Lexie stiffens at her comments but says nothing. It makes me angry that this person––this stranger––has come to my place of business and offended or even hurt one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met. “What do you need?”
“We need to talk.”
“About?”
The intruder looks at me then at Cammy and lastly at Lexie. An audience has gathered behind us. I should ask them to get back to work but why bother? “Can we please go somewhere private?” she asks sweetly.
“No,” interjects Cammy. “Not a good idea, boss.”
“No, we cannot. What is this about, Cathy?” When I see the woman flinch and her face redden I realize I must have said the wrong name. “I mean Christina. Tell me before I have security remove you from the premises.”
“What!?” she screeches.
I blink at her as I cross my arms over my chest.
Sputtering, she says, “I’m here to talk aboutus.”
“There is no ‘us’.”
“But, at the party. You kissed me.”
“I kiss a lot of people at parties.” I turn and make eye contact with Lexie. She blinks at me, but there’s no real reaction. Hmm, interesting. Doesn't she remember our closet rendezvous? I didn’t think she was that intoxicated at that point in the evening. I turn back to the woman who’s now crying. It’s fake.
“B-b-but, you said…”
“I said nothing. I was drinking; you were drinking. We kissed. I may have mentioned a possible date, but I didn’t follow up on that, did I?”
“We had chemistry,” she says attempting to get closer to me.
“I’m afraid you misinterpreted things. I’m in a relationship. While I was a cad to kiss you, my heart belongs to another.” Jesus, did I just say that? Cad?My heart belongs to another?Jesus, I am living in Madmen. Either that or in a Jane Austen novel.
“Your heart? But, who?”
I look over at Cammy then at Lexie. I saunter to the little ‘pit bull’ and wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Here she is, my little Sweetums.”
“Her?” screeches the blonde. “She’s fat!”
I sense Lexie’s unease. I can’t tell if she’s going to cry or launch herself at this rude woman. “She’s Rubenesque,” I say smiling down at Lexie. “Besides, there’s more to love.”
With clenched teeth, Lexie looks up at me and asks, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Absolutely snuggle-bottoms.” It’s definitely a compliment when I’m talking about Miss Cartwright. Her curves are in all the right places. I know this first-hand having had them pressed up against me in that closet. We fit together like two puzzle pieces. All of her soft round bits pressed up against my hard ones. It was perfection.
“Well, it’s not,” she whispers. She pulls out of my arms and returns to her seat behind the reception desk. I watch her take a long drink from a cup from the café downstairs. I wonder what kind of coffee she drinks? If I had to guess, I bet it’s something sweet, like her.
“She dresses like…like she’s one of Santa’s helpers. How could you…?”
I step around the reception desk to stand behind Lexie. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I say, “Hey, now stop right there. I love her holiday-themed attire. It’s so festive.”
“Festive?” squeaks Lexie.
“Definitely,” I say with a smirk. In reality, her clothes are burgeoning on the ridiculous, but she pulls it off––most of the time. I turn to the interloper, “I think you need to go.”
“Go? Are you kicking me out? We haven’t discussed…” she says placing her hand on her stomach. “The you-know-what,” she whispers loudly.
“Last I knew you couldn’t get pregnant from just a kiss.”
Blondie huffs and stomps her foot. “Fine. I’m going, but my lawyer will be in touch.”
