“No.” She shakes her head. “Eat.”
When she picks up her plastic fork, I take the opportunity to look down at her food at the one lonely thing on her tray: a side salad. And a plain one at that. I’m tempted to comment about her pathetic lunch, but I learned a long time ago not to say a word about what a woman chooses to eat, especially at a restaurant. Opening my bag of chips, I set them on the table between our trays. “I’ll share.”
Shockingly, I watch as she reaches out and takes a chip from the bag. I also stare as she lifts said chip to those plump lips of hers. Right before it touches her mouth, her tongue peeks out and swipes across her bottom lip.
If I told you I had an instant boner, would you be disappointed in me?
Well, I guess you’re going to be disappointed in me. It can’t be helped.
I quickly look down at my food until I hear a crunching sound. When that happens, all I want to do is look at her mouth again, but I do my best to focus on my food instead. Picking up my sub, I open my mouth wide and bite down hard.
“Mm, good.” I nod as I talk with my mouth full. She’s smiling at me, and it’s beautiful. Honest to God, I’ve never experienced such a feeling, like warm light is piercing my chest.
I chew my big bite, then swallow. Doing my best to ignore the feeling, I point to my sandwich. “Want some?”
“No, thank you.” She shakes her head. “Shall we get started?”
“Sure.” Damn, I was enjoying my sub and this casual, relaxed bit of time with Alison, but now it’s back to business. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and place it on the table next to my tray. Leaning back, I give her my full attention. “Ask me anything.”
“Clive.” It’s not a question. Not yet. “What happened between the two of you?”
She’s already figured out that there’s something broken between my former assistant and me. She’s good.
“Honestly, I have no idea. We used to work really well together, like the proverbial well-oiled machine. Hell, we hung out occasionally outside of work. Then one day it just stopped. He’d barely talk to me.” I shrug because I don’t know what else to say.
“When was this?”
Since I’ve given this more thought recently, I’m able to say with confidence, “About a year ago.”
“Very specific.”
“Well, after he was promoted, and now seeing the green folder”—I nod to the folder in question sitting next to her—“I thought about it. And I assume I’m prominently featured in his notes….”
“You assume the green folder is from Clive?”
“Chartreuse.” I smirk. “And yes, I do, because he had me special order those chartreuse folders. And he’s always wearing something green.” A tie, a sweater, socks—always something.
She quickly jots something down. “Interesting.”
Is it, though?
“So,amI?” I look quickly at the folder, then back up at her pretty face.
“Are you what?”
“Featured prominently?”
It’s her turn to look down at the folder. She seems reluctant to look at me now, so that tells me my assumptions are correct. “Everyone is included in it, but that’s all I can say.”
“Is it all bad or…?”
“It’s a bit of a mixed bag.”
Hmm, interesting. I don’t know what else to say, so I ask, “What other questions do you have for me?”
“Well….” She reaches down beside her and pulls out a cheap spiral notebook, like the ones we used in high school. She opens the front cover and flips it to the back, then does the same with several pages until she’s got a blank page on top. Clicking on a ballpoint pen, she finally says, “Let’s do this. I’ll say a name, and in only a few words, tell me what you think of them.”
“Uh, no.” I’m not doing that.
