Lawfully Yours (13 page)

“Good choice,” he says when he reappears. “Nothing too risqué. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He has no reason to worry about which night outfit was chosen. The floral floor length cotton nightgown is the sexiest thing I own.

CHAPTER 19

I’m not sure how to handle this situation. Am I to clamber under the sheets carefree, chastely kiss him good night, and go to sleep? That sounds like protocol for people married for decades. I barely know this man on a personal level. Worse, he is my professional superior. Much worse, he is sitting on top of my bed, dressed only in pajama pants. His bare chest certainly does not look like it belongs to an old married man. In fact, he’s in quite good shape. He catches me staring at him.

“I burn off stress by lifting weights at the gym. Helps, doesn’t it?” He flexes, seemingly more for the benefit of his own observation than mine.

What a cocky bastard. Apparently, the person he is at the office isn’t going to be entirely different from the person he is at home. But what gives me pause for thought is that at home now means my home. At least for tonight.

“Aren’t you ever coming to bed?” he jokes. “Or are you going to run away? I can buy a sleeping bag for you. It’ll be convenient for those fast escapes.”

I stay standing there, staring at him. I feel hot, but the heat is tinged with annoyance from his joke.

“It’s okay, really.” He laughs. “I brushed my teeth and everything.” He’s grinning.

I’m not moving.

“All right,” he says. “I’ll be the one to go first. That will be a stretch for this relationship.” He slides under the sheets, over to the far side of the bed, and pulls down the bedding on my side. “Here,” he says. It sounds like a command.

Standing here stupidly is not going to help. I take a deep breath and slip in next to him.

“Finally!”

“Be amazed,” I say. “Because I am.”

“I am amazed. Amazed I get to have you in my arms tonight.”

He wraps himself around me. He feels so warm that
I just have to snuggle up to him. An unfortunate combination of comfort and lust rises up. His nuzzling my throat almost guarantees lust’s victory. The feel of his body through our thin nightclothes does not help either. Neither do the kisses he’s placing on my mouth, more firmly and passionately with each one. I twist into him more, letting the blood rush up in me once again.

I’m surprised and angry when he turns away. “Sue, I’m doing all I can right now not to become undone. I made you a promise. I am going to keep it.” He gives me a deep kiss on my cheek. “‘Night, beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.

I’m stunned. “Goodnight, Jordan,” is all I can manage to say. When I finally get the pace of my breath and blood flow slowed down, I sleep. The whole night is spent with his arms around me, he never lets me go.

As wonderful as the night was, it’s not enough to calm the anxiety I have now that it’s morning. I’m grateful to wake up before him. I can slip out of bed, fix my hair, brush my teeth, and become presentable before he sees me.

I really want a hot shower to calm my nerves. Getting in—no problem. Being in the shower when I have only one bathroom—with a broken lock—is a problem. If he walks in on me, will he think I’m strange if I kick him out, considering that we have, in a way, spent the night together? And suppose he really needs to use the bathroom? I can’t handle seeing him like that. And I’m not ready to have him see me naked in my glass-enclosed shower. Especially when I’m all soaped up. It sounds like an ad for a strip club—hot, soapy, shower shows for five dollars. I cringe at the thought of the men who ante up their money. Is Jordan that type? No, but given the current situation, would he pass on the opportunity?

Even if he sleeps through the time I’m in the shower, problems remain. Do I bring in clothes with me to get dressed in the bathroom after I dry off? What on earth should I put on? It’s only 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday. Normally that means broken in sweats. I’m going to try to avoid that look while around him. A T-shirt and jeans seems too dressed up for this early hour. If I put on my bathrobe, how will that look? Probably like I’m subtly asking him to undress me. Will it be strange, post shower, to put my nightgown back on?

I have to pee.

Fabulous. The sound of me peeing throughout my little apartment.

I can’t fight fate. Slowly and carefully, I disengage from Jordan’s arms and slip out of bed. I make my apparel choice as I grab my robe. I walk as silently as I can to the bathroom and just as quietly, shut the door behind me.

