Winning Appeal(3)

“Who cares?”

“Obviously, he does, and like you said, we work together. It could get awkward if we suddenly started sleeping together too,” I noted with a light-hearted tone, even though it had been weighing on my mind.

“Beth, you and Mark are among the only people in this office not sleeping together, and I think there’s more there than just physical attraction. You two seem different with each other than with other people.”

“Yeah, I’m different with him all right. I’ve never had coordination problems, or episodes of unbearable awkwardness before, but around him, I’m a nervous, lusty, filthy-minded, mess,” I joked.

“Speaking of lusty, filthy-minded messes, how was the gala Saturday night?”

“Well, I made some good contacts. I met the Director of the Disability Law Center. She was very nice. We might be able do some joint projects with them. I also got a chance to talk to the lead attorney at the Philadelphia chapter of the ACLU.”

“No creepers?”

“I didn’t say that. I ran into a local businessman who seemed to have forgotten about his wife, and a guy from the city government who seemed to have forgotten that he was an asshole. He copped a feel and tried to pretend it was an accident.”

“Ew.”

“Tell me about it.” I glanced at my watch. “Oh, I promised Bruce I would help him set up his computer.”

“Well, God forbid you keep The Diva waiting. See you later.”



11:00 AM

“That black wire doesn’t seem to fit anywhere,” Bruce said. We were both on our hands and knees, side-by-side, under a desk trying to assemble a computer that was probably more advanced technology-wise than NORAD.

“According to the diagram, it’s supposed to plug in the back of the CPU, under the hole for the printer cable, but I can’t get it in,” I told him, trying in vain to insert part J into part K. I pushed harder, and felt my hands becoming slick with sweat.

“I have to run to the little law librarian’s room. I’ll help you in a second,” he said crawling out and then getting up and leaving. I stuck a couple of more cooperative pieces together, and then went back to tackle the black wire again. I was focusing on it intently when my mind vaguely registered the sound of the door opening.

“I think if you put it in from behind it will fit,” I said, assuming that Bruce had returned from using the facilities.

“I’m sure we could make it fit lots of ways,” Mark said. “But from behind works for me.” Because we were all friends outside of work, this office was more casual than most, and he rarely passed up an opportunity to tease. My stomach flipped over and I sat up quickly, too quickly; I slammed my head on the desk. “Are you okay?” he asked, wincing, and then coming over and dropping down on the floor himself. Oh God. We were on the floor together again. Steady, Beth. Don’t injure the man.

“I’m fine. Can you help me plug this wire in? The diagram makes it look easy, but I must be doing something wrong, because it doesn’t seem to fit in the hole.” I showed him the wire and where it was supposed to go. He crawled under the desk next to me, took the wire, and did his best to get it. Apparently, it wasn’t just me.

“Let me see that,” he said taking the diagram and furrowing his brows with concentration. In this confined space, I was surrounded by the scent of Armani Code and guy soap and guy. I had never realized how powerfully erotic the sense of smell could be. But then, he could probably smell like a plastic shower curtain and it would turn me on.

“Everything else seems to fit,” I said, giving myself a mental shake, and trying to focus on the damned wire.

“You connected part H, right?” he asked glancing up from the diagram, and pausing. His eyes widened slightly, and I think his pupils must have dilated, because they seemed to get darker within seconds. It was mesmerizing, like storm clouds gathering.

“Yes,” I answered thickly. His gaze dropped to my lips and I noticed the pulse point in his neck begin to throb. I had never noticed anything so subtle before. It was like I was hyper-aware of and attuned to his every reaction. He swallowed and looked away quickly.

“Here, hold the wire up this way while I try to get it in the port,” he instructed, handing it over to me. I grabbed on like he showed me and tried to help. After another minute of struggling I got impatient. This was ridiculous. It couldn’t be this difficult.

“Push harder,” I told him, with a note of nervous tension in my voice.

“If I push harder I might damage it,” he answered, sounding as tense as I did.

“If you don’t push hard, you’ll never get it in the hole. I think it’s just a really tight fit.” Even I noticed how husky I sounded. In my agitated state, I tugged on the wire.