Out of Her Comfort Zone(4)

“Am not.” How dare he? Now she did want to do it. But just the once. “What do I get in exchange?”

“A night of games?”

“That’s a given, right? No, you have to give up something.” Of course. “The party. This is the last party.”

As he sat back in his chair pretending to ruminate, Emily remembered they weren’t at home. The NoMa hipster clientele, and the café’s brick and lofty beams and world-music vibe, did do more to make it feel like a business transaction than it would have in their own kitchen. But it was her body they were transacting about. Her reputation.

He shifted in the seat, strong forearms crossing against his pressed Oxford shirt. “What if I don’t give up the party?”

“What if I don’t join in your party?”

“Deal-breaker.” He sounded serious, final.

“You’re kidding.”

“If you won’t help me with my dreams, why should I marry you?”

“That’s low.”

“I’d like to go lower on you right now.” He leaned forward, brushing his thumb across the inner flesh of her wrist. Her coffee almost spilled, again. She picked up the cup and sat back, away from him. She sipped slowly, trying to buy time.

“I do help you with your dreams,” she muttered, then a new thought rose to the surface. Her gaze flashed to his. “This is how you dump women, isn’t it?”

He jerked back and shook his head like a dog who’d just had ice water poured over him. “What?”

“Sure. You propose, and then set some condition you know the woman won’t agree to. She says no, and you’re free of her.”

“Is that what you think?” He could see that it was, and his jaw dropped. “Em, I have never – never – proposed before. I have never – never – set this condition before.”

“And if I say no?”

“Why should you say no? It’s just a step up from the play we do now. It’s just the once, and it’s safe.”

“It is not safe.”

“It’s safe as houses. It is my own house, for Christ’s sake. Our house.”

“Why do you want this so much?”

He sighed, drawing a finger across where his mustache used to be. He got rid of it for her; that was a forever thing. What he wanted from her now was one-time only. She was starting to cave. She drew her brows down to look like she wasn’t.

“You’re so beautiful, even when you’re mad. Don’t scoff, it’s true. But…”

“But?”

“But it’s not the first thing people notice about you, or even the second. Sack dresses may be all the rage, but they don’t do a thing for you.”

Emily looked down and couldn’t help smoothing her midi-length corduroy skirt. It was hard enough to keep geeks focused on clean lines and getting the coding right, why distract them by wearing a miniskirt?

“People respect your mind, Em, and they fall for your voice. But I want them to see what a hot chick you are. I want you to know, to feel, how desirable you are, and to see how I desire you.”

“I know that already.” She heard the tentative edge in her voice.

Elliot heard it and tilted his head, spilling a half-smile out. “Be the object of everyone’s admiration. Let ’em ogle you.” He shrugged. “You won’t always have that bodacious bod. Show it off, just this once.”

She had to admit, she was tempted. She knew she was passable, having heard enough cat-calls and whistles in her time. She had consciously chosen to play it down. But, again, she had always wondered. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad? Might be damned good.

“Now you’re piling on,” she said, trying to put scorn in her voice and failing miserably.

Elliot grinned. “You’ll do it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

****

Emily was used to heads not turning as she opened the door to her company’s second-floor office. After all, most folks who worked here were coders and testers, eyes glued to their screens and ears filled with ear-buds delivering sound straight to their cortexes. She could see the tops of heads over the four-foot movable mauve walls, grungy from the office’s last tenants. A former newsroom, this seemed the perfect place to perfect an app that blocked all unwanted communication.

Still, something was different this morning. Or maybe she just saw things a little differently. After their coffee shop snack the afternoon before, Elliot had left for a confab in San Mateo and Emily had come to work. She hadn’t thought to get much done, what with The Proposition buzzing about inside her head, but staring deeply into a screen of code mesmerized her into productivity. She hadn’t come up for air – or rather, a bathroom break – until two in the morning. It was already nine-thirty now, full sun here and well into the afternoon over on the East Coast.