“You don’t get along with your father?”
“I don’t really think about it. Way less than he does, that’s for sure. He’s always trying to—”
She waited expectantly, though he couldn’t remember why the hell he was even talking about this. Something about her attentive expression, her wide eyes.
“—bond with me,” he finished. “It gets to be a bit much.” Especially given his dad’s top dog mentality. Sometimes he wished one of his dad’s girlfriends would lie about the pill or something and give him another son to take his mind off his firstborn. But his father didn’t allow mistakes like that. He’d probably gotten a vasectomy as soon as he saw how his first two kids disappointed him.
“You got any sisters and brothers?” For some reason he wanted to keep the conversation going, put off leaving by asking questions he already knew the answers to.
“No. Just Jen. She’s like a sister, I guess you could say. A good, good friend.”
He nodded.
“Anyway, isn’t being a consultant a real job?”
“What?”
“You said your dad—”
“Oh, right. He doesn’t think it’s a job for a man.” For all Jon knew, that might be true. He’d never asked. “No job is, unless it involves sixty thousand people working for you. A pyramid, you know, with the alpha boss man, you, at the very pinnacle.”
“That’s ridiculous. And sixty thousand, eh? Your dad must be somebody I’ve heard of.”
Jon froze. He had been giving too much information. She was really easy to talk to and not what he had been expecting.
“I said he thinks I should have that kind of job. Not that he does,” he lied. “Parents trying to live through their children is a very common phenomenon… and leads to a lot of disappointed parents.”
“I suppose. I wouldn’t know. My mom was too busy living through herself, I guess. Sometimes too much of that’s not a good idea, either. You have to remember there is a kid around at least.”
The elevator in the hallway dinged and Jennifer rushed out. “Hi, people!” she called out as she came into the office suite in a short gold dress, a stark contrast to the staid suit she’d had on earlier. “I have good news and we’re celebrating!”
“Why? What happened?”
“I got a promotion from level three to level three-point-five! Isn’t that great?”
“I can never get these level things straight,” Liv admitted, with a glance his way, as if he might know. “What does that mean? More money? Better office? What?”
“No. No. And a chance to move up to level 4 in record time.” Her friend turned to him. “You have to come with us, Jon. We’ll celebrate your first day, too. My treat.”
Sealy didn’t seem to him as if she would be right for the Human Resources Department of a big corporation, but he could certainly get behind the sudden opportunity to sneak back here and have the office to himself for a sustained time, without the distracting knowledge Liv could walk in on him at any minute—not that she did much.
“Thanks for the invite, Miss Sealy—”
“Jen! I told you that.”
“But I’m sure I’d just be in the way.”
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.” Jen reached into her bag and took out something red and silky, which she threw at her friend. “Go put this on.”
Liv held it up. “If this is yours, you know it’ll be at least one or two sizes too small. I’ll have to pour myself into it.”
Now that he would wait around to see. He sat at his desk again as if he’d forgotten something, grabbing a pen.
“Go on, Livvie. I’m not taking no for an answer. You need a night out and I need to celebrate.” She shooed her back into her office to change.
Jon was thankful Dickhead’s software camera had been removed.
Jen perched on his desk, twirling one long, jet-black curl around her finger and batting her exotically outlined brown eyes at him—punctuating it with a flirtatious comment here and there—until Liv came back out. The shiny red slip of fabric had really been sort of that. A slip. Bright red, with silky straps and a bodice he knew for a fact her bra wouldn’t fit under. Her generous breasts were snug within the tight fit of the dress, affording a mouth-watering view of creamy cleavage. She was all curves and long legs.
He swallowed hard as Jen elbowed him and said in a stage whisper, “I know. She’s like Clark Kent changing into Superman, right?”
“Right,” he said blandly, standing up.
Liv seemed even taller than she had been all day, only an inch or two shorter than him, and he glanced down to see black, strappy stilettos, high and pointy. She must have had those in her closet.