Better Than Chance (16 page)

“I’m fine. Where are these going? Let me help you, then I’ll sprint back here for my call.”

Rebecca smiled gratefully up at me and handed over a few more binders for me to carry before she headed down the hallway toward the small conference room next to Peter Morgan’s corner office. I heard his deep baritone voice before I saw him. My heart was suddenly beating double-time, and my hands felt clammy. I was wired and nervous about talking to him and obviously just being in his presence set me off. I had it bad.

I made an effort to pull myself together before Rebecca caught on to my sudden bout of the vapors. I set my shoulders back, wiped my damp hands on my trousers, and turned to head out for my phone call when I saw them. Peter had his arms around a woman. A beautiful, tiny raven-haired woman stylishly attired in a form-fitting fuchsia linen dress and Jimmy Choo heels. I watched as he pulled her away from his chest, holding her by her delicate arms, his dark eyes twinkling at something she was saying. She leaned into him and held him tightly around his waist for a moment before pulling him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. Picking up a Louis Vuitton bag sitting on his desk, she tossed a small wave back at him and waltzed out of his office.

And there I stood. I couldn’t make my legs move. I just stood there like a fucking idiot with my mouth open and palms sweaty. I thought I heard Rebecca thanking me, but it was background static. I couldn’t make out any real words.

Peter must have felt my stare. He turned back toward his desk and spotted me standing just inside the conference room. He smiled at me. Dangerous and seductive. Not friendly or even remotely appropriate for the workplace. To say I was confused would be a gross understatement. I understood nothing about this man. I hated that there was a part of me that couldn’t let it go either. I was drawn to him, I desired him, but I knew he was no good for me. And who the hell was that woman?

I swallowed hard and walked away. Back toward my office, back to my conference call, back to my job… the reason I was here in the first place. I didn’t look back at Peter, but I heard him call my name. He was probably wondering what my problem was. He most likely didn’t comprehend that I didn’t know the rules very well. A one-night stand was just that.

Somehow I made it through my call and a good portion of my workload for the day. Rebecca called out a good-bye and reminded me of the time.
She must think I’m hopeless
, I mused.
Saddled with a totally incompetent boss who can’t make a decent cup of coffee to save his life and never knows where he’s supposed to be or what time it is
. I swiped a hand over my face in exasperation. I needed to shake my crappy mood and go home.

I started at the sound of a rapid knock on my open door. Peter leaned on the doorframe, easily elegant in his impeccably tailored suit. Even after a full day on the job, the man looked fresh and completely edible. His five o’clock shadow only enhanced his innate sexiness. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face. No doubt it looked as fake as it felt, but I was powerless to change it.

“Hey. You ran away before I could talk to you. I had a meeting, though, and your secretary said you had a conference call.” He stepped into the room, and that breathless feeling was back. Damn. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“You okay?” Peter moved even closer, perching his large frame on the edge of my desk. I nodded briskly and tried to think of a decent line of conversation with the man I’d had insane sex with just one week ago. Everything I could think of sounded… off, weird. Like me.

“Hey. What is it, baby?”

“
Baby
? Peter, you can’t call me that.” My voice sounded weak. I wondered if he heard me.

I glanced up at him in a moment of bravery. He was studying me carefully, probably trying to figure out what my problem was.

“Okay. Tell me what’s wrong. Please.” His tone was kind, and I felt my defenses begin a slow crumble.

“I… look, I can’t….”

Peter stood quickly and closed my office door. When he turned back to me, his expression held that same intensity he used when we were naked and writhing together in ecstasy. I gulped audibly. That deer-in-headlights feeling was back.

“Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Seriously? Here? At work? Never mind, that’s what we do. Work together. What was I thinking?” I stood and began a very unsatisfying pace in the tiny area behind my desk. I was too agitated to sit still, and Peter’s presence seemed to take up every spare inch of the rest of the room.

“Jay. Slow down and speak clearly. Your head is moving faster than your mouth. I’m two steps behind. At least.”

