He grinned. "Why not?"
I grinned back-I couldn't help it. Rick had the sweetest smile I'd ever seen. It was contagious.
"How was dinner on Friday?" I asked, stepping down from the stool I was using. It hit me just then what was missing from his desk. It was absent of the gaudy, silver frame.
He shrugged. "It was … lacklustre."
I knitted my eyebrows together. "You didn't like the food?" The food at Macah's had been described as heaven on a plate, so his response surprised me.
"The food was amazing. The company was lacklustre."
"That's not a nice way to talk about your girlfriend, Rick," I replied, turning away, so he wouldn't see the smirk I had plastered on my face.
"She's not my girlfriend anymore, and are you seriously smiling right now?"
Although he'd asked the question playfully, it took me off-guard and my shoulders stiffened. He must have seen the peripheral of my face when I turned. "I'm not smiling." My voice even sounded jovial, like I was perma-grinned-and I was. Crap!
"That's not nice, Marley. What if I told you I was in a great deal of pain from the break up, and I'd had hopes our relationship would develop into a strong union ?"
I put my head down, keeping my hands busy by sorting a new pile of catalogues. "I would say I'm very sorry then."
He chuckled. "Just kidding! I realised she was insipid, vicious and vain. I'm happy it's over. Now what do you say?"
I turned to him, toning down my smile so I didn't look like a scary clown. "I would say I'm glad you realised that because I think you deserve better."
He straightened in his chair, moving forward. "Is that so, Marley?" He rested his chin on his steepled fingers as his wicked eyes grazed over me. The corners of his mouth curled, revealing the dimple that I had sorely missed.
It occurred to me how my statement must have sounded to him. I shook my head. "I didn't mean me, Rick."
His smile didn't deflate. "I know that. A relationship between us would be very difficult."
I swallowed, knowing I'd have to satisfy the aching curiosity his statement created. I asked the most obvious question, but I didn't think it was the right one. "Because you're my boss?"
His smile didn't falter, but his gaze intensified. Although I was several feet away, I felt like he was right next to me. "No, Marley, not because of that. A relationship between us would be … controlling, consuming, complicated."
"You don't know me very well then," I replied haughtily. His words made me wonder whether he thought I was weak or insecure, like Amanda.
"I wasn't talking about you," he responded, turning his attention back to his computer monitor.
I took a step back, absorbing the weight of his words. "Well I guess that's better than the other C-word I hate so much."
He looked up again, studying me. He finally tilted his head. "The four letter one every woman hates?"
I shook my head. "Cunt?" The shocked expression on his face made me giggle. "That's an awful word, but not the one I was thinking of."
"Which word, Marley?"
I shifted my gaze. "It's not important." He nodded and we returned to our work.
I put away the last of the catalogues. Before I left, I turned around and stared at him for a minute. He was working quietly, but I knew he was aware of my presence. "The word I was thinking of was ‘commitment'."
He sighed and looked up at me. "I figured that out a while ago, but thanks for the clarification." His voice was tight, and there was no warmth in his words. He was angry … with me.
That night I worked late. He played The Guess Who's American Woman. I wondered if it was for me. I loved this song, but right now, the lyrics sounded cruel.
I turned off my monitor and grabbed my purse. I didn't say goodnight to him. I didn't want him to walk me out tonight.
* * * *
The next morning, I set his coffee mug down and turned to walk away. He grabbed my arm to stop me. His green eyes were smouldering. "What is your issue? I told you I have to walk you out when you work late. That's the rule, remember? Or can you not follow rules?"
"I don't need you to walk me out. Besides you seemed busy with your work and The Guess Who," I replied indignantly, although it didn't make much sense.
His irritated gaze didn't falter. "It's my hard-and-fast rule, Marley. While you're with me, I'm going to make sure you're safe. Do you understand?" He tightened his grip on my arm, and I knew he wouldn't let go until I answered.
"Yes," I answered through clenched teeth.
I began to walk away. His voice wrapped around me like a physical presence, blocking my path. "What do you have against The Guess Who? They're a great band."
My back was to him so he couldn't see the melancholy expression on my face, but I was sure he heard it in my voice. "I like them. I didn't like the song you played last night."
"Why don't you like that song, Marley?"
"Never mind," I snapped.
I almost made it to the door when he uttered the next statement. "It was a bad choice. I'm sorry."
"Play whatever you want," I said quietly.
"Marley, let's pretend the elevator never happened, okay? Or the incident at RJ's. I can pretend if you can. I think we need to." He wants me to forget the elevator escapade and the cell phone calamity? We would need to add the airport debacle, the Zesty bar controversy, the girlfriend grenade, the skirt scandal, oh and Santana too. It was such a long list.
"Why, Rick?"
"It will make things easier for me … maybe for you too. We could just start over. I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable."
I swallowed. He was right. It seemed like every instance created more difficulties for us. At one time, we'd had a good working relationship with occasional friendly banter. Now, each moment, contained tense awkward interactions full of hidden lust and longing … on both our parts.
"Deal," I said, turning around and facing him. He nodded and smiled. It reached his eyes, and I mimicked the response.
"Please, don't ever leave like that again without letting me walk you down, okay?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
* * * *
Rick and I managed to crack a few PG-rated jokes in the following days, but the tension remained at least PG-13. I worked late a few nights, and he walked me down to my car every time, thanking me for my hard work and telling me to drive carefully as he always did.
The beginning of the next week marked a full month we'd been working together. It was a full month of intimate exchanges, infuriating interactions and lusty stares. It was insane to feel so strongly, considering all he'd ever done was touch my wrist and offer me a few protein bars. I was beginning to think all the episodes of General Hospital Stevie forced me to watch were having an adverse effect.
On Wednesday when I brought his coffee, he asked me to pull up a chair. "I want to show you something." He didn't look at me when addressing me. This was our new normal-comfortable, but mundane. I wanted to go back to abnormal. I knew it was wrong, but I longed for the times when he'd make a salacious comment or grin wickedly at me. Sometimes when you get what you wish for, it's not what you want at all.
I pulled a roller chair next to his so we could both look at the computer screen. He brought up a website and started scrolling through it. It portrayed a cartoonish girl reiterating the benefits of auto insurance. "Rick, I already have car insurance."
He laughed. "That's not why I'm showing you this. I wanted to give you an example of the new website layout. We're completely revamping it"-it was a good idea, considering our website was archaic-"we're going to have a personal shopper on it. An avatar of sorts. I've decided you're going to be our avatar."
I stared at him, wondering if I'd heard correctly. "Why me?" Surely Kathy was prettier than I was.
"You have the right look for our product. You're … spunky."
Spunky? Did he just call me spunky? Spunky was someone's sixty-eight-year-old grandmother who swore occasionally. I would rather he'd called me sexy … or even sassy would have been better.
"Why don't you hire a professional model?"
He didn't look up from the screen, but a smile curled on his sensual lips. "Why should I hire a model when I have you?"
"Because you think I'm as beautiful as a model?" Crap! Did I just say that? It was so obvious I was fishing for a compliment. Still, I just wanted to hear him say something sweet to me. Anything!
"Because you're free," he replied without turning. I slumped in my chair, feeling a little rejected. He must have sensed it because he shifted his gaze to me. "Come on, Marley, you're not one of those girls who needs to be told they're beautiful all the time to feel validated, are you?"
I shook my head. "No, but it's nice to hear once in a while."
He leaned across his desk, penetrating me with his glassy eyes. "Why state the obvious?"