Em stared down the hall. Joe was in his office-his door had been closed when she'd arrived this morning, and it was only ever closed when he was in there. She'd been at her post for almost three hours, and he hadn't come out yet.
Yesterday he'd kissed her.
He'd kissed her.
The phones rang and she picked up the handset blindly. "Orson & Tomlin. How can I direct your call?"
"Yes, can I have-"
The door to his office opened.
Putting the caller on hold, she sat up, but it was only Joe's assistant who walked out.
Shaking her head, she slumped in her chair. That one kiss had done something to her. She'd been so sure about her course of action, but that kiss had her questioning everything she wanted. She felt like she was spiraling down a path that she didn't want to follow.
She'd had wanton thoughts because of that kiss last night.
She'd tried everything she could to dislodge it from rooting in her head. She'd opened the book she was reading on the history of salt, but she hadn't been able to concentrate. She'd made tea but hadn't been able to drink it because its blandness hadn't suited her tastes. She'd even taken a cold shower, but her nipples had puckered hard, the way she'd imagine they would if Joe licked them, because he'd take his time and be thorough, slow rasping laps of his tongue, teasing each peak until she was squirming for more.
She'd had mad thoughts because of that kiss.
Thoughts that involved poufy white dresses and forever. Daydreams of being curled up with Joe on their couch, him rubbing her feet as she told him how their children had driven her insane that day.
This was not good, and she didn't know what to do about it. She nervously strummed her fingers on the desk, staring down the hall.
The phone rang again and she picked it up. "Orson & Tomlin. How can I direct your call?"
"I've been on hold forever! I want billing."
"Oh. Sorry." She winced and transferred the person, paying attention so she wouldn't accidentally drop the call. The line lit up again immediately, and she sighed. "Orson & Tomlin. How can I direct your call?"
There was a pause, and she was about to snap at the person on the other line to speak up when a hesitant voice asked, "May I speak to Em Shepherd?"
"This is Em. Who is this?"
"It's Ben."
"Ben?" She wrinkled her nose. "Why are you calling here? Do you need a lawyer?"
"No, I'm calling for you."
She frowned at his tentative tone. "You don't sound sure of that."
"No. I mean, yes, I'm sure."
She almost asked if he was certain he was sure. She smiled at one of the legal aides who walked past her desk as she waited for him to say what he wanted. When he didn't say anything, she finally asked, "Well?"
"Oh, right." He took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch with me sometime. Or dinner. Either."
Her frown deepened. Was this because of Joe?
Of course it was. She drummed her fingers, not sure how to feel. Glad that Joe showing interest woke Ben up, or annoyed that Ben was interested now, proving Joe right? At this moment it was mostly the latter.
She mentally cursed Ben. Then she mentally cursed Joe for spoiling this moment for her.
Someone came to stand next to her. The way her nipples perked up told her it was Joe. She looked up and glared at him.
He smiled, obviously amused. Taking a notepad and pen from her desk, he scribbled on it, tore the sheet off, and handed it to her.
Good morning, gorgeous.
She flushed with pleasure, damn him.
"Em?" Ben said through the receiver. "Are you still there?"
"Yes, Ben." She set the note down and gave Joe a reproaching look.
His face clouded over, and he ducked his head to write another.
Sighing, she took it from him when he held it out.
Is that the gardener?
She nodded, and he quickly scribbled:
What does he want?
"Em," Ben said, unaware of a secondary conversation happening, "I know asking you on a date must seem like a shock, but I think we'd suit each other rather well."
Joe slapped a piece of paper on the desk in front of her.
Tell him to go away.
Frowning, she shooed him with her hand. To Ben, she said, "Maybe now isn't the best time to discuss this."
Joe held another note in her face.
It's really not.
She rolled her eyes and added it to the pile on her desk.
"Then maybe we can discuss it when we have lunch?" Ben asked hopefully.
"Sure," she said, wincing as she heard the reluctance in her voice.
Joe slapped the notepad down and crooked his finger at her.
Em blinked, confused. And intrigued. "I have to go, Ben," she said, warily watching Joe. "We'll set a date later."
Joe's eyes narrowed angrily, and she knew better than to wait for Ben to say anything. She set the receiver down and pushed back in her chair.
"My office," was all he said before he marched off.
Really? She crossed her arms, tempted to sit back down. Did he expect her to obediently trail after him?
Yes, obviously.
