He offered her a drink, but she turned it down. She walked around his spacious white apartment, noticing everything. She felt exceptionally alert. The modern Italian furniture, the black-and-white art photographs of clippers with billowing white sails, the tall fireplace in the west wall. She’d expected more clutter, more books, or old carpets. More men’s club. Or at least dishes in the sink. But nothing was out of place. When she commented on how clean it was, he only said, “I have someone who comes in to do those things.”
“How nice for you.”
“You look. . . somber,” he said casually.
“My, you are observant. A friend died. I went to his memorial service today.”
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Come here,” he said, and put his arms around her.
Casey froze and drew her arms closer to her body, but he held her anyway.
Hugh was humored by her visit. It was unexpected, but she was here now, her feet parallel, her back as straight as a post. Her nerves like live wire. Even more so than usual. He was happy to see her. She was young, slightly neurotic—it turned him on. She was frightened to be here. But he wouldn’t hurt her—he wasn’t the hurting kind.
“May I sit down?”
“Yes, by all means.” He laughed at her severe tone. “I feel like I’m in trouble.”
“How are you?”
“Fine, and you?” Hugh sat by her. He would play along.
He wore a blue shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of light-colored slacks, loafers, no socks. He smelled wonderful, citrusy yet dark.
Hugh looked at her square in the face, focusing on her eyes. He removed her jacket, and she didn’t resist. He kissed her collarbone as he unbuttoned her sleeveless white blouse. They didn’t speak anymore, and they did what they had done before. His expertise was a relief to her, the sex enthralling. But she wouldn’t confuse this for love. Seen in the finest light, it was affection; it was comfort—a salve for loneliness. There could be no expectations from Hugh. A woman would get hurt only if she wanted more. Hugh would always disappoint—this would serve as a reliable mantra. He couldn’t help falling short. His emotional stamina was lacking. That was what she had learned from being his friend all this time. When the sex ended, she felt sad again. They didn’t talk much after, but he brought her a glass of ice water. He had a sweetness, so you could not be mad at him.
He asked her to stay the night, but she had to work the next day. It was only Tuesday.
“Offers are announced on Friday,” she said. The worries had returned after all.
“I know something you don’t.” Hugh smiled.
“What?” she asked, thinking his beauty was almost wasted.
“You’re in the top five. Charlie told me. It’s yours to lose.”
“How did you find out?”
“I asked him last week. During the game.”
Casey nodded, not believing fully what she’d heard. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I thought I could get some sex out of this. And look, I did. Ta-dah.”
Casey slapped his arm. The sound of it surprised her. A pink mark flashed on his skin.
“Wow. That was very unkind.” He stroked his arm. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I did not sleep with you today or at any other time to get an offer, asshole.”
“I was kidding. A little sensitive, Ms. Han. I could never have gotten you a permanent offer despite all of your bedroom gifts. Rest assured, you got this because you are a stubborn and hardworking girl. Good for you. Now, don’t hit me again.”
Casey got up from the bed. She picked up her brassiere at the foot of it and put it on.
“Come here, I like angry women.”
Casey went back to the bed and settled down. She should not have hit him. Her violence embarrassed her. His hand entered her immediately, and, aroused by his touch, she turned to him. He pushed down her brassiere cup to put his mouth on her breast. She climaxed quickly, far quicker than she’d thought possible. Hugh placed his hand on her head, guiding her downward toward his hips. “Can you finish me off?” he asked her quietly.