Finished with all my morning rituals, I turn on the shower as hot as I can tolerate and step in. My sense of time is lost in the comfort of the steam and hot water.

Eventually, I figure it’s time to get out. I dry off and put on my robe. As quietly as I can, I open the bathroom door and peek at the bed. Empty. I look at the clock. Past eight. A folded piece of paper almost blocks the clock’s bright red digital numbers. Clutching my robe closed, I walk into the bedroom and over to it. It’s a note.

Sue,

You were taking a shower, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I have Marty this morning. I promised her I would take her out for breakfast, so I had to leave you early. I am sorry for that. I will miss seeing your face, as well as your reaction to ‘the morning after.’ I would have truly enjoyed seeing both!

I should be back at your place around 8:00 p.m., when I’ve returned Marty to her mother. Call me on my cell phone if this is not good for you. Otherwise, I will see you then. As you once said, “I hope not to hear from you!”

Most importantly, thank you for the gift of last night.

-Jordan

All that fretting over nothing. He isn’t even here. I’m actually disappointed. Maybe I should just enjoy my time with him rather than stressing over what I should, or shouldn’t, do. After throwing on my favorite sweats and fuzzy socks I walk into the living room. Next to the pink roses from last night are a croissant and a large Styrofoam cup full of coffee. Also another note:

—S.

Because I wanted you to have breakfast, too.

—J.

God, he’s good. No wonder he can get clients. He’s the most persuasive person I have ever met.

CHAPTER 20

Needless to say, I’m not calling Jordan to cancel. In fact, I’m glad, giddy almost, that he wants to come over again. But I’m not as enthusiastic about having to kill the time in between. I try to be productive. I call my mother.

“I’m dating someone,” I tell her.

“That’s great dear. I’m glad you found someone after that Allen boy. Tell me about this one. Who is he?”

I figure I might well get this over with. “He’s a divorced dad with a five year old daughter.”

“Is the mother involved with the child?”

“Yes, she has her during the week. The girl goes to her dad for one day each weekend.”

“Does the mother view you as competition?”

I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know. I haven’t met her.”

“How do you get along with the child?”

“I barely know her.”

“So, your boyfriend, he’s older than you?”

“I’m not sure I can call him my ‘boyfriend’ yet.”

“No? You’re not sure if you’re officially dating?”

“Not really sure, no.”

“Your ‘friend’ then, he’s older?

“Yes, he’s . . . older.”

“Older? Like my age? How old are we talking about?”

“I’m not exactly sure. I never outright asked him. He could be in his late thirties or early forties.”

“He’s not looking for some pretty young thing to hook up with, is he?”

“No, Ma, he’s not like that.”

“But he must know you are somewhere around fifteen years younger than him?”

“I uh, suppose so.”

“I don’t want some guy thinking he can take advantage of you because of your inexperience.”

“I’m not going to be taken advantage of.”

“I assume he has a job. What does he do?”

“He’s a partner at a law firm.”

“I see. He has experience and money. Which you don’t, dear.”

“He’s employed. I thought you’d be glad about that.”

“Yes, of course. You said he works for a law firm. Do you know anything about the firm he works for?”

“Yes. Actually it’s Grovas & Cleval.”

“He works at your firm? Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because, until yesterday, he was my boss.”

“Was your boss. He fired you? You’re dating the man who fired you?”

“No, he transferred me to another division so we could date.” I gather none of this sounds very good. Not exactly fodder for a warm meet the in-laws introduction, should I ever need to schedule one. Good thing this relationship has a solid chance of dying before it starts.

“Susie, honey, I know this will sound contrary to what I’ve been telling you, because I really do want you to find a man so you can settle down. But I’m not sure if this is the right way to accomplish that goal.”

“Ma, I’m not trying to accomplish any goal. I’m simply trying to be with him.”

“You must want to be with him a lot. Aren’t you going to lose all those clients you’ve been telling me about, now that you’ve moved to a different division?”