She tapped her foot, about to rebel. Only what did he want? Dying to know, she followed him-slowly. No sense in him thinking she'd jump to attention whenever he snapped his fingers.
"Close the door," he said when she walked in.
His back was turned to her, and he looked out the windows at the rooftops below. While he looked at the view, she admired his backside, which filled out his trousers quite nicely.
He suddenly turned around. "You aren't going out with him, are you?"
She wasn't sure how she should answer, so carefully she said, "I would be a fool not to, don't you think?"
"Just the opposite, actually." He glared at her. "You can't seriously think he would be good for you."
"I do, actually." She lifted her chin. "He's a good man."
"You'd be bored out of your mind with him." Joe stalked toward her, his gaze locked on her like he was intent on eating her up.
Air catching in her throat, she stepped back. "Joe, I don't understand."
"You really don't." He caught her arms and looked deep into her eyes. "How can you possibly think that man is enough for you?"
"Ben is-"
"Boring," he stated. "Worst, he's oblivious to you. How long have you been toiling in the dirt waiting for him to notice you?"
She stabbed him mentally. "Six months."
"And did he notice you for yourself? No. Your stock suddenly rose because I showed up there."
Glaring at him, she tried to tug herself out of his arms. "That's remarkably cruel."
"Yet accurate, and you can't deny that." He held firm, never wavering.
"You're an ass when you want to be."
"I, on the other hand, noticed you the first day you started working here."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. I sit in front of the bloody elevator."
"You were wearing a black dress and pink sweater that had a butterfly pin on it," he said, pulling her closer. "Your stockings had a run at the thigh, which you tried to hide under the skirt of your dress, but the dress wouldn't stay arranged in front of it."
She blinked, stunned. That was what she'd worn. The butterfly had been given to her from a foster mother she'd had briefly, as a reminder to have courage. And a man's briefcase had caught on her hose in the tube on the way to her first day.
"I see you," Joe said, urgency in his voice as he pulled her closer. "You try to repress your passionate side behind the prissy clothes and tied-back hair. You hide who you are underneath."
"Maybe who I am underneath is no good."
His gaze grew fierce. "Who you are is the best person. You're kind and compassionate. You share your lunch with those less fortunate than you all the time. I've seen you," he overrode her when she opened her mouth to ask how he knew. "To that man, you're a hero."
She flushed. "I'm nothing."
"You're everything," he said fervently, lowering his head.
She knew his lips were about to touch hers, but she still wasn't ready for the explosion of sensation. The kiss bloomed at her mouth and sparked through her chest, igniting at her belly, right at the center of her.
She so desperately wanted him to touch her. She wasn't picky-she wanted him to touch her everywhere.
No-she didn't want that. "Stop," she said as she pushed him away. "We can't do this."
"Yes, we can." He leaned in to kiss her again.
"No." She wiggled out from his arms. "I'm not the person you think I am. I won't be tempted by the chocolate cake smell of you or your delicious, delicious kisses. I don't want your fine arse or anything you make me dream of."
He frowned at her in silence. Then he said, "You think my arse is fine?"
Growling, she threw her arms in the air. "That's the one thing you pick out from that whole monologue?"
"It was the only part I believed, other than the bit about our kisses being delicious." He reached for her.
She moved back, putting her hands behind her back so she wouldn't be tempted. "No. I'm serious, Joe. I'm not doing this. I'm not attracted to you."
"Darling, that's utter shite, and you know it."
"I hate who I am around you," she yelled in frustration. She waved at herself. "Look at me."
"You're beautiful," Joe said, crossing his arms.
"I'm a mess." Her hair was rumpled, her makeup was smeared, and her eyes looked feverish with desire. She wasn't beautiful-she looked just like her mother. "I hate being like this, and this is who you make me."
Hurt flashed in his eyes.
She felt an instant stab of regret-she hadn't wanted to wound him. Her anger deflated. "Joe-"
"Don't go out with him, Em," was all he said as he walked out, leaving her awkwardly in his space.
The moment the door closed, she slumped against his desk. What just happened?
She wanted it to happen again. She'd meant it when she said she didn't like who she was around him, but she wanted him so badly her hands shook with it.
Heaven help her, she liked Joe Winslow.
She stumbled back to her desk, dazed, not sure what just happened except for one thing: her world had been thrown off kilter. She looked down at all the pieces of paper Joe had written to her. She should toss them and call Ben back to set up their date.
Gathering all the squares, she tucked them safely into her purse.