ThisTimeNextDoor (26 page)

The door opened and Sylly strode in, an open laptop balanced in one hand, his voice brusque. “Morning. So sorry to interrupt.” He barely glanced at Rose before giving Mark a very bad look.

Rose got up, hurried to the door. Her sweater was tied but uneven, one belt hanging twice as low as the other.

Afraid to look at her because of what might show in his eyes, Mark rearranged his keyboard on his desk, knowing he should care about the suppressed fury on Sylly’s face.

Instead of being so damn pleased with himself.

* * *

A little unsteady on her feet, Rose made her way to the women’s restroom. She was furious with herself.

Was a quickie more important than her job?

Her reputation?

Anybody could’ve come in. Sylly almost did. How would she ever be able to face him if he walked in on her having sex in an unlocked office in the middle of the day? He’d be right to conclude she was disrespectful, irresponsible, and foolish to risk such a thing.

She yanked a handful of brown paper towels out of the dispenser near the sinks and wrapped the condom inside before dropping it in the trash can. Then she washed her hands and locked herself the furthest stall.

Her underwear was bunched up around her hips. She smoothed it down, fixed her sweater, and admitted to herself how disappointed she was they’d had to stop.

But how could she have let them start?

It wasn’t Mark’s fault. She never said no, never pushed him away. He might have a job death wish, but she didn’t. Being the programmer wonderboy might make him immune to criticism, but she was just a recently hired, entry-level wannabe. A nobody. As dispensable as that condom.

She stayed in the stall for another minute, lecturing herself, then washed her hands again and went back to her desk.

Well, at least he’d shown he was willing to be seen with her. She tried to laugh, but couldn’t.

She’d screwed up. She’d had a lot of fun over the years, a lot of casual sex, but she’d never come close to risking her livelihood over it. How could she? For
Mark
?

Staring at the floating orbs of her screen saver, she considered the possibility that Mark was far more dangerous than she’d thought.

At the very least, she’d have to stay away from him at work. Where would they do it next—the massage table in the break room?

Her phone was ringing. She glanced at the screen before she picked up. An outside call.

“Oh, Rose! I’m so glad I found you,” a cheerful woman’s voice said. “I didn’t know your last name, but the gal at the front desk said there was only one of you. Rose, I mean. Well, that’s obvious.”

Lord, it was his mother. Rose sat down, blushing as though Trixie could see her. “It’s me. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I wish I could say, ‘nothing, it’s what I’d like to do for you,’ but I’ll be honest and admit it’s probably more for our pleasure than yours.”

Rose wondered if it was even remotely possible that Trixie knew what she’d just been doing with her son. Her timing was just too perfect. “Yes?” she asked, trying to sound casual, not tense and slutty.

“Saturday afternoon we’re having a special—no, not special, I don’t want you to feel like it’s intimate or anything, though it won’t be big or anything like that—anyway, we’re having a picnic.” Trixie took a deep breath. “It’ll be Mark, of course, and Liam and Bev, maybe April and her latest boyfriend. I was hoping you’d join us.”

“Oh.” Her mind raced through a list of potential excuses. She wasn’t prepared to be with Mark and his family, not knowing what they knew about her, what they expected. Did Trixie know Mark had spent the night with her? She didn’t seem to.

“I’ve invited your friend Blair, too, and John, of course, but given what they’ve been through this week, I hope they don’t feel obligated to do anything they’d rather not do,” Trixie said. “Please pass that message along to her, will you? It’s only if she’s feeling up to it. We’ll have good food, drinks, and our favorite spot at the park. Nobody will bother her with nosy questions, not even me. I promise.”

A vivid image of diverse, hours-long social discomfort flashed before Rose’s eyes. Hoping she had something already on her calendar, she pulled it up on her phone and scrolled through the days. Blank, blank, blank. “A picnic, you said? But… it’s November.”

“Shoot, I was afraid of that. You don’t want to come.”

“No, no, I’m just—you caught me off guard.”

