He didn’t know what the retro referred to, but he supposed the whole practice hadn’t been as frowned upon in the past as it apparently was now. Again, a pity. But as to the wrong, well, she had been abundantly clear on that score.
And he had stopped thinking about it. Absolutely. Almost.
“We’re not in some episode of Mad Men, are we?” she demanded.
“I don’t think so.”
“Although I would sleep with that Don Draper, I don’t care who he was. Any girl would. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”
He didn’t know who Don Draper was, but he was jealous.
“And that’s not a mixed message, by the way. It’s nuanced.”
The word came out slightly slurred, but in a cute way.
“I mean, we’re allowed to fantasize, right?”
She took the words right out of his mouth, although he had caught on by now that he wasn’t supposed to say them. He was fantasizing about her right at this very second. How the glossy pearls she was playing with would look against her bare cleavage with no blouse impeding the full effect.
When she took her suit jacket off suddenly and tossed it onto the seat next to her, he got an even better view of those breasts.
“Thirty-four D,” she volunteered wryly at his undoubtedly focused stare. The piece of information went straight to his crotch.
He was pretty sure her disclosure of bra size was squarely in the list of things they weren’t supposed to talk about—sexual body part measurements—but he certainly didn’t mind the internal inconsistency in her line of thinking now. And no way was he going to point it out to her.
“If this was my fantasy,” she said off-handedly, “do you know what I’d do?”
“No.”
She set the empty glass on the seat next to her, nestling it in her suit jacket.
“I’d climb on your lap and kiss you.”
Chapter Three
He said nothing and she scoffed.
“And if you were a normal guy, you would’ve responded to me saying that by you saying ‘go ahead.’ Egging me on kind of. Get it?”
“No. But go ahead. I like this role-playing a lot more than the kind we were doing in the limo.”
Her tight smile only opened up after a second or so, as if she was trying to stifle it and wasn’t able to.
“You are pretty cute. But if this is some kind of lame move you use with women, I’m going to be really mad. Like Tony Curtis in Some Like it Hot, where he puts on that Cary Grant accent and pretends he can’t get it up so Marilyn Monroe will fall all over him trying to ‘cure’ him.”
“I never said I couldn’t get it up.”
She leaned over the aisle with a wicked smile and placed her hand on his knee, causing him to suck in his breath trying to hold off a groan. “I’d say you’re proving that right now.”
He glanced down to his trousers where his cock was standing to attention, following the conversation avidly. “Is it possible to get back to talking about you climbing onto my lap?”
“Possible. Not probable. I’d need a few more scotches for that.”
He frowned.
“What?” she demanded, taking her hand off his knee. “Don’t tell me you’re going to quibble about that! Listen, your best bet is for me to get so plastered I don’t even remember who you are. Then maybe you’ll score.”
That scenario didn’t appeal to him.
“What is that look for? You’re okay with pressuring an employee into sex, but not with getting her drunk to do it? How does that make sense?”
“I wasn’t pressuring you. I only asked.”
“Which since you’re my boss constitutes undue pressure under the law.”
“Well, I didn’t know that. Now I do.”
“But drunk girls give you pause. Why is that?”
“Alcohol not only kills brain cells, it can impair judgment.”
“Why don’t you look into heavy debt loads impairing judgment, too? That’s why I’m still a lawyer.”
“How long have you been a lawyer?”
“Five years. Which is four years and three hundred and sixty-four days too long.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t mind being sworn into the bar and taken out to lunch on my first day of practicing, but it’s all been downhill since then.”
He laughed, which surprised him. He didn’t do too much of that usually, too intent on keeping his eye on his career, on building his company, and too little time for much else.
“And for the record,” she added, “I haven’t been laid in almost that whole time if you can believe it. Or at least the last two-thirds.”
“Why not?”