“Yes. It didn’t help.”
“When was the last time you used it?” Oh my God, I don’t want to be having this conversation right now. Why couldn’t the goddamn thing have waited until Monday to break down?
“A couple months ago.”
“A couple months?” I say, frustration mounting. Who goes to the expense of a printer they only use every few months?
“We’re paperless.”
The thing is, if no one even turns the damn thing on for that long, the problem could be anything.
“Are you getting any error messages?”
Behind me Nash shifts. I glance over my shoulder. He’s pulling himself to his feet. The front of his pants is smooth. He picks his shirt up off the floor, collects his cufflinks from the table, and points up the hall toward the door.
“No. It just won’t print.”
My heart picks up, and a roar fills my ears. He’s leaving. I’m helping this poor sucker on the phone when I really want to be sucking Nash.
He gives me the universal signal forI’ll call you.I grip my phone so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. Thank God for a decent case.
“Hello? Brady? Are you still there?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” I close my eyes as Nash kisses my cheek and squeezes my free hand.
“So, can you come look at it?”
Yes. No problem. I’m on my way.
Nash’s fingers drag out of mine, and my heart kicks up another notch. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be this person who leaves home on a Friday night to run diagnostics on a printer because someone thinks they have an emergency.
“Actually,” I say, snapping my fingers. Nash doesn’t turn, so I snap them again. He glances back, and I make sure I catch his eye, putting all my intention on it. He freezes.
“Actually what?” the client says.
I lick my lips as I point at Nash and then back on the couch. I keep my gaze on him the entire time. When he doesn’t move right away, I snap and point again. A lazy smile spreads over his lips, but his whole body seems to roll as he makes his deliberate way back to the living room. He wants me to know that he’s making the choice to stay, and my blood goes hot at the idea.
“I’m sorry.” The words sound far away, even though I can feel the vibrations in my throat. “I’m already with another client right now.”
Nash’s smile goes devilish as he folds himself back down onto the couch, slowly undoing his belt.
“So you’re not coming?” the client says.
Oh, I’m definitely coming. Nash first, but I’m patient and willing to keep us both busy for a very long time tonight. Way beyond how long the person on the phone is going to want to stay at the office waiting for me. I’ll make sure of that.
“I’m really sorry. I think I’m going to be a while. I can be there first thing tomorrow.” No yoga, but Nash’s expression as he slides his hand into his underwear and slowly pulls out his cock says we’ll both be lucky to be able to walk in the morning. Sun salutations may be ambitious.
“No. Don’t bother. I’ll just send the report to the print shop and pay them to take care of it.” He sounds pissed, and my conscience bucks hard against my libido. I have built my client base by being available. I am the person you want to go to in a crisis. I have never, in the last three years, turned a client down when they called with an emergency.
“I can prioritize it for next week. No sense letting the printer sit there. Can we set up a time for Monday?”
“Just send me an email.” His tone is flat. Fuck. I’ve fucked this up.
“I could—”
“That’s fine. Sorry to bother you.”
The line goes dead.
