And Dave’s threats were not subtle. Tom understood the nuance as well as I did. He had figured out that my relationship with Robert was more than platonic long before he arrived for dinner. But that doesn’t mean I want to discuss it with him. It doesn’t mean that I want to be faced with the shame of his knowing . . . and judging me. Was he like Dave? Did he, too, think I was a whore?
“The plates,” Dave says.
I turn and walk into the kitchen. The reverberations of my pounding heart are so powerful it makes my whole body shake. How could I have done this to my life? And for what? Sex with a stranger? An illicit affair? Had I actually thought it was worth the risk?
Had it been? The memories flicker in front of my eyes in rapid succession: flirting over scotch, energetically talking business at a restaurant, playfully hitting him with a pillow while he laughs, being in his bed, his weight on top of me, his hands on my hips, gently lifting them so he can plunge deeper into me, his hand slipping to my clit; he toys with me as he continues to move inside me. I can’t catch my breath . . . I don’t want to. . . .
What am I doing?
I have a crisis on my hands. My fiancé is treating me like a tramp in front of my boss and I’m fantasizing about my lover?
No, my devil answers, you’re just remembering why it was worth it.
I try to shake the thoughts out of my head and split the stir-fry into three portions.
Robert’s hands are on my breasts, gently pinching my nipples
I pull out three wineglasses.
I feel Robert’s kisses forging a path across my shoulders.
I hear the low murmur of male voices coming from the dining room as I carefully select the utensils. My nipples are hard and pressing against the fabric of this hateful dress.
I take a deep breath and center myself. I’ll take my time in here. Let the fantasy run its course, let it fortify me. When I make love to Robert I always begin by feeling vulnerable and end by feeling strong. I need to reach that point of strength tonight.
“Kasie.”
I turn swiftly, surprised by the sound of Tom’s voice so close. His eyes immediately go to my chest and I cross my arms over my breasts in hopes of hiding the evidence of my train of thought. But the action only pulls the dress higher, and I quickly lower them, hoping he didn’t notice that I exposed everything in a moment.
He turns his head away, his eyes on the floor.
“Where’s Dave?” I ask.
“I just got a new Porsche, told him he should go and take a look at it.”
“You didn’t go out with him?
“No. I locked him out.”
The admission shakes me out of my embarrassment and into something that resembles shock and awe . . . and admiration. “You locked him out of his own house?”
“I did.” He’s still looking at the floor but I can see the smile.
Maybe I like Tom after all.
Unless . . . I look down at my silhouette, feeling self-conscious once again.
“Why did you lock him out?” I ask. “If you think something’s going to happen between you and me—”
“What, are you telling me that I can’t have sex with you in your fiancé’s house while he’s locked out on the front porch banging on the door?”
I don’t want to show my amusement, but it’s hard to hide it.
“Look, sex with you under those circumstances, under any circumstances, would be awesome, but it’s not going to happen. I know you don’t want me here,” he says.
I swallow but don’t answer.
He shifts, suddenly gangly and awkward. “I also can’t sleep with you because you’re engaged to my boss’s godson. I don’t think he’s going to squeal on me for locking him out; he’s gotta have some level of pride, but sleeping with his fiancé while she’s cooking him dinner? Yeah, that might get him to make a phone call.”
“You’re smarter than me,” I say quietly. “I’ve done some things that I . . . I didn’t think through. Things that could get me fired.”
Tom lifts his eyes to mine. “I know what you’ve done . . . not the details, but I know . . . and I don’t care.” He lets that sink in, then breaks into a silky smooth laugh. “Actually I do care. I’m glad you fucked Robert Dade. If I had thought fucking him would get us the Maned Wolf account, I’d have fucked him, too. I’d have to have a lot to drink first but . . .”
A giggle bubbles up in my throat. Everything about this moment is preposterous.
Yet Tom’s smile fades as he presses forward. “Thing is, Kasie, if I had known that your fucking him was going to get us the account, I would have encouraged you to do it, and if you had let me in on what was going on, I would have helped you hide it from Dave.”