The Panty Whisperer: The Complete Series (18 page)

Jesus Christ. Get it together, Quinn. You have to face him this morning.

Shit.

I suddenly remember how I look today. Of all the days he would see me, I look like this. I'm trying to think of some way I could make myself look presentable, but nothing comes to mind. Fuck it. It's not like we're going anywhere anyway.

I walk back over to the bitch brigade.

"That man is delicious with a capital D. Word is he knows his way around the bedroom too." Madeline rakes her hand through her hair.

"Who told you that?" I say it before I realize the words have escaped my mouth.

Natalie, who I refer to as Madeline's bitch—in my mind of course—responds. "Someone heard it from the boss lady in IT."

Relief washes over me and I have no idea why. Megan must have told someone. Which I'm sure she found out through Tommy, or me. I can't remember. At least I know he hasn't fucked anyone from the office. It's hard enough walking around my house knowing he's banged his way through half of the inhabitants.

"I would let that man do whatever he wanted,
to
whatever he wanted," says Madeline.

I've had about all I can take when I look up and see Joel piercing me with those beautiful green eyes. My chest caves in. If my heart is capable of fluttering, it does that too. It's like a weight is pushing down on the top of my head and anxiety, fear, and excitement are all coursing through me, penetrating every organ in my abdomen. I've never felt this way about a man, ever.

Joel and Tommy walk toward me.

I keep telling myself that I need to get rid of these feelings, because there will never be anything between us. I have to play it tough. I can't let him know that there is any part of me that wants him. That shit is like gold to manipulators like him.

"Quinn." He nods. "Nice to see you again."

I stop breathing when I hear his voice.

Fuck.

Tommy smiles. I look down, and he's tapping his foot up and down rapidly. Say something, Quinn. Why can't I speak? Don't sound like an idiot for the love of god. I glance up at Joel trying to burn into his soul with my retinas.

He returns my stare and then turns to Tommy. "Well, I was nice, Tommy. Like I promised." He turns back to me. "You have a great day, Ma'am."

Tommy's face goes into his palm. My face is on fire. This prick is not going to talk to me like that. Ma'am? Goddamn it! Ma'am? You, arrogant fucker.

I snarl at Joel's back as he starts to walk away. "The kitchen is that way." I point in the opposite direction of where he's walking. "We laid out a gluten free spread. Some of the women get a little bloated around here. If you're worried about that type of thing."

That's right, dick
. I fold my arms over my chest and stare at his back as he freezes. You're being an asshole to the wrong chick.

Tommy looks like he's trying not to giggle.

Fortunately, the bitch brigade is out of listening range. But those women are experts at reading body language.

Joel turns around slowly. A forced grin is covering his beautiful face. He walks back and leans in next to my ear. "Well, personally, I find gluten free food to be a tease. I prefer eating the real meal at the other table. While the gluten free finger foods sit jealously, at their lonely table, watching me devour their friends who provide an entire, satisfying meal."

"Oh fuck," whispers Tommy.

Joel leans in closer and I know he can feel the anger radiating from my body.

"Fuck me, please don't—" Tommy whispers again.

"In fact, I might just have to go back for seconds. I don't think I'd have any problem grabbing another plateful." He pushes some stray hair back over my ear, and I want to melt into his hand. Then he opens his fucking mouth again. "I love your hair like this, very natural. Like a messy, working woman type vibe. It suits you."

He smirks and I lose my cool. My eyes wander around the room and nobody is looking. Without realizing it, my fist clenches and I rear back and pummel his balls with a right cross. It's an instinctive self-defense maneuver my dad taught me when I was very young.

He drops his papers all over the ground as he doubles over at the waist, somehow managing to hold onto his laptop. Tommy is damn near catatonic, and then his face turns bright pink and he is covering his mouth, trying not to laugh. Joel is bent over at the waist coughing, trying to figure out what just happened.

I'm still shaking, but the shame of what I just did is building up inside me. This fucking prick just knows how to push my buttons. He gets under my skin like nobody ever has. He makes my blood boil, to the point it's uncontrollable.

I lean in next to his ear and breathe heavily into it. "Eat up, bitch."

I walk off toward my office and can see Tommy tending to Joel in the corner of my eye. Fuck me. I'll probably get fired for that.

What did you just do, Quinn?

JOEL

"
N
OW
HERBERT
,
I
believe Mom wants you to make babies with that woman, not prevent them from being made."

I look up, and Tommy has a huge grin on his face. I know he's right, but I don't know what just came over me. That guy isn't me. I don't do petty shit like that. That girl drives me to the point of insanity.

"Fuck man. I think she knocked my balls up into my stomach." I reach down and see if my balls are still attached when nobody is watching.