Frankly, I hadn’t thought about that, either. “I’ll still be paid for the work I brought in. But I guess I won’t have the opportunity to work directly with these clients anymore.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“There’s no other choice,” I say, my voice raising an octave. “He had to transfer me to a partner who he trusts enough to know the real reason. So that meant I had to transfer out of real estate altogether. Now I’m in Commercial Litigation.”

“You mean your new boss knows you’re dating your old boss? Be careful, dear. Worse than a soured relationship is a soured career and a soured relationship.”

“Yeah, Ma, I know, you only want what’s best for me. I’ll be careful. Any other advice you need to give me, please do it fast, because I need to start my day.”

“Don’t let him into your bed too quickly.”

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”

“I need to give you my opinion. When are you seeing him again?”

“Tonight, after he drops off his daughter.”

“Is he taking you out to dinner?”

“No, he’s not coming over until eight. I think he would have had dinner with his daughter by then.”

“You don’t know for certain?”

“Whatever, Ma, it’s just food. Love you. Bye.”

I decline to tell her that he’d already sprung for a meal—breakfast. Nothing like having violated her advice before she even gave it to me. It makes no difference. Now that I have her advice, I’m going to ignore it. In fact, I’m going to do my best to pretend the entire conversation never happened.

I decide to spend the day shopping. I need better nightclothes. But since this is a private matter I’m going to shop way out of town. I’m not planning on buying anything kinky, but I have to find something a whole lot better than what I own. A bikini wax wouldn’t hurt either. Well, it will hurt, but I’m getting one anyway.

While I wait at the salon to get my waxing done, I decide to get a pedicure, too. I feel bad not going to Mrs. Nang, but I don’t want to discuss why I’m suddenly into waxing and pedicures, especially in December. I’m not much in the mood to talk about anything else either, and I don’t want to be rude to her with silence.

Leaving the salon I look much more polished. It’s physically relaxing to be pampered, when it isn’t painful. My mind is relaxed, too. Unfettered by worse case scenarios and insecurities, I am clear-minded and focused. I want him. I’m going to get what I want.

Ten minutes past eight my doorbell rings. I open the door and see Jordan holding a vase out to me. “Thank you. It’s stunning,” I say, admiring the slim, tall, elegant beauty.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh, sorry. Of course.”

“Good, because crystal is delicate. The longer I hold it, the longer it’s in peril.”

“When did you get it?” I ask, gently putting the vase down on my kitchen counter.

“I took Marty shopping today. Turns out she has very good taste. I was reluctant to have her around the china and crystal displays but she was careful not to touch anything after I explained how breakable everything was.”

“You didn’t need to take your time with your daughter to get me a gift.”

“Marty loved the drive down to Westport. She had a hoot of a time at the store too. Her mother never lets her make decisions so she was thrilled to help me make this one. I did have to discourage her from selecting the vase shaped like a frog. I didn’t think you had an amphibian affinity.”

“I’m sure I would have loved it anyway, given all your effort.”

“That last part was a joke, of course. They don’t sell frog shaped vases at Tiffany’s. Let me know if you want the blue box this came in, it’s in my car. Oh, I almost forgot, I need to give this back to you.” He hands me a key with a familiar looking bent paperclip through its hole. “I’m sorry for taking what I correctly guessed was your spare key. I wanted to get you breakfast and I needed to lock up your apartment behind me. I didn’t want to leave your front door open with you in the shower.”

Stunned by all that, I put the extra key back on the holder hanging by the door.

“Don’t worry. I promise to never take your key again without your express permission. Forgive me?”

“You’re rather sweet for a stalker.”

“Not a stalker. Just smitten. Did you eat yet?”

“Yes, I thought you’d eat with your daughter.”

“Then what do you want to do tonight? Last night you mentioned Starbucks. We can go now.”

“Pass.”

“A movie? I haven’t heard of anything good playing, but I’m open to suggestions.”

“No.”

“Are you tired?” He sounds worried. “I’m sorry if I kept you up last night. Do you want me to leave, so you can go to sleep or just have some time alone?”

“I don’t want either of us to leave. I want us to stay here.”

