One Kiss: An Office Romance

I glance at him with alarm. He licks his lips disinterestedly.

“Oh, not that!” Zella laughs. “She means the new dog walker! He was gone for just ages! We thought he was lost!”

Again I feel my jaw tightening. “That is… why you texted me?”

“We thought he was lost!” Zella repeats as though the first time was unclear.

Turtle wriggles in her arms and she places him on the sidewalk. He trots over to the elm tree and lifts one leg to pee on it. Drawing my cell phone out of my pocket, I shade the screen with one hand as I open the app for Lyft again.

“Oh, you don’t have to go so soon,” Judith purrs.

Zella blinks innocently behind her. The Lyft driver hasn’t even made it onto Michigan Avenue yet, and is only one minute away.

“Looks like I do,” I correct her as politely as possible.

“New assistant not working out?” Zella asks shrewdly, smacking her lips together in a sympathetic noise that I know is anything but.

“No, she’s fantastic,” I answer abruptly as the car rolls up behind me. “Have a wonderful day.”

I can feel their eyes on me as the car pulls away, but I can’t bring myself to look back, or even wave. I know we said that we would remain friends since our parents do so much business together, but I’m starting to wonder if this makes a lot of sense. Even if she had lost her dog… That’s an emergency? Maybe for someone. Maybe for her new boyfriend or whoever. But not for me. Definitely not for me.

Clarissa’s paperwork is, of course, completely flawless. Isaac’s signatures are flagged with little colored sticky notes so I can find them easily. After flipping through the papers, looking for something to request or correct or replace just to be useful, I find myself calling her extension with a smile on my face.

“This is Clarissa,” she answers immediately.

It’s funny this office still has phones on desks. They even have curled cords on the handsets. Cords! Like it’s 1998.

“Good morning,” I murmur, suddenly tongue-tied. It occurs to me that this is the first time we’ve spoken on the phone.

“Oh, hello,” she continues, her tone cooling noticeably.

I can practically hear the warmth draining away. Compared to her attitude at the lunch with Isaac Nelson, this is a totally different kind of communication. Then again, I ended on a noticeably unprofessional note, probably well below her standards.

“I, um, got the paperwork for Nelson’s contract. Are the listings all set up for today?”

“Of course,” she answers immediately, as though that was a stupid question. Which it was.

“Okay, so…”

“I will meet you in the lobby in five,” she sighs impatiently.

“Sounds good,” I finish strongly, trying to cover for my own awkwardness.

Great. It isn’t that I need her approval, or that I require her respect, but I sure wouldn’t mind it. I can see why she drove Greg nuts. Her disapproval is quite profound.

As we walk to the parking garage, I can see the stiffness in her posture and stubborn set of her jaw. Still, it doesn’t diminish the beauty of her honey-colored waves as her hair brushes the tops of her shoulders in the sunlight.

She’s wearing a powder-blue suit with cropped trousers and cute loafers that expose her slender ankles. I am a good six inches taller than her, and can see a sliver of cleavage every time her silk blouse brushes over her breasts. I wonder if women know that tall men can get a great view of their cleavage when they get dressed in the morning, or if this is purely accidental. I’m sure she didn’t dress to impress me, so I can only assume it’s an accident, or it’s for someone else’s benefit.

The attendant spots me before we reach the parking garage and I see him dash from his chair. By the time we reach the end of the driveway, my car is idling next to the curb. One of the perks of working for Lou is getting some of these old-fashioned benefits, such as a designated parking spot and valet. It’s probably been with the company for fifty years. It would be almost impossible to buy this kind of service these days.

“This is it?” she murmurs as she eyes the Tesla shrewdly.

I can hear the admiration in her voice. It’s an expensive car, as well as environmentally responsible, if you are into that sort of thing. Plus it’s beautiful and sleek. The midnight-blue paint job sparkles in the morning light.

The valet opens the passenger door and she slides in, her fingers reaching unconsciously to stroke the dashboard. But by the time I climb into the driver’s seat, she has regained her composure.

She is not going to make this easy on me, that is for sure.