"I know, big guy. I know." Tommy pats me on the back as he helps me up.

I slowly straighten myself out and Tommy is trying not to giggle his ass off. I can't blame him. I'm sure it would've been hilarious if I were a spectator.

"You sure you're not mad?" he asks.

"About?"

"Me not telling you about talking to Quinn." He scrubs his hand through his hair.

"Like I said. Mad about what?"

He sighs and relaxes. "Thanks, bro."

"Don't sweat it, man. I mean don't get me wrong, it was a total Lando move. But you had your reasons. Personally, I'd rather be frozen in carbonite right now. It's like my dick just went ten rounds with George Foreman."

"Well not even Ali was crazy enough to rope-a-dope with his cock."

I chuckle and his joking takes my mind off of my swollen balls. She hits like a fucking man.

I suddenly feel sick to my stomach, and it's not from taking a right cross to the nuts. It's the same feeling I got in the closet at work. I immediately want to go and apologize to her. How would that go down though? She'd never believe me.

"Alright, well if you're going to survive, I'm going to go see Megan before I head to the office."

"No worries. I'm going to try and get my dignity back, and hopefully survive this day. Drink after?"

"Can't, hanging out with the ol' lady. Rain check?"

I do my best impersonation of Indiana Jones cracking his whip.

Tommy shakes his head at me. "Yeah right. You gotta actually get it to be whipped."

I shoot him a blank stare. "She's making you work too hard for it."

"That's what I like about her. I'll text you later."

I walk into the conference room, and Quinn's eyes sear a hole in my skull. Time is going by at the pace of a snail. I think that Einstein guy was on to something with his theory of relativity. I plug in my laptop and fire up my PowerPoint presentation. I look around, and it's almost all women. Thank god only one of them is holding me in contempt. There are a few men, but marketing and accounting are usually comprised of females.

I mean sure, I get it, I hurt her friend. I thought I was doing the chick a favor. She's batshit crazy, but I gave her a memory she will never forget. I guarantee nobody has ever gotten her off like that. Quinn needs to grow the fuck up and get over herself.

You are a fucking mess, Sir.

I look up at the room and start my presentation. But there's only one person I can focus on, and she hates my guts.

"Now, many of you are probably wondering why accounting is important to the marketing department."

Quinn rolls her eyes.

Bitch.

"But, you're actually vital to the accounting process. Marketing is on the front lines—securing sales, landing contracts, seeing deals through to completion. You're the first line in capturing information that helps inform management in their decision making processes."

Most of the women are checking me out, probably not hearing a thing I'm saying. Quinn is on her phone, smirking. I grip the edge of the table, hard. She's probably texting Olivia, telling her all kinds of fucked up things. Laughing about what they did to me. How she sucker-punched my fucking junk. I'm sure Tommy has let her know what a mess I was after their little stunt. He's a great friend but he's a little gossip queen sometimes.

The rest of the morning presentation is as awkward as the beginning. I can't get out of this fucking place fast enough.

"Okay, so that pretty much concludes the morning overview of how our software can help integrate and automate a lot of the work you guys do. That way you can focus on doing what you do best—selling, fostering relationships with clients and vendors, and securing new revenue streams. After lunch, I'll be sitting down with different people individually to find out what I can do to make your life easier."

Quinn is practically out the door before I can finish. I can't believe how ridiculous she's acting. Well—I said some pretty mean things to her—but for fuck's sake I was just defending myself from her onslaught. Oh well, what's done is done. I just need to do my job and then I can be rid of her.

Yeah right.

Grabbing my plate and drink, I start walking through the small cafeteria. It's pretty crowded. Their company is quickly outgrowing their building. I weave through the crowd and suddenly Quinn is right in front of me, sitting at a table alone and looking down at her phone. I have to say something. I need to be the bigger person and put the petty shit aside.

Making amends will make this whole ordeal easier. I don't know why I care so much, but I don't want her to hate me. Tommy is also dating her good friend and I'll no doubt have to encounter her outside of work. I need to be a professional regardless, to protect my job.

Instead of doing the mature thing, I look for a way out. But everywhere I turn I'm surrounded by middle-aged women, all talking to each other and oblivious to my predicament.

I take a deep breath. "Look, Quinn—"

She doesn't even look up from her phone. "What is it, Joel? Do your little boys need a hug? The ice machine is across the hall."

What the fuck?

I mean, that shit's pretty funny, but not when it's directed at me.

Why couldn't we have met under normal circumstances? Her quick wit turns me on and she's so fucking hot, even when she doesn't try. How does she just wake up in the morning, roll out of bed, throw on some clothes, put her hair up, and still look like that? I just want her to like me. Even as a friend. I hate knowing that she despises me.