And wouldn’t that go over well.
“Jen,” I murmured, diving back in for another brain-bending sweep of her lips, “baby, we have to stop.”
If you’d told me two months ago that those words would pass my lips not once but twice in a twelve hour span, I’d have asked if you knew who you were talking to.
Now? I had no idea how I was going to make it until the end of our time-slot without having a breakdown. Because seriously, I think a man can die from lust overload.
If the symptoms were rapid, shallow breathing, shaking hands (the last time my hands weren’t steady on a woman’s skin was the very first time my hands were on a woman’s skin), an inability to think, and balls bluer than a smurf, then I had it.
I should kiss her awake every morning. Even if I have to get in my car and drive over to her condo to do it.
This was absolutely the best stint at work that I could ever remember having.
I flipped on my mic as a song wound through the outro, talking over the end. I know people hated that, but this morning, I didn’t care. “That was Queens of the Stone Age playing ‘No One Knows.’” Jen winked at me from the other side of the counter and I almost forgot what I was doing. “We’ll get back to the music here in a bit, but first, I need Jensen”—she covered her microphone and nearly choked on her coffee. Served her right—“to give us the final traffic update. Jen?”
“Thanks, Tack. It’s been a fabulous morning, with no road blocks or delays that we’re aware of here in the KLVR booth. Keep it up, Las Vegas!”
Her smoldering stare had me glad I’d worn my loosest Dockers. I cut right to commercial, not trusting that my voice wouldn’t come out strangled.
I checked to make sure my microphone was off. “Keep it up? Do you have any idea just how long it stays up when I’m here?”
Jen gave me an air-kiss across the counter and laughed. My balls tightened at the sound and I wished it was ten o’clock already.
Then the part about no road blocks sunk in. She was going to be in so much trouble when we got home. I was officially done second-guessing and taking the high road, and hoped she was, too. I intended to leave her exhausted and walking funny.
Near the end of our shift, BK’s assistant popped in to the booth and told Jen that the boss wanted to see her as soon as she could break free.
Jensen, being Jensen, wasn’t the least bit concerned.
I, however, was. Greatly.
I was in forced counseling for sexual misconduct. We’d been flirting like mad all morning—on the air. Good lord, what if the boss had been listening?
Jen was verboten, a co-worker. One who just happened to be beautiful, desirable, and staying at my house.
She was also one more fiery kiss away from being naked underneath me in my bed.
Needing to know, and sensing that what he wanted was anything but good news, I told Jen I could cover the last fifteen minutes on my own and she should go on upstairs.
She came over to my side of the counter and leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek. It killed me, but I held her off and turned my face away.
“What gives?” The hurt in her eyes stabbed me right through the sternum.
“Jen,” I started, flicking my eyes to the (thankfully clear) doorway and back again, “I am one step away from being fired for fraternizing. Even if any affection is mutual, I don’t think it would be accepted here right now.”
She shifted her weight to her heels and crossed her arms. “You’re in trouble for harassment, not dating. There’s nothing in company rules against relationships between employees.”
“That’s not how I remember them. And besides that–”
She shushed me with a finger over my lips. “The rules you made up for yourself do not apply to the entire staff. And besides,” she said, just to mock me, I’m sure, “I read the company handbook just recently, remember? So trust me on this.”
She turned on her heel and flounced out, somehow certain that there were no worries to be had here.
The lead ball in my stomach said differently.
I stuck around for a bit, tidying my useless desk and chatting over nothing with the other jocks who came and went through our bullpit. Jensen was still in the boss’s office. And I knew that for certain. The reason I was hanging out by my desk was that I could see through the sales director’s door and out his window, into the parking lot. Jensen’s SUV was still parked right where she’d left it this morning.
After half an hour, I gave up. She’d be home eventually.
… And she was, breezing through the door not long after I arrived.
I brushed my lips over her forehead (anywhere else and she’d make me forget that I needed answers) and asked her about her meeting with Bill Kalani.