1
“Ican’t right now, Paul.I’m at work.”Summer Gentry tapped an earbud to turn up the volume on Paul’s soft voice.
“It’s ten o’clock on a perfect May night.We should be having sex under the stars,” he said.
Paul wasn’t her boyfriend.She wouldn’t even call him a lover.They were… friends with benefits.Love had nothing to do with it.
“Why are you working so late?”he wanted to know.
“Because it’s Friday and month-end, and I’ve only had this job for three months, as you well know.”
Summer looked around her nicely appointed office.It wasn’t huge—not like an exec’s office—but big enough for a small conference table as well as two chairs on the opposite side of her desk.Plus bookshelves and filing cabinets because even in the digital age, she still had to file hard copies.This job at West Coast Manufacturing had been one more step up the corporate ladder for her, though she’d known nothing about the company’s product, thin film coatings, until she applied for the position.
“You’re a customer service manager, Summer.You should have grunts doing all the heavy lifting at month-end.”
Summer sighed.“I need to be completely solid on the month-end process.”Her whole team had worked late—they always did at month-end.But the clerks in the shipping department had everything entered and updated by six o’clock, and all the invoices had been generated by seven.And that was as long as she’d been prepared to keep her employees at work on a Friday night.She’d stayed to run a first pass on the month-end numbers.
“You’re too much of a perfectionist,” Paul complained.They’d worked together for three years at a previous company.
She huffed out a laugh.“And you should complain about that?”
Paul had actually been her boss.Now they were… friends.That job had ended three years ago, and they’d started this thing between them after she’d moved on to another company.And after her divorce.It had never been dating, per se.But the sex between them had been good.Now they were each other’s booty call.
Relationships didn’t mesh well with Summer’s career goals.She’d planned to be a VP by now, but at forty-five, her career trajectory was way behind.She’d had her two girls when she was twenty-five and twenty-seven, and she’d chosen to be a stay-at-home mom until Cara was fourteen and Fallon was twelve.Okay, not exactlychosen.Everett, her ex, had pushed and pushed until she’d finally agreed.Still, she was glad she’d had those years with her daughters.
But just as she’d thought, when she returned to the workforce, men failed to understand the skills a mother learned: time management, organization, even employee relations.While she should have been at least a director or higher at her age, she was still a manager.
Summer had to admit, though, that shewasa perfectionist, and she wanted this job to go well.
Paul was laughing.“I admire your dedication.I just don’t like when it interferes with my sex life.”
She laughed with him.“Well, excuse me.”They could manage an in-person get-together only every couple of months, if that.They both had busy lives, and she was even busier now, learning the ropes at West Coast.The girls were at university, Fallon having started her freshman year last fall at Cal Poly, where Cara also attended, now a junior.Her daughters were close, and Summer felt good they had each other’s backs down in San Luis Obispo, a good three hours and a half hours from her home in Silicon Valley.
“All right,” Paul said, mischief in his voice.“Then tell me one of your stories so I can get off.”
She laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth because the sound was too loud in the empty office area outside her door.She was the only one left.Holt Montgomery and Ruby Williams had gone hours ago.The CEO and his secretary Ruby—who was also his wife—always left together.If Holt had a meeting, Ruby stayed late to attend him.The other VPs were gone too.Spence Benedict, her boss and their marketing guru, had a newborn he needed to get home to.While they were all dedicated to West Coast, they had lives too.
Unlike Summer, whose work was her only life right now.
But it was ten o’clock on a Friday night, and the admin building was as quiet as a mouse.The invoicing clerks had long since stopped inputting; the quality guys had long since stopped qualifying; the shipping guys had long since stopped shipping.Even the coating machines in manufacturing, located in another building, would now be still.
A little phone sex might be just the ticket.It would take the edge off for Paul, and for her.She’d be halfway there, ready to finish things on her own when she got home.A hot little orgasm, even solo, would send her off to dreamland.
“All right,” she said.“What story do you want tonight?”
She could have gotten up to close her office door, but it wasn’t as ifshewould do any touching now—she was just talking.Besides, there was no one out there to overhear.
“Tell me a club story.You’re so good at the club stories.”
She laughed, throaty and sexy.Paul always said she had a good phone voice.“Okay, and it’s not just any club.It’s asexclub.We’re dressed to the nines.You’ve got on a gorgeous tux, and I’m wearing a short, flirty red dress.The hem flares out, and as I get out of the car, I flash you—because what’s the point in wearing panties to the club?”
“And I find out in the car just how ready you are,” Paul added.She was the storyteller, but he liked to add his own touches, pun intended.
“We head to the bar,” she went on.“It’s always nice to start out there, relax, check out the scene, because stuff starts happening up in that bar.We order a couple of drinks.”
“What do you see?”
That’s what this was all about—the things Summer would describe in exquisite detail for Paul.And it wasn’t a description of the bar he cared about.
