“I...”
Knock. Knock.
I glance up at the door, and there, standing in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets, looking more handsome than ever, is JP.
“Uh, Lottie, I have to go.”
“Oh God, is he there?”
“Yup. Talk to you later.”
I hang up before she can respond. Nervously, I set my phone down and push my hair behind my ear. He doesn’t step into my office, but rather leans against the doorjamb, looking like a model fromGQ, with his hair curling over his forehead and his dark scruff lining his jaw.
“Hello,” I say, unsure of what else to say. “Is there, uh, something you need?”
“Hey, can I get your opinion?”
“Uh... sure,” I say. We haven’t talked in over a week, but he wants my opinion on something, that’s not weird at all.
“This suit, do you think I can pull it off?”
Utterly confused, I take in the simple black suit with a matching black button-up and can’t see how it’s different from anything else he’s worn. But given that he wants my opinion, I take some extra time to observe the way his pants cling tightly to his thighs, showing off his strong legs. I’ve been between those legs. I’ve seen them flex while I have his penis in my mouth.
Immediately, my cheeks flush from the thought, so I divert my eyes to his chest, to the lapel, and I consider the many times I’ve pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, and how that one time, I wore nothing but his suit jacket.
More of a flush.
Okay, I think that’s enough.
When my eyes meet his again, a satisfied smile plays on his lips.
“Uh, the suit looks good.” I swallow. “You can pull it off. Do you, uh, do you have some sort of meeting or”—gulp—“a date?”
“Nah.” He pushes off the doorjamb. “Just wanted to see your eyes eat me up again.” He winks and then takes off without another word.
Wait... what?
That was it?
That’s all he wanted?
That... that’s something the old JP would’ve done, the one who used to tell me men and women who work together can’t be friends.
Why would he do that?
Consider me now more confused than ever.
* * *
“Miss Gardner,please stay back so I can talk to you,” JP says, sitting at the head of the conference table, hands steepled together.
The rest of the construction team makes their way out of the conference room, and when the door shuts, he leans forward and asks, “Care to explain?” He lifts a knowing brow at me.
“Uh...” I look around. “Care to explain what?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I answer, clutching my notepad to my chest.
