“This suit, do you think I can pull it off?”
Utterly confused, I take in the simple black suit with a matching black button-up and can’t see how it’s different from anything else he’s worn. But given that he wants my opinion, I take some extra time to observe the way his pants cling tightly to his thighs, showing off his strong legs. I’ve been between those legs. I’ve seen them flex while I have his penis in my mouth.
Immediately, my cheeks flush from the thought, so I divert my eyes to his chest, to the lapel, and I consider the many times I’ve pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, and how that one time, I wore nothing but his suit jacket.
More of a flush.
Okay, I think that’s enough.
When my eyes meet his again, a satisfied smile plays on his lips.
“Uh, the suit looks good.” I swallow. “You can pull it off. Do you, uh, do you have some sort of meeting or”—gulp—“a date?”
“Nah.” He pushes off the doorjamb. “Just wanted to see your eyes eat me up again.” He winks and then takes off without another word.
Wait . . . what?
That was it?
That’s all he wanted?
That . . . that’s something the old JP would’ve done, the one who used to tell me men and women who work together can’t be friends.
Why would he do that?
Consider me now more confused than ever.
“Miss Gardner, please stay back so I can talk to you,” JP says, sitting at the head of the conference table, hands steepled together.
The rest of the construction team makes their way out of the conference room, and when the door shuts, he leans forward and asks, “Care to explain?” He lifts a knowing brow at me.
“Uh . . .” I look around. “Care to explain what?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I answer, clutching my notepad to my chest.
“It was thirty-three times.”
What?
I’m not sure I can handle this right now. When I came in this morning, I wasn’t prepared for another meeting with JP. In hindsight, what I really wasn’t prepared for was to be so distracted by the smell of his cologne. I even forgot what we were talking about a few times. I swear, it was as if he sprayed my chair, and my chair alone, because it consumed me.
“What was thirty-three times?” I ask him.
“The number of times I caught you checking me out.” He rises from his chair and buttons his suit jacket. “Now, I’m letting you off the hook this time, but next time you want to spend an hour-long meeting checking me out, please schedule something on your own time.”
Is he kidding me right now? I did not look at him that many times.
“I did not look at you that much.”
He’s at my side now, that cockiness front and center. “As a matter of fact, you did.”
I did not. Growing irritated, I say, “Well . . . if I did, that means you were looking at me thirty-three times.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Gardner. I didn’t look at you thirty-three times, I looked at you far more times, fifty-four to be exact, almost every minute.” He wets his lips.
“Okay, well . . . then, why don’t you, uh, make an appointment to stare next time?” I say in a shaky, not very confident voice.
“Maybe I will. Have a good day.”
He retreats back to his office, his head buried in his phone. By the time I reach my office, there’s a calendar request in my inbox. When I open it up, it’s from JP.
INVITE: Staring meeting with JP CANE. 10:00am-11:00am.
Bring nothing.
Wear nothing.
My cheeks heat up once again as the smallest of smiles pulls at the corner of my lips. I reply to the request with one click on the decline button.
TO: Kelsey Gardner FROM: JP Cane
SUBJECT: Declined Invite Request
Dear Miss Gardner,
I see that you’ve declined my invite to stare at each other for an hour for the fourth time. I can’t possibly see how your schedule is so tight that you can’t accept my request. May I ask why you continue to reject this invitation that was born through your very own staring? Please respond in a timely manner.
Thank you,
JP Cane
Smiling like an absolute fool, I consider deleting the email, but then . . . I wonder how fun it might be to actually respond back. The last few days have been unexpected. Somehow, JP has created this feeling of what it used to be like between us, and I’ve had one stark and very large realization—I’ve missed this. Us. And even though I feel awkward . . . weird, I don’t think I can ignore him. So, I write him back.