“Without an excuse. No, I’m sorry. You don’t have to think of one. I want you to know you can always be honest with me. I’m very thick-skinned. You never knew my late husband, but you’d realize I’d have to be to love him as dearly as I did.” She hesitated. “Unfortunately for Mark, he was such a sweet boy, so brilliant, so sensitive—his father just didn’t understand him. He was very critical, you see, didn’t always show his love in the easiest ways. I think it’s taken Mark a few extra years to grow up because of it.”

In spite of her discomfort to be trusted with Mark’s secrets, Rose hung on every word. “He doesn’t talk about him much.”

“I’m surprised he’s mentioned him at all.”

Sexually graphic memories flooded Rose’s brain. “A little bit, I suppose,” she said, dropping her head into her hand, biting her lip.

“Well. In case you change your mind, it’s Saturday, two o’clock, at Redwood Park in Oakland, right off 13. We’ll have a barbecue, a few picnic tables, the dogs, a ball or two. And the cake, of course.”

As if she didn’t feel guilty enough. “Cake? Is it someone’s birthday?”

“Oh! Didn’t I say? But that’s why I had to call you directly instead of having Mark invite you,” she said. “He’s been dreading it all year, I think. I wanted to make it as distracting as possible.”

“It’s Mark’s birthday,” Rose said, realizing it was hopeless, she was trapped. “A big one?”

“Let’s just say it ends in a zero. Of course, he has no idea I’m doing this. He’d never come if he
knew
.” Her laughter bubbled over the line.

While Rose pictured Mark’s miserable face, thrown into the center of attention on a day he’d rather ignore, Trixie didn’t try to end the call, just waited.
 

Rose wondered if it would make it a happy birthday for Mark to publicly acknowledge her as his romantic interest.

Or the opposite.

Time to find out, I suppose
, she thought. “What should I bring?” she asked, typing the date into her calendar.

Chapter 19

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO wear?” Liam asked him.

Mark climbed up into his brother’s SUV and slammed the door. “I’m not a fashion designer like you, Liam. I don’t need to look pretty to go hiking.”

Liam didn’t back out of the driveway. He kept scowling at Mark’s sweatshirt. “Not only is it butt-ugly, stained, and too small, but it’s
mine
. When did you steal it?”

“You
gave
it to me.”

Liam stared, shook his head. “The last time I gave you any of my old clothes, you were in, like, elementary school.”

“So? It’s stretchy.”

“It barely covers your elbows.”

“Will you shut up and drive? What the hell do you care what I wear?”

Liam killed the engine, crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you let me buy inferior consumer electronics? Run lame software on my computer? Hell—you gave me a hard time about my new computer’s
keyboard
.”

“But you love the new one I got you, admit it,” Mark said.

“I only said that to get you to shut up.”

“Fine. Give it back to me. I’ll let Mom use it.” Mark tightened the seat belt, looked straight ahead.

“My point is, you have professional standards and so do I,” Liam said. “Change. Mom said you went shopping recently. Wear that. Something that doesn’t make me embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“We’re
hiking
. Just because you were in the Olympics a million years ago doesn’t mean photographers are still following you around.”

“We’ll still be in Oakland. I know people here. I’ve got a fitnesswear company to represent, dude. Go get something else or I’ll put you in the latest Fite the Man compression tee.” He jerked a thumb towards the back seat. “With matching pink compression shorts. I’ve got a box of samples with me.”

Knowing his brother would never stop bitching about it, Mark gave up and went in to change, came back out in khaki shorts and a dark green polo shirt.

“I look like a retired golfer,” he said, slamming the door.

Liam backed up into the street, grinning. “But a handsome one.”

“Bite me.”

His brother just laughed. Patted his knee. “And you are getting older,” he crooned.

Mark scowled out at the bay, hazy blue and dotted with boats in the distance. “Next year I’m flying to Maui for my birthday.”

“Lots of retired golfers there, too.”

“Why did I agree to this?” Mark muttered. “Right. Because you said it would stop Mom from throwing me a party at the house.”

“And to see if your leg muscles have atrophied completely, living your life glued to a computer. If I weren’t much happier being with Bev, I’d be over here every weekend making you take that lazy ass for a run.”

“Speaking of ass, I’m going to kick yours today. I may be getting older, but I’m not as bad as you, old man.”

