David grumbled his defeat to himself through another bite, and I smiled triumphantly.
“Tell Gretchen not to worry about the car,” he said. “I’ll get something, and we can pick her up on the way.”
“Thank you,” I said, balling up my trash. “Can you walk me out? I need my coat. And as much as I would love to wear this all day . . .” I peeled off his cologne-scented undershirt and handed it to him. “I’d look a little silly.”
He walked to his desk and picked up the phone. “Olivia’s coat,” was all he said.
As we waited by the door, he leaned in to give me a sweet kiss. “See?” he said. “No fighting.”
“No fighting,” I repeated with a smile.
He cracked the door a sliver to accept my coat and held it open so I could slip into it. I watched him concentrate on each button as he dressed me. When he finished, he pulled gently on the lapels and kissed me again.
“Thank you for understanding,” I told him. “I owe you one.”
I turned away and pulled open the door, but he slammed it shut with one hand. “Owe me?” he purred into my ear, molding his hand to my backside.
My insides turned instantly to jelly with his hot breath on my neck. “Yes,” I breathed. “Whatever you want, I’m yours.”
“If I didn’t have so much to do, I’d take you up against this door right now,” he said. “I haven’t nearly made up for the time we lost last week, so you’d better be ready to spread those long legs for me tonight.” He opened the door, tapped me on the ass, and pushed me out into the foyer in a daze. I blinked for a moment until I noticed the receptionist studiously avoiding my gaze. I gave her a quick wave and rushed to the elevator.
On my way to the boutique, I tried not to read into the fact that David had an account there, so I was glad to see they carried men’s clothing, too. For some reason, that led to me wondering whether or not he’d had sex on his desk before, and the thought made my lip curl.
After browsing the selection, I interrupted two salesgirls in the middle of a conversation to ask for a fitting room. One turned to me, a pretty blonde, young but with an unfortunate frown. She pointed across the store. “Dressing room’s over there.” She returned to her co-worker to pick up their conversation.
“I’ll need to wear it out of the store,” I told her.
“Sure,” she said, “but we only take American Express.”
“That’s fine. My boyfriend called ahead.”
She turned back to me slowly. “Oh. You’re David’s girlfriend?”
“Yes,” I said, finding her tone a little too familiar. “Are you a friend of his?”
“Er.” She bit her lip. “He usually works with me when he shops.”
Awesome, I thought wryly. So he had a regular girl. Why didn’t that surprise me? “How about that dressing room?” I asked.
“Right.” She shot a look at the other saleswoman as she rounded the counter and led me to the back of the store. “Have you been dating long?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Not very.”
She gave me a quick, tight smile, showed me into the room, and shut the door behind me. I stood there a moment with the blouse in my hand, seething. Obviously “working” with David involved more than just shopping. It occurred to me that I might be destined to a lifetime of uncomfortable encounters with David’s women. Instead of dwelling on it, I decided to honor the promises I’d made to be more open and ask him directly.
Me:Curious . . . how many of the women at this boutique have you “worked with”?
David:Two, if you count yourself.
I gave myself a moment to fume. I appreciated his honesty, and the answer wasn’t surprising—it had been written all over her face—but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
Me:Why would you send me here then?
David:Why else? Good service.
I had to resist the urge to throw my phone at the wall.“Good service”? Is he teasing me?
When I’d taken a deep breath, I responded.