“Oh, okay. On a Saturday night, when I’m not working on files, I usually watch ESPN. Anything else you’d rather watch? Hopefully not HGTV.” He walks over to my couch and sits down, patting the seat cushion next to him as an invitation.

“In case you couldn’t tell from my décor, I’m not much into HGTV. My new vase is the only elegant thing here. In fact, I usually don’t watch any TV shows because, as long as I’m awake, I’m at work.” I smile at him. “My former boss was a real slave driver.”

“You’re off duty. Let’s try Discovery Channel.”

He puts the television on and some program springs to life. I don’t know which, I can’t focus on what the narrator is saying. Looking at Jordan is much more satisfying.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Are you nervous about what’s going to happen later on tonight? I promise you, I’m going home right after this show.”

I continue looking at him, silently and with a smile. Noticing this, he mutes the television and takes my hand in his.

“I shouldn’t have taken you so far out of your comfort zone last night. I feel badly about it. I was so excited we could finally be together that I didn’t see how I could wait another minute. Childish, I know. Kind of selfish, too. I hope you accept my apology. Do you?”

“Now I’m giving the performance reviews? Shall we discuss what you’ve accomplished, and what skills you’ll be showcasing in the future?” I shoot him a sexy smile, but he still doesn’t seem to catch my double meaning. Needing less subtlety, I kick my communication up a notch. Wiggling myself into his arms I start to kiss him. Surprise keeps him unresponsive for the first few seconds. Slowly he kisses me back, but his level of intensity doesn’t quite match my own.

“I’m going home in forty minutes. I prefer not to torture myself during this brief time. Be a good girl and watch TV with me.” He puts the volume of the set back on. I let him watch for a minute and then, still in his arms, start to lightly kiss his neck.

“You’re killing me,” he says tightly. “Let’s watch television, please!”

“You asked what I wanted to do tonight.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“That I want to be with you. In every possible way. Tonight. Now.”

“Forget it, I’m not doing this. Yesterday you were ready to die from the embarrassment of seeing me in Grovas & Cleval’s hallways. Then you were in a panic from ‘logistics planning.’ And now, suddenly, you’re willing to let all that go and throw caution to the wind?”

“I thought about a lot of things today. I’m comfortable with my decision.”

I can’t decipher his expression. Is he aroused, or confused?

“I can’t believe it,” he says slowly. “You want me to make love to you? Right now?”

Just how much clarity does this guy need? “Yes, ‘now’ will work fine, thanks,” I answer matter-of-factly.

“I can’t believe it,” he says again, this time more to himself.

I wish he’d stop talking. I have other plans for his mouth. And it’s hard to hear him anyway with the blood pounding in my eardrums. I stroke his shirt, drawing light little circles over his nipples.

“Are you sure about this?” he continues cautiously. “You need to be sure, because if you start me going like this, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop—”

“Yup. Plenty sure.”

“What am I saying? Of course I’ll stop if you ask me to, but doing so will probably give me a heart attack—”

“Now.”

He looks at me intently, as if trying to gauge my certainty. He shuts the television off. Puts down the remote. Puts his lips gently on mine. His kiss is so light, but I need more. Pressing closer to him, I deepen our kiss.

He pulls back from me to stand up, tugging me up, too. Standing here in the lamplight he unbuttons my shirt. When the last button is finally open, he slides his arms under my shirt and around my back. I feel my bra unhook. Feel his hands against my tingling skin as he strokes my breasts. An electrical volt surges through me—a strong, powerful charge.

I’m definitely turned on. I need him as turned on as I am. Reaching for the fly of his pants, I tug the zipper down. My fingertips lightly stroke the outline of his shape through his underwear.

He closes his arms around me, his breath hot against my face. “Sue,” he groans.

“Do it,” I whisper.

He slides his hands up to my neck. Pulls the sides of my shirt back. My blouse hangs off my wrists. Stepping back to look at me he says, “no one could ever look better than you do—”

But the rest of his words are drowned out by my doorbell.

“Sue? Susan, honey, are you home?” I hear from a voice in the hallway.

God, it’s my mother.