We stared at each other in silence across my desk before Peter inclined his head toward me, wordlessly encouraging me to get on with it. I took a deep breath. My chest felt tight and my palms were sweaty again. Fuck.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but… look, I….” I swallowed and started again. “Peter, I’m going to be honest. I lied. I thought one night was all either of us needed, but I can’t stop thinking about….”

“I know. Me too.”

I looked over at him, surprised at his candor. He offered a weak smile.

“Oh. I hadn’t heard from you all week, so I figured maybe you weren’t interested in anything more, but….”

“I was traveling.”

“I know. Um, here’s the thing.” I licked my lips, unsure about how to continue. “You confuse me. I’m…. I saw you with that woman in your office and….”

“Kelly?” He smiled warmly at the mention of the Jimmy Choo girl. I felt a fresh wave of jealousy wash over my skin.

“So what is your deal? We had sex. Amazing sex, by the way. So I know you must at least be bi. Are you? You said you didn’t have a girlfriend, but—oh shit! Are you married?”

I gasped in horror at the very idea, my hands flying to my mouth as though even voicing the words was too much. Peter busted up laughing.

“Jay. Really? Married? Come on, man. Give me at least a little credit.”

“She’s a beautiful woman and….”

“Yes, she is. I meant, give me a little credit for having a modicum of integrity. I’m not a complete asshole, you know.”

I blushed but let him continue.

“Kelly is my best friend. That’s it. Nothing more. We’ve known each other since we were in junior high school. She works nearby and stopped to say hi. That’s all. Next time I’ll be sure to introduce you. You’re kind of spunky. She’ll like you.” He winked at me again. Asshole.

“Oh. Spunky? I’m not sure I like—”

“Hush. Forget Kelly. I’m gay, Jay. Not bi or bi-curious. Just because I’ve had sex with women in the past doesn’t make me a candidate for changing who I am. Damn, you’re as bad as my mother. Just on opposite sides. You both think I’m not gay!” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck in exasperation.

“Your mother?” That was a conversation for another time. I hoped.

“Forget her too.” He came toward me, stopping a couple of feet away. “Are we clear on my sexual orientation yet or do you need further proof?”

“Uh… well, I wouldn’t say no to the further proof part, but… yes. I’m clear. Sorry. When I saw you together I thought….”

“You were jealous, huh?” Peter’s cocky grin lit his handsome features. I almost didn’t mind that he was laughing at me. I suppose I deserved it.

“No,” I lied.

“So what were you saying before you started talking about women?”

“I wasn’t talking about women!” I said indignantly.

“Yeah, yeah… well?”

My courage fled. I could barely look him in the eye let alone ask him for what I wanted. I took a sudden interest in the tree-lined street outside my window and the pedestrians with their colorful umbrellas. Was it raining again?

“I’m waiting, and I’m not going anywhere until you talk. And I don’t mean about how black umbrellas are boring or how the trees all appear to be in full bloom… just tell me what’s on your mind.”

I wanted to take offense, but he wasn’t that far off the mark, so I summoned whatever reserve of courage I could and looked him in the eye.

“I want more.”

“More?”

“Yes, damn it! More! Do you really need me to spell everything out? Fine! I want more than just that one night we had. It was… incredible, and I….” I was slipping fast. I looked away before finishing my thought. “I’m not looking for a commitment. I know we work together, but we wouldn’t have to advertise that we were seeing each other, we could just….”

“Do it?” he supplied.

“You sound like a Nike commercial, but yeah….”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” His grin was wide and sincere. He even looked the slightest bit nervous, if that were possible.

“You agree?”

He nodded.

“Wait. To what exactly? It helps for me to have boundaries and a clear path. Just sayin’.”

Peter threw his head back and laughed at me. I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my foot in annoyance. But truthfully I was charmed. I loved seeing him laugh. I didn’t mind at all if it was at my expense.

“Well….” He stepped closer and placed his right hand around my neck. It was a familiar, sweet gesture. I nearly moaned aloud as he grazed his thumb back and forth in that sensitive spot just behind my ear. “I say we get out of here and go somewhere we can talk… and do other things. Sound good?” He kissed my mouth softly before stepping back and moving toward the door.

