“Will do, boss. She just seemed so perfect for you…” Roz said, a little bewildered.
“Yeah. I know. It’s a mistake. Send her at least ten floors down. I don’t want to run into her.”
“Wow. That offensive?”
“Even more so,” he said, “she’s perfectly competent in some other capacity. Just not for me,” he said decisively, feeling absurdly proud of himself for spurning the temptation and sending it packing.
“I’ll have her reassigned by the end of the week. Is that soon enough?”
“That’ll be fine, Roz. Thanks.”
He hung up, relieved. He knew that Holly would get the call that she was being moved. He wondered how she’d react but it didn’t really matter. Her feelings were none of his concern. Brandon tried to call Marj but kept reaching her voice mail. She never checked her voice mail. He sighed, and broke out one of the lemon waters in celebration of his victory over the weakness of the flesh.
“Mr. Cates? Sorry to bother you. The final documents just arrived. I brought them in as soon as I signed for them. I knew you’d want…”
Holly closed the door behind her and Brandon wanted to kick over the trashcan and scream for her to get out. GO! He thought. GO FAR AWAY! He could be a professional, he told himself. Only a few more days. Nothing to worry about. The die was cast.
She leaned over his desk to give him the documents. Couldn’t she just slide them under his door? Toss them from across the room? She smelled good. She smelled like whatever that perfume was that his college girlfriend wore…he’d bought it for her a couple of times…Eternity. It went straight to his head, careening him through memories of backseats and narrow dorm room beds. He was sweating now. Damn sense memory. He pushed his chair back and darted over to open a window, breathing in fresh air.
“Thanks. That will be all,” he said tightly.
“Are you sure I can’t help you with anything? You seem so tense. I know I said that earlier but I can just sense it, the waves of tension rolling off of you. Here. Let me rub your shoulders. I did a course in acupressure and I can…”
Holly crossed the room, stood behind him at the window and set her hands on his shoulders. He shrugged away from her and shook his head.
“Just go,” he said shortly.
“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to anger you. It wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to…I feel like I understand you, Brandon. Can I call you Brandon? I felt, since that day we talked about running, I felt like there’s a connection and maybe I could help you. I know that sounds strange. It’s just—”
“Holly. Go back to your desk,” he said.
She bit her lip. She stood there, looking perfect, biting her lip in embarrassment over her concern for him and he felt like a complete jackass for rejecting her offer of friendship, her genuine worry for him.
“Listen, I—I’m under a lot of pressure now. You’re right about that. The best way you can help me is by taking care of things out in the front office, so I can concentrate. Okay?” he said. When had he EVER ended a sentence with that infuriating upspeak, that question instead of making a declarative statement? Since when did he care about his secretary’s feelings? This blonde was fucking kryptonite. If he drank alcohol, he’d be half a bottle down right now.
She smiled at him.
“I’m glad you’re not mad at me. If I overstepped, I’m sorry,” she said, he lovely face open and warm, still somehow hopeful.
Holly lingered in the doorway for what seemed like forever before she returned to her desk. He considered deadbolting his office door and swearing it was for the sake of confidentiality when in fact it would be to preserve his last shred of sanity. It was like Holly had been designed meticulously to bring him to his knees. Again, Marj’s phone went straight to voice mail. It was probably just as well since he couldn’t very well beg her to come save him from his assistant. He’d sound deranged. He felt deranged, though. He didn’t want Holly. He just wanted her to go away as in, Get behind me, Satan.
Brandon couldn’t get through a single email without his eyes flicking, paranoia style, to the door. She was out there, just on the other side, and he had no business thinking about it. He dreaded walking past her, having to make small talk or ask about her weekend. When his phone lit with a call from Marj, he grabbed it like a lifeline.
“Hey, Cates. Why all the missed calls? Are you trapped under something heavy?”
“No, I just wondered what you were doing. How your day’s going,” he said lamely.
“Missed me that bad? Maybe come home before midnight. We can have dinner together,” she suggested.