There was a general combination of laughs and giggles as she continued.
“I would finally like to say that I am very excited to be joining you all, if only on a temporary basis and I hope the fledgling union of Brooker Incorporated and Baker, Ross and Riley is prosperous and successful for us all.”
A flurry of applause ensued before Jon joined her at the podium and whispered, “Very impressive Miss Pryor, off the cuff too.”
He stood back at the podium ready to speak so she returned to her seat.
“If heads of department can meet me in my conference room at four o’clock I would be most grateful,” he said before gesturing that the meeting was over.
Jon summoned a tall, skinny, fair haired, younger man and introduced him to Steph.
“Tom, this is Miss Pryor and she is in need of your expertise so could you meet her in legal in about an hour and sort out email, internet, network and a company mobile phone please?”
Tom nodded at Steph. “An hour then, Miss Pryor.”
Jon was still talkingto a group of people from legal as Steph headed towards the door in an attempt to find her way back to the legal department when he called after her to introduce her to some other people, senior managers before finally allowing her to find her way back to her desk, something she managed after getting lost just three times.
As her afternoonwent on she decided that Jon had most likely told everyone to take care of her because she’d had coffee brought to her and even an invitation to the pub after work, an offer she’d politely declined. She sent some of her emails out and as she prepared to leave for the day a large, imposing, man of about forty dropped in.
“Hi, I’m Steven Cannon, Steve, Head of Legal and I just wanted to check in to say if you need anything or you have any problems with anything down here just call. My office is at the top end of the office, up the corner,” he said, pointing towards his door. “My P.A. Hannah, is next door to me and she is trying to get you some admin support for when you’re here.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the hand that he offered, the same hand that seemed to hold hers just a little too long before she picked up her bag and laptop case to make her exit.
She was on her way across the foyer of reception when her phone beeped. She pulled it out of her pocket and found a text message from Jon.
Dinner? Shall I pick you up at 7? Jon
I could meet you there if you tell me where. Steph
I will pick you up. Address? Jon
Even by textshe could hear his irritation at her suggesting alternatives to his own ideas. Well he might just have to get used to it.
Tell me where, I’ll meet you. I’m not your mistress yet. Steph
Yet. There’s that magical little word again. The Waterfront. Half 7. Jon
Her triumphant smilewas short lived as she realised that despite her reservations, objections and ongoing protests that she wouldn’t have an affair with him, her text seemed to be suggesting she would. She really wished there was someone she could talk to about this, someone who would give her good advice, unbiased advice. With Lindsay away on her honeymoon, there wasn’t anyone so she’d have to decide for herself. A heavy sigh sounded around her as she realised that she might have just made the worst plan ever with her inability to think beyond his handsome face and glorious aroma that had her libido overriding everything else where Jon was concerned.
Seven
The car park at The Waterfront was only about half full and Steph immediately recognised Jon’s car on the far side of it. With a quick glance in the mirror she decided she was as ready as she was ever going to be so slowly made her way inside.
There was a desk with a short queue of patrons waiting to be shown to their tables. Nervously, Steph pulled her phone from her bag, hoping for a message or a social media alert that might serve as a distraction from her own rising anxiety but her blank screen only stared back at her. Glancing down she wondered if the strappy, nude, heeled sandals were appropriate for a dinner to discuss becoming a man’s mistress. With a single small laugh she figured there wasn’t any real socially acceptable style of dress to fit this particular occasion. She had aimed for casual with her ripped jeans and blue and white striped, casual, button through blouse and thought she’d got it about right for where they were. The Waterfront was an old water mill with waterside views and although it was quite pricey compared to the chain pubs that filled the street corners all around, it was still quite low key and relaxed in terms of atmosphere and dress code.
Her inner musings about her reason for being there and how she should or shouldn’t have dressed had distracted her from the fact that she was next in line.
“I’m meeting someone, Brooker, Jon Brooker.”
The waiter smiled, already leading her towards the back of the restaurant. They meandered through the diners already seated at tables until Steph thought there really was nowhere else for them to go except maybe the kitchen or outside through a back door. When the waiter stopped somewhat abruptly Steph almost collided with his back only to realise that there was a door in front of them, a door he was opening to reveal a private dining room with a table for two laid out. There was soft music playing in the background and candles burning so that their reflection could be seen in the wall of windows and the river that ran by outside.
It was another couple of seconds before Steph realised that Jon was there, standing before her, preparing to greet her.
“Can you give us ten minutes?” he asked the waiter who was already closing the door, leaving them alone.
“Hello,” Steph said with a slight stammer as Jon moved ever closer, stalking her, yes she was back to being prey. Stepping back she ended up with her back against the door meaning she had inadvertently trapped herself when he came to a stop toe to toe with her.
“Hello,” he replied but with his eyes glittering with the reflections of the candlelight and the glorious smell of him invading her senses she was incapable of offering a further response or fighting off the closing of his lips over hers.