“Meet me downstairs in twenty minutes.”

I
WAS
in the lobby nineteen minutes later. Peter didn’t know me well enough to know that was a feat in itself as my internal clock tended to run ten to fifteen minutes behind Eastern Standard Time. The minute he left my office I knew I was done for the day. The e-mail I was attempting to draft sounded like something a grade school kid had written. My mind was already in the lobby, so I might as well take my body downstairs to wait for Mr. Morgan.

When my elevator opened to the grand lobby, I found him pacing near the huge glass doors of the main entry with a cell phone glued to his ear. He stopped when he caught sight of me and offered an apologetic grimace indicating he was stuck on the phone call. I fished out my own cell and found myself questioning what the hell I was doing.

“Stop thinking so hard. You’re hurting my head.” Peter smiled as he made his way over to me. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He held the door open, patiently waiting for me to follow. I decided he was right. It was time to go with the flow. I was usually very good at it, but something about Peter made me a little skittish and prone to overanalyzing. I shrugged off the worry and smiled at him as I passed through the heavy door.

“Hungry?” he asked, glancing at me briefly as we stepped outside into the crisp spring evening.

“Famished.”

“Good. Follow me. I know a great steak house nearby. Or are you opposed to eating meat? They have salad and other things too, so it shouldn’t be a problem either way. I was just realizing that both times we’ve eaten together we’ve had fish.”

I peered over at my companion, lengthening my stride to match his as he set a brisk pace up 17
^th
Street. Maybe I wasn’t the only one nervous here, I mused.

“I’ll eat anything,” I assured him with a teasing grin.

Peter didn’t answer. Instead he lifted his free hand to massage the back of his neck, a sure sign that he was flustered. It made me smile that he wasn’t immune to this strange chemistry between us.

Ten minutes later he stopped in front of a well-known DC steakhouse. The kind of restaurant you either had to make a reservation two months ahead of time or you needed to be recognizably important. Senators and more prolific congressmen would probably be ushered to a table with little notice required; however, I doubted we qualified. I set my hand on Peter’s arm, thinking I’d suggest another location when the maître d’ spotted us and greeted Peter by name. Actually, he gushed over him.

“Mr. Morgan! So wonderful to see you again! May we prepare your table, sir?”

“Yes please, Gerard.”

We were whisked up a grand staircase to the main dining room. However, “Mr. Morgan’s table” was in a private area behind a heavy red velvet curtain. The walls were paneled in a dark, rich wood and liberally covered with what looked like paintings of dead politicians from the National Portrait Gallery. The high ceiling was papered in a rich burgundy damask. A tasteful but grand crystal chandelier cast a soft glow over the small alcove. There were other tables in the space but none were occupied. For now at least, we had this room to ourselves. Amazing.

Gerard had personally ushered us to our table where we were met by the sommelier, who quickly took Peter’s wine selection for the evening. A waiter greeted us a moment later with a junior server who poured iced water into crystal goblets. Leather-bound menus were placed at our elbows before the servers discreetly exited the room.

I looked across the table at Peter. He gave me a somewhat sheepish grin as he took a quick sip from his water glass.

“Um… this sure is a nice place here.” I camped up a hick southern accent that made him chuckle.

“It is. It’s… the food is good.” He seemed uncertain and a little embarrassed even. Interesting. I smiled broadly at him.

“I’m sure it is.”

The sommelier returned with our wine and made quick work of pouring before disappearing behind the velvet curtain. I raised my glass, thinking I’d make a silly toast to make him laugh and restore my own sense of order. It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable in fine restaurants. However, the language of fine dining tends to lend itself to a stuffy atmosphere, and that would make everything about tonight harder than it should be. A pizza and a six-pack back at my place or his would have been my preference simply because we could relax and just talk. Maybe Peter didn’t really want that, though. Maybe he….

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” I tried for innocence but had a feeling he was on to me.

“You’re overthinking again. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Who did you have to sleep with to get us this table tonight?” I blurted out. My eyes popped open wide in horror at what had just come out of my mouth. Unbelievable. Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head.