The Deep End. AM Hartnett
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a clitoris was for.’
‘I’m sure it was more than the lube and vibrator, though you can add those to your collection in the desk. One of these days, Caroway is going to get a surprise when he goes on the hunt for something.’
She shook her floating head. ‘He won’t. He’s too important to even put sugar in his own coffee. Anything he wants, he asks me for.’
‘You are efficient.’
The quirk at the corner of her mouth was unstoppable. He wouldn’t let her forget that he had been paying attention to her office flings. As she lay there trying to steady her breath, she wondered about the fact that he’d caught her at all. Did he sit in front of a wall of computers all day and watch the goings-on at Taureau-Werner? What sort of existence did he live?
There she was, in the perfect position to learn more about a man who was all legend, and yet she didn’t probe as she pushed herself up. She was in no position to ask questions.
But she did want at least one answer.
‘I’ve been worrying all day that you were going to fire me. I need you to tell me.’ Her voice was froggy from thirst and every word scratched across her throat. She made her way to Caroway’s bar fridge. ‘Is that’s what’s going to happen if I decide not to take your orders any longer? Is that what would have happened if I had closed my desk drawer when I found your gift?’
‘Did I force you to come in here? Did I coerce you? Now? Last night?’
She wanted to say yes to save face and win the discussion, but she knew that wasn’t true. This wasn’t blackmail. This wasn’t sexual harassment or whatever you wanted to call it. He hadn’t intimidated her, had he? She didn’t pull down her panties and bend over the conference table because she felt she had to. He’d reached out to her, and she’d reached right back.
She wanted to play this game with him.
‘No,’ she said, and claimed a water bottle from the fridge. She drank half of it down, and then shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t. You never even threatened me with exposure.’
‘That would be stupid of me, wouldn’t it? I have no proof. The cameras can’t exist, and, even if they did, a little office indiscretion would pale in comparison to the scandal if you decided to hit me with a lawsuit.’
Grace returned to the table and collected the vibrator, then headed for Caroway’s bathroom. ‘I never thought of it that way.’
‘I’m sure you would have found a lawyer who would have no trouble connecting the dots.’
She laughed as she squirted a dollop of hand soap on the plastic shaft. ‘Can you see me in here?’
‘No. Bathrooms are off limits. Not out of respect for privacy, obviously, but because there are some things I prefer not to see.’
‘Have you seen Caroway’s “guests” on the weekend?’
‘You’d be surprised what I see.’ He said nothing more as she ran the water and soaped up the vibe, but spoke as soon as she cut the water. ‘Grace, your job is safe. What happened here today and last night in the boardroom has nothing to do with the other. If you walk away, there will be no repercussions for your job. I promise you.’
‘Your promise means nothing to me, not right now.’
He didn’t counter her words. As far as she could tell, he merely watched as she cleaned herself up and tidied Caroway’s office. The sound of his breathing was unnerving, but she didn’t try to remove the headpiece.
‘Leave them in the cupboard,’ he said as she picked up both the lube and the vibe. ‘Keep them close.’
‘I was thinking of taking them home with me.’
‘Maybe I should install cameras in your apartment.’ She heard the click of keys on a keyboard and grinned as he said, ‘578 Haughn Street, apartment 808. Correct?’
‘That’s not fair. You’ve already banned me from having sex here at the office. If you place restrictions at home, I might have to start going out for anonymous backseat sex to get my satisfaction.’
‘Caroway may be facing more meetings, if that’s the case, so I can send you home exhausted.’
She felt mad and giddy all at once. This was so surreal. An enigmatic lover watching her from afar, stroking her libido and filling her head with all sorts of wicked thoughts.
She sucked in a deep breath and tucked her presents in the credenza. ‘I should get back to my desk.’
‘Tomorrow is Saturday,’ he said quickly. ‘Can I convince you to come in the afternoon?’
Laughing, she stepped into her shoes. ‘And if I say no?’
‘I’ll make sure you’re here. A sudden project will come up, and Caroway will insist that you give up your weekend to give it your full attention.’
‘That’s a very dirty trick. Do you have something against Skype?’
‘I have a much better vantage point here at the office. What do you say?’
She could hear the laughter in his voice. A queer feeling hit her in the gut, the need to see it out completely. She leaned back against Caroway’s desk. ‘On one condition.’
‘Which is.’
‘I want to be able to see you again. When you come, I want to watch it happen like I did last night.’ She cocked her head and raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’re not the only one who likes to watch.’
‘I can arrange that.’
‘What do I do with the phone?’
‘Leave it here. I’ll have a charging dock put in there tonight.’
‘Do I call you when I’m here?’
Another low, husky laugh. ‘I’ll see you.’
‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Her words came out breathlessly, laced with anticipation. She raised her hand to her ear.
‘And Grace,’ he said, catching her just as she was ready to disconnect. ‘If you want to know more than what an Internet search will tell you, I’d recommend Everly Ledger’s book Burnout.’
Her cheeks went hot and she opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
‘I would have been very surprised if you didn’t look.’
‘Of course, Mr Taureau.’
‘Jacques.’
‘Jacques.’ She felt a funny little tickle in her chest. The name sounded so strange as she pronounced it, the thrill of addressing him so informally sparking at the tip of her tongue. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘This is a little like being the personal assistant to some high-maintenance celebrity,’ she teased from her perch on the edge of the conference table. ‘Must I really be at your beck and call at every moment of the day?’
It was her second weekend with Taureau, and like the first Grace arrived in the evening to find a bottle of wine on the conference table. The first had been red. She drank it, but couldn’t disguise her grimace. This weekend, now that he knew she loathed red wine, the Riesling had been left to chill in a dripping bucket of ice.
It was a funny little thing, like something most lovers did when they were separated by distance. In Grace’s case, she didn’t even know what he looked like or what he smelled like. She didn’t have the warmth of his arms to miss like she would any other lover who was away from her.
‘I don’t expect