They continued with this loving brotherly banter all the way down the hills and onto the highway. Mark’s defensive jabs were halfhearted. Most of his mental processing power was engaged with the mess he’d made of his relationship with Rose. And his job.

Sex in the office was fun for the three minutes it was happening, but he was still reeling from the ten minutes afterwards during which his boss ripped him a new one.

Mark had never seen Sylly so angry.

“Do you realize,” Sylly had said, pacing in front of his desk, hands clasped behind his back, “if I hadn’t just happened to walk over here a few minutes ago and seen—through the glass panel in the wall, Mark. You did know glass is transparent?—if I hadn’t been the one to discover the little party in here, but instead, oh, Janice from HR—you do know Janice? The one with the forms and the lawyer on speed dial? And an enthusiasm for pursuing sexual harassment claims?—and if I hadn’t distracted her with a rambling question about withholding taxes just a few yards away from your door,
if
—”

“
God
.” Mark braced his forehead against his fingertips. “Oh, God.”

“I understand it’s a new experience for you to find a woman willing to have sex with you,” Sylly continued. “But if it ever happens again within this building—hell, within a hundred miles of this building, and that includes my house—I don’t care if you’re the fucking founding genius or my old friend, your ass is grass.”

Mark looked up. “You can’t—I understand, right now, you’re upset—”

He lowered his voice to a cold whisper. “Can’t?”
 

“Nothing here, yeah, of course,” Mark said. “But in our private lives—”

“Private? Where have you been? There’s no such thing as ‘private’ anymore.” Sylly rubbed his face with both hands. “I’d have to fire Rose, too. Don’t you see? Every move we make is being audited and measured right now. We can’t have a record of hiring our girlfriends or wannabe girlfriends. As much as I like her, as much as her team seems to think she’s a good fit for WellyNelly, I’d escort her to the front door myself. Right after you. And I’d probably have to resign, too, since I’m up to my neck in personal ties to the both of you.”

“That wouldn’t be right. I’m the one—”

“Exactly. So hands off. Got it?”

Mark didn’t reply. Taking his silence as agreement, Sylly nodded. “I’ll send her to that conference in Sunnyvale for the rest of the week. WellyNelly will pay for her hotel so she doesn’t have to commute. Maybe that’ll give you time to get a grip.” He looked him up and down. “With your right hand if necessary.”

Then he’d stormed off and Mark hadn’t spoken to him since. Rose had left for the conference and she and Mark had only exchanged one quick, shallow message on the phone about talking this weekend.

What was he going to do? All week he’d agonized over it. It wasn’t right to make her choose between him and her job—she
needed
her job. And what made him think she’d even have to think twice about which was more important to her?

He’d almost gotten her fired. He was such an asshole.

He should quit. Then he’d have a chance with her. It wasn’t like he needed the money.

But he’d never be able to stop the sale of WellyNelly to Big Pharma if he left. Sylly acted angry now, but only because he’d had his own problems keeping his zipper up; he’d forgive Mark eventually. They’d laugh about it some day.

But if he jumped ship in mid-development? The new senior software architect, right before a release?

Sylly would never forgive him. He might even get violent, or litigious, or worse—hurt. In their own odd, geeky way, they were friends. Just last night around three a.m. Mark realized, in the dark, after hours staring at the ceiling, Sylly was the best friend he had.

Except for Rose,
a voice inside him said.

No, she was something else—and he wanted to know what.

The limitations of his experience with the opposite sex had never bothered him as much as they did now. A date here and there in college, then the disastrous collapse of his relationship with Colleen. He just didn’t have the data to proceed knowledgeably.

He thought about talking to Liam about his problems but… looking at his soon-to-be-married, photogenic, Olympic medalist older brother only made him feel more inadequate. And he figured Liam would mock him. That’s how it always was between them.

It took them fifteen minutes to reach the park, and another five to pay for parking and drive through the valley to the lot near their favorite trailhead.

Mark frowned at the clock on the dash. Half past one and the sun was bright overhead. “I still don’t understand why we didn’t go out this morning. You usually like to hike early.”

“Bev,” Liam said.

“Ah.”

Grinning, Liam elaborated. “Saturday mornings are reserved for a different kind of workout now.”

Mark held up a hand. “Spare me the gory details.”